[OPEN] ❁ don't let it get the best of you, you'll make it out alive

[roseblooms]

WHO: Fawkes and YOU!
WHERE: All around Recolle during the nightmares/fog event!
WHEN: Various times in the month of October!
WHAT: Nightmares, fog encounters, and etc.
WARNINGS: Will be attached to the headers of various top-levels within!

Comments

NIGHTMARE - ARENA (cw: sadism, torture, bombs)

[roseblooms]

[You're standing outside, and though the air around you isn't dark or otherwise obscured, it's still somehow impossible to make out clearly what all is surrounding you here. It seems as though it's some kind of amphitheater, though, with a sort of clearing in the middle and some sort of barrier all around you in the distance; there are flashes of color and little hints of movement that suggest something is out there, but no matter how far you might walk toward it, it never comes any closer or gets any clearer.

The center of the clearing, however, is entirely in focus. There's a raised platform, round, raised up perhaps five feet off the ground — high enough that you'd have to jump or climb to scale it, but not so high that you can't see what's happening atop it from your vantage point on the ground.

Oddly, nothing seems to be happening on it. Fawkes is standing there, alone, seemingly paralyzed; the position he's in doesn't look comfortable at all to be holding himself still in, but rather like something he'd been transitioning through when someone abruptly told him to freeze.

As if on cue, a frightened voice in the distance rings out: don't move, Kurama!

In the moments that follow, Fawkes's gaze meets yours, and the whites of his eyes are visible even from this distance.

A few seconds later, a different voice chimes in — lower, silkier, and infinitely more dangerous: why not move? You're such a masochist; I'll bet deep down you want to feel it, don't you?

If you decide to approach, Fawkes's alarm and agitation will only increase — but really, what else is there for you to do right now, but that?]

[thesettingsun]

[The outside of the clearing is impossible to get any closer to - so there isn't anything to do but approach the center.

There's Fawkes, terrified of something that Shuji can't see. There are voices, one of which he dislikes instantly. There's a situation that Shuji doesn't understand, and even knowing that it's probably dangerous-

He still walks toward the center platform, because he can't just turn around and leave Fawkes like this. Even if he could physically leave this clearing, his conscience wouldn't let him.]

[roseblooms]

Don't — !

[He doesn't move much, but his head does, just a fraction of an inch, and his eyes turn in Shuji's direction now, locking on to the sight of his approach.]

Don't! It's dangerous! You can't see them —

[thesettingsun]

[Shuji stops in his tracks, because there's no faking that level of alarm, but-]

Then what should I do?

[Will standing around improve things? He guesses not.]

[roseblooms]

[Die, that silky voice chimes in pleasantly, from somewhere unseen, and Fawkes goes just a little bit paler in the face.]

Y-You can't see them...can you...

[thesettingsun]

I can't.

[And that limits his options severely, but-]

Hey, asshole with the creepy voice, why don't you show yourself?

[roseblooms]

[At that, Fawkes starts to open his mouth to say something, but it's too late; speak the monster's name and he appears, taking his sweet time as he moves across the platform up by where Fawkes is standing, unconcerned with whatever it is that Fawkes is so apprehensive of.

I've never been one to share, the crow says quietly, waving a dismissive hand in Shuji's direction as he advances on Fawkes instead. You should mind your own business.]

[thesettingsun]

You should find somebody who 'wants to feel it' without you trapping them. That's pathetic. You're pathetic.

[Shuji can't do anything from here except shout insults at this monster, but if he can goad the crow into getting close - if he gets close, then he might be able to hurt him.]

[roseblooms]

[It's an interesting ploy, actually, because it seems as though the lanky black monster in Fawkes's proximity is susceptible to precisely that variety of goading; for a second or two, his focus on Fawkes seems to wane, and he turns his attention more directly to Shuji.

Why don't you come save him, then? the crow says, openly inviting. Come and fight. The winner among us can keep him.]

[thesettingsun]

[The best solution would be for the monster to come to Shuji - but given that keeping both of them still seems like a major part of his strategy, he won't do that without more provocation, and Shuji doesn't know this guy well enough to target his weaknesses.

The book Shuji has taken to carrying around with him in a bag is there when he reaches for it. And then it's a scythe half his height. The transformation isn't flashy - harmless book one moment, weapon the next.

Come and fight, he says?]

