songerein | Half My Life's In Books, Written Pages

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Half My Life's In Books, Written Pages

Who: Soldier: 76 &anyone
Which: Open Interactive Dream; Quest #0901(Baby Tapirs) || Open Log
Where: Dream || Edge of forest and fields
What: The task of feeding baby tapirs within a dream || Recovering after a run in with some red caps, but also there's a fairy cow covered in blackberries.
Warnings: Weirdness that dreams can take on, especially ones edging bad. || Injury.

A.Tapirs

A rich orange sky with yellow clouds and streaks of blue as if it couldn't decide if it was daylight or sunset, fields and corn stalks well over six feet high. Went on for miles, stretched out as far as the eye could see. An old barn, farmhouse- all too far apart to be normal. Smoke rising in the distance but whatever fires they had to be coming from out of sight.

Quiet, with a man standing near some fencing just beside what looked like the start of a corn maze. A scowl on his face, one that didn't fit the young face just by the look of him- "Of course it's one of these," muttered, aware of what was happening to some extent. These were the types that could pull him in, but something had interrupted that.

There was a baby tapir by his foot, gnawing on an ear of corn that looked as if it was glitching between yellow and multicolored. Another wandering a little.

Sounds of groaning machinery was keeping it's distance, at least.

"How many of you got in here?" Little punks.

notice; replies for this prompt will be coming from statued

B. Blackberry Bramble

Had it been the smartest idea to take up the redcap iron hunt from the board alone? Possibly not, but he'd needed to do something, and why not take up one that would have had him fighting? Didn't imagine it would have been like stepping on a fire ant nest the moment he'd gone in to the ruins and brushed against some vines within. Gotten out, gotten some of the farm tools back along with some scrap he'd stashed away.

Currently? 76 was seated on a fallen over log, jacket set aside and already patched up, instead checking over bandaging on his arms. Not alone, however.

Grazing just beside him was one of those Fairy Cows, green leaves and ripe blackberries adoring it. He'd found it on his trip back-

"The moment this is re-wrapped?" A grunt, winding a bit of fabric around his forearm, talking to the cow, "You're going back. Probably safer for you back in your field with your friends." Hell of a day, really.

(ooc: feel free to tag in brackets, I'll match! Want something different? Just shoot me a PM or something and we'll discuss it.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There was something out there, he thought. Whether it was real or some figment of the dream he couldn't be certain and right now, he had to concentrate more and more on moving forward. It was becoming increasingly harder, and he was then given the impression that whatever was out there happened to be heading his way.

Again his groped for a shotgun, but nothing manifested to his will. He growled low in his throat, a sound of a threat that it would come to a fight.

He was also aware of the bodies and body parts in the soil. He felt them against his legs, thought there were fingers closing around his ankles or grasping at the folds of his coat as he sunk into the muck.

He stilled at the strong smell of blood followed by a face that was and wasn't 76. It was hairier, the ears were elongated and that was definitely a tail. So in 76's dreams, the guy turned into a werewolf? What a dramatic ass.

"Oh look, the big bad wolf has come to investigate. Sorry I left my red cloak in another dream," he growled, struggling to lift his leg enough to raise it out of the muck for another step. "This is clearly your doing. Putting me in the mud with whatever is left of you, huh?"

"Be more of a cape with you," there was that growl to his voice, shoulders rolling as he took a step back, head cocking to the side as he took in how Reaper was sinking down. Glancing briefly towards his own feet and, well, at least for him the ground was still solid. Soaked with blood, but solid.

Shook a bit of blood away from a clawed hand as well. "The sinking is all you, Reyes. Should just leave you to it."

Much as the howls kept just on the edge of his hearing, standing straight as his head lifted and ears pricked. Eyes glowing in the red moonlight. Blood shined along skin and fur, scrubbing some from his beard and ruffling it as he tried to still get a pinpoint on whatever it was- "No one ever tell you not to wander in to the corn alone?"

"Are you planning on ripping out my throat and wearing my skin then?" His voice came out like a growly purr, as if he were daring 76 to have a go of it. He didn't think the wolf-hybrid was going to, which was a shame since he hadn't discovered how or if death even worked here in this dream.

