scatteredflowers: (It reminds me of my old friends)
Kross ([personal profile] scatteredflowers) wrote in [community profile] arimoi2017-03-05 01:05 am

don't let the bedbugs bite [open]

[One batch of summonings ends in the escape of the summoned. Meanwhile, many miles away, another man escapes only into the sheltering arms of sleep.

A pair of horns sits atop his head, crusted faintly with blood from their eruption and making him lean forward with their weight; otherwise, his new troll nature is barely evident. He wonders, at first, why he is awake. Then, he realizes he is asleep.

And so, he goes wandering.]




[[ooc: DREAM LOG. Post what your characters are dreaming about, and Kross will mess around in their dreams. Note that he will not enter dreams involving loud explosions, high temperatures, or excessive amounts of blood, and lower levels of chaos and violence might make him leave prematurely (but post those anyways and he'll duck in probably).

I'm expecting this post to have a long shelf life because Kross is way the fuck out in the mountains and unlikely to be doing anything but dream wandering for a while.]]
n_octis: (9)

[personal profile] n_octis 2017-03-05 06:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ Noctis had never dreamed before.

Well, he had dreamed ever since arriving here - not wanting to discuss how weird it felt to not simply pass out and awaken when he did. I mean, was he the strange one? Did... others do this?

He was in a field, on a small floating island, sitting by a lake. There were many Pokemon around him - ones not of Unova, ones he could only dream of meeting. But Noctis was simply fishing. Near him were his other companions - Ignis and Gladio watching from the porch of the building, and his Prompto playing with some of the smaller Pokemon. His father and mother both were also there, watching from inside the house. But they were less defined, bodies fading into Dream Mist.

Even if they weren't real. Magnificent Berry trees grew from the gardens, and a soft breeze acted to make the scene... serene. ]
n_octis: (16)

[personal profile] n_octis 2017-03-06 04:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's all that Noctis dreams of. All he desires - a peaceful dream, for his mind does not know any other sort. Or it may be because of his fluffbird, made from a Soul and Dream Mist both. Who knows.

That is, until he hears the sounds by the berry trees. He seems to not see it as too much of an intrusion, but... it's most likely just a Pokemon. One of those under his protection. ]


Are you okay, friend?

[ He asks, letting himself continue focusing on the pond. Not looking to whatever the being might be. Even though his words can be understood, Noctis is speaking in Pokemon tongue - sounding almost lyrical.. ]
n_octis: (19)

[personal profile] n_octis 2017-03-07 04:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[ If he were further along his story, Noctis might turn to look. Or, perhaps, he wouldn't. But his voice is still friendly, as he continues to fish so very casually. Even if he is not aiming to catch anything for any other reason then for fun. ]

Do not be afraid, friend - you may help yourself to berries, if you want.

[ For if they were here - in paradise, a fragment of the world the Hero could create - they had to either be one he loved or a stray Pokemon, hurt by Men who see not that they have minds. Desires. Goals and personalities. This was the land of his hopes and dreams.

Literally, in this case. As Kross is in the berry field, however, he would soon hear a rustling - and a heavily scarred Swampert nearby, watching this troll. ]
soft_focus: (-OBLIGATORY GLOOM SHADOW-)

[personal profile] soft_focus 2017-03-05 03:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[When she dreams, she is surrounded in void. It feels like the only place she can meet 'him'-and as such, it is possibly the worst time of each day in this place. When she's awake at least, all there is is his voice-his voice, and the constant, shocking pain that comes from being so close to the crushing darkness of the other's soul.

But in here, when she sleeps, they meet, leaving her to stare at Zarc in all his rage. It is them, as they would have been years ago-dragon and 'man', combined...but instead of scraps of Yuuya, there is silver and green, on a figure at least four or so years older than Yuuya would have been.

He does not come near her, but he does taunt her as she holds her arm close, dragonlike form uncovered in the dream. The four stones inside it shine-and Zarc hisses lowly.
]

Do you think those will keep me here forever...? DO YOU THINK YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, WILL FAIL TO CRUMBLE UNDER MY MIGHT..?!

