songerein | Player Event: "Imbalance" [OPEN]

Entry tags:

Player Event: "Imbalance" [OPEN]

Who: Everyone! Even the newcomers! What a time to jump in, huh?
Which: OPEN Dreamscape
What: On the night of the 10th a strange dreamscape appears, dividing some dreamers into two, each bearing just half of themselves... how will they pull themselves together?
Warnings: Probably a lot. I trust you fine people to please mark your content appropriately should your threads make mention of anything triggering. I'm watching you.

Quiet nights never seem to stay quiet. It began with the slightest flicker within the crystal lanterns, a ripple, perhaps the sound of coins clinking together.

Then, with a distant scream, there was a torrent of blue and orange flame. It's hot but it doesn't burn, swirling and dancing with the frenzy of a desperate dancer. It blinds to familiar surroundings, twin colors that seemingly never end...

Until one's feet touches sand-dusted stone and marble. The air is hot and arid, ripe with burning kindling in myriad torches that line walkways. The flames rhythmically sway, catching the glimmer of golden archways and decor that embed the city... palace...? That lay before you.

Something is wrong. Really wrong. Something in you feels... different. Blank. But before you can comprehend it much further, something is running down the pathway in the distance to enter the palace like the devil was on its heels. That something looks just like you...

You pursue this weird other you... or, you don't. Perhaps you were drawn to the palace's splendor and decided to explore, maybe find some sweet treasure while you're here. Whatever the case, nothing about this place smells dusty or aged. It feels brand new... lined with statues and tapestries of what appeared to be great warriors, all humanoid and bearing twisted horns atop their heads and long, craggy tails covered in scales. But some of them have been altered in some way... some are missing their heads, and one or two "lucky" ones have simply had large claw marks ripped across their face. What would put claw marks in stone was anyone's guess.

Those who tire of the architecture may find some doors are unlocked. Yes, such a lavish place seems all too eager to lay itself bare for you, perhaps bearing a sparkly trinket or two to your liking. (Note: Unfortunately, any treasures obtained in the palace will only come back with you in the form of candies shaped as said jewels, crowns made of shortbread, tapestries spun from candy floss, etc. It's all food. Enjoy!)

Deeper and deeper you delve, either arms full of treasure or having bumped into friends who don't exactly act like your friends normally would, you find more motifs of the warriors, more intact the further you head through this weird city-palace. Near the center are statues depicting two... figures... each holding a pair of scales.

Yet no matter how much you wait and watch them, the scales continue to sway from one side to the other. There's nothing on their respective plates, however... what could be throwing them off?

If you place anything on the plates and mend the swaying scales, you are given a single shard of a strange crystal rife with dreamotion energy with a sense of wholeness and connection. It shifts colors as you turn it this way and that in your hand. Maybe that'll help put some of these people back together if fighting or talking to them won't do it...

[ooc: Information and Plotting post is here for easy review. The shards are meant to simplify putting people back together if needed, but are the only thing that can be taken into the semi-waking world as a pretty bauble. Also, a reminder that this is optional. Enjoy!]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[A. "Kitchen Witch" Madhuri]

Her chambers within the sprawling city were easy to spot- they were devoid of color, but not all was so grayscale and drab, for a rather bouncy, warm music wafted through the air. Something also seemed to be cooking, the aroma of onions, garlic, and butter catching the nose tinged with something indescribable.

"There you are! You look hungry. Come, sit, sit!" Before anyone has a chance to protest, a woman familiar to some may ease them into a seat at the nearest table. Madhuri here was dressed in a simple sundress, topped in an apron dusted with flour. But every inch of the typical brown and purple was gone, replaced by grayscale. Not a drop of color was on her. She hummed along once you were seated, hurrying to a pot that steamed and bubbled away or an oven that radiated warmth.

Spoons, forks and tongs were produced to pile a plate with this and that, the cook swinging her tail to the beat. You suppose you could wait a moment longer, it's free food...!

But when she turns and approaches with your completed platter, you see gelatin. A lot of gelatin. Those onions looked a bit dark. That chicken looks dry. But that's okay, have this heaping helping of mayonnaise to dip it in! To drink, she's happy to pour a piping hot mug of cherry soda to wet the proverbial whistle.

"Dig in, dig in! Don't wait for me." Hands clasped, she watched you... unblinking.

