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westwhere2023-04-03 06:32 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2023-04-03 06:32 pm
Entry tags:
- 911: evan 'buck' buckley,
- a little dream of her,
- arcane: viktor,
- better call saul: jimmy mcgill,
- better call saul: nacho varga,
- breaking bad: jesse pinkman,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- doctor who: the doctor,
- final fantasy xiv: stephanivien,
- harry potter: hermione granger,
- kingdom of the wicked: emilia,
- mcu: america chavez,
- mcu: bucky barnes,
- mcu: kamala khan,
- mcu: natasha romanova,
- mcu: wanda maximoff,
- mcu: yelena,
- oh! my emperor: beitang moran,
- oh! my emperor: su xunxian,
- outlander: claire fraser,
- owl house: eda clawthorne,
- penny dreadful: vanessa ives,
- persona 5: ren amamiya,
- tian guan ci fu: xie lian,
- touken ranbu: kanesada,
- travel arc,
- umbrella academy: allison,
- umbrella academy: five,
- warcraft: wrathion,
- x-men: charles xavier
a little dream of her | part i
This is the first of two logs covering the Dream county travel Arc — it stretches until 23 April OOCly and covers roughly one IC week. There is an entirely optional wedding mystery plot, which will depend heavily on information gathering, sharing and deduction, rather than on supernatural powers.
Boarding scenarios for existing and new characters are covered under the Old Timers and New Arrivals header, respectively. Click on the tabs for details!
OLD TIMERS
Absorbing Wrath, Licyn and Yelena’s feedback, King Deimar of Alem decides against joining his brother Haiva in ‘noble sacrifice’ to hell. Good news for the party, who depends on royal savvy to reach Alem’s otherworld transport beacon, buried in the labyrinthine tunnels beneath crumbling Alem.
- ■ Deimar and his paladins guide small groups back to the beacon — but the keypoint’s war-drained energies only let a handful of party members out. Characters who have dropped or been swept by AC during Arc VI go home. You can also canon update your character now.
The party must heads onwards east, boarding a dreamy train at a station near Hassir. Here, find exotic stalls with wares once intended for Alem — from the latest travel fashions, to unlucky artefacts, heavy alcohol and narcotics. You can even purchase a domestic ghost.
Whether the Merchant supplies a ticket or false staff uniforms for you to proactively sneak aboard, don’t dally — this train runs like clockwork.
NEW ARRIVALS
You wake up to claustrophobia, ash and gravel in your mouth — and a sense of urgency: run. Midway through a slovenly, rattling underground corridor, you meet an irritable woman, who leads you out, at the foot of a serene, smoke-topped mountain.
The woman passes you a pendant that allows you to understand her and to communicate with others like you. You are one of many otherworlders brought into Akhuras by undead lords who seek to weaponise you, as they battle humans and each other for dominion. Don’t believe her? Look up. The holy citadel Alem yet burns before the dead armies of Rahakku.
The woman is Karsa, an associate of the elusive Merchant, who collects and leads otherworlders east, where ancient beacons can transport them home.
Regrettably, you’re late — you arrived with the unexpected last gasps of Alem’s dying beacon and must now catch up with the others, who’ve departed on the Sandman train express.
WHY THE LONG FACE?
Karsa barters for a carriage led by two nightmare horses, along with several such steeds for confident riders. These are mercurial mounts and dizzyingly fast — your only shot to reach a train travelling through Dream county.
- ■ Karsa warns you must not fall asleep during travel. The horses will invade your nightmares, consuming your vital energy while you suffer asleep.
■ Talk at all times or sound the shrill silver bells Karsa provides to wake up any sleepers.
You reach the seaside village of Kyari, where you must board the incoming Sandman express. Regrettably, the horses have left Karsa with just enough coin for one ticket for the wounded Dean Winchester. Everyone else: make do.
You must also help Karsa sneak in fist-sized, forbidden dream boxes. Try to avoid the Sandman’s guards and their canine sentries, who scent newly boarding passengers for such contraband. Return the boxes to Karsa once on the train.
You’ve got 45 minutes to board, once the Sandman reaches its rustic station. Some options?
- ■ Play stowaway and break the rustier locks of the economy class cars.
■ Sweet talk the depressed Conductor. You bought, but just… forgot your ticket.
■ Distract the guards while your group boards, so they can sneak you on after.
■ Plant dream contraband on another would-be passenger, when the dogs draw close.
■ Ride one of those god-forsaken horses and jump on top of the train once it starts moving, then make your way in through ceiling hatches. God help.
A fully veiled young woman might lend you a hand.