[Reira grimaces-the world is thundering, a constant storm, yet it is somehow neither cold nor warm in here, and the little girl stares toward Zarc.] ....You don't have power here.
soft_focus: (extra 04)

[personal profile] soft_focus 2017-03-07 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
[Well hey, she might be in a Mood but she's not oblivious. Spotting someone else in here is...new.

So naturally-
] Um-!

[She's running over to say 'hi'.] ...Who are you?

[Or that. She could just say that. The dragon, for its part, is uncharacteristically motionless.]
soft_focus: (Well That Happened)

[personal profile] soft_focus 2017-03-08 12:45 am (UTC)(link)
[Well that's a Nope Out if she ever saw one.

SHE'LL REMEMBER YOUUUUuuuuuuumaybe.

Probably not.
]
photoshooter: (094)

[personal profile] photoshooter 2017-03-05 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[Prompto's dreaming about chocobos.

It's a cheerily-colored dream and not very lucid, progressing in fits and starts and backtracking on itself, as if the dreamer keeps losing his place in the story. The chocobos are constant, always in groups of four, though the sizes and colors change. Often he's riding, an exhilarating wind in his face and strong legs below, comforted by the smell of feathers and the backs of his "brothers" all around. Other times, it seems like he is the chocobo, tearing up the countryside and squawking joyfully like he could run forever, without stopping.

And that's the thing. The longer the dream continues, the heavier the oppressive sky feels behind them, the more an incongruous dread weighs on the heart. There's a clock silently ticking and a creeping, vast darkness behind, and no matter how they chase the sun, it follows. It waits. It will cover them, sooner or later.

The young men's laughter is real and they don't turn to watch the darkness, but each is aware of it in his own way, and it turns this otherwise idyllic romp into an anxiety-crunching processing machine. Necessary for Prompto to function in his waking hours, but not as fun as it could be while he snoozes.]
photoshooter: (008)

[personal profile] photoshooter 2017-03-08 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
WaaAAaaah!

[When the earth rolls under him, it's different enough--foreign enough--to shake Prompto out of the familiar, general anxiety of his dream into more immediate and localized panic.

Also, it throws him off his chocobo. Eat shit, Prompto.

He rolls expertly, at least, because if there's anything he's had a lot of experience doing, it's falling face-first to the ground like a poor fool. He gets up and looks around, and the weight lifts off the sky to leave him only with alarm amidst a handful of fearfully kweh!-ing dinobirds.]


What? Who? Where... hello?!
photoshooter: (052)

[personal profile] photoshooter 2017-03-08 03:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[Prompto stares at the moving lump until it becomes the lump formerly known as Moving, then slowly creeps towards it, curious and drawn to it in this dream state.]

Ummmm. Hi?

[He crouches near the lump, then even dares to tap it gently.]

Buddy? Hey, I don't bite.

[Surely this is a cute animal. Like a bunny. Bunnies burrow, right? His chocobo follows him, staring down over Prompto's shoulder and offering a goofy squawk.]
photoshooter: (086)

[personal profile] photoshooter 2017-03-09 02:12 am (UTC)(link)
[He's asleep. Why wouldn't a cute animal sound like a grown man? He feels kind of bad.]

It's okay. You can come with us. It'll be faster if we take the car.
scramasax: (1. Pre: The Screaming Hall)

[personal profile] scramasax 2017-03-06 03:00 am (UTC)(link)
[Anthony hoped that he wouldn't dream tonight.

Needless to say, he didn't get what he wanted.

Sleeping outside under an open sky in the scrub within distant view of Arcrion, he is dreaming of that one dark, enclosed room. The body of the emperor is gone, and he doesn't even know whether his own is alive or dead in this - might be alive. Feels like it does when it's awake now. (But how, but how.)

And he is on his knees, rocking with his hands at the sides of his head, as the monks circle him closely. Each is holding a mace.

He doesn't think he's hurt - the dream faded in here; anything that happened earlier, he's detached from - but he feels damply cold. Cold with mortified horror and soaked with - sorrow. Sorrow for what? He doesn't know, he doesn't know, and his voice comes out weary and hitching.]


