entrancelogs | + Am I asleep or awake? +

+ Am I asleep or awake? +

Who: Everyone!
Where: In their dreams
When: 3/20/14 - 3/27/14
Rating: PG-13?
Summary: A catch-all log for what dreams are available for people to walk through at night.
The Story:

♥ As of Wednesday, the 19th, all beds in the Mansion (no matter their style or cultural/temporal origin) have been replaced with swinging beds.

♥ But starting Thursday, the 20th, sleeping in the new beds induces vivid dreams, and characters sleeping at the same time will be able to walk into each others' dreams. If a character is a spoilsport and doesn't sleep in the swinging beds, he or she doesn't get to dream walk.

♥ Characters will be able to dreamwalk until Thursday, the 27th.

♥ Leave a description of your characters' dream (or dreams) in top levels on this post so others can comment and walk into their dream, if they choose to go exploring other people's dreams!

♥ Questions? Please ask them over here at the FAQ post for the event! And have fun!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"For you." It's supplied quickly, without a moment's hesitation, provided with absolute certainty. In a situation like this, a person doesn't just wander in on their own. Blake's here for a reason, and that reason is Greed.

Eyes scanning, he swears he sees darkness on the prowl, but his attention is most pointedly on the teeth and the newly sized openings that could possible fit him. He inches closer and begins to carefully pass between the blades, breath controlled so he doesn't balloon out his chest and slice of anything he can't replace.

Once more, John calls out to Greed, "I'm comin' to help..."

The steel teeth are sharp as any razor, and anywhere Blake's clothes catch on them they'll be cut with barely a tug, but he'll make it through without being chomped on. He isn't the one this place was made to devour, after all.

The heat on the other side is even more intense, and it could be sweat running into Greed's eyes that's making them glisten like that. It's definitely not sweat that wells up and spills over at Blake's words, though.

He's got more than a few cuts and scrapes by the time he finds the other side of those teeth, but Blake's not willing to stop. The heat feels searing and he wonders if his blood will boil if he gets too close. Doesn't matter, he's not stopping.

"Don't move, okay? Don't move." Blake's speaking just to say something, because he can't say what he wants to say. As he steps closer, he assesses the situation, hands coming out but not touching. "Jesus..."

Mess though he is, Greed is apparently still not capable of taking orders. Someone's here for him, there's a friend in this place where he is always completely alone, and he can't not try to reach out. His splayed and pinned arms won't move much, but he's going to try it, dammit, because he's Greed and he wants to move and reach and hold.

It might not be immediately obvious through the bizarre flickering of firelight and living shadows, but the black ash is no longer flaking away from his wounds. They're just there now, unbleeding but still unhealing.

Of course he's not capable of taking orders. Of course. Blake hisses sympathetically as he catches sight of those movements. To still them, when he's close enough, he closes his fingers around Greed's, fixes him with a look that says I'm not going anywhere, and begins searching for a way to stop this.

"I'm here," he says, voice quiet and exceptionally scared. Even if he can pull Greed off of this display, what's he going to do with him? If Greed doesn't heal, then will he die?

Blake reaches out to touch one of the blades, careful not to apply any real pressure.

Greed stills a little at the touch, but assurances that he won't be left behind aren't entirely enough to ease his fear, so he's not going to let go of that hand. Hopefully, Blake's okay with doing this with the other.

The sword feels like... just a sword, an ordinary length of sharpened steel, like any real weapon of its kind. Neither it nor Greed react to the touch, but the eyes in the shadows narrow unpleasantly.

One hand squeezes encouragingly at Greed's grasp, ensuring his constancy in this dreamscape. He's not going anywhere, but he needs to get a better look at the swords. Carefully, slowly, he bends his knees and drops down, that free hand searching, seeking out one of the hilts, probing for what's keeping Greed and this torturous apparatus secure.

"Who did this?" It's as much a need to know as a want to know, because Blake is as intent on keeping Greed distracted as he is on making a note on who'll need to pay for this. "Tell me." Say something. Say anything. Stay with him.

"Wha' do y' m'n?" Greed's more alert now, but the question doesn't make sense. This isn't that kind of dream. This is the kind where it's always been this way and always will be. Barring unexpected dreamwalkers, of course.

The sword in that arm is angled slightly, its simple grip quite readily to hand for someone with more freedom of movement than the homunculus has right now. The eyes are still watching. Waiting.

Someone had to do this, right? Someone had to have brought Greed here and put him in this situation. People don't just... end up in a situation like this.

"Someone stabbed you. Someone put you here," he insists, because what other option makes sense. Blake curls his fingers around the hilt of the sword and the other hand squeezes even tighter than before. "I-I— I dunno what to do here," he admits, that fear permeating every fiber of him. "What if you—? What if I can't?"