He shifted his weight but he had sunk enough that he was well and truly stuck. Wisps of himself pulled off as if seeking for something to grasp onto, but he couldn't simply mentally let his body go completely to smoke. It was as if the dream wouldn't allow it. "Off you go then, Morrison."

He too heard the howls, but they were far enough away that he didn't find them currently his biggest concern. His eyes narrowed behind his mask at the beard; even in the dream this asshole was a torment. "When do you think the last time I've been in a corn field? They were razed in the war to deny us food and cover."

"Rather keep the taste of you out of my mouth." Dryly spoken, even if lips curled enough to bare all of those sharp teeth as he said it. A flick of tongue that just barely brushed against his own beard.

Sound was far enough away that 76 dared to squat down, sitting on the balls of his feet, toes spreading out as claws dug in to the soil. Easy to sit like that given they were paws now. Arms folded just over thighs, more eye level with Reaper as an ear flicked back, still gauging where and how far noises were coming. Blood still smeared his face, as if those scars were freshly dug across his face, eyes bright in the 'night' and shadows of the corn stalks.

"Bark all you want, this is a sad fucking sight. What's got you sinking in the blood and muck?"

"Is that so? I suppose you didn't have the spine to kill me, so why would now be any different?" He rolled his eyes behind his mask, the glow of red from the eye holes subtly vision if his head turned in the right direction.

He shifted his weight as he tried to work himself closer to the surface so he could potentially remove himself from this quagmire. This was not the first time he'd been waist deep in mud, but usually there were fewer bodies in it. He crossed his own arms just to look defiant. "What happened to your face? You're a mess."

He snorted and shook his head. "Your dream. I assume you didn't want me wandering."

His head tipped just enough, chin lifted- "Could say the same of you, actually." Not having the spine to actually kill him all the times he could and probably should have by now.

He scratched at his chin, right where blood was catching at his beard, claws making easy enough work of picking drying bits of it out. Not caring about the mess, nose filled with a mix of blood new and old, and the soil itself. The blood that covered Reaper as well, going so far as to reach out and let fingertips drag over that bone white mask.

Smearing blood, because he could.

"If it was me, you wouldn't be in here anymore. All you, asshole."

Reaper chuckled darkly. "Oh I have my reasons," he remarked. There were certain uses for 76 running about barking and drawing Talon attention. At least it had been that way at first, but when the order had come down for him to kill 76, it had been an inconvenient order to have to work around. Best to just avoid confrontation by then.

Ugh, what a mess. He was used to messy situations, but it seemed to him that 76 was just acting like a mangy cur for the purpose of being annoying. He shifted his weight, as if trying to put some distance between them. "Fleas getting to you?"

He shrugged. "So you can't so easily eject me. Why would I want to be stuck in the muck with you drooling over me?"

There was a snort, letting a claw draw some circle of blood right on Reaper's forehead since his hand wasn't getting swatted away. "That really doesn't hit like you want it to with you waste deep in muck," completely flat. This was almost funny, really. Of course, he wouldn't notice the blackened tips of his fingers, how wisps of it swirled along the digits and over his hands, going up his wrists.

"You know how drying blood itches, guess it feels real enough even in this lucid abstract nightmare," scruffing at his beard, further mussing it up without a care. "Terrible company, too." Just as dryly.

At least he could keep it together enough, rather than letting himself sink. "You wish I'd drool over you."

He jerked his head back at the foolishness before the blood that was scribbled on his mask seemed to absorb into the bone white surface. Reaper gave a hiss of discomfort, shaking his head slightly before stilling enough to glare at 76. "At least I know where my blackened fingers come from," he hissed in reply. He had noticed them so up close. "You going to blow up a tree and whimper away this time?"

He did know, but he wasn't about to acknowledge that fact. They all knew. When one was sleeping in the mud or under some meager canopy, sometimes blood, dirt and everything else managed to find their way into the most uncomfortable of places. "I could say the same thing. Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be pissing on trees to mark your territory?"

He wasn't in control of the dream, or so he told himself. He wasn't sinking further at least. "As if. I can smell your breath from here and it's terrible."

"Don't know what you're talking about," eyes narrowing at the blood soaking in, leaning forwards a bit as a hand set against the ground to keep himself braced. "Careful, might start sounding like you're concerned." There was something up, and he was going to figure it out- of course it didn't have anything to do with the mention of the blackening of his own hands. 76 had noticed that a bit ago, and all the better reason to keep gloves on.