I'll meet you in the middle.

[Because even if something horrible happens there, at least Fawkes will probably be outside of the danger zone.]

[originallutece]

[What else indeed? Rosalind moves slowly, step by step, her eyes trained on Fa--

No. On Kurama, because that's who he is now, isn't it? He's Kurama, and this is . . .

It was a competition, he'd said. To the death, he'd told her. There's flashes of color and movement all around them, and he's on a raised platform, and it would be easy to think this nothing more than a sports competition if it wasn't for the horror in Kurama's eyes.

How can she do anything but come closer? That's hers, that boy right there, and that silky hint of sadism only sets off her own possessiveness more. That's hers, her Fawkes, her Kurama, and she'll do whatever she has to in order to keep him safe.]

[roseblooms]

[Of all the people who might come wandering through one of his dreams, it's Rosalind who comes the closest to jarring him straight out of his nightmare before it ever has a chance to really begin. It's just that she's so far removed from the horrors that he associates with a moment like this, so utterly representative of feelings that are an anathema to a nightmare like this, that her very presence very nearly upends the whole thing, disrupting it beyond its ability to maintain itself.

And yet he's frightened for her, when he sees her there. He's terrified, actually, because he knows that look on her face, that glint in her eyes, and he's currently surrounded by bombs and she's drawing ever closer.]

Rosalind —

[originallutece]

Stay still.

[She hasn't the faintest idea how this works, but she can draw her own conclusions. Don't move, someone had screamed at him, so surely he's surrounded by the bombs. Surely they're in close range to him.

Which means they ought not to be near her. Rosalind stares up at the platform, then hoists herself up, mounting it with far more ease than she would in reality.]

And tell me what happens now. Tell me how to change this.

[roseblooms]

[Tell me how to change this, she says, and it's an interesting question, one that echoes with memories of things he's said himself outside of his own dreams. Changing this is different than fixing it, different than solving it; the latter options suggest that the state he's in is something that can only be responded to and addressed as-is, but changing opens up a much wider array of options.

But can she? There's no way of knowing. It ought to be impossible; if he could fix this, why wouldn't he have done it already?]

He's — he's around here somewhere.

[He doesn't elaborate on the he, though it's not exactly hard to guess.]

When...when he's done toying with me, they'll...the bombs will...

[And that's not hard to guess, either.]

[originallutece]

Then let him keep toying with you.

[It's not that she wants to see that, but it's better than him dying. Rosalind keeps approaching, step by careful step, eyes darting around to see if she can see anything: some strange glint in the air, some bizarre blur in reality, something to hint at where all these bombs are.]

Think. Youko had a better chance of beating him, you said. Can you summon him now?

[roseblooms]

[The longer she looks, the more she'll come to realize that yes, there are little patches of distortion here and there in the air around Fawkes — nothing particularly explicable in any real sense of the word, but there to be quasi-perceived nevertheless.]

I don't know if I'm able. This...happens after he's gone. I don't know if I can bring him back.

[originallutece]

It's a dream.

[She stops a few feet from the nearest reality twist. That reminds her of something, but at the moment she can't quite place what.]

You can change things you couldn't in reality. So change things. Call him back.

[A pause, and her voice is softer, more coaxing.]

You did it when we were attacked by those monsters, didn't you? You were frightened for me . . . you were determined to protect me.

Now you have to be determined to protect yourself. Kurama . . . bring him back.

[roseblooms]

[It unsettles him, somehow, hearing that name on her lips. It resonates with something inside him, makes him feel for a moment like she's talking to two different people at once — himself and someone else, neither of whom has the answers.

But there's an imperative in her words, as well, and he finds that's not something he can ignore, either. Bring him back, she says, and there's no qualification of try to, no maybe you can. It's a directive, one that leaves no room to be ignored. Bring him back, and he truly doesn't know if he can, but she certainly seems to think so and, well, she's always known more than him anyway.

So he closes his eyes and tries to swallow back his fear, reaching deep down for that reservoir of power that by all rights should've been long since empty, except that Rosalind thinks it isn't and so maybe, after all, it isn't.

The air seems to ripple and quake; a wind begins to pick up from nowhere at all, blowing back his red hair that, in places, looks as though it's starting to pale and silver.]

