open 🔸 missing

[noblegarnet]

Who: Ferran & dreamwalkers
Which: Interactive dream
What: A space that could not feel emptier. A family lived here once.
Warnings: discussion of injury and death?? idk

[The smell of ash, scorched metal and melted plastic lingers in the cool air, even though the fire that decimated the once two-story home has long since ceased. The light that filters past the overcast sky sets the blackened wreck in a dreary but clear light, making obvious the fact that the rest of the well-to-do neighborhood was left untouched.

A 17 year old with short brown hair stands at the end of the driveway, his right arm in a sling and his face the picture of grief. Behind him, leaning against the sedan that brought them both there, stands a tall, older man with striking eyes, his arms folded and expression tinted with mild concern.]

You're certain you want to be here?

[The teen pulls his eyes away from the house, finding a familiar crack to stare at on the sidewalk as he sniffs, then wipes his nose with the back of his uninjured hand and tries to steady his voice.]

I had to see it. If there's anything... [His gaze returns to the building.]

Don't strain yourself.

[With a faint nod, Ferran steps towards the ruins of his home, a determination in his posture despite his clear lack of energy. The man by the car doesn't seem intent on helping or approaching, but maybe another soul who might have found themselves in the dream would find it odd that an injured boy is digging in the collapsed mess of material left from an apparent arson.]

Comments

[locumstudentesquire]

[When Ryunosuke's consciousness touches the dream, he 'wakes up' to find himself buried in ash and soot.

Aside from generic confusion about his circumstances, the first thought he properly registers is that... He doesn't feel like himself here. And not just in a physical sense; in some ineffable way that he can't quite explain, he only feels like half of him is present at the moment. His personality intact, vague impressions of memories are there, but his identity... It's stripped down to the most basic components. Weirder yet? Knowing this doesn't distress him.

The second thought he registers, is that he's cold. So cold. He would just stay where he is, curled up in a shivering ball under this thick blanket of ash, except that the sound of something very large rummaging about nearby catches his attention, making him stir.

That's when a large eyed salamander comes squirming out of the wreckage, very close to where Ferran is digging. Its body glows dimly, like dying coals, and it appraises him with some vague sense of familiarity blinking its bulbous eyes at him.]

...What are you looking for?

[noblegarnet]

[Ferran is already mildly startled by the appearance of a living thing in the ruins of his own house to begin with—and it glowing like it's halfway to catching the place on fire again only sets him further on edge. And then it talks.]

Gwaugh!

[He stumbles over his feet and a fallen beam to hide behind a broken piece of wall, managing to only wince briefly at the jarring of his injured arm. He has no cast, only a sling, and the coat he wears hides the exact nature of the injury, but with how gingerly he moves it even as he peeks out to glare at the creature, the severity is clear enough.

His frantic whisper is mostly at himself. He really hopes he's not losing it.]

What the hell—?!

[locumstudentesquire]

[Ferran freaks out, and the salamander startles back in surprise, right before the boy bolts. It calls out to try and stop him:]

W-wait! Blast it all... I'm sorry! I, I didn't mean to frighten you...!

[It tries to scuttle after him, but its body is too cold and sluggish, so it stops almost as soon as it starts.]

I just wanted to see if I could help...

[noblegarnet]

[The words only seem to make the young man tense up with further suspicion, but then Ferran grimaces and tries at least to relax his right shoulder. He brings his free hand to hover over his upper arm, then to rest against his head, which he shakes.]

I'm losing it...

[He supposes that figures. People who suffer major trauma can go through psychotic breaks and have hallucinations or something, right? He's talking to himself rather than the salamander, but it serves as a response of sorts.]

Ugh, whatever. Sure, the talking lizard can help... what more do I have to lose?

[locumstudentesquire]

[The salamander turns to try and look at itself, confusion written on its little face. It lifts a webbed foot, and flexes clawless toes, frowning.]

Is that what I am? A lizard? Why does something about that seem... Not quite right?

[noblegarnet]

[Having deemed the little creature... not a threat at least, Ferran moves past Ryunosuke, back towards where he was initially headed—a messy square of scattered material that used to be a bedroom at the edge of the plot.]

Hell if I know.

[He's not a reptile expert! Or whatever. Unfortunately, the thought of animals just draws a pained expression to his face, and he clenches his jaw shut as he tries to not let it shut him down. After a moment, he lets out a shaky breath, scolding himself:]

Focus.