Guess he didn't think about that here. Didn't matter much now, "Unlike you I don't feel the need to piss about and act like I've anything to stake claim to." That other and? Was already shooting underneath Reaper's hood so claws could pry at and under edges of his mask in an attempt to yank it off in one go.

"Protesting too much."

"You never believed in plausible deniability, so don't start now," he replied dryly. There was a reason that 76's fingers were like that, and it might have something to do with the dream state or it might not. He noticed that there were no baby tapirs around them anymore for one reason or another. "Only concerned that if you die like the dumbass you are that I'll be blamed for it. I don't want the headache."

That was rich, considering they were in a corn field of all things. Hadn't little John grown up on one? Yes, indeed. "I have nothing. It doesn't bother me." He jerked his head back, but with his legs so stuck there was little he could do but bob and twist to avoid the fingers catching on the edge of his mask. Normally, he'd just smoke away, but that wasn't an option either.

His mask was torn from his face, and he narrowed his glowing red eyes at 76 and his lips formed a thin line of disapproval. Small black lines extended from around his eyes like little branches of lightning.

"Says the man I covered for until that couldn't work any longer," so what if the blackness of fingers and claws showed more with that mask in his hand, sitting back on the balls of his feet again as he turned it in his hands. More examining it than he was Reaper's face; that was not actually news to him. "No one would blame you, let alone care," and that was not completely true, but he'd rather think it was.

He kept hold of that mask, eyes narrowing a bit as he snagged his thumb against a canine just to smear blood across the forehead of it. Watching it to see if that was some weird dream bullshit, or Reaper bullshit. "You're posturing at this very moment, so bullshit, Reyes."

His tail swayed just above the soil, letting his gaze lift briefly from the mask to Reaper's face, expression just unimpressed.

"I gave you all the means to keep your hands clean, but you were too determined to try to protect me," he growled back, narrowing his eyes. How many times would they have the same arguments? They rehashed the same comments over and over without solving anything, which would leave them both willing to fight to avoid talking any further. He knew this song and dance well. "You're an idiot if you think that."

The blood smeared for a moment then beaded up before being absorbed into the material. More thin black lines around his eyes appeared in response, and the glow of them increased slightly. "You're the one stealing my mask, Morrison."

He shifted, trying vainly to pull a leg out of the vacuum of mud. It moved a bit before it felt as if something grasped his ankle and held it firm. "What's the point of this dream? How do you end it?"

Eyes rolled, "Just as you were determined to do the same in your own way," over and over again it was danced around. Arguments had before, and this wasn't the time for it with the low growl of his voice, or maybe it was over- "You're an idiot if you don't. Only person here who knows me well enough to care is your ass, and you've made a clear stance on that." Easier enough to believe there was some damned game being played than anything else.

He caught Reaper's chin then and lifted it, claws threaded through facial hair and pressed against skin. "You're the one absorbing blood through it. Do you even notice it or is that some card up your sleeve?" There wasn't any missing that change.

76 couldn't be blamed for taking this advantage while he had it either, not after how long he had chased the bastard. "I don't know. I thought this place only broadcasted the occasional dream, not pull this shit," and a reason he was attempting a quick power nap- going to be re-thinking that after this whole thing.

"You had to deal with the political circus; you didn't need to deal with Blackwatch trouble too," he replied tersely. He knew how to keep him and his own safe enough, and the information that they acquired was used to assist Overwatch. That was their purpose. "Yes because you've shown yourself to be a bundle of love and adoration for me," he snapped back. It was amazing they hadn't killed each other, especially now that the shock of 76 being here had worn off.

He bared his teeth, sharp canines making themselves known. He tried to jerk his chin free of the hold, ignoring the insinuation that anything was happening to him. "That mask is part of me," he reminded. "Do you notice the black lines on your hands and arms? It's growing," he retorted. Just another argument for them to have.

They were both still new to the dream situation here, and it was going to take some getting used to. "Did you forget that people dream too? Most of us need to sleep, so it isn't as if you are safe from intruders in your dreams." Him being here had proven that. "And now that you know, you're going to sleep deprive yourself until you collapse. That's your style."