The smell hits your nose. Your stomach fights to clench itself shut. Feeling brave?

[B. Madhuri Qalli, Khatun of the Azim Steppe]

Someone is playing strings, and others are playing drums. Quiet chatter touches the ears and lifts in occasional song, the sound of murmuring folk... but nobody seems to be around. The torches dance and flicker to a rhythm, held by statues of smaller horned women and towering horned men, but each hold their charge in a similar fashion.

The sound of a heavy impact sounds from down one hall, followed by an animalistic growl. A nearby door is blown open by a flying object that hits the floor and rolls a few feet, the head of a statue, followed by a short, familiar figure...

Madhuri here is dressed in a lavish cloak of furs, face etched in daring sweeps of deep purple and red. She brought a heeled boot down upon the fallen statue head, grinding the point into one of the stern eyes with a coo.

"Little sun. Puny sun. You have no place here. I would ruin your visage further, but I'm afraid you wouldn't be worth my piss. And you'd probably like it anyway."

She paused, before slowly turning her burning gaze your way. With an arm she swept back her cloak, revealing... practically nothing, with black scales only just covering enough of her body to keep her "decent". Over her forearms and legs was a black armor, their make looking more like dragon's scales than any metal.

A hand planted against a slender hip, she canted her head to regard you. She asked with a purr...

"Don't I know you~?"

▶ HAVE A SHORT REST
He's... fine. Probably.

This darkened corner of the Dreamscape was the one he’d woken up in, after… what had happened, actually? Akechi remembered the crystal lanterns glowing, hearing a song… and then nothing.

It probably didn’t matter. He sat, leaning back against cold stone and staring at the ceiling, and realized, dimly, that the gap in his memories really should have bothered him more- that this was a Dreamscape of some kind, and therefore probably dangerous, but mostly… he just didn’t want to move.

Even if the place reeked, to his mind, of saltwater and rust and grease… and blood. That should have unsettled him, really, but right now it mostly felt… familiar. Strangely comforting.

There was a pistol in his hand, heavy enough he could tell it was real, even if he knew he’d gotten rid of the real one- and that was fine. It was cold down here, and dark, and there was a puddle of water underneath him, condensation trickling down off the walls of the tunnels, and that was fine too. The single azure lantern nearby didn’t illuminate much of anything, and that was probably more fine than the other things, but it was hard to find much reason to be happy about it.

There was blood on his suit jacket, too, a spatter of it across his left sleeve, and he knew that should have been a lot more concerning than it was-

But there was just… nothing. Mostly what he wanted to do was sleep. Good place for it, honestly, just as soon as those approaching footsteps went on by.

▶ DISQUIET
This is probably not fine.

… Only, in keeping with the theme of the Dreamscape, the Goro Akechi languishing in the tunnels, compared to this one, was akin to walking from a soundproofed room into a metal concert. The effect was an eye-bleeding explosion of color- an outfit that was all purple and red stripes and black and white patterns and princely gold and tattered black cape- a helmet that was half black with horn and half white with wings, a mask that was a twisted mockery of a crow, cracked and pieced together from jagged shards of red and black.

And yet, for those in the know, what might have been the most disquieting aspect of his appearance was the eyes, luminous gold that shone under the sunset light of the Dreamscape. He moved with sword in hand, stalking through the twisted landscape- but in spite of his purposeful progress, he’d greeted others with a knife’s-edge smile and a demeanor that was one part desperate and one part almost- almost- friendly.

Even if the overall effect almost hurt to look at. Even if his voice reverberated oddly, like a layer underneath was distorted, twisted like the rest of him.

And, in this specific instance, when he’d caught movement out of the corner of his eye- a stranger, or perhaps an acquaintance just passing by, he’d moved quickly, too quickly, blocking egress but approaching no further than arm’s length.

“Hello! Do you think you could help me? I’m looking for someone.”

▶ RIVERS IN THE DESERT | CURRENT CR, FREE FOR ALL
It's definitely not fine. It is not fine at all.

One had finally found the other.

This deep in the dreamscape, the environment was… unstable. Often, it took the shape of Nald’thal’s grand arena- it was, after all, Madhuri’s dream. But there was a Shadow here, and in such a place cognition was everything.

The air stank, at times rust and grease and salt and blood and others floral and vegetal and cloyingly sweet and bitter like poison, ripples through the air occasionally revealing rusted metal and thrumming machinery- or, in the chaotic morass bogging the place down, brilliant plantlife and a tree rising into the sky- though these flickering glimpses were only present for moments at a time.