THE SANDMAN
All aboard… the Sandman, a majestic 100-car train that gallops on an emaciated railway across Dream county. Ghosts and dream residents wave as it passes by.
The Sandman stops once after leaving Alem, at seaside village Kyari, before crossing the abyss of the Cradle — the turbulent, storm-prone birthplace of dreams, where it is constantly night-time.
Some say the Cradle is only a cauldron for those who steal dreams or make them into living things. Others say the Cradle has its own mind.
To avoid igniting dream storms, passengers are strictly prohibited from carrying dream tokens and performing dream magic. Characters find their powers are significantly reduced while travelling on the Sandman.
New arrivals join the Sandman at Kyari with group caretaker Karsa, who introduces them to the old party.
- ■ The Sandman offers exquisite single-person compartments with en-suite bathrooms for First Class passengers, while Second Class travellers share generous cabins in pairs, and up to four voyagers can bunk up in… cozy Third Class cabins. Shared bathrooms and a small sauna cabin are also available.
■ You can hide in the staff, luggage or coal stock rooms.
■ You can decide your character’s First/Second/Third Class, staff or stowaway status. (Pick a job for staff!)
■ The LOST & FOUND booth contains an assortment of clothes and items forgotten by passengers, which you can raid (within reason). Latest findings: cigarettes, medical-grade opiate powders, a a beautiful green dress and pink striped men’s suit, all brought in after the Sandman leaves Kyari.
■ Amenities range from dining & bar carts to game, exercise and cinema halls where the (PG-13!) pleasant dreams you’ve gambled away can be viewed freely, or passengers can hold recitals or seminars.
■ You can gamble in regular currency or pleasant dreams (not memories).
■ Travellers are polite and social. You learn early on that you share a voyage with renown heroine and First Class passenger Firo, who, alongside her friends and sister party, picks up her bride Prassenze from Kyari.
■ Within two hours of leaving Kyari, the sky begins to darken, becoming pitch black and occasionally loudly stormed. It stays a starless night time throughout your journey over the Cradle.
■ For communal safety, windows and doors are locked and magically enforced shut after the train departs Kyari. The nightmare storms within the Cradle region crackle with highly chaotic energy that can (re)shape reality, endangering passengers. Deputy conductor Michel Bauc holds the window and door keys. An irritating, tinny, train-wide alarm sounds if anyone tries to force a window open.
■ You might sometimes find fellow passengers trying to exit the train or open the windows to join the storms, while they nap. Do wake up them up.
■ Whether you’re an insomniac or don’t typically need sleep, you find you fall instantly asleep at midnight and awaken refreshed by 8 a.m.
■ A skeletal crew serves the Sandman at night. The most authoritative figure is gloomy Conductor Rossakoff, who slinks silently across the train.
THE MENU
Trot down to the dining carts for an unforgettable meal included with your ticket. Formal evening attire is expected during dinner. Some courses are lightly sparkled with stimulants that deepen certain aspects of diner’s emotions during the meal — this is not disclosed ICly, but visible to you OOCly in the menu. (ex: the Ham and Laughter Eggs triggers roaring laughter and a good disposition ).
BREAKFAST
SUPPER & DINNER
SNACKS & BEVERAGES
DREAM SMUGGLERS
The new arrivals helped Karsa bring contraband aboard, but they’ve steps to go to their final destination. The sorceress doles out fist-sized boxes containing precious dream fragments of happiness, sadness, fear, surprise, anger, guilt or disgust — explicitly prohibited cargo that regains its magical properties once aboard the Sandman.
Each box comes with instructions for drop off under a dining hall table at midday, under a roulette table by 6 p.m. or in the coal room by 8 p.m. Karsa says the deliveries are an explicit favour from the Merchant to an old (dream thief) friend aboard the Sandman.
- ■ Pair up for your run! Those who hold dream boxes feel their emotions to a player-chosen degree of intensity, throughout their adventure.
■ Beware the vigilant guards of the Sandman, who run frequent searches for illicit dream artefacts. Some bring dream-catching dogs who catch the scent of the dreamed things.
■ You may feel unusually sleepy while holding dream boxes. Doze, and you wake up to find your dreams have summoned a wo/man, child or animal whose temperament embodies the box’s emotion. They can’t help drawing attention, but slowly disappear within 30-60 minutes — wait, are those the guards?
■ Caught smugglers are locked into ‘jail’ cabins, while their contraband is placed in the office of Conductor Rossakoff. First-time captives can be bailed out at ludicrous expense or in exchange for maid service, but repeat offenders are jailed
for the rest of the voyage. Liberate your dream box back from the Conductor’s strangely barren, otherwise untouched compartment.