"Part of that political circus, or did you forget that?" Covering any little thing that could have the goings on, let alone existence, of Blackwatch out of any political ring. That included covering for things that Reyes couldn't account for on missions, keeping him from getting arrested when it could be brushed off and under the rug using himself. Stupid? Yes, incredibly so, but he'd done it anyway. "Then why the fuck are you arguing that anyone here would care if you killed me?" Amazingly stupid.

He kept that hold, even digging claws in a bit as his thumb firmly pressed against Reaper's jaw; 76 even bared his own sharp and larger canines in reply without even thinking about it. "You're getting more lines around your eyes and they're getting redder," hissed. Sure he noticed, but he was ignoring how blacker parts of his skin were getting, thanks.

"Didn't think anyone could waltz in when worst we've seen was a few dreams being broadcast on journals like a record," and this was a surprise for them both. Letting his thumb dig a little more against Reaper's jaw. "Your point?"

"I stopped showing up for political events years ago. The only time I did was to eavesdrop from the shadows." Sometimes he would be around for security purposes, but he was never so present as to be seen. There were too many people that wanted pictures, hand shakes and to tell him about the war, and he had no time for that. "Considering we fought on the roof, they will blame me if you die. You claim to have no one care for you, but you're still much too social for that to be true." Idiot, people care.

Fine black lines spread out from where the claws dug into his face, arching like static from the source of pressure. He didn't notice of course. "Who cares? I turn to smoke at will, so what's a few lines. How about you stop avoiding your own signs of degradation?"

As far as he was concerned, they didn't know the rules of this place yet, so anything was technically possible. "You know what my point is. Your avoidance behaviour is only going to get worse when you're exposed to being uncomfortable. Dream isn't something you have as much control over."

"How the fuck do you think you were able to keep getting away with that? No questions? Wasn't just your resting bitch face and attitude, Gabe." That tone was exasperated, because of course Jack goddamn Morrison covered for the man; why he was hanging around at all sometimes on base. Snipping whatever he could in the bud, explaining away why Reyes was anywhere. Covering when something did spill a bit so he could avoid any and all events in peace. "Most, if not everyone, was far too busy with the party to even notice that- and no one would care," stubborn. He didn't want anyone to care.

76 noticed, eyes following and noticing how the same was being done on his hand; the wisps growing thicker and spiraling up along his hand further. More than just fingertips a pure black. Didn't doubt Reaper would see it shooting up past his wrist. "It's spreading on your face, too." Still avoiding? Yes.

"Sounds like a pot calling a kettle black," admitting to it, while also knowing Reaper was the exact same.

"I assume it was your sunny smile and distractingly disarming mannerisms," he replied dryly. He had also laid the groundwork for his own easing away from political circles by saying that he was more of consultant for Overwatch, since he had developed and continued to develop contact and contracts with various military and militant groups. Intelligence was about balance after all; everyone had important information and never gave it away for free. "So says you. Time will tell."

His red eyes were definitely drinking in how the lines were lacing their way up beyond 76's wrist from the bare flesh he could see. How far it went up, he couldn't tell, but if something similar was happening to him it was either part of the dream or part of who they were. "And beyond your wrist," he pointed out, not about to let that go while also avoiding it surrounding himself.

They were similar in how stubborn they were. That wasn't ever going to change. Still, a smirk tugged at his lips. "I think you're worse off than I am. I at least don't require a get-along shirt with other people just to have a conversation...."

There was a curl of lips that bared more of those sharp canines- and how sharp the rest of his teeth were with that, "Political egos eat up pretty little naïve American dreams." Of course he'd never been above using the charming American farm boy look and mannerisms he was raised in to. Use or be used in that game, and he kept the collar around his neck as loose as he could for as long as he could. Hell, didn't even dignify the last with a response.

There was black bleeding in to the whites of 76's eyes, like ink splashed in to water. The blue of irises bright against the red light of everything around them. Lines spiderwebbing from the corners of his eyes to skin slowly— "You've got other things to be concerned about." Things decidedly not some supposed corruption on 76's skin. Fingers growing more solidly black, the wisps expanding over flesh.

"You'd be surprised, Gabe."

