entrancelogs | Let Them be Buried, Buried Alive [Open]

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Let Them be Buried, Buried Alive [Open]

Who: Dorian Gray... And YOU!
Where: Never, Neverland
When: Throughout the event
Rating: PG-13 for weird hallucinations and implied violence. May change later
Summary: Dorian's a Lost One who has been in Neverland for a very long time.
The Story:

[A: The Most Dangerous Game]

Dorian could barely remember what it was like before Neverland. A foggy city, a cruel grandfather, a dull school... But that was in the long past, when the industrial revolution was new.

These days you would mostly find him taking in the beauty of the forest when he can, petting the silver fox pelt he draped across his shoulders just to feel the softness, watching the rivers and streams teeming with aquatic wonder. But he knows the ugliness under the beauty all too well. After all, he's only been thirteen for nearly a century now, and all those years of experience has made him quite cunning.

Therefore, when he heard a bunch of adults had suddenly showed up in Neverland, Dorian went to work, setting clever booby traps left and right. One might be a rope that would grab you by the leg and dangle you from a tree. Another, a concealed pit dug so deep a 7 foot man would have trouble climbing out. There was even a net made of strong twine set up in the middle of a pathway, hidden out of sight.

If you manage to get caught in one of his traps, pray you might seem interesting or pretty to the boy. You see, Dorian has a tendency to play with his catch if it catches his fancy, and you just might get out before he poisons you.

[B: A Sane Man Fighting for His Soul]

Unfortunately, being in Neverland longer than most others does not make you immune to the hallucinations. In fact, Dorian's delusions only got worse as time wore on.

First, he saw a handsome devil, leisurely blabbering to himself as he relaxed in a field of poppies. Then Dorian came across Juliet herself, drowning herself like Ophelia because Romeo took the poison and left her to die. The list goes on, covering all sorts of miserable characters and horrible fates. The best thing Dorian can do is ignore them, or at least play along when he's feeling particularly bored.

At the moment, Dorian's resting on a rock, listlessly watching as an artist sets up an easel in the middle of the woods. The artist takes his brush and dips it into the large gash on his neck, using his own blood for paint. Every now and then, the artist tells Dorian it isn't too late to set things right, to change for the better.

"But what's the point," Dorian replies, "If the rest of the world leans towards the worse?"

Of course, the artist and his bloodied painting are not real, but you are free to walk in on this scene by mistake.

[C: Voices, Voices, Please Shut Up]

The worst of the hallucinations Dorian has is by far the most common. He has many names for it: The shadow, the painted monster, the old wretch... It's a horrifying boogieman dressed in a macabre mockery of society's finest, its skin and eyes in a constant state of age and decay. It whispers things heard only in hell, and on many occasions has demanded that poor Dorian give it his soul.

Worst of all, this monster bears a strong resemblance to Dorian himself.

You might find poor Dorian screaming in the middle of the night after yet another horrid nightmare. The old wretch has been tormenting him again.

[Wildcard!]

Feel free to think of other ways you can interact with this twisted child. Brackets or prose, I will match format.

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The screaming wakes Nageki up from his sleep. He grabs the lantern he keeps lit - he can't see as well in the dark as humans can - and carries it with him to Dorian's side. Nageki carefully sets the lantern down, making sure far enough away that neither of them will accidentally knock it over, and tries to prod the human awake. "Wake up," he says over the screams.

"-GET AWAY FROM ME!!"

Dorian wakes up in a cold sweat, instinctively recoiling from whatever was prodding him... A stick, held by a giant bird.

Dorian recognizes this bird after a minute or two. It's Nageki, nothing more. Poor Dorian can't help but stare, still shaken from his nightmares.

"You were shouting." Nageki drops the stick and picks up his lantern again, letting the light spill on the ground around him.

"...Oh, it's just you."

Dorian sits up, rubbing his eyes. He's still shaken, clearly, but the giant bird is a comfort. "Forgive me for waking you up, but that demon was haunting my dreams again."

"I don't mind." Not if it means Dorian wakes up faster, though Nageki would prefer Dorian never had the dreams at all. "Is he gone now?"

Dorian nodded hesitantly, for the demon would never be truly gone. He would be there, always lurking in the shadows, ready to attack young Dorian's mind.

At least it was gone. For now.

"Why do we have to suffer through these nightmares again? I'm half sick of shadows..."

If there's a reason, Nageki doesn't know. His own dreams involve the only past he can remember. Waking up in a library with no memories and finding birds who ignore him no matter what he did. Sometimes, instead of birds, he sees the Lost Ones in his dreams.

Nageki steps forward and places the lantern next to Dorian, as though the light inside will keep the dreams and the shadows at bay. "Here. It's not much, but maybe it will help?"

