Dove has maybe heard of the phenomenon connecting people throughout the castle. Maybe she's already experienced it. Regardless, it's begun again, through the gentleness of sleep. It's a dream, and not one that belongs to her.
The setting is far removed from the Castle in the Mist. The air is crisp and clean, and the land is all hills and, farther away, mountains rising into a clear blue sky. Trees encroach comfortably on a bustling, old-looking town. Rocks jut from the ground everywhere, and rather than neatly aligned streets and flattened sections of earth, the hodgepodge of houses have been built around and between the obstacles in a tight scramble. The most notable feature by far, however, is the massive tree rising up, up, up, impossibly high, towering over everything.
The closest house looks well-built and sturdy, its lowest level nestled within rocks on three sides. The childlike delight and laughter that set the tone for this dream come from the small pack of children playing outside of it. All ages, all descriptions, shouting about fearsome dragons and brave warriors and beautiful princesses, as children are wont to do. They aren't especially watched over, but there are plenty of people out and about on this beautiful summer day.
One child, a boy with blonde hair who looks about five years old, answers the call of a woman in the doorway. Come help her, she asks, come get the big cookpot, she's too big to reach it. The dream follows him inside, where he crawls under a cramped pantry to reach a pot about as big as he is. The woman stays in the doorway, amused by the children's antics.
The room lights up. Bright. Brighter than it's ever been. The high windows that peek out over the stones that hug the house are suddenly ablaze with a light that could outshine the sun.
And then a deafening blast shakes the earth. The upper floors of the house are blown away instantly, and what's left is crumbling inward. The blaze of light hasn't subsided, but it's turned red. The woman in the doorway is glowing red, too, and her shape is disappearing in the flames. The boy on the floor, flattened, covered with blood, screams. For his mother. His father. He tries to crawl toward the burning woman, but his limbs aren't moving properly. All he can do is watch.
It's impossible to hear the children outside laughing or playing anymore. The only sound from the town is the roar of fire, the crumbling of the houses, and the screams of the doomed.
The house is still falling, and it's caught fire itself now. The boy continues crying and screaming and trying to crawl away, but soon the door has collapsed, too. There's no way out. There is no way out. He's trapped, and the space left to him is getting ever smaller, between the rubble and the flames. Smaller and hotter, and harder to breathe. It won't be long until his clothing catches, too.
He succumbs to his injuries, to the heat and the smell of burning flesh. Sure enough, his clothes catch fire eventually, as he rests. The flames everywhere grow brighter, but the dream is starting to darken. It flickers, and shadows eat it up at the edges. The boy burns.
It's not too out there for her to dream, but it's rarely ever so vibrant and it's certainly never someone else's dream without her walking through it herself. No, this one is different, thrust upon her with no warning, and she can only watch helplessly as it unfolds.
It starts out just fine; this she can live with, children happy and playing and obediently obeying their...mother? It's calming, a beautiful slice of human life that an angel can definitely appreciate--
and then it all changes for the worst, and while she's familiar with the natural disasters that are fated to plague the human race, she's not at all prepared to witness something like this first hand. The young boy she's watching can't be helped; she's entirely powerless, helpless to rescue him, and that in itself is enough to have her waking up in tears. The impact of how real it all felt, the fact that someone could have actually gone through such a thing, has her shaking.
There's a lion at the foot of her bed that immediately springs up to her side, mattress creaking as he lays his paws across her legs and allows her to bury herself in his mane. She can't shake it off. The shock of things turning, the pain of the fire, the smell of it eating away at everything-
It reminds her too much of the home Ozuma has pulled her from, the battle, the war, everything.
By the time she's finished her shaking, she can feel the pull, the strange tug forcing her out of her bed despite Era's confusion. It takes her only a few minutes to find her clothing- just the romper layer, as she doesn't feel she has time for much more- and she's out the door to find out who this dream belongs to. She's walked enough of them to know it's no coincidence.