The chaotic confluence of cacophonous cognition had come to conclusion, and Goro Akechi, twinned, looked himself in the face. One, bearing an expression that suggested nothing more than resignation- and the other, utter jubilation.

The Shadow glanced at those accompanying his Other, and the knife’s-edge smile returned. ”I’d almost hoped this would be a private party… but I guess I did always love being the center of attention. Evening, everyone!”

Edited (fucking html) 2022-09-11 05:22 (UTC)

A. The Umbral Uplifter

The towering figure in the palace is impossible to miss. It's no statue--the hands poking out of the long, black sleeves of its robe are clearly flesh--but it's as tall as they are, if not taller.

Hood up and mask firmly affixed to his face, Hythlodaeus doesn't catch sight of the new arrival immediately, especially not when he's so engrossed in examining as much of the temple as he can. "What caused this damage?" he wonders aloud, and hums as he walks over to inspect one of the claw-marked faces. "Some manner of beast perhaps?"

It's as he's going to inspect the next particularly interesting object that he finally manages to catch sight of the other person in the room, and he startles. "Oh! Oh dear. Terribly sorry. I must have lingered here too long. Let me just, ah, find a way to get out of your way here."

For what else could he be doing, other than bothering this perfectly nice individual?

B. The Astral Pursuer

The Hythlodaeus met outside the palace is a much more manageable size, though still as tall as ever at six fulms and five ilms. The loose, breezy, white top he wears seems somewhat fitting for the desert environment, cool yet offering protection against the desert sun and sands.

The black pants on the other hand... Well. Given how tight they are, they were clearly chosen for other reasons.

He turns a blood red gem this way and that as he holds it between his forefinger and thumb, holding it up to the sky and watching the reflected colors dance in the sunlight. "Quite beautiful, is it not?" Hythlodaeus asks, and drops his hand back down to the side as he turns to look at whoever has approached. "The dreamscape, I mean, though the jewel is quite nice too."

The smile he wears is all pleasantries, his glowing eyes sharp and calculating. With few exceptions, the one before him might as well be more toy than man.

Edited 2022-09-10 22:56 (UTC)

The shifting scenery was disorienting enough, but the assault all of the changing smells were having on his senses is what was really getting to him. He buried his face in the crook of an elbow, having long since invoked the costume change that had him sprinting towards the centre of the arena, dressed as Joker. He skidded to a stop only when he reached the figure that stood there, staring the Ideal down, with the Real right next to him.

"Akechi—"

He wanted to take Goro's lead on this one, shooting the other a glance before taking a half-step forward, and closer. His body language said what his words didn't: They'd been in this position before. They could handle it again.

Due to her experimental expedition with Mikaela not too long, ago Alisaie is a little more prepared for the unknown. The previous event also helped in its own way. The only problem is; she lost track of the silhouette of someone who she thinks looks like her disappear around the corner. She ends up chasing them without a second thought. The deeper she ventures, the more maze like the area feels. She stops at some point to look in different directions, almost stomping her foot in frustration when she seems to have lost the figure. Once she hears the voice, though, she discards that thought to save face

She hadn't notice that someone was examining the damage on the walls. Upon hearing the mumblings, she steps over to observe Hythlodaeus and responding to him all the same. Since he's quite tall, she had to crane her head to look up and see his mask covered face and robe. Something about their voice is quite familiar. She can't seem to put her finger on it quite yet since she can't identify a person underneath a mask and cloak. She's a little cautious, and maintains a safe distance but cranes her her neck to the side to examine the walls.

"Mayhaps, something of the beast kind must have dug its claws in here."

She tilts her head, "You weren't in the way."

Since, there's plenty of space here. That and she can't imagine any normal person creating marks like that.

Hythlodaeus lets out a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear," he says, a hand to his chest.

And maybe, he thinks, he was worrying overmuch. The girl is much smaller than he'd expected.

"A beast does sound likely, now that you mention it. And quite a large one at that, to reach the statue's faces. Hopefully neither of us will be unlucky enough to come across it." The poor girl would probably end up swallowed whole.

He casts a worried glance at one of the beheaded statues before returning his gaze back down at the girl. "Ah, but I don't think we've met. My name is Hythlodaeus. You are...?"

