entrancelogs | + Let's go for a dreamwalk! + [OPEN PLOT CATCH-ALL]

{ MINDSCAPE }

[The courtyard of the Abattoir looks exactly as Freya last remembered it, always hovering somewhere between disrepair and not. The only thing that gives away it's status as more disrepair than not is how the furniture is broken in places, and there may be some blood stains on the floor. It looks as though a stampede has moved through it not that long ago, but if you just step over it, it's not likely to bother you at all.

This place is simply built on memories and not all of the ones in the Abattoir are moment of safety and security.

That being said, things are more neat and quaint once you move through the courtyard to the second floor. Stepping into the house proper will lead you to a series of doors and hallways, each marked differently to distinguish their contents. While the doors look as though they're made of solid wood, on closer inspection it's revealed that each of them are incredibly unique, in their own way. Early on, you'll find her more superficial relationships, some of them including Wonderland memories, each person given their own door to keep them safe.

As they move further in, however, the doors become sturdier, stronger and more elaborate in their decoration. Someone who can read the early Norse language may be able to make out the names each rune conveys. On the other hand, those who can't may be able to put two and two together just based on what they know about her. They might be able reason that the oil painting of a wolf is related to her brother Klaus, or the door that has the quality of brushing your fingers against a fine suit, her brother Elijah.

But more to the point, the scape is intuitive, and can bring you to exactly what you're looking for, if you focus on it hard enough. If there's anything you ever wanted to know about Freya Mikaelson, now would be the time.

The doors are open, more or less.]

[OOC: FREYA'S MEMORIES MAY HAVE THE POTENTIAL FOR TRIGGERING CONTENT. If there's subject matter you'd like me to avoid, please let me know, and I will do just that. You can also plot for a specific memory by PMing this journal!]

Edited 2017-09-08 02:47 (UTC)

[the place is swanky. it's also big. the big doesn't intimidate wynonna -- the homestead is big as well. the homestead is also often in states of disrepair -- though it doesn't tend to have blood in it often anymore now that revenants can't get on the ground. what might disturb some doesn't seem to deter her as she steps through the debris. this is a home, one as fragile as her own. lived in. important.

she wanders through the hallways looking at the different doors. as she gets in deeper she wishes for not the first time that she had waverly with her -- waverly could probably read ancient nordic. wynonna cannot. but the door she selects feels steady and important. it says "Finn" on it, though she cannot read it. she pushes it open, wondering what she'll find.

(wynonna has had a sibling she could not save as well, someone who weighs heavy in her heart)]

[Finn's door is made of blue crystal, not unlike the necklace her mirror stole from her, but it gives easily when Wynonna pushes it open. Once the door swings open, however, Wynonna is met with the snow of the forests of Norway, and the sound of gigging children reach her ears.

Not far ahead of her, two small kids, a boy and a girl, dash through the snow towards her, reaching one of the easy to climb trees and scrambling up it, laughing all the while. Clearly they had just gotten into some mischief and were waiting for their parents to discover it.

"Freya! Finn!"

There's soft sounds of them hushing each other, and the forest goes quiet, the steady sound of footsteps approaching closer. Eventually a tall man comes through the trees, an amused smile on his lips.

"What have you two done now?"

"Nothing," the two of them chime innocently, and he shakes his head before reaching up to gather them from the trees.

"Come now. It's almost time for dinner, and I have so many stories to tell you."]

[it's cold in here -- it's the first thing wynonna notices. she's not exactly dressed for snow but she's not entirely sure it matters either. besides there are more pressing matters -- like the kids running and talking to their father.

the scene is so domestic and happy it makes her heart ache a little -- her own childhood was far from happy, even before she killed her father things hadn't been good -- her mother left them with a father who treated them more like soldiers than children --

ward is not far off from the sort of man mikael would eventually become.

for now she doesn't interfere directly but tries to follow, curious to hear what sorts of stories might await.]

[Before Wynonna can get to the stories, unfortunately, the woods change, and the children are a little bit older. The scene opens on the two of them separated by two women, arguing over the fate of the blond child with vigor.

In the end, the girl is taken away, screaming for her mother, while Finn cries at his mother's side, watching his sister and best friend be taken away from him.

And aside from a few week protests, their mother does nothing.]

[this memory hits a lot closer to home for wynonna, she still a child, albeit an older one, when she was sent away to the correctional facility after willa was taken and she accidentally killed their father. she was ripped from waverly and robbed any sense of normalcy after that. her mother wasn't the one to send her away but she didn't have to be; her mother had been out of the picture long before the tragedy on the homestead occurred.

mothers are supposed to love their children, they're supposed to fight for them -- but that doesn't mean that they do. it's a cruel reality some children are forced to learn at far too young of an age.

esther might not cry out or try to interfere but wynonna does. she pulls peacemaker out from it's holster and points it at Dahlia; it probably won't do any good]

Hey, bitch, let her go -- she's just a kid not a commodity.

