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ph_logs2025-01-19 03:59 pm
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ph_logs2025-01-19 03:59 pm
January Event - Lost in Dreamland
**Plain text version here.
You “wake.” Your mind solidifies and reality defines its shape around you. Your eyes focus and you become aware. What are you aware of?
Whatever it is, it isn’t good. Perhaps it seems good at first, but it is not. Wherever you are, only horrors await you here, pulled straight from your own mind. Or the minds of others.
Move. You must move. The dream is a landscape. You must traverse nightmares to escape. Seek other dreamers, and flee. To the center, to safety in false daydreams. To the underground, where the Necropolis will conceal you. To the edges, where you can feel your consciousness break free of this sunken sleep and return to the world of hard objects and light. But you cannot stay here. Gods help you if you stay here.
[ Your nightmare can look however you desire. Laws of reality and physics do not apply. Fuse them, reshape them, choose your flavor. Be liberal with content warnings and respect sensitive content guidelines, but otherwise, there are no rules. ]
What sort of dream do you find yourself in? What do you dream of? Is it success, love, peace? A life that never came to pass? For your troubles never to have occurred? Do you dream of fame or glory? No matter how beautiful or extravagant, no matter how simple or selfish, the things you desire most are yours.
You cannot escape from here. This is the center, as far away from the waking world as you can go. But the dream entreats you, as do the illusory figures within it. ”Stay,” they croon. ”There is nothing for you beyond here. Only nightmares, only terror. You are safe here. You are loved and wanted and happy here. Why would you ever want to leave?”
Time blends together. It often does, in dreaming, but this feels different. How long have you been here? Do you remember what you were doing before? How you got here? Have you ever even been to a town called Pumpkin Hollow? You can hardly remember.
Maybe that was the dream, and this is your reality. Even as the edges of it bleed together with that of your neighbor, even as fleeting memories come back to you, even as a little voice deep within you screams at you to wake up--- you have no reason to doubt the legitimacy of this place. Here you are happy and safe. Here you are everything you ever wanted to be, living the life you always wanted. Here there are no debts, no suffering, and you shall never die.
You belong here. Surely.
A seemingly endless maze of stone walls, mismatched in their depth as if they were patchworked together over centuries. Mausoleums, slotted tightly against one another. Covered marble passageways. Stone statues and carved reliefs depicting gargoyles, knights, Virtues, mages with skull motifs--- necromancers, perhaps? Banshees and dullahans, elves and humans and dwarves and orcs and fae folk of all sorts. All of these things line a network of cobblestone pathways lined with powder snow drifts and crunchy brown grass. Names are carved into the arches above mausoleum doors. Some are familiar, some are not. Fairbanks, Gladwyn, Dirthariel, Leeds, Larson, Endrin, Applegate, Brenning. Above you, white pillar candles float magically overhead, burning bright, lighting your way through the dark pink sunset sky.
In the distance, you see the achingly thin spires of the Winter Cathedral. An austere grey monolith with ornate carvings of horses and snowflake-shaped stained glass windows. Perhaps you will find some solace there. Otherwise, make your way to the river. A familiar ferryman awaits you--- though returning to reality this way will have a small consequence.
[ Encountering Mortanne here is possible, though her threads will be heavily restricted. You can do a thread here with someone else, though! It’s fine to be here without encountering her. Returning to the island by ferry will cause your physical body to die in the process, leaving you a ghost for the usual amount of time. You can also return to the nightmare and get out through the edge. ]
Like breaching the surface of water, you return to the solid, bright sharpness of reality. Actual reality, firm and true. You are where you went to sleep the night before, though some time has passed. It might take you a bit to figure out exactly how much, though…
Lost in Dreamland
Bedtime Story
{ CONTENT WARNINGS: Unreality, dream logic. Mind the CWs in individual threads, as they will vary! }
It is no secret that in the Emerald Isles, winter and sleep have a deep connection. To some extent, this is true everywhere. The whole world seems to fall asleep under the blanket of snow. Plants recede back into the ground, trees stand leafless and slumbering till spring, animals hibernate. Nights are longer. But the local folklore intensifies this, as Mortanne presides over Winter and the Beyond.
As the tales go, the Beyond is the realm of souls, the place where the essence of a person goes when it separates from their body. And while this primarily refers to death, it can also refer to the half-step between living and dying--- the unconscious mind. Sleep, and moreover, dreaming. And thus, winter and dreams have always been kindred spirits. Connected through their ties to Mother Mortanne and to a hushed and sleeping world.
Perhaps it is for this reason that when you go to sleep on the night of January 19th, 16:55, it is a deeper, more consuming sleep than you’ve ever felt. One that swallows you whole, dragging you down, and down, and down, into a sunken place that is deeper and more terrifying than dreams.
By the time you think to feel afraid, it is already too late to jolt yourself awake.
It is no secret that in the Emerald Isles, winter and sleep have a deep connection. To some extent, this is true everywhere. The whole world seems to fall asleep under the blanket of snow. Plants recede back into the ground, trees stand leafless and slumbering till spring, animals hibernate. Nights are longer. But the local folklore intensifies this, as Mortanne presides over Winter and the Beyond.
As the tales go, the Beyond is the realm of souls, the place where the essence of a person goes when it separates from their body. And while this primarily refers to death, it can also refer to the half-step between living and dying--- the unconscious mind. Sleep, and moreover, dreaming. And thus, winter and dreams have always been kindred spirits. Connected through their ties to Mother Mortanne and to a hushed and sleeping world.