■ Successfully delivered boxes feed into the mystery of the missing bride. You mysteriously fall asleep to a sweet dream if you wait to meet the collector — and wake up to a feeling of wrongness, as if reality is mute and diffuse around you, before your hearing and vision resettle.
THE GROUNDHOG WEDDING: A MYSTERY
Firo’s bride Prassenze boards the Sandman from Kyari. She comes alone, veiled head to toe, and only brings a modest case. She is short, thin, pale and shy, prone to silence and retiring to her cabin at the earliest opportunity — a far cry from boisterous Firo.
…so much so that Firo’s sister Lita and friends Dulcinea, Maiza and Attru tell anyone who’ll listen that Firo is marrying this girl after courting her for six months through correspondence. Even bashful Hugo admits the pair is… perhaps a little mismatched. This is their first in-person encounter.
- ■ The wedding party members plead or offer coin for you to coerce the loving pair to delay their marriage — or to sabotage the wedding, due to take place in two days.
■ An enthusiastic Firo meanwhile asks if you can help with celebratory clothing or wedding ornaments.
■ Shortly after, Lita appears lost in her thoughts and altogether not there, clutching a letter in hand, the day after the Sandman departs Kyari.
HERE COMES THE BRIDE... AGAIN
1.0
No one forgets their wedding night — least of all brave Firo, who, vows performed, makes merry with her group and timid bride over a magnificent feast in the dining halls. Everyone is invited.
The blushing bride is visibly infatuated with Firo, but overwhelmed by the loud, relentless social activity. She hardly speaks to anyone, other than Firo, whose friends complain increasingly loudly that Prassenze is aloof, a cold fish, and thinks herself above them.
Prassenze excuses herself to freshen up in her cabin. Nearly an hour’s absence later, a worried Firo checks up on her — finding the bride’s compartment locked from the inside. Once the door is forced open, the partygoers — and you? — discover the inside stormed, bridal veils discarded on the floors, and windows widely open as the Cradle’s nightmare tempests rage.
The bride has vanished.
Terrified, Firo questions everyone in earnest, accepting your assistance to find Prassenze.
2.0.
You wake up next morning to find everyone reliving the same wedding day, which only fellow otherworlders recall. Squinting outside, you see new landscape — suggesting the Sandman has covered a day’s journey.
The bride Prassenze is present again, but sharply different in appearance and manner. Now, she is closer to Firo in size, her build athletic. Her manner is brusque, assertive, commanding. Some in Firo’s group are put off, others frightened. Firo appears a little taken aback by her bride’s domineering nature.
During the second wedding, a drunk Maiza and Dulcinea quarrel with Prassenze, who doesn’t back down. A frustrated Firo tries to break the fight, verbally lashing out at her friends for drinking and at Prassenze for stooping to their intoxicated level.
Prassenze storms to her cabin. She is once more found missing, when searched. As before, her compartment was locked from the inside, the window is wide open, and her veils have been abandoned.
3.0.
You wake up to a third wedding day, with only party otherworlders recalling the past two days. Prassenze looks and acts differently from the first and second wedding day — now she is of average build and height, with an especially jovial, overly friendly manner, prone to laughter and pranks. This time, she drinks with Firo’s friends, plays (and wins!) at many of their card and dice games, humours their stories and even flirts — but is so devoted to Firo’s group that she accidentally neglects Firo herself throughout the day. Firo repeatedly tries to coax her to spend time together, but fails, and abandons her during the wedding feast — perhaps meeting you for a drink instead?
Realising she has driven Fire away, a distressed Prassenze once more withdraws into her compartment at the end of the (third) wedding night — and disappears, leaving the same clues behind as on the first and second wedding day.
There are no further repetitions and time passes regularly after the third wedding day. The morning after, apothecary passenger Rigolante mentions asks Conductor Rossakoff to conduct a search, as some of his herbs and measuring tools have gone missing.
- ■ Player characters can change events and investigate during the second and third
groundhogwedding days. Regrettably, Prassenze still disappears.
■ Non-PC characters and the Sandman’s crew only recall the third wedding day.
■ Conductor Rossakoff says the number of dreamers whose dreams help propel the Sandman during the obligatory midnight-8 a.m. nap — what do you know, you were helping all along! — has stayed the same since leaving Kyari, meaning the bride is alive on board. No one seems able to find her… help a distraught Firo find her missing wife!