Edited 2017-09-12 05:44 (UTC)

[It probably won't.

But while Dahlia doesn't acknowledge the woman standing there, gun pointed at her, the girl does. A tiny blond head turns and meets Wynonna's eyes, something akin to confusion before recognition and resignation, emotions that seem far too adult and foreign on the face of a girl that young.

But before Wynonna can have the chance to fire, the scene changes again.

It's almost disorienting, the way it goes from first century Norway, to twenty first century New Orleans, a kind of inevitable timeskip, given the way Freya and Finn's lives have passed, but that wouldn't be clear to Wynonna from the outside. But that is very obvious magic at play, and they're definitely not being solid, moral people at the moment.]

[the time skips are confusing enough (though she does know someone who has lived much longer than he should have doc is a baby compared to the mikaelsons) -- you know what's even more confusing for her without the proper context?

that little white boy is not a black man. how does that work? she's no expect on magic (and Constance Clootie being her introduction to the subject certainly doesn't leave her with warm opinions on it) but that was just.

baffling.

she's still holding that gun of hers, though not pointing at it so much as stepping forward, hoping maybe for some answers that make sense.]

[The question that she doesn't voice seems to be asked and answered all the same. As she moves closer to the pair, she can start to see another man's face and body, almost like an old picture with a double exposed image. This is closer to what Wynonna might have expected to see in terms of Finn, someone who's tall, broad, and white, with the classic Nordic features and dark hair.

He moves as the black man moves, speaks as the black man speaks, but in the moment, Vincent's voice seems to be replaced with a British accent and a kind of passion that's hard to pin down. It toes the line, ever so faintly, between righteousness and madness, in a way that Wynonna may find a bit familiar.

These quick cuts of scenes in New Orleans show a witch with great power, one who can raise the dead, even, and ends with a moment in a graveyard where Finn is whisked into a pendant and the double-exposed image ends, leaving only Vincent Griffith in it's place, and Finn safely tucked away in a necklace for safe keeping.]

[it's a lot to take in -- wynonna doesn't know a lot about magic beyond that it wasn't safe -- the only witch she ever really knew was constance clootie and she's currently buried in salt. the two men speaking -- some kind of posession? like the revenant who took over shorty's body because of a spell clootie gave him. that posession was the reason why she had to kill shorty. and the sort of passion and devotion that toes the line into madness is why she had to kill willa.

our mother ruined him

like ward ruined willa even before bobo got his hands on her. the damage was started at a young age, it always is.

wynonna places peacemaker back into her holster, finally. it seems the worst is over.]

[It should be the end. The ghost goes into the pendant, Freya keeps him close, and that's the end. But it turns out there's one more Finn Mikaelson story to tell, before all is said and done. Finn returns from the dead, alienates his siblings, and convinces his brother to save the one thing that would lead to his sister being kidnapped.

Betrayed by someone they called a friend, Finn and Elijah come to their sister's rescue, but they're ill prepared for what waits for them. Lucien rises, bites Finn, and his two bookend siblings hasten their trip back to New Orleans, hoping their brother's blood has the cure they need.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work. They release his ashes over the river and say their goodbyes.

Always and forever, brother. Until forever ends.

With that the story fades, the door closes again, and Wynonna will wake up, regardless of how long she's been asleep, and she can do with all of that what she will.]

Edited 2017-09-23 00:30 (UTC)

[The first night sent her into a world that belonged to someone else: a world Evelyn has desperately wanted to see, to better understand the context for the person to whom it belonged. A lengthy wander and several close calls did little to to assuage her curiosity and Dan did his best to answer those questions left still burning. But she did not jump into other sprawling places fraught with memories, not while guided by a loved one and eager to know.

The second night is different.

What Evelyn enters is an enclosed courtyard in a three-story building, paint and iron streaking the walls, exposed brick peering out from behind patched plaster. She doesn't quite know the location until she turns to examine the cast balconies, recalling something from a past lover about the peculiarities of architecture in New Orleans. Having never visited herself she can only assume, based upon the scent of humidity and density of the air, that she isn't too far off. The state of it could be better - it appears abandoned.

Wandering around a split table Evelyn makes her way down a long hall, longer than should be possible in a building of this design, and peers curiously over the designs scraped into every door. In a way it feels similar to the dream home of her own and she stops before a painting of dark, blood-red flowers with dozens of petals, so hyper-real that she can almost smell them, can imagine how soft they might be.

Dahlias.

Evelyn reaches out to touch them.]

