songerein | [OPEN] Another Day, Another Week, Another Month, Another Year...

Who: Alastor and you
Which: Interactive Dream, OPEN
Where: A warped version of Reverein that looks like Hell and Reverein have merged together.
What: Alastor has a legitimate nightmare for the first time since arriving, and it’s of a version of Reverein where him going noctaere led to him becoming as much of a social pariah as he is in Hell.
Warnings: It’s Alastor, and he’s not having a very good night’s sleep.

Reverein sat quietly beneath the glowing red pentagram that turned the sky purple. Demons, fairies, and others went about their business, going in and out of shops, sometimes pausing to chat on the streets. However, there was a nervous tension that buzzed in the air whenever the breeze caught the edge of one of many posters put up around town, prompting some people to glance at the sketch of a terrifying demon with wicked antlers, terrible claws, and a horrifying fanged smile.

BEWARE!!!!!! HIM!! THE RADIO DEMON!!

Wandering into the Residential District, there eventually came a sudden abandoned gap of treehouses and apartment buildings. Things had become overgrown, all of it leading up to a blackened tree that seemed to be slowly scaling a radio tower.

Anyone who attempted the front door would find it unlocked. Not at all surprising given nobody wanted to come anywhere near the occupant or anywhere he might haunt. The door opened to a black void so cold that it froze the very soul, the emptiness stretching into eternity.

And somewhere inside was Alastor.

But Things lurked in the endless dark, patches of blackness darker than the rest of the darkness that moved out of the corner of one’s eye and watched with unseen, unblinking gazes.

Dare you risk it and rouse the tormented dreamer? Or will you move on to the next person’s dream and leave the demon to his demons?

Threaded | Flat

How could she possibly move on to the next dream when there was something she could do about it?

The moment she saw the depiction in the sketch, her eyes narrowed. This oppressive air, the wind that never seemed to stop blowing, this massive black tree towering over all...

A shiver ran down her spine. She recalled the mission to storm the Tower of Babil. This was terribly familiar for her, even if she herself never reached the peak. But she could handle this. Maybe. Let's try something a little more direct. She could just recall a tune from her dreams, give it a little time...

She threw open the door, witnessed the void beyond... and rolled her shoulders.

"...M-hm. He's definitely here, all right."

Asura typically steered clear of the dreams of others if he could avoid it. Dreams are private things and it wouldn't be right to intrude upon them. Asura also isn't typically pulled into the dreams of others, however.

When he looks down at himself, Asura notices that he's once again taken on the appearance of the Mara--how very appropriate for this hellish vision of Reverein. Grumbling under his breath, he takes one look at the warning poster and knows immediately whose dream this is.

"Is this the world you want?" Asura shouts into the open door of Alastor's void, but does not yet step through.

Beware, huh?

Frowning at one of the posters, Naminé did have to admit that it wasn't the most flattering side of Alastor to depict. This place was more disconcerting for how similar it was to the real Reverein, and there was little question where the other elements came from - although nothing troubled her quite so much as the implications of their presence.

Of course, the tendency of the more demonic bystanders to turn tail and run when she approached to ask them about said unflattering images did cause its own kind of inconvenience. (She suspected it might have had something to do with the delicate, feathery little wings peeking out behind her shoulders that most certainly didn't belong there outside of the dream.) After the third stammered excuse and hurried departure, Naminé finally elected to make her own way toward the one place she'd have known to look for Alastor in the real version of this world.

As it turned out, her guess was right. Lingering at the door of the overgrown treehouse, Naminé turned her face up toward the tower to regard it for a moment before considering the frame before her. Well, it was only polite to knock, right? And so she did, knuckles making a soft rap on the wood.

"Alastor?" she called, as polite as ever despite the edge of concern in her voice. "Are you at home...?"

May have some DMCs coming in.

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