((OOC: Top Level Spoiler and Content Warning. The following threads contain MAJOR PLOT AND CHARACTER SPOILERS THROUGH ENDWALKER 6.2 PANDAEMONIUM RAID SERIES. Please tread with caution. Blanket content warning (to be safe!) for references to Garlemald which may include themes of war, violence and subjugation of other countries and peoples as well as the Ascians' everything which includes destruction and murder on a planetary scale and dehumanization of basically, yes...everyone else. If you feel uncomfy at any point, please let me know immediately and I'll try and tone things down. This could get heavy.))

[ A. THE THIRD SEAT. | Recollections of our past. ]
May those who wander paths in the dark find firelight.

[What does Emet-Selch want for treasure? The only thing he wants for is sleep. Which, as it happens, was exactly what he had been discussing just moments before the crystalline pendant about his neck began to flicker and strobe with pulses of dream energy. Another dreamscape, he imagines. And one he certainly never volunteered for.]

[Stepping out into the brilliant landscape, he is taken back centuries, back to when faith first made its way into the sundered world. And he has his answer, does he not? Surely one of the band of heroes has something to say about this place. He need only locate them and settle whatever task awaits him. Yet that task does not seem at all willing to wait in turn, for the moment he witnesses a specter of himself chasing down the halls of this golden city-palace, he has an inkling of where that task may be found.]

[How very, very troublesome.]

[With an exhausted sigh, Emet-Selch adjusts the red lacquer mask that covers his face and wastes no time setting his course. Yet perhaps this isn't the Emet-Selch most would be familiar with. No. In fact this one dresses all in plain black robes, his hair a wave of purest white framing his long neck. He is also likely to dwarf most of those present, seeing as he soars to nearly 19 fulms (feet) in height. Yet there is no need to fear being stepped on. Although they certainly pale in comparison to their resplendent surroundings, if he concentrates, he can just make out the colors of those gathered nearby like pieces on a chessboard. ...which makes this place all the more troubling, actually.]

Are you familiar with the Seven Heavens?

[Emet-Selch casts the briefest of glances over his shoulder as he makes note of the damaged statues, the tapestries, and the start of their journey.]

According to the Faith of the Twelve, following their labors in what would come to be known as the realm of Eorzea, the Twelve ascended to their final place of rest. There Nald'thal, the twin deities, constructed a golden city from bricks forged in Azeyma's scarlet flames. And thus was the Heaven of Fire birthed.

"Here reside the just and the fair, the honest and the philanthropic." ...well. Whoever these unfortunate souls represent, someone must have quite a self-righteous bone to pick with them.

Shall we?

[Dryly, and without waiting for an answer, he walks.]

Edited 2022-09-12 18:52 (UTC)

[ B. JUST ANOTHER EVIL ASCIAN. | Swift as darkness, cold as ash. ]
Stoke now kindled flame, hotter burn, sing till breath expires.

[The farther one traverses down the right wing of the palace, at some point or another, one may notice a visible shift in their surroundings. The buildings visible through the open windows appear twisted, as if they have melted and then been reformed by some giant, unseen hand. The path becomes littered with rubble and in places the floor has crumbled away to reveal deep chasms with flickers of distant fires winking below. Upon the broken backs of the toppled figures from Steppe legend stand tall cloaked men and women in billowing robes, each marked by a unique mask, each holding some symbol of their station. At least one of the statues may even look a little bit familiar, depicting a shorter man holding a shield in one hand, and in the other, a set of scales.]

[As the path narrows further, one will step across a threshold into what appears to be the outdoors, out into a Grecian amphitheatre with a dais in its heart. On that dais stands a throne, and in that throne sits someone most certainly familiar - yet notably younger. Emet-Selch no longer hunches in his seat and his golden eyes are piercing as they take in this newest disruption with a cold, dispassionate stare. A snap of his fingers, and colored spheres begin to orbit slowly around the arena, appearing much like planets, yet with some visible gaps between them and one which is a misshapen, shadowed husk. Above his head, a larger globe of Etheirys materializes, this one far more vibrant and detailed than its fellows.]

Well, well. You certainly took your time.

[His lips curl but the smile doesn't reach his eyes, nor any other part of his visage as he rises and begins his descent. A revolver flashes as it's drawn from one of his deep pockets.]