[doublesmall]

[of course chuuya approaches, because what the fuck is caution or hesitation in the face of something like this? there's that voice, but no figure for it to be coming from, nothing visible for him to go after, and so he steps closer instead, raising his own voice.]

Where the fuck is he, huh?

[roseblooms]

[The sound of Chuuya's voice draws a slight jolt of surprise out of Fawkes, but he's clearly conscious enough of the threat all around him to refrain from moving much and risking detonating one of the floating bombs in the air, even as he turns to look. So it's mostly a movement in his eyes, a slide of green irises over to the corners, as he catches sight of Chuuya and tries to slow his breathing down, lest his own jumpiness make him move when he knows it'd be deadly to.

Strange, that. It doesn't seem wrong for Chuuya to be here. It's like he fits in, somehow, like the dream can stretch easily to accommodate him, even though objectively Fawkes is vaguely aware that he doesn't belong.]

I don't know — be careful, I don't know where he is!

[Tsk, tsk. A little rat sticking its nose where it doesn't belong, comes that same voice, as if on cue. You shouldn't meddle with things that aren't yours.]

[doublesmall]

Yeah? I do a lot of things I shouldn't do. Hasn't stopped me yet.

[chuuya hums under his breath, there, glancing between fawkes (just making sure he's still okay) and the surrounding area, staying alert for any sign of movement.]

If you're so worried about your things, maybe you'd better do more to make sure nobody else ends up breaking them. Leaving them out like that's dangerous, you know...?

[he wouldn't, he hopes fawkes knows that much, but he can't kick someone's ass if they don't show up to begin with. if that doesn't lure him out, well. back to square one, he supposes.]

[roseblooms]

[...Now that is a horrifying idea, actually — spitting in the face of a monster just for the sake of getting it to show itself and fight properly — and yet it's almost uncanny how well it works. It's clear what Chuuya is doing; fucking with an adversary by the rules of their own game is a classic, tried-and-true method of seeking to piss them off. It's uncanny how familiar that is, really.

(It's uncanny how easily someone like that can fit into this dream, like there's a role with those characteristics already prewritten into it.)

But as dreams tend to do, the shift is instantaneous, and not subject to logic. One second there's nothing across the arena's fighting ring, and the next instant he's present, watching the two of them with an almost quizzical look.

A brute like you would only ruin that work of art, the crow remarks softly — a phrase that makes Fawkes stiffen and recoil before abruptly catching himself and forcing himself to hold still. Pity, to have to waste time with such nuisances interrupting my fun.]

i never get to use these icons i'm so glad

[doublesmall]

Is that so? Well, I could come over there, but...

[to better make his point, chuuya takes a casual step towards him, raising a foot and bringing it down-- the resulting quake of the ground around him doesn't quite reach far enough to risk fawkes losing his footing, but chuuya makes sure it comes dangerously close.]

Things break pretty easily in a fight. Not my problem if you end up with some collateral damage.

[come at him, bro.]

THEY ARE GREAT ICONS

[roseblooms]

[It's actually a little bit fascinating, how bewilderingly well the tactic works. For someone who clearly covets being in control, and whose sadism is rooted in the ability to manipulate and toy with his prey, Chuuya's collateral damage gambit genuinely seems to be getting under the crow's skin; behind his mask, his eyes flick instantly to where Fawkes is teetering on his feet in his cage of bombs, gauging the distance between Chuuya and his toy.

You're planning to ruin him, just to annoy me, the crow murmurs, eyes narrowing with a peculiar brand of hatred. Do you really think I won't make you suffer for that?

As if for emphasis, a warning explosion goes off in the air near Chuuya's leg — the one he'd used to quake the ground.]

[doublesmall]

[the explosion immediately pushes chuuya into motion, sending him moving right into the air-- and staying there for a moment, floating over the ground with a faint red glow around him. so he can use the bombs long-distance; that complicates things, but it also make them interesting, and chuuya's grin only sharpens.]

You can try it if you want.

[some of the debris that first quake loosened-- clumps of dirt, rocks, and all-- rise to float near chuuya like some sort of minefield of his own. if these things explode on contact, chuuya's not going to make himself easy to touch. if they don't? -well, this is the only way he's going to figure that one out.

he spares another quick glance to fawkes (still on his feet, still okay for the moment) before turning his attention back to his target.]

But if you're just going to fight me with toys like that, I'll break you both before you ever break me. Come get me, asshole.