Ah, if only Dorian could trace a cause of his nightmares. His grandfather, Lord Keslo, might be one, for he was old and mean and wicked, but that only explained one of the many figures Dorian has seen. Guilt? How can one feel guilty for something that never happened? And it was certianly not fear itself manifesting, right?

At any rate, the lantern did little to help, but it was soothing in a way. "Thank you, Nageki."

He curled up, huddling close to the bird and his light.

Nageki made himself comfortable. It would probably be a while before he could go anywhere. Though he was still tired. After a while, his eyes began to shut only for Nageki to force them open again. He didn't want to go to sleep yet.

Oh? Is his friend getting sleepy?

"You don't have to be a lookout for me, Nageki, but you can rest here tonight if you like."

"Mm. In a few more minutes," Nageki agrees and looks around for an extra and blanket while he still has the energy.

Dorian smiles at the bird, happy to have company. "I think there's some extra blankets against the wall over there."

"Thanks." Nageki returns moments later and fashions something like a bed for himself. He lies down in it. He closes his eyes and tells Dorian, "Good night."

Dorian pets the pigeon's back out of habit. Nageki was a gentle soul in a gentle creature. He never deserved this fate.

"Goodnight."

He didn't want to be out in the jungle again, but the Lost Ones have been extremely dangerous, and staying in one spot has been a bad idea, over and over again. So he's skulking through the vegetation, trying to avoid more trouble.

It's too bad that trouble comes to him, because he steps on what he thought was a safe piece of turf until the hook on the ground is moved from its place and the noose wraps itself around his ankle, pulling a very unwilling robot into the air by his leg.

"Shit!" he yells, as he struggles against the hold on him. He's a good couple of feet off the ground, and it's gonna take him a bit to get free.

Dorian wastes no time tracking down the panicked yelling. Tightening his grip around his weapon, a wooden stake dipped in dreamshade, he approached his victim with sinister glee.

"Well, well, well. Who have we... here...?"

Dorian stares at his catch in utter confusion. Is that a handsome man made of metal?

Mettaton continues struggling, his mind a mess of confused thoughts and plans as he sees someone approach. Damn it, he was too loud, wasn't he? He attracted someone's attention and-

...that's. That's Dorian, isn't it? He looks younger than the last time he saw him, but it's Dorian.

"Dorian??? You're a Lost One??"

He wasn't expecting that, honestly.

That comment only confuses the Lost Boy further. There is no way this metal thing could speak. Or call out his name.

Dorian attempts to be feirce, but he's still bewildered. "What are you, and how do you know my name?"

Right, of course he's not going to remember, that's how the event works. He huffs a little, twisting in the air as he tries to assess how to go about this. Should he fight? Should he rip himself down?

"I'm a robot, darling, and I know your name because I am your friend. Now, cut me down from here! This is ridiculous!"

Like that's actually gonna help you here, Metta.....

"What?" Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Since when did I become friends with a... Row-bat?"

More importantly, what the heck is a robot? He has never even seen a robot in his life, much less a pretty one...

Unless. Of course, this is all a trick. One of the many hallucinations. Dorian prods one of the rectangular things on Metta's chestplate with his stake, being careful not to scratch it too much. After all, if this was real, he didn't want to do too much external damage.

"Robot, Dorian, it's pronounced roh-bawt."

If he had an organic heart it would have stopped at the sight of Dorian poking him with his stake. Oh goodness. Ohhhhh noooo, he's going to be poisoned and he is going to DIE and he doesn't want to die, not like this, not at all-

The stake doesn't scratch him. He doesn't feel different so he thinks that, perhaps, he was given a break.

"You became friends with me because of an event that Wonderland created. Like this one right now, it changed your state of being and made you believe you were something else. This isn't real, Dorian. This isn't how you really are."

He twists some more, trying to feel for any weakness in the rope.

The robot certainly felt real, but it was talking nonsense. Puzzled, Dorian snapped a longer branch off a nearby tree and continued to poke Mettaton's buttons.

"This thing must be broken," he mused to himself, "Where's the bloody off switch?"

"Ow, I- Dorian, stop that!!! I am not broken, thank you very much!"

The indignity of it all! To be strung up like some dirty rat and then poked at like a circus oddity!! But the idea of an off switch gives him an idea and he grins a little impishly.

"You shouldn't be doing that, you know. You may do something you'll regret."

"You sound broken! Babbling on about nonsense like that..."

Wait, do something he would regret? "What do you mean by that?" Dorian crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

"Nothing I say is nonsense, though the reality of what I say won't hit you until this event is over. But...."

He swings a bit towards Dorian, an evil glint in his eye.

"I could mean a lot of things! Maybe if you push my buttons too much, something awful might happen."

"Awful?"

Dorian poked Mettaton's face on the cheek. "Whadya mean, awful? Are you going to shine light in my eyes or something?"