Now then, where were we? Ah yes. Be a good sport, won't you? Unfortunately for us both, you cannot be permitted to leave.

[A metallic click.]

Nothing personal.

Edited 2022-09-12 20:00 (UTC)

[ C. PAST & PRESENT COLLIDE. CRESCENDO. | Our defiance drives us straight to the edge. ]
Our fates are yours to bend, to hells and heavens flow.

((OOC: For plotting, please catch me over at

circadia. Ultimately Themis will be the one with an edge to make Emet-Selch see some semblance of reason, but the more the merrier! Enjoy the show. I thoroughly expect CR fallout as a result of the events to come. Purple is Emet A. Red is Emet B. If you're addressing one or the other please mark it in the subject line and I'll respond with appropriate icons.))

______________________

[It is within the amphitheatre that past and present stand before one another at last. The floor even here has become riddled with jagged lines where the ground below would threaten to yawn open and swallow any unfortunate enough to be standing upon a loose fragment of earth.]

Some merry chase you've led us on! And I suppose this was your goal the entire time, to draw us into the depths of Aglaia? For what purpose?

[On one side stands Emet-Selch. Ancient, Third Seat of the Convocation of Fourteen. His mask hangs from a cord around his neck and two golden eyes smolder beneath a furrowed brow. He scowls at the man before him as if he doesn't much like what he sees.]

[On the other side...stands Emet-Selch, still wearing the face of Solus zos Galvus. Founding Father of the Garlean Empire, and Under Various Guises, the Architect of Myriad Other Imperially Inclined Nations. Unsundered. Ascian. His lips form a caricature of a smile as he identifies his latest guest immediately, one he's no doubt been awaiting since they arrived. After all, it's a face he'd be hard-pressed to forget - for it is his own.]

Oh, come now, you cannot possibly be surprised! Though knowing you as well as I do, I'm given to believe we've both enough sense not to waste our precious time and energy here on a quarrel of pure and pointless pettiness. Am I mistaken?

[Across the room, the robed man bristles.]

My quarrel with you is hardly so trivial! What makes you think I will freely offer you my cooperation? You who have committed atrocities in the name of my people, you who have become so twisted that you would defile their very memory for the sake of your own selfish indulgences!

And what would you have done differently, hmn? Think yourself above bloodying your own hands for the sake of our people's future? I thought that once. Of course I did. Yet you and I both know how well that turned out. After all, as you've always said, we would never forsake them.

Would we?

Edited 2022-09-15 14:18 (UTC)

"Well, well, destruction of property, I see."

Thancred had just walked into the hall, looking at this version of Madhuri. This wasn't the one he knew, but looked exactly like her.

"And yes, you do know me. But do you remember my name?"

A. The Mistake

[It probably looks a bit strange to see a student walking around here, backpack slung over his shoulders and looking around like he's on a field trip or something. Well, that and this particular student is a thin blue cyclops. The colors of his hair and clothing are definitely reminiscent of a Reverein resident, however. Who is also a tall cyclops.

He seems pretty content to explore in the background of whatever your life is. But if you approach him or his path happens to cross with yours, he greets you happily.]

Hey, what's up?! You find anything interesting here?

...Seriously, is there anything to do?

B. The Only Role Left

[Elsewhere in a chamber deeper into the temple, you may find a figure who most definitely resembles the Rob this world usually sees. He is wearing an odd outfit consisting of cardboard, a colander, and a styrofoam plate on one wrist.

He has a large, metal machine of some sort with pistons sticking out of both sides in the middle of the room. Currently, he's going around with several stakes attached to the device via string and trying to strategically pound them into the floor. Due to it being made out of stone, this is taking quite a long time with just his little mallet. It may be hard to tell exactly what it is he's doing, but the whole vibe definitely says "evil supervillain setting up his plot".

When he speaks, his voice sounds completely different. It's a deep, menacing, British voice. You know, evil.]

A heavy sigh carries through the grand halls of the amphitheater, nearly swallowed by the ringing footsteps that echo as Hythlodaeus--the one so enamored by the individualism of Reverein--makes his way unhurriedly toward Emet-Selch's throne. "I somehow get the feeling you were expecting someone else," he says, just before his exaggerated pout transforms into a smile radiating warmth--a far cry from the perfunctory politeness most would have seen from him.