[locumstudentesquire]

[Helpful. He'll try to cut the kid some slack, though; seems like he's dealing with a lot right now. Sighing to himself, the salamander meanders its way over to where he's searching, peering around the immediate vicinity.]

Was this... Your room? What is it you're looking for, anyway?

[lethechained]

[ Bad dreams seem to abound, recently.

Naminé's tendency to drift into them - sometimes by choice, sometimes by accident - has proven itself once again. The sight of what remains of a home (she only knows it to be such after a broad glance around informs her of similar buildings nearby) casts a somber tone over the experience even before she realizes who, exactly, has dreamed it up.

And when does catch sight of Ferran, it's not only him she sees.

In the interest of prudence, Naminé elects not to announce her presence. Not right away, at least, and not in front of his guardian. Instead, she waits, tucked in the shadow of a charred beam - one she's selected carefully to block any view of her from the street and the car waiting nearby. She'd be easy to mistake for a ghost as she stands silent vigil in her pale dress, lurking in the darkness and yet so bright amongst it that she won't be hard to spot from the right part of the ruins, once Ferran reaches it. (If he reaches it.)

It seems kinder to offer her condolences than to depart without a word, after all, even if she might not be sure how well they'll be received. ]

....

[noblegarnet]

[Ferran is focused on his task in searching for something out of place, but in his current state he's only so capable. With her closer vantage point, it's easy to see that he's drawn and thin, an extended stay in the hospital having drained him of whatever might have obviously marked him as younger. There's a grim look in his eyes as he pulls at a flat piece of rubble with his uninjured arm, careful not to jar his other as he does, but the end result gets him nothing: no clue emerges, no glowing details or notes left behind that might give him the answers he seeks.

He continues on for a minute or two through the husk of his home, eventually covering his face with his hand a where he kneels for a moment before rubbing it with his palm as if to scrub away his emotions. He has to keep going.

But when he looks up, he finally spots Naminé, and he slows to a stop. He blinks at her with a furrowed brow, almost like he's not sure if she's actually there.]

[lethechained]

[ This, Naminé supposes, must be the past, then. Ferran's closer to her in age than he ever has been before, if they're not in the same year - and if his apparent youth isn't an illusion conjured by his even clearer frailty. Regarding him from her carefully chosen distance, she's unequal parts curious and somber, mouth curled down at the corners from the sight of him injured and on what seems increasingly like a fool's errand.

He's got his reasons, surely. Painful ones, she's even more certain as she watches his face disappear behind a palm - and without intending it, she inches half a step closer. Whether she'd have forgone her caution and continued to move toward his side, she doesn't find out; the next moment she's been seen, and any small momentum she might have had ceases as her head lifts slightly and she grows still.

She does look an awful lot like a trick of the light, motionless as she is. That is, right up until a few beats of staring later when she finally raises one slender arm to press a finger over her lips - a gesture for silence. As that same hand falls away, she tilts her head, considering him as she takes one extra step out into the comparative light, as if that might serve for an admission that she is, in fact, quite present.

Equally without words is the question in her expression, in the searching way she looks him over. Does he know who she is in this particular world of dreams, or is she a stranger? ]

[noblegarnet]

[Well, at least he doesn't have to count "seeing things" among his new and distressing problems—as far as he can tell, at the moment. And if she is real, that means she's technically trespassing in what's left of his home, and he can't say he's fond of it. Why tell him to be silent, as if announcing her presence would be out of line somehow?

His frown only deepens, though he's too tired to display any real, true anger, even if he could muster feeling it. There's no recognition in his gaze, at least for now.

He's got questions, but to go into detail would take far too much of his energy when that wouldn't be in service of his goal here. ... unless it is, which isn't a thought he wants to entertain. So he supposes he has to start somewhere—it's not like he can afford to lose any leads he might get, however unlikely.]

What?

[lethechained]

[ A no, then, she gathers from his expression; either he doesn't recognize her or isn't of a mind to acknowledge as much. The former seems more likely, so Naminé schools her own features into something more placid. It's probably better not to worry too obviously, especially when he doesn't see her as a friend. ]

I didn't mean to intrude, [ she offers by way of an olive branch, hands clasped together near her middle and voice contrite, ] ... but... it seemed like you could use some help.

