foolishwren: as i was, you shall be (Default)
Heather Mason ([personal profile] foolishwren) wrote2011-06-20 03:24 pm
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70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]

[So while the rest of Johto alternately panics, cries, or rushes around trying to capture as many of the soulstealing insects as possible, there are dozens of souls floating around in that dream limbo, drifting in and out of each other's slumbering thoughts and visions. Whether it's nightmarish flashbacks or just those dreams where you're at school taking a really hard test, and then Dracula shows up, and then everybody's naked ... anything is possible when it comes to what people see in their sleep.]

[But what appears in the darkness in this particular spot in the spaceless, shifting mass of dreaming souls... is a door.]

[It's old, and covered with boards and bolts, rusted near-through in some places. The lock is broken-- mangled and half-melted and wrenched out of the keyhole. The only thing on it that doesn't look ancient is a scrap of torn notebook-paper that's taped up on it at roughly eye-level. It reads only a single phrase:]


Fear of blood tends to create fear for the flesh.


[More importantly, though... the door is ajar. Through the gap come the scents of rust and metal-- and something organic, fleshy-- and a low, deep hum of industrial machinery. It's not a door that anyone in their right mind would want to go through. ... But for anyone who may have stumbled this far into the dreams of their fellow lost souls, either in flight from some other nightmare or just pure, wandering curiosity... there's just no other place to go but through the door.]




[Go on. Open it. After all.... it's only a dream.]







[ooc: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, GUYS. Thanks for being patient! If you commented on that planning post, there's something spooky planned for your character to do here so please feel free to tag or not tag as it pleases you!]


~*~

[ooc: This is the IC post for what was announced over here! Even if you didn't comment there, feel free to participate! I'm still happy to whip up Silent Hill scenarios for folks!]

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-07-11 05:13 am (UTC)(link)
[His eyes widen slightly. He sees it, it's impossible to miss. He knows her, not just from the fliers, not just from the house, but from video feeds in a world he was beginning to forget as a result of being tossed from nightmare to nightmare.]

We're... friends, and you saved me.

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-07-15 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
Did something get taken from you, too? You're quiet, and that's unusual, for you.

[L knows that much, at least... even if his memory of Heather is as hazy as his memory of himself, there are things that he knows, and one of them is that Heather has never hesitated to talk to him before.]

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-07-18 06:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[He blinks, comprehending; it's one thing to be afraid to talk. It's another entirely to be literally unable.]

It's all right. I am not upset.

[He raises his eyes to the wall before him, turning to survey the winding alleys stretching past the dog's split carcass.]

I am lost... will you take me away from here...?

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-07-21 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
[L was starkly aware of just how difficult it was to be heard in a world where you had to struggle just to be taken seriously; with his neuroses and quirks, there was a reason beyond fearing for his safety that he hid his face from the public. But even though he has a tremendous amount of control in his home world, his soul is still that meek, frightened child. But a thin voice, strings and whispers, were far better than nothing at all. The creature in front of him made him feel lucky, that way.

He nods briskly, moving as quickly as he's able. He is slow and clumsy, compared to her agile movements, and she might have to do more fighting to keep him from getting caught and torn to pieces.]

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-07-23 04:10 am (UTC)(link)
[It is gracefully, albeit unorthodox for the classical definition of the word, and she could easily lose him if she so desired. Fortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case, and though he often trips, slips and stumbles over the debris and decaying stairways, she doesn't leave him behind.

The eyes are foreboding, and he stiffens and swallows accordingly when they flash at him from the darkness, but they seem frightened of Heather, at least enough to matter, enough to keep them from springing into the light and tearing at the two specter-like children.

As her pace quickens when they approach the junkyard, she beckons, and he does his best to keep up with her. The rubble makes him nervous; the general clutter and disorder of the scene automatically increases his anxiety. But if this is the way out, he's glad to brave it.]

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-07-23 05:37 am (UTC)(link)
[He shuffles past broken glass bottles and rejected, pungent boxes and casings, keeping Heather in his sight as he attempts to keep from cutting or puncturing his bare feet. Though L's soul seems otherworldly, he doesn't fit as well as he appears to. Either that, or he just doesn't know how to fit and survive.

When she starts climbing, though, his heart outright sinks. All he can do is hook the pointed, curved tips of his forearms through the chainlinks and watch her ascent; he's powerless to pull himself up.]

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-08-02 02:04 am (UTC)(link)
[L gazes up at her with his jet-black eyes, his expression somewhere between dismay and apprehension. He can't scale the wall; he's embarrassingly ill-equipped to do much at all, actually, barring... well, barring what he does. He is L. He is the Computer Detective. He has several peripheral talents, and one perfect one. Everything else, in the entire world, is something L is better suited to leaving alone.

When she shimmies back down, though, he realizes that he's not completely forsaken, that there might be a glimmer of hope for this situation yet. Not that it doesn't still look pretty dire; how the hell could Heather get him over the fence? She's not much bigger or sturdier than he is... which is to say, neither of those qualities could be applied to her with a straight face.]

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-08-04 02:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[Even though she can't talk, the message is extremely clear. He clasps his arms and legs around her, holding tightly, hoping that she can support him for the climb and descent.]

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-08-05 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
[Those sounds could be skin or bone, and it's not exactly pleasant to wonder which they are. He clings tightly, holding his grip well and hoping that the serrated edges of his forearms don't tear at the burned, fragile looking skin of her chest and arms as she climbs with him in tow.]

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-08-08 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
[He tries to be gentle, to cling more with his bony legs than his serrated forearms. Because he can't tell, very easily, the difference between cloth and burnt flesh. He winces every time he feels something catch on a rough surface, hoping that it's her vest, trying not to allow himself to be jostled too much as she ascends swiftly and deftly.

Once they're over the other side, he starts to climb off her back, but she seems to have no intention of putting down, instead starting off at a brisk pace, still carrying him. And he realizes that it's likely for the better. Without his network, and his computers and his guardians, he isn't strong. He isn't capable. It's known to L, and acknowledged dispassionately, and accepted.]

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-08-12 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
[L worries frequently, and apart from Watari, no one has ever really "gotten him." His safety was a transient, volatile thing that he never took for granted, and this instance is no exception. As they pass through the junkyard, he remains wide-eyed and vigilant; even if Heather has taken even the basic responsibility of carrying his own weight quite literally onto her shoulders, he can at least try to be more aware and helpful than a sack of sticks.

He gazes up once they're in the middle of the junkyard. It looks like a bug trap, he thinks, the sort of place something would end up after it's been ensnared for the idle pleasure of a child.]

There's a way out?

[identity profile] dead-black-eyes.livejournal.com 2011-08-17 06:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[She starts, and if it feels precarious to her, it's doubly so for L, who has no control over their current situation and direction. He clings more tightly... but his wings start vibrating again as an awful sound echoes across the junkyard.

That figured. The louder it got, the more his ears hurt, and the more he wanted to scream the way he actually had as a child when a sound became too overwhelming.]

Heather...?