Nightmare/Fog Open Catch-all

[liberal_arts]

WHO: Kasen + open
WHERE: Various / Dreamland
WHEN: October
WHAT: What has he done? What in god's name has he done?
WARNINGS: violence, mostly

[ i - home sweet home ]

-Walking through the fog on a way that you thought would bring you back home takes you to somewhere else entirely. For some folks, this is nothing new, but the place in question certainly is. Or at least new to them. In fact, using the word "new" to describe it at all seems terribly out of place. The fog is only clear enough to see parts of it at a time, but everything that can be seen looks clearly worn, weathered, almost ancient. Or perhaps a better way to describe it is 'tired'. Or perhaps, even, 'dying'...

The grounds, some sort of Japanese citadel, are pot marked and scarred with flame. There is a distinct smell of blood in the air as one gets closer to the building itself, and if one of the cracked, partially burnt screen doors is pulled open, that scent becomes a stench unto itself. The inner walls of the citadel are stained crimson, though no bodies can be found. But the evidence suggests that this was no mere battle, but a slaughter. It would be completely justifiable to not want to explore further, but you can feel it, right? A beckoning sensation, drawing you further into the old, dying building. The floor creaks beneath your steps echo into pitch black halls...

If you didn't go into the building itself, you'd find the outside fairs no better. Blood, walls scarred by weapons, arrows littering the field. You find there were once crops grown here, a ranch as well, but only long dead animals and scorched earth remains. Total devastation. Whoever was defending this citadel in whatever war this was lost, lost everything.

There's a great tree not far from the grounds, but its branches are completely bare. It may seem like sakura once bloomed here, but that evidence is only in what few petals can be seen littering the ground, mixing with the ashes of the fallen. And near the tree... is far worse.

Several stakes jut out of the ground like claws desperately reaching out. Tied to them are... bodies. Bodies burned to the point of being nearly unrecognizable. But some of their faces may seem familiar, despite how badly damaged the corpse. You may see the face of a friend, of a brother...

Or even yourself.

That same beckoning calls to you, still, though, drawing you into the building. Within its halls, you may come across Kasen. He stands there, staring at what appears to be a shattered, ancient shrine. There are burnt pieces of paper, all in the shape of people, littering the ground. There is a mark written on each one, but the fires have made them illegible. And yet they seem to twitch in an unseen breeze, as if alive...-

This place... I know this place... It's not supposed to be like this. -Kasen whispers to himself, his voice as haunted as his surroundings.-

[ ii - Thirty Six Poets ]

-In your slumber, you may stumble into an exquisite mansion. The entire building seems to be a work of art unto itself, ornate and elegant nearly to the point of excess. This is truly a home fit for a daimyo, one might think, if they even knew what a daimyo was. Strangely, though, it is entirely empty of people. Devoid of any life besides the vibrancy of its walls and decorations, which all seem to have a vitality their own. So perhaps it was better to say it was devoid of *human* life.

That was, of course, until you entered the gigantic audience chamber. Truly it was the jewel in the crown of this home, pillars towering above, the ceiling itself adorned with masterful paintings, and all of the walls detailing a rich artistic heritage. This was the home of a person who deeply cared for elegance and the creative spirit.

As for the people in the chamber, 36 men and women sat upon gorgeous silk pillows, wearing the finest of courtly garb. Each of them could be described as exquisitely, almost painfully beautiful, except...

Each of them wore a simple, burlap sack over their heads. If one could read kanji, the kanji for "sin" was emblazoned over the faces. And if anyone was even more familiar with their Japanese history... they understood what that sack meant. This was no court gathering. This was no audience chamber. Despite the beauty surrounding you...

... This is an execution.

And so came out the executioner. It was unmistakably Kasen himself. He moved in slow, solemn steps, each one seemingly weighted and heavy beyond imagination. He walked behind the first of the 36 seated people, and just as slowly raised his sword...-

[ iii - wildcard ]

-If you had something non-nightmare related planned for Kasen, go ahead and post a top level here and I'll respond to it!-


[[ ATTENTION SWORDMEN AND SWORDMEN ADJACENT FOLK this post contains The Citadel mentioned a week or so ago! If you want to do your own threads within the citadel not involving Kasen, I am totally cool with that! Feel free to use this post as you wish! ]]

Comments

II

[toobigtohandle]

[By now Kenta has seen enough battles, in the fog or in his nightmares, that he can more or less place the time period.

Still, the scene he stumbles upon, with those people waiting to be executed, is jarring. Even though he is pretty well-versed in Japanese history, he can't seem to remember where this would have happened or why.