[ True though that is, when her weight shifts forward again, she never quite makes good on taking another step, eyes darting briefly in the direction of the street before she elects to keep to her cover. That doesn't deter her from turning her gaze back to him, though, mouth in a reserved, thoughtful purse.

A beat, and then - gently, ]

Couldn't you?

[ Use some help, that is. ]

[noblegarnet]

[A random passerby? It's possible, he supposes. He'd think he would have been familiar with the other kids in the neighborhood, but... her answer still hasn't narrowed anything down, as it turns out. There's a twitch of his eyelids as he narrows his eyes, but it only lasts a moment.

Ferran turns his gaze to the side and lets out a noise from the back of his throat—a disgruntled and reluctant acknowledgement. Even so, he'd deliberately told his guardian to let him do this himself. He knew it would be hard work, and for everything the man has offered him, he couldn't stand the thought of asking more. This girl, meanwhile... he doesn't know if he can trust her, even if it were guaranteed to help.]

I don't know if you'd be able to do much when even I don't know what I'm looking for.

[Her glance towards the street goes unnoticed. He's far from used to looking for subtle cues like that at this point in his life, and too fatigued besides.]

[empyreancatastrophe]

[Unfortunate as it is, Joshua is used to the sight of ash. The feeling of it. The way the powder is equal parts gritty and fine. The memory of its previous life kept alive only by the weak scent of whatever it once was, before indiscriminate fire consumed it.]

[He can smell the remnants of wood. That's the most familiar in the midst of strange, acrid odors wafting from the burnt out husk of a house.]

[Joshua steps forward and into the mangled skeleton, deliberate and slow with his steps, as if toeing his way through a graveyard. There are memories here, newly lost.]

[And if the voices are anything to go by, newly found, as well.]

[He hones in on the boy, announcing his approach with a reverent, gentle tone while keeping a respectful distance.]

I'm sorry for your loss.

[noblegarnet]

[Ferran is in the midst of his digging when Joshua approaches, hand gripped around a stubborn piece of drywall he's attempting to move aside. He pauses for several seconds, long enough for one to think that maybe he doesn't plan to respond, but in truth he's struggling to keep it together enough to offer the barest reply.

His voice is quiet, hardly above a whisper; it's the most he can do through the tightening of his throat.]

Thanks.

[He resumes his movements almost immediately, barely managing to shift the rubble with the singular arm he can currently use, but making progress nonetheless. There's a desperate stubbornness in the process, even though he isn't rushing it; this goal, this search is all he has left of his family.]

[empyreancatastrophe]

[Joshua gives Ferran time. Space. Two resources that are free to share, but invaluable to those who need it. Given the dour atmosphere, it’s clear that Ferran needs as much of both as possible.]

[When he speaks, Joshua nods, taking it as a cue that his presence isn’t entirely unwelcome. If that changes, he will change his approach without a problem, and completely remove it if prompted. Until then, he will dare to encroach and kneel down next to Ferran. He grips the edge of separate piece of drywall. The material isn’t one he knows, but the consistency is familiar enough that he’ll know how to leverage it properly. Given the circumstances, he’s sure that using his fire magicks to burn it away would be less than appropriate.]

May I?

[He won’t break anything until Ferran gives the okay. He knows he doesn’t have the right.]

[noblegarnet]

[Ferran turns his gaze but not his head when Joshua comes closer, an undoubtedly suspicious look in his grim expression. Right now, he doesn't know what to trust... but if he just keeps this stranger in his sight, maybe...

He could definitely use the manpower, that much he can acknowledge. His response comes out as almost a mutter.]

Be careful where you drop it.

[He doesn't feel like explaining what exactly he's doing, but neither is Joshua asking yet—so for now, that's just fine. For now, he shifts his own piece of rubble, bit by bit.

Nearby are the warped of shards glass of a broken window, scattered and mostly hidden under the pieces of crumbling wood and roof that fell after the fact. With some guessing and investigation of what else remains there, Joshua might pick up on the fact that they stand in the remains of a bedroom.]

[empyreancatastrophe]

I will treat aught with due respect.

[True to his word, Joshua avoids making any violent movements while working away at the material, opting instead to bend and shimmy rather than rip or tear at the larger slabs.]

[This is another example of a structure that’s similar, yet different from what he knows. He understands this is—was—a house, but its charred remains tell a story difficult for him to decipher. As if he were reading a book in a language that is a cousin to his own, with enough cognates to carry the gist of its meaning, but not all.]