[The door itself is incredibly soft to the touch, almost as though the petals themselves are resting beneath her fingers, but the points of each of them are sharper than they appear, edges slicing against her skin - depending how much pressure she applies, it's likely not more than a paper cut, but an offering still needs to be made to see what's beyond the door.

She can turn back, walk away and explore somewhere else. But while the door demands payment, it isn't locked either, so it does give slightly at the pressure, the invitation still there for her to take.

And if she does take it, she'll find herself in the snow in ancient Norway, because a wicked witch stealing a little girl is usually where all good fairy tales begin.]

[Evelyn nudges it open, in spite of the slick sharpness she feels digging into her fingertips. Just as quickly the pain abates and red wells to the surface. Looking at it feels even stranger – as though there is a draw to the blood itself, perhaps not born of this place, but of its contents – and Evelyn sucks her index clean as the painting swings wide, into the wall.]

Oh.

[Oh.

It is cold here, colder than some of the harshest winters she has seen in Wonderland, with primitive lean-tos and shelters, fires and swirling winds and a woman in black screaming obscenity down upon another. A curse and a promise and a child crying and being pulled away and a name-

Elijah.]

Oh, God.

[A girl torn from her mother. Evelyn steps closer.]

Freya.

[The older witch doesn't acknowledge Evelyn as she storms from the camp, but the little girl does, a small head turning at the sound of her name. She sees the other woman, and there's an awareness that indicates that while Dahlia and the other specters are simply a part of the memory, perhaps Freya, herself, is not.

Eventually they make their way back to a hovel, where Freya proceeds to wait. She refuses to eat what's given to her, childish logic telling her that she'll be able to eat when her father comes to rescue her. Her father was one of the fiercest warriors and she knew that when he learned she was gone, taken, he would come to her rescue and end Dahlia.

Her mother said she would tell him. And her mother wouldn't abandon her.

But her father never comes. She sits and she waits, watching all the hopes of escape slipping away until they were taken from her entirely as Dahlia bound their power permanently.]

[The girl sees her and Evelyn is afforded a glimpse at lucidity in this place, a world that does not belong to her, and even as her curiosity grows she knows that she should not be here without permission. Turning, Evelyn intends to leave through the door from whence she came and is horrified to see it is no longer there - another holdover from her time in Dan's mind, exploring Dan's memories.

She'll have to find another way out.

Evelyn follows the path of the woman in black and the child who looks so much like her siblings, offered flickers into young petulance and a refusal to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Of course she would not know, of course she could not understand, and Evelyn desperately tries to ignore the cruel lies of a woman keeping an innocent captive as she feels around an enclosure for an exit.

She bumps against a knotted length of wood and is next in a snowy forest. These memories are disoriented, flickering. Over a thousand years old and in that way, they are similar to some of her own. The woman is chanting and it is all of Evelyn's considerable self-restraint not to step in and drag the child from the circle even knowing it would do no good - knowing that her hand might go through them - then the trees still, the energy crackling in the air dissipates, and the little girl looks fearful.

Knowing how vulnerable she has felt in many periods of her own life, Evelyn is of no mind to wish this helplessness upon her worst enemy.]

[The little girl grows. Dahlia is brutal in the way she raises her, isolating her to keep her from wanting something other than Dahlia, teaching her and tempering her power as Freya comes into her own, with too much power to wield for a young witch, but no way to dispel it. Through it all Freya never loses her fire, using the memories of the family she was taken from to center her, her father, her brother, and while Dahlia tries to control her, more and more, Freya fights back, both to her benefit and her detriment.

Bursts of anger end in raging fires and flocks of dead birds and while Dahlia manages to talk her down, toeing the line between mother and captor, but Freya never forgets the latter. Dahlia tells her how much she needs her, but Freya always refuses to believe it. But that was of no matter - eventually Esther's other children would have more children, and there would be more power to add to her own, and there would be an unlimited source of power.

That is, until Esther turned her children into vampires, robbing them of their ability to have a family, at least to her knowledge, and Freya became the only option. Dahlia insisted that Freya would bear her a child, but Freya refused, vowed to herself that she would never give Dahlia what she wanted. Especially after her great curse came, and Freya found herself restricted to one year of life every hundred years - a burden that she certainly didn't want.

The problem with love, however, is that as much as you may try, it isn't something you can control.

She slept through four centuries before she met Matthias. He had gentle hands and kind eyes, and Freya loved him, more than she had ever loved anyone. He made her feel like a person, rather than a prize, and while she only had a year to love him, that year was enough to have Freya break her vow and conceive a child. Matthias, however, being a good man, agreed with her in saying that this child shouldn't live as she had lived. They had no way of breaking Freya's curse, they would lose her at the end of the year, but she hoped, if she was careful enough, Dahlia wouldn't be able to lay claim to her son, and force him into the life she was currently leading.