He can remember that the man who steps out is the one who sent him that bit of poem before, and that he said he was preoccupied with swords lately. But this...]

What is going on here?

[liberal_arts]

-When Kasen spoke, his voice was not the one Kenta would recognize from the convention. It had a different cadence, tone, a different person entirely.-

Behold, my son, the weight of a daimyo. -In one swing, the first of the 36 was beheaded, the body slumping over as blood spilled onto the once gorgeous lacquered floor, head hitting the ground with a sick thud.-

[toobigtohandle]

[To his credit, Kenta barely flinched. As unfortunate as that was, this was not actually the first person he's seen being executed, even if the ones he was accustomed to took a gunshot to the head, not a sword.

He was also not going to try and stop this. He had come to understand that while certain nightmares seemed to let him intervene, some of them should probably just play out.

Besides, his question was still unanswered.]

Where are we? Who are these people?

[liberal_arts]

Each life is yours to use. -Kasen stepped behind the next victim, once more raising his sword.-

Their prosperity and their destruction is entirely at your whim. -Swing, and once more, another was beheaded.-

[toobigtohandle]

I'm pretty sure I didn't order any of these. I don't even know who these people are.

[Really, he should probably feel a little more ill at ease when people were literally being executed in front of him, but Kenta really wanted to know where he was.]

Or what they did to deserve this.

[liberal_arts]

Insolence! -Another head sliced away.-

Your life is frivolous! Without challenge! You waste your days drinking wine and chasing women! You have no idea the reality you face! The responsibilities sitting on your shoulder!

Every single one of these men and women surrender their lives to a daimyo! Do you think you deserve that!?

[toobigtohandle]

I don't know if they do, but I am quite sure I don't.

[After all Kenta does everything he is supposed to be doing. He's following diligently on both his studies and work, attends family events when asked to. He hasn't once dodged his own responsibilities even when he felt like he wanted to.]

I am very aware of what's on my shoulders.

I

[flowrite]

[Shit. Fai knows better than to go out alone at night anymore. He's already run into strange phenomena in the fog more than once. But his evening class had run long and he'd felt silly calling someone just to walk him back to his car....

He can imagine that the building must have been beautiful once, but the marks from fire and blood don't give him much hope that this is going to be a pretty, fluffy sort of encounter. Rationally he should just turn around and run, run back to his car and his apartment and lock the door. Except when he turns around... where is his car even, anymore? Where is there to go that isn't this place?

And of course, of course he's stupid enough to ignore the nagging feeling that he should go inside. He skirts around the building instead, toward the tree, hoping that if he doesn't go farther in maybe he can still find a way back through the fog and get out of this--

When he finally stumbles inside, to the room where Kasen is, Fai is holding a hand to his mouth and looks like he's either trying to keep from crying or being sick. Maybe both.]

[liberal_arts]

-When Kasen heard another person find their way to the room, his reverie was broken, and he quickly turned about, grabbing for a sword that wasn't there. That's right, it was back in the studio... But for the moment, it seemed he wouldn't even need it. He recognized the face as he drew closer, and his heart started to ache.-

Fai, this is... -This was what? What was this place? Why did it tear down at his soul so much to be in this place? What was weighing on him so much...-

It's not... it's not supposed to be like this...

[flowrite]

[Wait, Kasen knows this place? But it looks so old.... A monument of some sort, maybe?

But the bodies outside...?

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to calm his stomach, then finally pulls his hand away from his mouth just far enough to speak.]

What is this place?

[liberal_arts]

... It's home.

This is home. The Citadel. -Don't ask him how he knew that, but it was undeniable. This was the world he knew as his home, beyond the estate of Hosokawa. This was where he'd gained his purpose, fighting those who would rewrite history for their own twisted ends.

Twisted ends like the destruction before them. The stench of blood and smouldering ashes everywhere.-

[flowrite]

[Home?

Fai blinks, taking another moment to regain some equilibrium, and then leans against a nearby wall. As queasy and ill at ease as he feels though, poor Kasen looks like he's seen a ghost. And if this was his home...?]

Are you okay?

[liberal_arts]

... I feel as if I belong among these ruins. Shattered and broken.

-Seen a ghost? AS far as Kasen could feel, perhaps the ghost was meant to be Kasen, himself. The paper dolls stirred as he spoke, some of them rising from their ashy graves and walking, slowly, towards Kasen, gathering at his feet.-

i

[spes_phthisica]

[He's pretty sure this isn't his haunting. Sure, it has the old-timey Japanese look about it, but apart from that nothing about it is familiar.