CAST & CREW
 | FIRO Good-humoured, sincere and just heroine, renown for her many feats of bravery — from rescuing villages to outwitting sphinxes and challenging immortals. Loud and prone to laughter. Quick to tell everyone about her beloved Prassenze. |
 | CONTESSA LITA Doting older sister of Firo, married to a Count who prefers a quiet life at his countryside estate. Preposterously wealthy and fashionable. Life of every party. |
 | MAIZA Once a gifted mathematician, Maiza quickly realized there is more money for the modern man to make from his brawns than his brains. After retraining as a barbarian, he served as muscle (and accountant) during many of Firo’s adventures.. |
![](https://i.imgur.com/E5VkWdz.png") | ATTRU The prince of a distant land, some say descended from wolves. Walks among men to learn their ways. Looks young, but will mention at least three wives and five children in the first five minutes of conversation. Smooth. |
 | DULCINEA Redeemed mercenary, who once used to sell her sword to anyone with the coin to spare — some say, even the dead! Turned an honest leaf after meeting Firo, of whom she is very protective. At times still sinister at her edges. |
 | HUGO A pilot turned priest, or a priest turned pilot. Met Firo during his many travels. Soft-spoken, mild-mannered, but jittery, with the kind of thin nerves that suggest he has survived numerous fraught circumstances. |
 | RIGOLANTE An apothecary of exotic drugs and herbs. He had hoped to make his fortune in Alem, but arrived just as the fortress crumbled, before he could sell enough of his wares. Prays he will find better fortune east. |
 | CONDUCTOR ROSSAKOFF The gloom and doom of the Sandman, eerily tall, slinking and silent. Passengers prefer to deal with deputy conductor Michael Bauc because of Rossakoff’s intimidating and discouraging presence. Takes a hard stand on smuggling or passenger misbehaviour and all but worships the Sandman. |
 | PRASSENZE The all-veiled bride of Firo, boarding at Kyari. Not once, not twice, but thrice disappeared. |
IC TIMELINE
- Day 01: Boarding at Hassir/Alem (morning)
Day 03: Boarding at Kyari (midday); within two hours of departing, the Sandman starts journeying on the railway above the abyssal Cradle — the sky is pitch black at all hours, nightmare storms rattle the train.
Day 04: Lita begins to behave airily, as if she’s not quite present.
Day 05: First wedding (16:00) and wedding feast (19:00)
Day 06: Second wedding (16:00) and wedding feast (19:00)
Day 07: Third wedding (16:00) and wedding feast (19:00).
Day 08: Rigolante asks Conductor Rossakoff to enforce a search for his missing herbs and recipients.
NPC THREADS
no subject
The thoughts roll around in his mind silently. Perhaps they won't be to each other what they once were, but still he hopes, and he'll never stop caring for her, whether she lets him or not.
Quietly, he sets everything down on the bedside table, not moving towards her, but not leaving the room, either. ]
I would have grabbed your things if there'd been time.
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The bottle, fortunately closed, tips to fall off the mattress as she leans over to snatch the cigarettes from the nightstand. She doesn't prefer them, but she isn't going to be picky over her vices at the moment. Vanessa can't smoke without a match or one of those mechanical flints, and she refuses to ask, but she'll find one later.
The button catches her eye, and she stares. Her expression might seem outwardly neutral, but there is a strange sort of menace directed at the piece of jewelry. ]
...When I was little, I remember witnessing my first dragonfly in close quarters.
[ She doesn't look away from the button, or move from where she's sitting with her legs tucked underneath her. ]
How beautiful, I thought as I followed her while she floated past the fountain and to the pond. She must be hunting. What does she want? Let me see. Let me help. I wished to grant her every desire, this ethereal huntress come to show me the way. I looked for tadpoles, wondering if she might hunt for them.
[ For any bit of mysticism that takes over while she recounts the memory, her tone immediately drops back into the realm of near monotony, and she looks back out the window with a strange nonchalance. ]
A frog ate her.
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Speaking of being eaten—
[ As though missing the point of her entire story! He will cleverly and carefully skirt around the deeper meaning beneath the words, and reach into his jacket pocket to produce a small wrapped piece of food, handing it to her. ]
Cake. From dinner service. The brown soup wouldn't keep very well on transport.
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The cake is ignored. Food is hardly any interest right now. Should he hope to spark a nostalgia in her? Dare not make her recall the night when she began to wonder if she had truly found someone who understood. Cruelty wrapped in care.
Her toes curl. ]
What do you want?
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Her words from mere days ago ring still in his mind. Words said in an emotional and irrational moment, though they feel more than true in this moment: that he isn't wanted here, not by her. He would do well to remember that and respect the distance she's trying to force between them perhaps, but he's still too selfish and lonely for that, even now.
