Ferran Gallagher (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
noblegarnet) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
songerein2022-01-02 12:37 pm
noblegarnet) wrote in songerein2022-01-02 12:37 pm
Entry tags:
[open] 🔶 more nightmares? that's just life
Who: Ferran, his dreamscape & you!
Which: interactive dream
What: Ferran dreams of his last moments before arriving in Reverein.
Warnings: blood, unhealthy relationships?? (I'll match format!)
A penthouse balcony looks over a lit city late at night, the roar of the freezing wind almost drowning out the distant sound of traffic. But any observers would only have a brief moment to appreciate it before the sudden appearance of two figures in a flash of glittering light: a dark man in a cape, and a teenager in a torn costume with apparent shackles, bleeding heavily from injuries to his shoulder and side. The former, already holding the latter in a tight grip, places a clawed gauntlet over one of the wounds where a faint light begins to glow.
After a few moments, the young man's expression seems to relax from his grimacing, orange eyes staring dully at the night sky as the bleeding slows and eventually stops.
"Why," the man hisses at his ward, his expression tight and brow furrowed deeply behind his eye mask as he continues his healing. Ferran lets out a weak chuckle, apparently unmoved by the sharp tone and look.
"It's funny," he responds with hardly more than a whisper. "I should hate you. I even fantasized about... taking you with me, once."
There's a faint smile on his face, despite the lingering pain and the gravity of his words. The dark markings on his jaw spread further out onto his face, as if to mirror some underlying fracture as he speaks.
"I can't anymore. The thought of you being hurt... I can't stand it..."
He turns his gaze to Onyx, whose expression has changed in an almost unreadible way—but behind the intensity of the clear displeasure, there's shock in the slight widening of his golden eyes.
"I guess you're upset, though. Sorr—"
With a loud crack, Ferran suddenly slumps in his guardian's arms with his eyes open, and his fantastical costume disappears, returning him to his normal appearance in a pair of bloodstained pajamas anyone who met him when he first came to Reverein might recognize.
Still carrying the young man, Onyx gets to his feet, apparently unbothered by any dreamwalkers who may have appeared nearby. When his glowing gaze turns to them, it's barely an acknowledgement.
Which: interactive dream
What: Ferran dreams of his last moments before arriving in Reverein.
Warnings: blood, unhealthy relationships?? (I'll match format!)
A penthouse balcony looks over a lit city late at night, the roar of the freezing wind almost drowning out the distant sound of traffic. But any observers would only have a brief moment to appreciate it before the sudden appearance of two figures in a flash of glittering light: a dark man in a cape, and a teenager in a torn costume with apparent shackles, bleeding heavily from injuries to his shoulder and side. The former, already holding the latter in a tight grip, places a clawed gauntlet over one of the wounds where a faint light begins to glow.
After a few moments, the young man's expression seems to relax from his grimacing, orange eyes staring dully at the night sky as the bleeding slows and eventually stops.
"Why," the man hisses at his ward, his expression tight and brow furrowed deeply behind his eye mask as he continues his healing. Ferran lets out a weak chuckle, apparently unmoved by the sharp tone and look.
"It's funny," he responds with hardly more than a whisper. "I should hate you. I even fantasized about... taking you with me, once."
There's a faint smile on his face, despite the lingering pain and the gravity of his words. The dark markings on his jaw spread further out onto his face, as if to mirror some underlying fracture as he speaks.
"I can't anymore. The thought of you being hurt... I can't stand it..."
He turns his gaze to Onyx, whose expression has changed in an almost unreadible way—but behind the intensity of the clear displeasure, there's shock in the slight widening of his golden eyes.
"I guess you're upset, though. Sorr—"
With a loud crack, Ferran suddenly slumps in his guardian's arms with his eyes open, and his fantastical costume disappears, returning him to his normal appearance in a pair of bloodstained pajamas anyone who met him when he first came to Reverein might recognize.
Still carrying the young man, Onyx gets to his feet, apparently unbothered by any dreamwalkers who may have appeared nearby. When his glowing gaze turns to them, it's barely an acknowledgement.
no subject
A frown begins to spread across his face, becoming less pleased as the conversation shifts to his failed bid for power. Also, the assumption that he wouldn't be able to handle the consequences of murder. He folds his arms across his chest, his answer curt and tense.]
I won't bore you with all the details, but I was going to become king by ridding it of its two heirs. Two sisters who were isolated from the world for years... it was a good opportunity to take advantage of.
[Anna being especially easily to manipulate. Spending all those years alone in her castle, she believed in everything he said.]
no subject
[Onyx apparently has no belief that Hans's plot was for the sake of becoming a decent king. He's clearly not the type to believe in the good in people.]
Or did your upbringing simply instill you with the false idea that you deserve special treatment due to the blood you happened to be born with?
no subject
What's left you so desperate that you took advantage of an orphan-- something that you're responsible for, before corrupting his spirit and leading him to an inevitable and painful death?
no subject
Ah, your highness. [His eyes narrow, cruel and sharp like the clawed fingers of his gauntlet.] You will never know.
no subject
Hm. He might have to prod him later, when he's awake.]
It matters little in the end. [It's not like he can do anything about it, assuming if he even wanted to.] I'm not from your world.
no subject
[Although the man leans back to a less uncomfortable distance again, he doesn't remove his hand; his grip only gets tighter.]
Though I think it's time for you to return to your meaningless fantasy realm.