we're out of time

[cryopathic.livejournal.com]

Who: Ghost!Vexen and whoever makes the mistake of following him... and confronting him.
Where: The Manor of Sleep
When: 'Evening' of August 1st (stretching into August 2, technically), during the dream.
Rating: ... It has a ghost with a broken neck and possible lasting trauma to your character. What do you think?
Summary: You can't run forever.

Separate threads represent separate encounters (just apply MMO logic and say he respawns); this also doesn't necessarily have to be a fight (especially if you're counting on your character fleeing from him anyway) so much as a chance to interact and get merrily traumatized. Keep in mind that Ghost!Vexen will be around on the real Mansion tomorrow as well, this time to spook everyone else.

ALSO, a minor correction: even people who weren't drawn into the dream by Vexen may encounter him, and you can even encounter him with your party friend; hell, you can drag someone away from the creep, as long as you've worked it out beforehand with the mun involved.

Feel free to PM/IM if you've got any questions, as I'll be slow and scarce. o/

the Story:
Down the spiraling stairs and the heart of the world, you walked and walked and walked, over the bridge (watch out for the trolls) and into darkness that has never been broken by the light of the sun (to grandmother's house we go). Did you see the shadows of the ones you loved, walking further and further away? Did you read the words of a man swallowed by his dreamings?

Perhaps you're distracted. Perhaps you're just trying to get away. Motes of dust dance in front of your flashlight's beam, and you can feel the weight of the earth pressing down on you from above--

Wait. Ahead of you.

In front of the entrance to a stone chamber, a tattooed woman presses herself against Vexen's half-solid specter, almost like a lover; her mouth comes up close to his ear, lips moving as she speaks inaudibly. Vexen doesn't react, doesn't bat an eye, not even when ink-marked hands slide and slip and crawl to his neck and--

--SNAP.

The crack of the scientist's neck is a loud, ugly sound, cartilage and bone cracking with the force that the ghost wrests his head around. The scientist doesn't make a sound as he crumples to the floor like a broken doll, and the ghost disappears.

In her wake, the scientist's body (more solid than it's ever been) remains-- and a decision to be made, to step closer or to move away. Whichever path you take, it's best taken quickly, before the blemish creeping over his skin in swirls of dark ink is finally complete.

(What big teeth you have, granny.)

Comments

[bloodluna.livejournal.com]

Though he knows it isn't really Vexen, or at least lacks Vexen's mind or whatever other indefinable thing he would indicate as constituting the Vexen he knows, Saix has followed the spectre regardless.

Now he sees Vexen with the priestess, and the knowledge of what will happen next sits in his chest as heavily as his heart. Even though it isn't really Vexen, he runs forward--

too late.

Saix walks more sedately, now that he cannot stop it, and watches the priestess disappear. He approaches, without hesitation.

[cryopathic.livejournal.com]

For a moment more, Vexen remains on the ground, a broken pile of flesh and bone--

With a small, sickening pop, the scientist lurches to his feet, head lolling back on his neck at an inhuman angle. Suddenly, Vexen seems a lot less human, and in front of Saix's eyes, the tattoos crawl across his skin, ink bleeding into the only eye visible underneath the fall of dirty blond hair.

The scientist's voice rasps like a broken pipe, laced with despair at its edges.

"It hurts."

[bloodluna.livejournal.com]

Uncharacteristically, Saix takes a step back, automatically falling into a fighting stance. There is something off that goes deeper than the broken appearance and the rasping voice, something Saix can't identify but knows.

Vexen isn't there.

It's his body, and his voice, but not whatever Saix would consider him.

"Vexen." He says the scientist's name, though he knows it will likely make no difference.

[a-necromancer.livejournal.com]

This is just a god-damned dream. Anita knows this, and understands it on a basic level, but it doesn't stop her from running towards the threatening looking lady with her hands around Blondie's neck. Her cold, rushing power flows over her, and she throws it at the scene with everything she's got, but it's too late.

Her pounding footsteps slow somewhat, and she stops completely once she sees the ghost rise from the fresh corpse. Ripping into the flesh of her index finger with her teeth, she approaches with little fear, her warm blood pitter pattering on whatever floor might exist, in such a place. Blood is the coin of ghosts, and she is a necromancer of no small power. In one smooth motion, she smears it in a circle around herself. Black hair ruffling in the dream-release of the power that so plagues her waking world, Anita sends her necromancy streaming in an invisible rope towards both corpse and wraith.

"Stop."

[cryopathic.livejournal.com]

By that time, of course, Reika's shade has already vanished-- and all the thread of necromancy meets is Vexen's crumpled form. It jerks, once, as though uncertain of how to react to the intrusive touch of unfamiliar power, but otherwise, it remains as inert as any corpse, as though obeying her uttered command.

That doesn't stop one of the scientist's arms from lashing out, though, clawing at the floor as he wheezes like a bellows.

"He's gone."

[commitomemory.livejournal.com]

This dream world has been far from pleasant. He'd been following around what certainly looked like Roxas, and kept running into these weird notes from Vexen. But there were things that didn't phase the nobody - the darkness, for example. And if he had been worried about it, he could have just used fire to light the corridor. But he didn't, darkness was something that as a nobody you got used to pretty quickly. It added to the stealth.

Seeing Vexen's neck snap was rather disconcerting, if you thought about it. But there isn't time to think about it. And like hell Axel is going to be afraid of Vexen, ghost or not. There are most pressing matters here, like the fact the ghost is gone but Vexen's body is there. Axel has killed Vexen before, and nobodies' bodies do not stay real.

So, of course, he goes to investigate. But curiosity did kill the cat.

[cryopathic.livejournal.com]

In more ways than one. And Axel is, after all, a rather bigger target than a cat.

With a speed that Vexen-- the real Vexen-- would never have been capable of, the 'body's' hand snaps out, grabbing Axel's ankle and clenching on his boot, the ghost's grip icy and vicelike even through he leather.

He doesn't look up, but his voice is as earthy and barren as a freshly-dug grave.

"I don't want to remember this anymore."

[commitomemory.livejournal.com]

His touch was damn cold. His obvious reaction was to get warmer, to use his power in reaction of the icy touch.

The words surprise him, but he reaches down to grab Vexen's body's hand and move it off. So far, he has no reason to be afraid of this...this thing.