His instinct is to be flippant in response to her question, but he's tired, weary, and desperate for a sign of...something. A flicker of anything in her eyes that might tell him that he hasn't ruined everything completely. ]
We've had a series of very bad, very terrible days. You're here, you're alive right now, and it's all that matters to me at the moment. What do I want? To watch you being alive for a few minutes. That'll do me.
And the cake, of course. Later. For breakfast probably.
[ Curious about her reaction to the button, he idly moves to pick it up, not saying anything else for the moment. ]
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When it would have mattered most... ]
Alive? You call this living, do you? [ Her eyes narrow to a squint, but with a sad furrow to her brow, though somehow her tone hardly changes. No different from Ethan in this way. Caring more about how he wants her to remain for his pleasure. A love, certainly, but of what kind? ] So long as I am able to walk and talk, I am alive? I suppose what need have I of the hope for knowing myself—my chance at peace of mind—or is that not what living ought to be for?
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He feared it all the time, and here they are now, she's in front of him (so beautifully, perfectly alive) and he could almost touch her.
It's enough for him, but it's not for her.
She continues to hurt him, but he won't show it. ]
No. I call it being alive.
Living is...our own path. And I took that from you, is that what you're saying? I've robbed you of it?
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[ The word is huffed as tears sting at her eyes, frustrated that he would debate the poetics of being alive or living to her right now. It's all the same. It's all the same. Blood stays in the veins, but the heart struggles to beat. ]
A living doll, then, bereft of understanding so long as she may remain to look at. So long as she keeps her head.
[ For that, a ghost of a smile. Dry. She could be near true death and somehow find humor in something, if she must. ]
I would not have been lured by Hell's song. I would not have died.
no subject
[ But that's not what she wants, either. He's trying, really trying, to understand and hear her and listen, and not simply insist on his own idea of what's best for her.
It's the first time he's seen tears sting at her eyes, and it shatters his hearts anew. He owes it to her to at least try the best he can to really understand. He's wronged her so badly and he doesn't know how to fix it. ]
No, no, that's not—I don't want that for you, I don't want you to be a living doll, that's not what this is about. You weren't yourself, you were hearing voices, and I was protecting you.
[ Seeing her so upset, though, compels him to step closer and to reach out on instinct, to attempt to take her hand. ]
no subject
There's a jerk of her head as she denies the very concept in relation to her. The only true safety is perhaps true solitude, where none can hurt her and none can be hurt by her, and that much she still can't quite bear. Even if she is to be alone in company, better the company of those she loves. ]
Voices that I never succumbed to. I am always myself despite them; I know that much now. Do you think I did not have them before? [ Or since? ] Did you not trust me even then? Did you not see me?
[ Though she doesn't pull away, her hand remains limp, and her voice is still so soft it seems all she can do is whisper. ]
Did you not then ask me what I wanted?
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[ By the look in her eyes, though, he sees the words are meaningless to her. What he did was, perhaps, unforgivable and unredeemable, in her mind.
She hasn't pulled her hand away, though, and so he clings a little tighter now, covering her hand with his other one so that it's cradled. ]
But what you wanted would have taken you from me. That's what I feared. What would have I done then?
no subject
[ She feels the warmth in his hands, but their touch is... Her hand feels too small. Not protected. Smothered. Silenced. Gone with the rest of what she had been daring to wish for once more. ]
If you could see me, then you would have seen that I would never be overtaken by any crooning from Hell, nor would I be consumed by its demons. I had hope once renewed by you, only for you to suggest nothing but my doom when I had the chance to face an old enemy.
[ He only assumes she would have died, or been taken over. That she wouldn't have made it because she was too weak in that moment. Because Hell was stronger.
She had been mistaken in what she decided to reveal to him of her past. She had told him that she had expelled Lucifer, but those were just words to him; however, he had seen when Lucifer had nearly overtaken her. It was her mistake for sharing her weakest moments. It seems that it didn't help him understand in the end, and it only hurt her cause.
She pulls her hand free, only to settle it over both of his, as if comforting him now. As if, perhaps, accepting that he simply can't understand. The touch is gentle, even as she shakes her head again. ]
You wished to see me...but if you did, then you would know what I am. I am not sure that you do, yet. Or perhaps you are not truly able to accept it as you once thought.
no subject
His fear, his selfishness, his absolute refusal to fathom losing her. That fear of loss, so palpable, drove every choice he made. It's why his choice to love anyone is dangerous, inherently, because of how desperate he becomes.