"But if that is what the most eminent Emet-Selch desires, then who am I to deny him?" He stands before the dais, arms out. "Though as your friend, I would just like to say I'd prefer a different path. But I'll leave the final decision to you."

Though we may experiment with taste and combination, food, at its core, is for nourishment. Naught else.

Or so Hythlodaeus took great pains to remind himself as he stared down at the multitudes of gelatinous shapes before him. Never before had he seen food wiggle about like that before, and especially not in a way that seemed somehow... menacing?

Perhaps it might have helped if he were smaller, but as he was, his knees were tucked into his chest, his head (luckily) managing not to brush up against the ceiling. The cutlery on the table seemed more like toothpicks to him, the seat beneath him feeling as if it had come from a child's playset.

"Ah..." He struggled a moment to find the right words to say, eventually deciding upon an excuse to delay his meal. "Would these happen to be common dishes from your home?"

A. The Boisterous Showman of Neglected Heart

Within the palace of gold lies a theater, one that was recently adorned with new decorations. They clash with the glamorous visuals, akin to a hunter's trophy room instead of a home for the arts. Skulls of inhuman shape nailed to the wall with various weapons, portraits of mighty demons fallen in battle, names inscribed on the bottom of their frames. Mundus, Argosax, Belial, Leviathan.

Wanted posters of several shady looking humans crossed out in red, nailed to the wall with throwing knives. Arkham, Arius, Sanctus. Another picture of a human continues to appear around the stadium as if guided by the wind. An old photograph, crinkled and well loved with a named scribbled in the corner by a young child's handwriting. Eva.

"Right on time, my friend!" After enough time looking over the trophies or the briefest of times examining the photo, the man responsible makes himself known. Dante, covered in blood and a few wounds, stands proudly atop the stage. One such wound is a hole in his chest, empty and over where his heart should be. "I was just about to start rehearsing. Hell of a place, this castle. The ones I've seen were abandoned or crawling with demons. Real intense stuff, I can tell you all about it. Take a seat; I promise this is the safest place in the palace."

B. The Fearful Survivor of Bleeding Heart

Within the palace of gold walks a wanderer, visibly fatigued and regularly looking over his shoulder. He seems to travel without destination, the only stipulation being to not stay in any one place for too long. A man on the move, a man who doesn't want to be found...

A man of heavy heart as he can't stop to enjoy the wonders of the palace or the people that explore its corridors.

But he has to stop eventually. He can't run forever, but he can take pauses and catch his breath. These are times others can easily find him, leaning against a wall, sweating nervously, jumping as someone approaches. He becomes nervous when resting in an area someone else is in, fingers getting fidgety as eye contact becomes irregular.

"So, uhh...how about this place, huh?" He meekly speaks up, an attempt to drown out the silence in conversation. "There's always some deep mystery in places like this. Maybe a buried secret, maybe the lair of something terrible, painted gold to ward off suspicion. Could swear I hear voices and growls in the darker corners..."

Edited 2022-09-14 18:36 (UTC)

[ information here!

warnings!
- spoilers: all three prompts will have MAJOR spoilers for Persona 5 Royal, both for Sumire's personal arc and the story as a whole.
- content: the second and third prompt will deal with suicidal ideation. ]

[ She's heard of this happening before, of the lanterns awakening of their own accord and pulling people into someone's personal dreamscape, of fancies and nightmares both awaiting the dreamers on the other side. In the short time she's been here though, it hasn't happened to her— until now.

It's a quiet night, at least until the screaming and the twisting of the flames, and before Sumire realizes what is happening, her feet are sinking into soft sand, the world around her hot and bright and flaming. Her heart skips a beat in her chest, and she twirls to look around... realizing as she does that the movement feels more graceful than any she has made in years. There are footsteps disappearing down a marble-floored corridor, a curtain of red hair in their wake that looks much like her own, and something feels out of place.

Something feels...

Her eyes widen.

The knowledge of what happened to her just recently, the loss of an identity she'd chosen for herself, is fresh in her mind. And yet, none of the feelings of inadequacy are there anymore. The feelings from which she ran for so long, the fear and the guilt, the self-hatred... all of those things, gone. It's how she felt when she believed, under Dr. Maruki's spell, that she was Kasumi.

But... she is Sumire. She knows this in her heart.