Charlemagne...

Charlemagne -- my lord, what -- what have I done -- ...?

[For now subconsciously, he knows that, in spite of saying and feeling these words, outside of the realm of sleep, Charlemagne had nothing to do with the - the demons at the monastery. Still, the question persists, and this voice desperately and keeningly peaks and cracks.

Desperate. Squeezes his eyes shut, grips the sides of his face with his nails digging in...]


Please... please, what -- what have I done, what -- what else have I done?!
scramasax: (1. Pre: WHAT SORCERY IS THIS)

[personal profile] scramasax 2017-03-11 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
[There is a door, actually! Hopin' he doesn't stumble on the way towards it - assuming he'll be all the more inclined to get it on opened as the monks move in, and start swinging their clubs down on the individual at their center.

But the door... isn't an escape from the dream.

It opens into a chapel. Not a dark one, lighting- or time-wise. But an old and quiet one. There's a coffin in the corner with a body inside, and a couple of monks in the same garb as those back in the room pacing.]
maximumest: (08)

[personal profile] maximumest 2017-03-06 06:04 am (UTC)(link)
[Broly doesn't sleep often. It isn't that he doesn't need rest, he just avoids it for as long as possible. Nightmares dogged his sleep more often than not, flashes and echoes of childhood trauma long since buried from conscious memory dredged up into the terrors that came with a sleeping mind.

He's managed for a few days now, past arrival. Long past the fall of night, long past leaving the fireside that had brought so many equally stranded people. Better to leave, find somewhere comfortable for himself, and hope his sleep is dreamless.

No such luck. But something's different, this time.

This time there's rolling plains stretching for miles, its long grass sent rippling like the sea by a steady wind, and thick clouds shrouding what must be bright moonlight above by the way the sky turns silver whenever the clouds thin. He could fly but he isn't, watching the clouds as they undulate and race across the sky by the same wind that tugs at the grass that swirls around him. Thunder rolls in the distance, a rumbling drumbeat that shivers the ground even from miles away.

Something is coming.

He sees it, now and again. Anyone else in his dream would too, as cloud briefly parts into the night or surges downward like the reaching finger of a tornado, only to be reabsorbed. What it is he can't tell, but it's coming, and it's somehow causing the wind and whipping the sky into a silver and gray frenzy. When the clouds break and show the dazzling spangle of sky and the lean thin crescent of a moon (and isn't that odd, all his dreams always have the full round moon in it, gleaming and familiar, not this blade of a sattelite), there's nothing but the occasional blotting out of glittering stars to mark the passage of something distant and gargantuan.

But it's not here yet.

Instead of fear or anxiety for that unknowable shape winding through the clouds, its form only guessable by the wake it leaves, there is only fervent anticipation that saturates the dreamscape, a strangely contagious fierce joy so intense it's almost pain, as if its arrival would somehow make everything right, everything fall into place for the first time in a lifetime.

Broly waits for it, grounded, watching only the sky.]
maximumest: (12)

[personal profile] maximumest 2017-03-11 04:17 am (UTC)(link)
[It's a good feeling this time, even though it shouldn't be.

There's some sense of the hunted to it, as if this should be a nightmare of fear and panic and fleeing the hunting, hungry beast, the ubiquitous being-stalked horrifying dreams that pursued so many across the cosmos but .. it's not there. No fear, no panic.

Just sweet anticipation. That thing in the sky might be hunting but it won't end in death. Not this time. This time there's only welcome to be had.

And someone else in the dream with him doesn't disturb Broly in the least. Dreams were strange, and he was rarely aware he was even having one. Things moved in and out of dreams without his knowing it and they always somehow seemed to fit. Like the heavy-horned saiyanoid shambling through the grass towards him. That too belonged.

Maybe it would lead to another monster lurking in the grass or in the sky, waiting for its opportunity, waiting to make things right.]


There's a storm coming.

[Thunder rolls, low and distant. Was it heading their way? Maybe, but it doesn't change the atmosphere any.]