She says that he can't see her now, that perhaps he never could, and it wounds him all over again. To think of all they've shared together, to think a mistake could throw so much into doubt for her, to be accused of giving her hope and then taking it away, it unsettles him to his core. ]
No. You're wrong. If you think I can't see you, I can't change your mind on that, but don't you dare think me incapable of seeing you or accepting you. Not for a moment. Not after everything that's happened between us.
[ Truthfully, he can't bear it. There may be a flicker, a waver in his voice, unexpected and unbidden. It's brief, gone in a moment, barely there. But he quickly pushes it back down, as he does. ]
I know what you are, no matter what you think— [ It's there, on the tip of his tongue, the explanation and realization he'd come to only moments before, and yet he hesitates. ]
I'm not going to apologize for wanting to keep you safe. But the way I did it, and what I took from you, I am...sorry, Vanessa.
[ She's explained it in a way that he understands, that he can better comprehend the scope of what he stole from her, the unanswered questions she needs to live with now. It would drive him mad in the reverse, and it has. To know that he's done it to her for selfish reasons...well, he's not sure he deserves having her hand atop his at the moment. But then, he's never quite deserved the people he loves, has he? ]
no subject
The apology draws out her tears enough that she hangs her head to hide them, better still to lift one of his hands and kiss his palm. She always forgives him, more than she can ever forgive herself. ]
Thank you.
[ Something sweet, even if, somehow, it is murmured with a voice husky from sadness. His apology can't undo what was done. She'll never unhear his lack of faith. She'll never know what she could have done. She'll never feel what it is to be known by anything other than evil itself. How else could it be? What else could she be, but its master?
For that, then, it should perhaps be comforting that he can't know that. Such shadow would snuff out his light before too long. ]
no subject
Why? What is this for? Thanking him...for what. The bare minimum, in this case. What he owes her is so much more than he can ever give or return to her. What he's taken is something that can't be given back. He's being shown a measure of care and comfort, and it simply doesn't align with what he's willing to accept for himself.
Even though, selfishly, just that slightest of kisses to his skin feels like an anchor. He wants to be worthy of it. Saying anything out loud would only draw more attention to himself, though, and it's the last thing that he wants.
There's a wall between them. Not one that he wants, by any measure, but one he recognizes she's had to erect now for her own safety, to protect herself from him and what he's done. Why, then, does she kiss his hand?
He'll focus instead on what's easier: her. What he feels for her hasn't gone anywhere. If she won't ask him to stop loving her, then he can at least carry on as he has, with showing her his care for her in whatever way she'll allow it. He doesn't force her to look at him, he simply squeezes her hand, turning hers over so that he can easily lean in and kiss her palm and wrist in return. ]
Dragonflies have existed for millions of years. Some of the oldest creatures on Earth, in fact. They've been there from near about the dawn of the ages. And they go on, those dragonflies, a variety of species, expertly adapted to their surroundings. Surviving plagues and scourges, wars and flood and the passing of time. They can live underwater for years before they hatch. They're beautiful and magnificent, so much in fact that all the great scientists of humanity will study their flight and try to mimic it.
[ His thumb strokes tenderly across her wrist, back and forth very lightly. ]
There's really no mimicking it, though, the miracle of the dragonfly. What it's done, what it can do, what it will do. It's extraordinary.
no subject
Inhibited by her own delusions; bound by the wishes of others.
If she could fly?
But she cannot. She is no dragonfly, no miracle. Those are God’s gifts.
Could she still discover the opportunity to truly see herself? She knows what she is, but how can she understand it? Within the solitary space that has been crudely fenced again within her mind, is there enough space to grow? Can she grow bigger? If she is to bear eternal loneliness, can she not at least do more with it?
It is difficult to care overmuch about that possibility, knowing it could never compensate for this feeling of loss that swallows silence, even as they clutch at one another. Vanessa’s tears have already halted, though her reddened cheeks are still damp as she looks back up to him. When her eyes meet his, she sighs, though it’s as silent as her tears were.
Still, his eyes are beautiful. Whatever sadness creases his brow, she knows he will carry as he does all of his burdens, but she has to believe it will never crush the promise that can still spark his beautiful eyes alight. She will never stop wanting to protect that… ]
I am not a dragonfly. What I am, or perhaps, part of me…
[ Everything is a part of her. Is that not what darkness embraces every night? She is not a dragonfly, but they are hers.
Vanessa trails off as if in thought, but then as she lifts her hand from his to cup his cheek, there is another sigh and a smile, only this time it’s a bit sharper. New hurts shimmer with ancient scars behind eyes that carry paleness as a deception. Once, she was where darkness was born. And what might have cradled the first dawn?
