[open] 🔶 more nightmares? that's just life

[noblegarnet]

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.

Comments

[noblegarnet]

It is—though I wonder if I'm no longer the only one of those he cares for despite the obvious mistake that is.

[Said with a particular look in her direction and no shame whatsoever. At her question, his head tilts as he considers the answer.]

In his reality? He'll remain unconscious until needed, most likely. [He gestures with the hand holding the young man's necklace to indicate the significance of the pendant, then tucks it away beneath his cape.] At least until his soul finally deteriorates.

[She can imagine the results of that.]

[shithogs]

[Another snort— he'll have to do better than that to offend her, although 'angry' does seem to be her default setting. Who knows what it would take to get the needle to move.]

Deteriorates.

[Shit. He'll wake up when he wakes up, but...]

Is that part of your endgame?

[If he even has one?]

[noblegarnet]

[Who, indeed. Onyx isn't really the one doing the wondering here, but it's a thought that occurs to Ferran, now.]

Not quite so quickly, it wasn't.

[Throwing his weapon away prematurely would just be a waste, but the man likely had an awareness of the consequences. He nearly killed Ferran once. Why wouldn't he allow it to happen later, once he was no longer useful?]

But perhaps him being unaware like this will prevent further acceleration of that. It will give him less opportunity to think about his situation, in any case.

[shithogs]

[It's not often that Kainé finds herself at a loss, feeling helpless in a situation— she decides that dreams and dreamscapes suck, definitively; there's nothing she can do for Ferran but angrily demand answers that aren't really hers to ask for. If she were to follow her usual impulses and lay into this guy, there's no telling how that might effect Ferran himself, and she'd rather not take the risk of doing more damage than may already be done by dredging all of this up.

She stares at Onyx for another moment or two, her gaze hardened, before she walks right past him and bends down on one knee beside where Ferran is sprawled, gently shaking his shoulder.]

Hey— hey, kid.

[He's not really any younger than she is, or not by enough to matter, but she hasn't been able to drop the nickname.]

Look— you gotta wake up.

[Clearly, he has some shit he needs to talk about.]

[noblegarnet]

[Ferran remains unresponsive as he's shaken, his exhaustion even clearer from up close even aside from anything supernatural. Onyx, watching without any apparent concern, speaks frankly in the young man's stead.]

He won't. Not here, in this memory.

[Even if he did wake up, even if he could within the confines of the dream's rules, it's unlikely he'd even be able to answer Kainé in any way that mattered. He'd never had the opportunity to say much while under Onyx's control, simply due to the nature of how that control affected him. Perhaps surprisingly, though, the reflection of that man offers another solution:]

If you'd really like him to wake up... I'd suggest you try from the outside.

[shithogs]

[From the outside. Which means that if Ferran is going to wake up, she has to, first.

Seems easier said than done.]

Don't think I won't.

[Because clearly, her friend has some shit he needs to talk about, although she has a strong suspicion he won't. She sure as hell wouldn't want to.

She shoves herself away from the couch, though not without casting another worried glance at Ferran himself.]

Fine. I'm out of here. Place is a shithole, anyway.

[Your house sucks, Onyx.]

[noblegarnet]

[Whether Ferran wants to talk about it or not has been rendered moot by the dream, now. After all, what secrets does he even have that are worse than what his memory has admitted to here?

Onyx lets out a low chuckle as the scenery through the open door begins to darken and dissipate: a clear, easy exit from the space.]

Good luck, then. I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you.

[It's hard to tell whether he's being sarcastic or sincere.]

[shithogs]

[Well, she knows exactly where she's going. She shoots him another glare; it won't accomplish much of anything, but she's never been one to veil her ire.]

Guess we'll just have to see.

[Sarcasm or sincerity, it doesn't matter to her— she doesn't give a damn what this guy thinks, but she is concerned about Ferran.

With that in mind, she leaves the apartment behind, walking straight through that open door and into the darkness without missing a single beat.]