Dorian pokes Mettaton again and he puts on a face of 'shock'

"Oh no, don't touch-"

While making sure Dorian's eyes are locked on his face and not paying attention to the rest of him, Mettaton subtly moves a hand to his hip, manipulating a secret mechanism that detaches the leg currently strung up in the air and causes both him and the leg to fall to the ground.

He lets the shock sit on his face, looking to Dorian and then to his leg and then screams, a terrified, high-pitched scream. He is an amazing actor and he's hoping that the sudden leglessness and his scream will be enough to startle Dorian into either running off, or not stopping him from escaping.

... Oh dear god, did the robot just loose a leg?

Dorian's screaming at the same time Mettaton is screaming, but the terror is not an act.

"AAAAAHHHH! OHGODOHGODOHGOD-"

Dorian rushes to Mettaton's side and attempts to reattach the leg. He can fix this! While panicking! Somehow!

Honestly, Mettaton did not expect Dorian to rush to him and try and help. He's a little touched, all things considered. Despite this, however, he doesn't feel a mite of guilt as he reaches for his leg, wrenches it out of Dorian's hands and then slaps the other man with it. Hopefully that will push him back a bit.

Then, quickly, he re-attaches the leg with a smart POP and pulls himself up.

"Sorry about that, darling, but I have to go. We can chat again when you remember yourself!"

He turns to the forest and breaks out into a run but not before blowing Dorian a quick kiss.

Not only did it push Dorian back, it knocked him out. Who knew a metallic high heel to the face could knock someone out?

When he comes to, Dorian may wonder if he dreamed up the robot encounter. If he did, though, what would explain that bruise on his forehead?

The blood on Booker’s hands is real enough, as he walks right through the portrait Dorian had dreamed up. He’s painted a pretty picture of his own, a trophy from some hapless victim in one hand, and a knife in the other. He’s covered himself in red, poetry in motion.

He’s leaning towards the worse, sorry Dorian. He tacks his scalp trophy onto a tree to dry- or as a warning to the adults on the island, and takes a seat next to the other boy. Holding his chin in his palm as he studies the nothing the boy was currently talking to, he says nothing as usual, only scowls in understanding.

He had walking dreams like this from time to time. Post-traumatic stress something or other.

It takes a moment for the boy to register Booker sitting next to him, covered in blood. Was that boy part of the dream? Was the blood?

Dorian appreciated the distraction from the painter, but he had to poke the other boy on the bloodied cheek to make sure he was real.

Booker caught Dorian’s wrist just as he touched a finger to his cheek, he was going to mess up his war paint. His own artwork, which was basically slapping a hand over the lower half of his face to make himself appear more intimidating- as if his scowling didn’t scare everyone off.

“Seeing things again, Dorian?” He smiles this time, all teeth and no real joy behind it. Not that he didn’t see things.

"... Yes, sadly."

But at least he can tell that Booker was real. The other boy was horrifying and brutal, clashing heavily with Dorian's fae-like presence, but his company was accepted all the same. After all, he was a skilled warrior.

"Would you please let me go? I was only curious about the blood."

“Wanna share?” He asks, feeling particularly chatty today. Dorian always had some sort of interesting story. More interesting than his own to be sure. That and there wasn’t much going on around the island. He’d done his quota of ridding the island of adults today.

“By your command, your highness.”

He releases his hold on the other boy’s wrist, instead wrapping his arm around his legs as he draws them up to his chest.

"May as well," he says as he thanks Booker with a playful nod.

"I saw a man in that area," He gestures at the spot where he saw him, "An adult, clearly, but he looked like he should have already been dead. What with the bloody gashes and all... He didn't seem to care about it at all, and chose to set up an easel right in the middle of the woods and tried to paint me a picture."

It was better than the smoke-filled-pessimist delusion, that was for sure.

Booker wasn’t expecting that at all, but he was. He turns his attention to the spot Dorian had been staring in, squinting to see if he could catch a glimpse of the dead man painting portraits. Sounded awfully familiar, like the man he’d just stuck with a knife.

“I think they forget that they’re dead.” Where did that come from? He has a feeling he’s seen this before. Windows into other dimensions. He wipes away the blood from his nose, sighing quietly. Nosebleeds seemed to be a regular thing for him.

“Maybe he’s alive in another reality.”

The painter was gone by now, vanished into nonexistence.

"Perhaps," Dorian rested his chin on his hands, sighing softly. "Or perhaps they would not think about their death..."

Wait, another what? Dorian turns to look at Booker, noting the sudden nosebleed. Was that boy being too rough with his last kill?

"What are you going on about?"

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Let Them be Buried, Buried Alive [Open]

C.

Dorian bonds with a birb.

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This is getting cute

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A!

Looks like you're screaming.

That's kind of what he's doing right now

Screaming robots. How charming.

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B)

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