Her voice carries a huskiness unique to that gaze. Too old to be human. ]
I am what came before the dawn of the ages.
no subject
He sees and hears what's lurking behind, and he reaches out to cover her hand, removing it gently from his cheek. A touch that's unwelcome and unwanted because it doesn't belong to him. But he can hold onto her hand, he can give her that. ]
I know what you are.
[ He'd already said that, though, and it was rejected. Perhaps she's right and he's wrong, though he won't accept that easily regardless. ]
And I'm what came before you.
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You think yourself time incarnate? No matter where you have chosen to walk in or out of time as its avatar, you only ever visited. You have not lived for as long as what is burrowed in my blood and bones and soul. Were that even true, what is there is older than time, Doctor. That much I understand. One of the few truths whispered to me since eternity.
[ The Prince did not always Lie. Could there have been a different love before time? ]
What I am, you are not ready to accept. You have proven this in your action, no matter how pretty your words.
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What they've shared between them, the touch of their minds together in the most intimate of moments—to consider that may be lost now makes him feel adrift and almost mad with grief over the perceived loss.
His jaw clenches though, emotions swelling, eyes darkening. ]
Tell me everything about myself, then. Since you know me so well. Go ahead, go on, everything, all of it! The dawn of the ages, okay, fine. Oh, you've walked it, have you? You've breathed the ancient air so you know it all. But what have you lived? What have you lost, what have you felt, what have you held onto, what you have watched burn as it tore apart everything that you were, everything that you wanted to be? They're all just words, everything you said.
Tell me—[ His voice raises in pitch a bit, and then he decides in that moment that if she won't fight for him, he'll fight for her. Reject him she may, but he reaches for her hand again regardless, his grip tighter. ] What did you lose that you couldn't bear? What did you love so much that you'd risk everything for? And in loving it, how did you survive the loss of it? Even the darkest things, the things that live in the night, know love. What do you know. Tell me, right now. What do you know at all, and what do you know about me?
Because everything you've said tells me you don't know me at all.
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But not like this, not on half terms. Not only his terms. Her fingers curl into the dirty skirt spilling over the sheets as she gazes up at him unflinching, strangely calm as he goes on, as though she may be standing beside herself rather than experiencing it on her own. He risked everything for her, but everything wasn't his to risk. Not her everything. He took her nearest chance for peace of mind so that he could keep his own, and all for a danger that would not have beaten her. For him to assume she wouldn't survive it makes his lack of faith clearer to her. He goes on about how she may have died; not how she could have conquered.
Why must she prove herself to him when it was her agency that was rejected? Why does he test her?
She wasn't trying to tell him everything of himself; she was impressing upon her own origins and wondering over what that could mean for her future. He was the one to first insist on his own primordial rights, to which something old in her could only question.
But Vanessa herself doesn't have all of those answers... Whatever she had said about before the dawn of the ages, Vanessa herself can't remember it. She doesn't always know the words she speaks, even if they are indeed hers. (Can she speak through herself without remembering so?)
She only wants him to understand what she is, to accept it, but he has found a way to try and prove...what? His losses to be greater? His fear to trump hers? Does he truly intend to stake out that battle with her of all people? ...How could he?
Vanessa blinks away further tears, her voice scarcely at a whisper now. Quieter for every pitch he rises. Quiet but not weak. Heartfelt. ]
I wanted to show you. Everything.
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Her refusal of him is correct. But if she'll allow it, at least, he still wants to be near her. He can't bear the thought of not being near her, not knowing that she's...here.
I wanted to show you. Everything.
He's done irreparable damage. He can't take it back, he can't fix it, he can't give back what he stole, but he needs to fix something. What can he control now? Only his words and his actions going forward. At every turn, he's continued to be selfish. His own wants and needs have guided everything he's said and done up to this very second. He's taken from her and given nothing in return. ]
I'm sorry, Vanessa, I'm... [ There are so many words, so many words that have existed for centuries upon centuries, and he can't find the right ones now. His hands sit untethered in his own lap. Not anchored to her like he wants to be. And who's to blame for that? Only himself. She wanted him to know everything about her and he's ruined that, too. What's left to say now? ]
I'm not very good at this.
[ The moment he says it, though, he realizes again he's made a mistake. It means her having to comfort him again. So he stands up swiftly and paces in a small circle, running his fingers through his hair. ]
No, no, that's not what I wanted to say, that's not...I—I want to be. I've taken from you. I know. This is all my doing, all of it. And I can't work out how to fix it, but you're important, you're the most important, and I'm trying. I will try. Because I want to see it. All of it. Everything.