Has this dream somehow taken away the negative feelings buried deep in her heart, the feelings she is still working every day to reconcile? Surely it can't be that easy... right? And so, determination set on her features, the newly-confident Sumire Yoshizawa sets out for the palace in the near distance, following the curtain of red hair that tore ahead of her mere moments before.

If she bumps into anyone on the way, she'll greet them with a polite, friendly smile: ]

Oh, excuse me! I don't suppose you saw someone go running past just now?

Edited 2022-09-13 15:57 (UTC)

[ The feel of her feet sinking into soft sand is the last nice thing she remembers, immediately followed as it is by the most intense wave of self-loathing she has felt in all of her 15 years. Through the frames of her glasses, she sees her come into being mere feet away: bright smile on her lips, hair tied in her favorite red ribbon, a graceful ease to her movements even as she settles onto the ground.

Meanwhile, Sumire's shoes are filling with sand.

Her memories tell her that somehow, she has made peace with these feelings already. Yet her heart rages. How badly did she delude herself before now that she somehow believed everything was okay— that being Sumire was okay? It would have been better to accept Dr. Maruki's reality, to live as her sister forever and fulfill the dreams she should have been fulfilling.

...It would have been better if she had died, not Kasumi.

Seeing the girl next to her, Sumire can't help but wonder if she has another chance. She knows deep down that it isn't Kasumi herself, that it's somehow her - the hair, after all, is red, not Kasumi's brown - and yet there's something about the smile on those lips that makes her wonder.

Perhaps, if she is to disappear in this place, the other girl next to her can live the life she should be living.

It takes her only a moment to decide: she runs, her long red hair streaming behind her, determined to put distance between the two of them.

This dream will be where she finally dies. ]

Edited 2022-09-13 16:19 (UTC)

[ Once she understands the whole of what's going on, it's not hard for Sumire to find herself. After all, despite missing such a large part of herself, she knows the exact kind of place she would be liable to hide. After all, it may be Kasumi's confidence she holds right now, but her memory is undamaged, and the two together make her a force to be reckoned with.

And maybe, as recently as a month ago, Sumire would have taken this dreamscape as a chance to snatch back a wish once lost, to lapse into unknowingness once more... but in just that short time, she has learned. The pain may be unpleasant, but it remains part of who she is. From it, she has gained lessons that will guide and shape the rest of her life. Through it, she has grown to love and appreciate her sister all the more. Her pain has made her stronger, and she knows she can't leave here without it.

To do so would be accepting Dr. Maruki's reality for herself once more, after she has already chosen to reject it.

It is for this reason that she is crouched by the side of her double, a gentle expression on her face as she tries to explain it to her— although the other Sumire doesn't seem to hear it, just shakes her head and curls up tighter, as if to somehow ignore her...

The ponytailed Sumire will look around her for anyone nearby, offering a small, helpless smile. ]

I don't suppose you would have any words of advice?

Edited 2022-09-13 16:37 (UTC)

In the first moment, Violet didn't recognize him. How could she? Distorted as he was, half-idealized hero, half-twisted mess, all-Shadow, there was something entirely unrecognizable about him, despite the hints of his Crow costume peeking through, tattered and pieced together though they may have been. Not to mention that she herself, only recently gathered back together, was trying to find a way out of this confusing place. She was tired, exhausted even.

He, however, was not going to let her pass. The quick movement, the blocking of her path, and she looked up at him, her eyes widening as the recognition settled under her skin. Akechi. But... the look of him, the twisted smile on his lips— Since their first excursion together into the Metaverse, she had always known Akechi to be a little... well, she'd never been able to put it into words. But this seemed worse than that, like that multiplied by a hundred, like the tempering side of him was completely gone.

...Which, based on what happened to her? It probably was.

Oh, no.

Violet took a deep breath, looked up to meet his eyes. Was he looking for Joker? Or was he looking for himself - the other side of himself, no doubt the one he tried so hard to let none of them see? The only way to know was to ask.

"Who are you looking for, Akechi-san?"

[ This dreamscape has already been... kind of a lot. And considering it's the second one she's ever found herself in, with the first being designed as a practice, Violet feels nothing short of overwhelmed. Is this what it is always going to be like, living in this strange world? Waking into someone else's reality, someone else's dreams, someone else's nightmares, with seemingly no way to escape? She has heard of dreamscapes being a way to obtain unique and interesting treasures, but right now, Violet just wants to get out, to go back to whatever dreamlike state her new "real" is.