[He knows fire and he knows the pain of a home lost. That will have to be enough.]

[He can grasp the silhouette of a bed, of furniture similar to a wardrobe, and other bits here and there.]

Was this yours?

[He keeps the question vague on purpose—a chance for Ferran to answer as much, or as little, as he wishes.]

[noblegarnet]

[His muttered response is bitter, but surely the half-joke is a sign of... something positive? Possibly. Or—it could be a sign that he's still clinging to what he's lost, not yet ready to accept it as gone.]

Still is, technically...

[And therefore, no one can stop him from investigating his own damn home. He would have begged if it came down to it, but thankfully it didn't take much for his... new guardian to acquiesce.

His own efforts gradually unearth a spread of floor in the middle of the room, at least enough for him to start looking there in earnest. There are more collapsed pieces to make it annoying, but it's nothing he can't at least glance under. Talking to himself as he moves to a better place to kneel and look:]

Nothing that could break a damn window is just going to burn up...

[updrafting]

[Dreamwalking isn't something Revali has spent much time working on in his time here. In fact, he finds the idea of it more than a bit invasive. Not entirely out of concern for other people's privacy, of course; more because he doesn't want his own thoughts invaded in that way.

Unfortunately, things don't tend to work out the way he might like, and it takes Revali a moment or two before he's aware of what must have happened. There isn't a single familiar sight in this alien dreamscape. Rows of similar looking homes and metal vehicles that look nothing like home or Songerein. The only familiar thing, unfortunately, is the smell of smoke hanging in the air.

After gawking at the strange surroundings, his attention turns toward the human digging in the remains of what he can only assume looked similar to the other buildings here. Comfort isn't Revali's strong point, and he wouldn't know where to begin even offering it if it were; in a case like this, it would probably feel hollow and barely help anyway.]

Digging around in there will only make it hurt worse.

[noblegarnet]

[Ferran doesn't even turn his head towards Revali, nor does he stop what he's doing, sifting through the ash and shards of wood on the ground carefully. But his voice wavers, even if his posture and resolve do not.]

I'm not here to make it easier.

[He knows if he finds anything... it just means he'll have the hardest task of his life ahead of him. It would be easy to stay in his new room—not home, not yet, not so soon—recovering and letting people comfort him. But his family deserves more than to be shoved under a rug as victims of a tragic accident. Or so he's convinced himself.]

[updrafting]

[He can respect the answer. The emotion in his tone, well, that's only to be expected, but emotion doesn't override his obvious determination to search for... whatever it is might be left behind in the charred remains of this home.

He glances between Ferran and the man by the car for a moment. There's a story there, clearly, if that other person is unwilling to even offer a hand. Unlikely though he thinks it may be to find something, that level of apathy seems unfitting.]

Your friend over there seems content to let you do this by yourself. What is it you're looking for?

[noblegarnet]

[Weakly, with an air of something like defeat, he replies with a shake of his head:]

He's done enough.

[Ferran is sure the man is merely doing this as another enormous undeserved favor to humor him—and that he thinks the whole endeavor is hopeless. That's fine, though.]

Something that... I don't know. Tells me what really happened, or...

[He's not picky. As long as he has something to follow, even the smallest thing out of place—but trying to find it in this mess is going to be a struggle. Not that he didn't know that.]

Nobody who starts a fire this horrible could leave nothing behind...

[updrafting]

[If this Ferran didn't have his interest before, he definitely does now. Something in that determination to find out what really happened makes Revali want to see where he's going with this. He has no idea what Ferran could be looking for, arson investigation probably isn't even a thing in Hyrule, but he is willing to believe the presumption that this was a deliberate fire.]

It sounds like you already know what happened.

[Or at least know enough to know it wasn't an accident, which is as far as Revali can assume someone could figure out.]

This fire wasn't just an accident?

[noblegarnet]

[He lets out a slow breath. Exactly what happened, no—but what he does know, he's sure of.]

Someone, or something, broke my window... [His right hand, the one hanging out of the sling, twitches not quite into a fist.] And when we were all distracted... [He trails off.] It happened—too fast.

[Ferran gets to his feet, not bothering to wipe the ashes off his pants, and starts to trudge towards the wall where that window once stood.]

It can't be some freakish coincidence, no matter how many people say it.