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His apology furrows her brow, and the corners of her lips dip further. He is sorry, but would he not do so again? Does he actually hear her? Believe her?
Does he realize that she could have stopped him? That there was a moment when he appeared near the gates to Hell, before he advanced, that she could have seized? They were both given the chance to take control, and somehow she gave it to him. Even with the voices hounding her. Does he understand what that means, she wonders.
...Does she?
She doesn't even understand what 'this' is supposed to mean when he says it. As if there could be a name for what they were when all of time and space vanished in their collision. There has been nothing like it. There never will be again. In its own space, outside of time, it will forever be. ]
My love...
[ Though she had been quick to recoil at the feeling of a verbal assault, how quickly he deflates is a reminder of just where that bravado comes from. How she hates for him to hurt himself more than any other. ]
I know how you try. [ In his way. ] And so too must I.
[ Her own way. If she can find it again, with her best moment snatched. But if she can, it will not lead her where he wants to follow, he made that clear in Alem. And she cannot follow him when it means running from her demons. Not any longer. She is to be done with fleeing. And so, she isn't to run from him, either. Even if she must take a different spiritual path, as her heart feels like it may simply crumble into nothingness, she cannot entirely let him go. No matter the spiritual journey, they will remain in one another's lives, and for that much she is grateful. Even if looking at him hurts as much as it heals.
Her thumb flicks at her cheeks to wipe at any remaining tear stains, then she carefully stands, aware that there isn't much space even in a first class cabin, what with him pacing.
He wants to see? It should be too late. After what he has done, what he has said... Even with her forgiveness, how could she be brave enough to reveal herself again? It has only ever hurt her in return. And still, after all her injury? How easy it is for Vanessa Ives to feel a spark from hope when it is spotted in the distance. How easy it was to lose sight of it. The beginning, the end, to the beginning again; what of before and after? What was beyond the ends of the thread? ]
Kiss me, then.
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Even still, he wants to recoil from such a declaration, that feeling swelling inside of him again that says he deserves no such sentiment. But then, he would decide for her again; what she can say, what she can do, what he'll allow. It's been like that for him for far too long, and he has to consider another path. Her thoughts, her feelings, her wants, her needs. Just as important. More important, in fact.
Is he still hers? Could he be? Her declaration surprises him, happily so. A chance, even for a moment, to feel her again after so many long weeks. They were apart for so long in Alem and on the rare occasions he slept, he was haunted by the memories of war, the lives he took, the blood on his hands, all of it coalescing in visions of Vanessa's death, of others, everyone he loves here.
To kiss her now would briefly soothe the rough edges of his soul, worn and battered from war and death only days ago.
As he stops his pacing and looks at her for a long moment, taking in the sight of her again, the truth and steadiness of her continued existence is like the light of a lone star in a darkened sky.
He doesn't know what happens next, how he fixes what he's done, but she's offered him, perhaps, a chance. He doesn't take it lightly, and it's there in his eyes, a promise to her, to hear, to understand, to know, to see.
Closing the gap between them, the Doctor is momentarily stunned in her orbit, standing closer to her than he's been in far too long, the promise of an intimate moment between them only a breath away. His eyes wander over her face as he reaches out to caress her cheek first, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, eyes taking in every detail, every mark he's memorized. ]
I missed you.
[ Sweeping her hair back from her eyes briefly, the Doctor then moves to cradle her cheek before leaning in. The kiss is, at first, soft and tender, but only a moment later, he deepens it, desperate in his need for her. ]
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Her eyes still sting when they close at his touch, and a sigh near close to a sob escapes in between the first kisses. Yes, she missed him. She misses him. She will miss what was lost. And yet here he is.
What is left? What can be gained? Nothing in this kiss can replace her realizations or bring her true peace. It never could, and she had known that. Does that stop her from wanting whatever she may yet be allowed?
Her grasp around him is tight, even insistent, with her grip pinching the nape of his neck and her fingers dragging against his sleeve, as if she could physically pull him closer than she already has.
There's a scratching sound within the recesses of her mind—nails against skin, glass shards against burlap, claws against steel—and it grows louder as the kiss deepens. Scratching, scratching at the outer reaches of his mind in invitation—but no one is there if answered. Only an endless hall of shadows. Some flicker. The darkness could swallow all light when wandering far enough. ]
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Everything, she told him. She would show him everything, and he wanted it. He won't back away now.
Whatever remains, whatever is left, whatever she's still willing to share with him, he'll follow the path. There may be only shadow from here, only darkness, an absolute absence of any light at all. But here he is and here he will remain, a promise in that as he presses his lips deeper against hers, nearly breathless in his wanting. ]
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