Well, not at first. He wanders about, feeling nauseous and apprehensive, fighting the urge to go inside, afraid he'll find something truly awful in there. Except the awful thing is outside, burned and maimed and trussed to poles like so much empty meat. There are traits he recognizes in a couple of those bodies, blending together as his head spins and he backs away in horror, shaking his head in denial. He runs, unable to face the carnage and the implication present in cracked red nails, lifeless blue eyes. Suddenly inside feels much safer somehow.

When he finds another person there, he's about ready to cry from relief, but he's also far too out of breath to do so. He leans against a mostly whole wall in an attempt to recover, eyes wide.]

Do you- Do you know how to get out of here?

[liberal_arts]

-Kasen was slow to turn to the sound of the voice. His face was vacant, hollow, and eyes tired and heavy. The twitching paper dolls around him seemed to turn as well, or perhaps that was simply a trick of the moving air in the room...-

You... don't belong here...

[spes_phthisica]

[That might seem like a rather blunt rebuff, but Soujirou actually feels a wave of relief at the statement. That's right. Whatever is happening here isn't part of his own walking terrors, no matter what he might've seen outside. He has to believe that.]

That's right. I don't. [He shifts where he stands, watching the fluttering paper dolls warily.] I just want to leave. I walked in here by accident.

[liberal_arts]

Do you really believe... in accidents? -Kasen whispered again, turning back towards the shrine he'd been staring at before.-

This place... is my home. It's not... supposed to be like this.

[spes_phthisica]

[Soujirou thinks back on the past months, and manages a bleak little smile.]

Now that you mention it... not really. Not anymore.

[He looks around, shivering slightly.]

What happened here?

[liberal_arts]

We... failed. Whatever it was we were meant to do, we failed. And this is what it wrought.

I can still feel it here... that suffering. -Kasen didn't consider himself spiritually attuned in the slightest, but he wasn't just saying that. It was like a tremendous, choking smoke in the air, making it difficult to even think.-

i!

[sharplydressed]

[He knows that nothing in the fog is real, even if some of the things lurking in it can do some serious damage. He knows that the nightmarish scenarios that play out are just that - nightmares, with no bearing on reality.

But the sight of this place that he's caught brief glimpses of in his memories being reduced to such a horrific state strikes him hard.

Even though he knows it's wisest to leave or at least call for backup, he decides instead to look through the abandoned halls, to check for any signs of life. He's almost surprised when he eventually spots Kasen, having come to expect that he's the only person currently in this place, for better or for worse.]

—It's not like this.

[His quiet response to those words, though even a low volume rings out sharply in this abandoned place.]

[liberal_arts]

-The only *living* person, at any rate. Though the lethargic way Kasen turned to meet that voice that rang out into the emptiness suggested he wasn't quite lively. It almost seemed the paper dolls turned to Kashuu's voice as well, though that surely was just a trick of the wind...-

It shouldn't be, and yet... How could this happen? What did we do wrong? -We. Who was 'we' in this, he wondered to himself? It was like he was on the tip of something, something he'd been grasping at for so long, and was only just now starting to truly understand.-

[sharplydressed]

[He folds his arms over his chest in a somewhat reflexive gesture; standoffish, normally. Today, a little defensive. He eyes the paper dolls warily, lips pursing, before his attention turns back to Kasen.]

...It's probably just the fog, right?

[But the fog does show memories of a sort, and no one can really be sure of how accurate or inaccurate they are until they actually remember. That's been troubling in some ways, but never quite as strongly unsettling as it is right now.]

[liberal_arts]

Even if that is true... why show me this? Why *any* of this? -Kasen gestured to the building around him, the burns, the blood, the battered walls and doors.-

I... I know this is it. This is 'home'. But not like this... This can't be allowed to exist! I refuse to believe this is what happens to us!

[sharplydressed]

[Maybe it's the combination of the words Kasen uses that sets off such an intense reaction - things like "home" and "us", because it hasn't really sunk in just how close he was to the other swords in the Citadel, but a family-like feeling has begun to resurface in memories. The thought of it all being burnt to nothing like this draws up a fierce protectiveness.]

It doesn't. There's no way this exists, yeah? No way does this happen. Not in this life or in any others.

[Though the supposed reason for their existence in Recolle in the first place disagrees with that, it seems. He doesn't linger on the thought.]

They're just trying to get under your skin. That's all this junk ever boils down to, so don't let 'em win.

[liberal_arts]

Who then? Who is doing this? What has wrought this, other than our own failure? -Kasen gestured to the dolls now, stirring at their presence, their words, and seemingly gathering at their feet, as if begging for something...-

Who takes responsibility for this? An unknown enemy, or us? I don't want to accept this reality, but I can't ignore what ever fiber of my being is telling me, either...

Is this... what becomes of us?