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Entry tags:
[open] somnus & YOU; interactive dream
Who: somnus and you
Which: Interactive Dream, just one, open
What: ITS SPOOKS SEASON NOW so
Warnings: themes of shadow/darkness but emphasis on moving forward. also dreamotion practice.
[ The dream manifests from the depths of sleep and memory, shadow and void, and you may find that the moment gravity recalls its function, your form touches down onto the smooth, cool surface of black marble. The stone base outstretches before you in a long, solitary path, and before your feet is a single gold-and-black metal epitaph with the numeral I on it. A short way ahead, another II marks another epitaph upon the ground. Beyond that, a III, with the rest remaining obscured by distance alone. Whether this pattern is an arbitrary count or a warning for something more, the dream gives no other indication, perhaps purposefully stripped of any further design.
While no walls line the path, it seems you cannot stray from it. Despite the apparent vastness of the hall, all sounds are cut short, swallowed by the overwhelming pitch of blackness beyond, blanketing all in mournful silence. The only other curiosity the dream holds is the faint scent of wheat, of harvest carried by a crisp breeze, that seems to originate from far down the hall.
Somnus is there beside you as you appear within this dream of his, and in acknowledgment, he dips his helm in your direction. There are but two options: force an exit with the practice of dreammotion or proceed. For now, however: ]
Let us walk.
Which: Interactive Dream, just one, open
What: ITS SPOOKS SEASON NOW so
Warnings: themes of shadow/darkness but emphasis on moving forward. also dreamotion practice.
[ The dream manifests from the depths of sleep and memory, shadow and void, and you may find that the moment gravity recalls its function, your form touches down onto the smooth, cool surface of black marble. The stone base outstretches before you in a long, solitary path, and before your feet is a single gold-and-black metal epitaph with the numeral I on it. A short way ahead, another II marks another epitaph upon the ground. Beyond that, a III, with the rest remaining obscured by distance alone. Whether this pattern is an arbitrary count or a warning for something more, the dream gives no other indication, perhaps purposefully stripped of any further design.
While no walls line the path, it seems you cannot stray from it. Despite the apparent vastness of the hall, all sounds are cut short, swallowed by the overwhelming pitch of blackness beyond, blanketing all in mournful silence. The only other curiosity the dream holds is the faint scent of wheat, of harvest carried by a crisp breeze, that seems to originate from far down the hall.
Somnus is there beside you as you appear within this dream of his, and in acknowledgment, he dips his helm in your direction. There are but two options: force an exit with the practice of dreammotion or proceed. For now, however: ]
Let us walk.
no subject
[At least they can leave this place at long last. Somnus should be waking up from it anytime soon. Alphen at least hopes that'll be the last of it. ]
It's good to have you around, friend.