Arthur is....mostly fine. He doesn't look or behave like someone who's had such a traumatic experience, and he absolutely doesn't act like it came back to him in his dreams. The reason is simple: he doesn't remember. He never remembers.
He can guess, more or less, what happened that day. He can describe, in a general sense, what haunts the dreams he can't remember because he knows what Simon went through. The details are lost to him but he's told he calls out for his family on the (admittedly fairly rare) occasion he has a nightmare. And honestly? He's fine with this. Sure he wakes bummed and bothered, but he gets on with his day and has usually forgotten about the nightmare entirely by nightfall.
It's been harder here. Arthur isn't used to being without Simon, and none of the people here could ever make up for that bond. Without the medic here to ground him, his nightmares come more frequently and take longer to fade. With no desire to recreate something impossible to replace or to bother other people with a past he doesn't especially care about, there's one other source of comfort in the aftermath.
Tonight, Arthur is in the mess hall long after everyone else has gone to bed, with a pile of sweets and snacks big enough to keep even the quickest eater busy for a while. For some reason he can't quite place, he's more anxious after the nightmare than usual. More than he should be.
When she finally turns the corner into the room, she pauses, standing back long enough to take in the scene and be absolutely sure that she's found what she's been drawn to look for. It's odd. She's sure she's never met this young man, but for whatever reason, she feels like she already knows far too much.
Era, still in lion form, peers curiously around her, bumping her hip with his head.
Quietly, once she's gathered herself as best she can, she takes a deep breath and approaches, wings shuffling behind her as she steps around to his table. "Hello..." she greets him gently, grinning tiredly at his large pile of snacks. She's careful to keep her hands still, arms loosely crossed over her middle. "Midnight snack?"
Snacks that Era certainly seems interested in... Sorry bud, don't mind the lion sniffing at your treats.
Every explorer develops a keen sense for when they are no longer alone, but this is more than that. Somehow, bundled in the extra anxiety he's feeling tonight, Arthur already knew someone was coming, and from where. Almost like he was the one on the move - which is dumb, he's been right here for a while, and he isn't about to abandon his snacks. Someone else might eat them.
So it's with minimal surprise when he turns to look at Dove. He doesn't know her, has maybe spotted her in passing at best. The lion sniffing at his food, though, that gets a bit more of a reaction- "Whoa!"
How is he supposed to deal with a lion? It's not trying to eat him, he doesn't have a lot of reference for that.
Putting that aside, he's cheered to not be alone. He's always done better with people, strangers or no. His grin might be a little brighter than he really feels, but it is genuine. "Yeah! Want some?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
SOMETIME IN SEPTEMBER, action-ish
The setting is far removed from the Castle in the Mist. The air is crisp and clean, and the land is all hills and, farther away, mountains rising into a clear blue sky. Trees encroach comfortably on a bustling, old-looking town. Rocks jut from the ground everywhere, and rather than neatly aligned streets and flattened sections of earth, the hodgepodge of houses have been built around and between the obstacles in a tight scramble. The most notable feature by far, however, is the massive tree rising up, up, up, impossibly high, towering over everything.
The closest house looks well-built and sturdy, its lowest level nestled within rocks on three sides. The childlike delight and laughter that set the tone for this dream come from the small pack of children playing outside of it. All ages, all descriptions, shouting about fearsome dragons and brave warriors and beautiful princesses, as children are wont to do. They aren't especially watched over, but there are plenty of people out and about on this beautiful summer day.
One child, a boy with blonde hair who looks about five years old, answers the call of a woman in the doorway. Come help her, she asks, come get the big cookpot, she's too big to reach it. The dream follows him inside, where he crawls under a cramped pantry to reach a pot about as big as he is. The woman stays in the doorway, amused by the children's antics.
The room lights up. Bright. Brighter than it's ever been. The high windows that peek out over the stones that hug the house are suddenly ablaze with a light that could outshine the sun.
