don't let the bedbugs bite [open]

[scatteredflowers]

[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.]]

Comments

[scatteredflowers]

[Ugh, this is - bad. What have I done, what have I done, a voice cries, sounding like it could be his own in content if not in tone.

He doesn't want to be here.

...

But - wait, shit, it's dark, where is the door.

(A horned man fumbles at the walls, in the shadows.)]

[scramasax]

[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.]