She has made her way back from the depths of the dream to the place she first entered, when she spies something different, something she doesn't recall being there before. With its height, she assumes it's a statue - until it moves, and the girl, a little taller than a quarter of his height, yelps in shock and fear.

Still, he seems peaceful enough, indicating the overlarge tapestries as he is and asking questions of her, of others around. Seven Heavens? She shakes her head. No, in her world, there are some who believe in one - others who believe in none at all. But seven is new to her. And so she finds herself listening intently as he talks, a youthful curiosity blooming on her face.

When he walks, she hurries to follow, her small steps needing three of his, calling out to him. ]

Um... excuse me? If this is a place you know, does this mean this is your dream?

[ And what of the other Heavens? If there is one of Fire, is there one of Ice, too? Of Light? She has so many questions.

But also... will he even hear her, given that the top of her head comes only to his knee? Perhaps she could try flying again, like she did back when she first arrived and was practicing her skills... ]

Ren had been aware of the presence of another, though he had been mostly unbothered by the robe-clad man and his ostentatious size. His quiet observations were actually helpful, thought-provoking, especially for someone used to bouncing their ideas off of a team. "Hmm..." rather than have him get out of the way, this unassuming high schooler had better ideas.

"Actually..."

He points straight up, to damage done to the decapitated statues— "You're in a better position than I am to inspect closely but... what do you think about the missing heads? Does it seem to be the same consistency of brute force into the stone?"

Having found himself in this palace of flames, van Zieks found little reason not to investigate the strange but intriguing setting. He spends some time roaming the echoing, ornate space, even taking a small coin or two as souvenir, wondering all the while about the origin of this dream—it must be one of some sort—for he has yet to find an actual person to interact with...

The sudden thud that reverberates through the hall draws his attention to the broken stone and his hand to the hilt of his sword, but what he then sees is—

Ahem! While their last encounter was certainly unique, this is. A lot. He averts his eyes almost immediately after she throws her cloak open, though his the stern demand following her inquiry is only slightly flustered.

"What in blazes is this about?"

Hythlodaeus can only blink down at Ren for a moment, and then he takes a second to look around and see if there's some other man he might be talking about. But no. No, he means him, doesn't he?

"I'm... not entirely sure I'm the best person to ask about this sort of thing," he admits. This is likely some form of dreamotion and not aether after all, and while his vision is quite admirable, he's far, far too inexperienced when it comes to anything regarding the newer energy. Completely and utterly average at best.

"Oh! But I am more than capable of lifting you so you can look for yourself if you would like. You sound as if you have some experience to your name when it comes to identifying that sort of thing, so I'm sure you'll be able to figure out faster than I ever could."

This is the young man from those carnival games months ago, after all. And, as Hythlodaeus recalls, he had quite a sharp pair of eyes himself, not to mention the dexterity to do them justice.

He might have worried a bit too much, probably. Alisaie doesn't seem to be bothered his presence, other than the fact that he's towering over her.

"Aye, we can only hope. This place is like a maze. Mayhaps, it will venture back if we stick around for too long. It be best if we start moving."

She might be swallowed, whole, probably. Alisaie's pretty confident in her abilities of beating the crap out of things if she needed to. She needed the practice anyway.

"I've heard stories about you, and it's Alisaie."

The warrior of light did have fun stories to tell of their journey to Elpis among other things. It's a name she can't quite forget. Now, that explains why Hythlodaeus' voice sounded familiar.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 17

Player Event: "Imbalance" [OPEN]

Madhuri | Open. Pick your poison. Warning for... lewdness in B.

Goro Akechi || Persona 5 Royal || OTA

no subject

3 ( the last ace in a lost hand )

hope this is okay!

it's perfectly fine!

Emet-Selch | Final Fantasy XIV (major spoilers for Shadowbringers and Endwalker)

Emet-Selch A.

Emet-Selch B.

Finale.

no subject

Rob | TAWOG | Open!

no subject

A

Dante | Devil May Cry | Potential spoilers for DMC 5

Sumire Yoshizawa | Persona 5 Royal | OTA

1. 𝒲𝒽𝓎, 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂. (Kasumi)

2. 𝒷𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃. (Sumire) cw: suicidal ideation

3. 𝓈𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.

2

let me know if I should change anything!

umbral sorry can't resist opportunity of giantfriend

B!

no subject

yay! \o/