And then a deafening blast shakes the earth. The upper floors of the house are blown away instantly, and what's left is crumbling inward. The blaze of light hasn't subsided, but it's turned red. The woman in the doorway is glowing red, too, and her shape is disappearing in the flames. The boy on the floor, flattened, covered with blood, screams. For his mother. His father. He tries to crawl toward the burning woman, but his limbs aren't moving properly. All he can do is watch.
It's impossible to hear the children outside laughing or playing anymore. The only sound from the town is the roar of fire, the crumbling of the houses, and the screams of the doomed.
The house is still falling, and it's caught fire itself now. The boy continues crying and screaming and trying to crawl away, but soon the door has collapsed, too. There's no way out. There is no way out. He's trapped, and the space left to him is getting ever smaller, between the rubble and the flames. Smaller and hotter, and harder to breathe. It won't be long until his clothing catches, too.
He succumbs to his injuries, to the heat and the smell of burning flesh. Sure enough, his clothes catch fire eventually, as he rests. The flames everywhere grow brighter, but the dream is starting to darken. It flickers, and shadows eat it up at the edges. The boy burns.
And the dream fades.
HERE WE GOOOOO
It starts out just fine; this she can live with, children happy and playing and obediently obeying their...mother? It's calming, a beautiful slice of human life that an angel can definitely appreciate--
and then it all changes for the worst, and while she's familiar with the natural disasters that are fated to plague the human race, she's not at all prepared to witness something like this first hand. The young boy she's watching can't be helped; she's entirely powerless, helpless to rescue him, and that in itself is enough to have her waking up in tears. The impact of how real it all felt, the fact that someone could have actually gone through such a thing, has her shaking.
There's a lion at the foot of her bed that immediately springs up to her side, mattress creaking as he lays his paws across her legs and allows her to bury herself in his mane. She can't shake it off. The shock of things turning, the pain of the fire, the smell of it eating away at everything-
It reminds her too much of the home Ozuma has pulled her from, the battle, the war, everything.
By the time she's finished her shaking, she can feel the pull, the strange tug forcing her out of her bed despite Era's confusion. It takes her only a few minutes to find her clothing- just the romper layer, as she doesn't feel she has time for much more- and she's out the door to find out who this dream belongs to. She's walked enough of them to know it's no coincidence.
no subject
He can guess, more or less, what happened that day. He can describe, in a general sense, what haunts the dreams he can't remember because he knows what Simon went through. The details are lost to him but he's told he calls out for his family on the (admittedly fairly rare) occasion he has a nightmare. And honestly? He's fine with this. Sure he wakes bummed and bothered, but he gets on with his day and has usually forgotten about the nightmare entirely by nightfall.
It's been harder here. Arthur isn't used to being without Simon, and none of the people here could ever make up for that bond. Without the medic here to ground him, his nightmares come more frequently and take longer to fade. With no desire to recreate something impossible to replace or to bother other people with a past he doesn't especially care about, there's one other source of comfort in the aftermath.
Tonight, Arthur is in the mess hall long after everyone else has gone to bed, with a pile of sweets and snacks big enough to keep even the quickest eater busy for a while. For some reason he can't quite place, he's more anxious after the nightmare than usual. More than he should be.
Weird.
FINALLY. AT LONG LAST!
Era, still in lion form, peers curiously around her, bumping her hip with his head.
Quietly, once she's gathered herself as best she can, she takes a deep breath and approaches, wings shuffling behind her as she steps around to his table. "Hello..." she greets him gently, grinning tiredly at his large pile of snacks. She's careful to keep her hands still, arms loosely crossed over her middle. "Midnight snack?"
Snacks that Era certainly seems interested in... Sorry bud, don't mind the lion sniffing at your treats.
no subject
So it's with minimal surprise when he turns to look at Dove. He doesn't know her, has maybe spotted her in passing at best. The lion sniffing at his food, though, that gets a bit more of a reaction- "Whoa!"
How is he supposed to deal with a lion? It's not trying to eat him, he doesn't have a lot of reference for that.
Putting that aside, he's cheered to not be alone. He's always done better with people, strangers or no. His grin might be a little brighter than he really feels, but it is genuine. "Yeah! Want some?"