Those canines were sharper than his own for the time being, but that didn't meant that he was any less dangerous. It might be a dream, but he could apparently have some control. Stuck in the mud to mid-thigh wasn't going to stop him from throwing a punch if it came down to it. "Oh they do. It's never been about America; it's always been about having enough control to be the bigger player on the field." And that meant promoting the dream but keeping a strangle hold of it at the same time.

His eyes narrowed the black that was bleeding into 76's eyes, and he suddenly jerked his face free of that grip, a web of black lightning spreading out from the previous point of contact. He snapped a hand out of his hand in an attempt to seize 76 by the face with his fingers. "You're going down a dangerous path, old man. You won't like where it leads you, I guarantee you that. Take care to know when to stop."

But that wasn't going to happen, was it? When did either of them ever actually stop? Never.

Could almost laugh as Reaper missed the point of the statement, but in the end it didn't matter. Never really did matter, knowing how deep he was letting himself sink in it all so he could play both the part of the puppet and shield to try and protect those he cared about. That all they had seen him as was the naïve American dream, the golden show horse, that looked and spoke like a harmless man who didn't see what was going on.

He'd blinded himself to some of it because of trust, and knew his own blame at least.

Instead he tried to jerk back, but still ended up having his own face caught, his own hand moving to latch on to Reaper's shoulder. Claws digging in to keep a grip. Hard to tell if it was just to keep hold or if he'd be trying to push him down where he was stuck in that muck. "You're not in any position to stop me, Gabe," not here or outside of this place.

Sometimes it was about cutting off the conversation before it delved too deep. They had too much history and being trapped in the mud like this meant that he was limited on how much physical distance he could put between them. This was neither the time nor the place to be reflecting on past action, not too deeply anyway.

His claws dug into 76's face to prevent too much of a jerk, and he instead moved to pull 76's face in closer to his own. "It's just a warning. You're a big boy, and you can stop if you want to, right? That's how all addicts talk." He laughed unkindly and then moved to shove 76 away from him by the face.

It was time to wake up. If he couldn't move and so far unable to free himself, time to go the other way. Pain.

Claws sunk deep -or as deep as they could- in to Reaper's shoulder as 76's grip tightened on him at the pull closer. Claws digging in to blood soaked soil as that tail lashed and kept him balanced sitting on the balls of his feet. Ears pinned back and sharp teeth pressed against fingers as if he was just barely muzzled by that hand.

"I won't stop," what he meant was going to be left as vague as that, if Reaper would think about this at all later he was welcome to it, "And you're in no position to try, let alone talk." There was push back, black enveloping eyes to where there was only a touch of blue left, and even that was being overtaken by a sudden rush of red as if bleeding through.

Black bleed on to skin from eyes, spiderwebbing out further as it even colored what had been white fur. Shadows pulling up around him, baring down on everything. Pain for pain, and that familiar crackling of electricity the only thing not muffled by the swallowing darkness of shadow that Reaper couldn't control—

The world swung a bit and closed in, but it was more firm rope and fabric than anything else. The flickering a candle light just far enough away and well planted that it wasn't in danger of setting anything on fire. Inside, the smell of wood and pine and something strangely sweet. Warm.

Two bodies in one hammock.

His eyes narrowed at the sight of the black that was spiderwebbing out from 76's eyes, and it seemed that their little confrontation wasn't helping each other at all. Was it tied to emotions? Or were they drawing on powers or an old recipe that had screwed with them for years thanks to their government? He didn't have enough information, but that would change with time he expected.

He hissed when the shadows seemed to consume their position, and he flexed his legs in the muck. It felt like it was suddenly loosening as if finally deciding to let him go. That was just before the pain of electricity assaulted him, and he gritted his teeth and hissed in pain before the dream closed abruptly.

Reaper came back to himself with a jerk that sent the hammock he found himself in swinging mildly. He blinked open red eyes, disoriented from the experience and seemingly still smelling blood in his nostrils. He lifted his head where it had been resting on the back of another's, his eyes unfocused for the most part.

His arm was tight around 76's waist, and he didn't relent in his grip as he tried to figure out what had happened and how he had ended up here. This was not where he had been before entering the dream. It had been a dream right? His eyes flicked down, noting the fine lightning bolts of black spidering up 76's wrist and flopped his head back down. He was exhausted like all the energy had been drained from him. He filled the information of corruption to the back of his mind, aware he wouldn't be conscious long.

Half My Life's In Books, Written Pages

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