He could live a good life, with a good father, and he would be safe.

Dahlia wouldn't allow that. She only allowed Freya to love so long as it suited her own ends. When she caught wind of their plotting, she was sure to punish them both for ever thinking that they could outwit her - Matthias with his life, and Freya with watching him lose it.

It was in that moment that something inside her snaps. All the years of suffering at Dahlia's side, hoping that she would find another way to break free came into sharp relief and in her grief she couldn't see a way out of this life that she had found herself bound to. The only thing she knew for certain is that she would not allow her child to be raised this way. She would not allow them to be denied his father's love of the warmth of family.

So she ran back to the hovel, as much as she could in the state she was in, and somehow managed to get there ahead of Dahlia. She went straight to the woman's workbench, finding the vial she knew contained her strongest poison. Before anyone could stop her, the liquid poured down her throat like acid, burning through her body, and clouding her vision.

Perhaps, in this moment, she would finally be free. Perhaps, this was the answer all along.

It doesn't take long for Freya Mikaelson to die.

Unfortunately, it also doesn't take that long for her to wake up again, childless and alone again, just her and Dahlia.]

[It is more information than she ever desired to know about a group of people but the timeline is laid out so plainly, though the months flicker by with fragments of blurred people, rash arguments with an unwanted keeper, a family turning itself to monstrous creatures to prevent an accumulation of power.

At the cost of innocence, and humanity. To live as a parasite is not living at all, evidenced further by Dahlia's fetid, stolen existence utilising another as a host and employing fail-safes to prevent escape. It gives Evelyn an uncomfortable reminder of the visions she has had of her own distant past, a life that both does and does not belong to her. A person entrenched in the disappointing betrayal of her circumstances, watching helplessly as others are led astray and she remains.

Voiceless, after a fashion. It is not so dissimilar.

Hundreds of years of captivity and Evelyn knows that breaking a promise to oneself is heart-wrenching, but possible, unsurprised that Freya reaches out only to be burned and forced back into the box she tried to quit herself of this place. Having had her own child taken from her Evelyn feels the same agony keenly, desperation and anguish writ into every bone, and without thinking she feels her fingers close around an athamé from a nearby table as though it would help her rid this memory of the woman telling Freya she can never leave.]

Do you really think that would work?

[The voice comes from Dahlia, though not the one currently in the scene with Freya, but her demeanor and dress is different. Dressed in a way that normally falls in line with the normal twenty-first century style, she steps up behind Evelyn, hands clasped behind her back as she tips her head to the side.]

Do you think that you can truly save the princess from herself?

[Evelyn would be a liar if she stated that she wasn't incredibly startled by the appearance of someone - something - that recognises her presence as alien, foreign. Abnormal in the sense that it should not belong here. She wonders whether or not this is a defence mechanism manifesting itself as the primary perpetrator of Freya's pain, and turns quickly to face the offender.

She still grips the knife. It is a futile, small thing, but a part of her that is three-thousand years old and embittered gnashes its teeth at the thought of giving it up.]

Call it an impulse, rather than intent.

[There's a hum at that, more of an affirmation than anything else, but as she paces behind Evelyn the world fades again, and is replaced with the sounds of footsteps and a cold voice.]

Don't worry. As with every fairy tale, the Wicked Witch got her just desserts in the end.

[As the scene continues to play, the story naturally comes to an end, with the Mikaelson siblings standing triumphantly, together, and the two villains of their story turned to stone.]

But what they fail to tell you, in those precious little stories, is that the Wicked Witch never truly goes away.

[The apparition stalks forward to where the siblings stand, standing in front of Freya who looks past her as though she isn't even there.]

She always plants the seeds for a successor to come and take her place.

Edited 2017-09-30 16:33 (UTC)

[That evil returns comes as no shock to Evelyn, who nine years ago was convinced that she had put Imhotep back in his grave for good. The stars had aligned, as it were, to bring him back from the prison that was the Duat, had awakened dreams in herself and in another, brought them together to tear them down again. To take her son.

She has no doubt that the stony visages before Freya's family are not the last word.]

Death is only the beginning,

[she says through grit teeth, fist tightening around the knife and then tightening around nothing, as it disappears from her grasp.]

Indeed it is.

[Dahlia turns to face her after a moment, her hands clasped behind her back. She tips her head to the side, regarding the other woman for a moment.]

As much as she tries to claim otherwise, Freya is my daughter, raised in my image. Try as she may to learn otherwise, you don't forget your instincts.

+ Let's go for a dreamwalk! + [OPEN PLOT CATCH-ALL]

freya mikaelson | ota

if this doesn't work let me know.

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we can switch to waking world or leave it there and do something next ac period, up to you!

let's save it for the next ac period

o7

👀

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cw: suicide, abortion, murder

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