Edited 2014-04-08 06:31 (UTC)

That doubt doesn't make sense to Greed, even less than the question did. He's a human who can go toe-to-toe with a homunculus. What's happening?

...it's hard to think about it right now, he needs to not be here, he needs this to stop. "'et em out," he grates. Talking isn't easy with these swords in his throat.

Edited 2014-04-08 21:26 (UTC)

Yes, well, taking swords from your friend's throat isn't as easy as it looks, yeesh. Blake winces at the sound of Greed's voice and then takes a more proactive approach at the removal, attempting to loose the handle and pull the sword free of flesh.

"Christ, don't move, don't move..." This is a bad idea. All he can think about is how this is not the right way to provide first aid, but he has to do something. "Don't give up on me," he commands, maybe because he knows that's just the thing he can rely upon to get Greed up in arms and focused.

On the bright side, that does seem to be chasing away the last of Greed's numb despair. On the other hand, since he almost immediately starts struggling, cutting himself up even more, it might have been poorly timed.

The sword offers a little resistance, but only a little. And when it comes free, the ragged wound left behind finally, though slowly, begins to spark with that red light.

Blake watches as that wound is engulfed in red light and he can't help but feel hopeful that this is the answer. If he can free Greed completely, then he can heal and they can escape.

"Jesus, you're one tough son of a bitch," he marvels, because he can't help himself. This is raw and awful and if it were anyone else, it would be too much, but at least Greed can heal. For now, at least he can fix himself.

He reaches for the second sword, attempting to remove it in the same manner, this time more swiftly and precisely.

Another time, in another situation, a statement like that might have set Greed to preening. Here and now, he barely even seems to notice it, just squirms under the blades even as they start to come free.

It's always been obvious to Blake that Greed's tough, but this belongs to a different part of the guy Blake's gotten to know. He's seen Greed go to some pretty impressive lengths to survive, but this feels like something else entirely.

With each sword, John's feeling more and more certain he doesn't belong here, and for what it's worth, it's not a typical exile. He doesn't quite understand why, but it feels dark and ominous, like punishment that lands a little too close to home.

He reaches in to pat Greed's cheek, to focus him. "You're gonna be okay. Gonna heal right up. Gonna carry you outta here if I gotta," he says, entirely aware of that's even possible.

Greed's eyes are still hazy with pain and disorientation, but they do come nearly into focus on his friend's face as he stills again. "There's... a way out?" he rasps, his throat no longer full of steel but not yet regenerated. Why is it so slow?

Why is anything here happening? Just minutes ago it had seemed, not right, but the only way things could possibly be. Blake's voice had been the first deviation from the horrible status quo, and the longer he's here the stranger everything around them seems.

Where even is this?

"If there's not, we're makin' one," he assures smoothly.

Man, if Blake knew what any of this was, what any of it meant, he'd be sharing the information. Instead, he's left to wonder if there really is a way out, because he had only said it, he hadn't actually located the exit out of this very crazy place just yet.

He returns to the task at hand. "Feels like the shadows creep here, doesn't it? You keep an eye on my back, man," Blake adds, deciding that this would be the opportune moment for things to go wrong if they're truly meant.

Greed shudders under his friend's hands. Creeping shadows aren't good. Even set up against the general background of teeth and fire and steel, and even as dazed as he still feels, it's clear they're not good.

"Always." They're down to the last of the swords now, this one driven through his left foot, and finally a little of that wild laughter that is Greed's more usual response to deadly danger escapes his lips. It's more a nervous chuckle than a defiant cackle, but it's something. "'Course I gotta watch you. 'Course I will."

And when that final sword comes free, the shadows bare their teeth and strike.

Can shadows be fought? Can darkness be cut? Blake's not sure where the teeth come from, or how they got there, or even if that's what was lingering beyond the periphery, but he raises that last sword nonetheless, willing to fight.

"Greed," he breathes, once again desperate in this second as he looks for answers, or, at the very least, an ally to fight along side, as promised.

Steel is nothing to the shadows. Biting the sword in half is the work of a moment. Greed's eyes widen in terror and he reaches forward-

He's been healing so slowly. He should still be full of holes and unable to harden his Shield, but in the moment he's entirely forgotten about that in the face of threat and mine.

So when the shadow-teeth reach Greed, they catch hold of him, lift him off the ground, and completely fail to pierce his skin at all.

Edited 2014-05-14 07:40 (UTC)

Jesus Christ, is that what it feels like to see someone throw themselves into the fray with reckless abandon? It's scary as Hell to Blake, who wouldn't ever ask someone to do something like that for him.

Eyes wide, he balls a fist and steps one half step closer to Greed. "We gotta end this, right?" He's practically yelling as he tries to reach out, to grasp on to his friend's hand while avoiding those shadows. "We can do this! Together. No one's gotta do it alone..."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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