Perhaps it is for this reason that when you go to sleep on the night of January 19th, 16:55, it is a deeper, more consuming sleep than you’ve ever felt. One that swallows you whole, dragging you down, and down, and down, into a sunken place that is deeper and more terrifying than dreams.
By the time you think to feel afraid, it is already too late to jolt yourself awake.
LULLABY
Beautiful Dreamer, Wake Unto Me
You wake. Or do you? It feels a bit like waking, and yet, it does not. It is similar enough to waking that one might believe it to be so. You feel ground beneath your feet, or perhaps a bed beneath your back. Or something. You feel… something. It isn’t like waking. But it’s a little bit like waking. Perhaps it is not. But perhaps it is as close as you are able to get. Let’s try this again.You “wake.” Your mind solidifies and reality defines its shape around you. Your eyes focus and you become aware. What are you aware of?
Whatever it is, it isn’t good. Perhaps it seems good at first, but it is not. Wherever you are, only horrors await you here, pulled straight from your own mind. Or the minds of others.
Move. You must move. The dream is a landscape. You must traverse nightmares to escape. Seek other dreamers, and flee. To the center, to safety in false daydreams. To the underground, where the Necropolis will conceal you. To the edges, where you can feel your consciousness break free of this sunken sleep and return to the world of hard objects and light. But you cannot stay here. Gods help you if you stay here.
[ Your nightmare can look however you desire. Laws of reality and physics do not apply. Fuse them, reshape them, choose your flavor. Be liberal with content warnings and respect sensitive content guidelines, but otherwise, there are no rules. ]
Starlight and Dewdrops are Waiting For Thee
If you reach the center of the dreamscape (or perhaps you “woke up” there), you will find an oasis. You find yourself immediately embraced by a beautiful dream. All of your wishes granted, your deepest desires pulled directly from the core of your soul and brought to life before you in vivid detail.What sort of dream do you find yourself in? What do you dream of? Is it success, love, peace? A life that never came to pass? For your troubles never to have occurred? Do you dream of fame or glory? No matter how beautiful or extravagant, no matter how simple or selfish, the things you desire most are yours.
You cannot escape from here. This is the center, as far away from the waking world as you can go. But the dream entreats you, as do the illusory figures within it. ”Stay,” they croon. ”There is nothing for you beyond here. Only nightmares, only terror. You are safe here. You are loved and wanted and happy here. Why would you ever want to leave?”
Time blends together. It often does, in dreaming, but this feels different. How long have you been here? Do you remember what you were doing before? How you got here? Have you ever even been to a town called Pumpkin Hollow? You can hardly remember.
Maybe that was the dream, and this is your reality. Even as the edges of it bleed together with that of your neighbor, even as fleeting memories come back to you, even as a little voice deep within you screams at you to wake up--- you have no reason to doubt the legitimacy of this place. Here you are happy and safe. Here you are everything you ever wanted to be, living the life you always wanted. Here there are no debts, no suffering, and you shall never die.
You belong here. Surely.
Sounds of the Rude World Heard in the Day
With how far you had to sink into unconsciousness to be here, it’s hard to believe one could go any deeper. But the Beyond is a many-layered place, and perhaps by descending a bit further, a bit deeper, a bit closer to death, you can find another place. Maybe you have a connection to death that brought you here. Perhaps you find your way by mistake. Either way, you may find yourself on a more peaceful journey through the Beyond through the Frozen Necropolis.A seemingly endless maze of stone walls, mismatched in their depth as if they were patchworked together over centuries. Mausoleums, slotted tightly against one another. Covered marble passageways. Stone statues and carved reliefs depicting gargoyles, knights, Virtues, mages with skull motifs--- necromancers, perhaps? Banshees and dullahans, elves and humans and dwarves and orcs and fae folk of all sorts. All of these things line a network of cobblestone pathways lined with powder snow drifts and crunchy brown grass. Names are carved into the arches above mausoleum doors. Some are familiar, some are not. Fairbanks, Gladwyn, Dirthariel, Leeds, Larson, Endrin, Applegate, Brenning. Above you, white pillar candles float magically overhead, burning bright, lighting your way through the dark pink sunset sky.
In the distance, you see the achingly thin spires of the Winter Cathedral. An austere grey monolith with ornate carvings of horses and snowflake-shaped stained glass windows. Perhaps you will find some solace there. Otherwise, make your way to the river. A familiar ferryman awaits you--- though returning to reality this way will have a small consequence.
[ Encountering Mortanne here is possible, though her threads will be heavily restricted. You can do a thread here with someone else, though! It’s fine to be here without encountering her. Returning to the island by ferry will cause your physical body to die in the process, leaving you a ghost for the usual amount of time. You can also return to the nightmare and get out through the edge. ]
Lulled by the Moonlight, Have All Passed Away
Should you find the edge of the nightmare, you will be able to push yourself through the iridescent membrane at the edge of consciousness. You float through the seemingly endless darkness for a moment, then another, then a third, senses dull and drifting drunkenly, until suddenly---Like breaching the surface of water, you return to the solid, bright sharpness of reality. Actual reality, firm and true. You are where you went to sleep the night before, though some time has passed. It might take you a bit to figure out exactly how much, though…
Those who escape the nightmare will find themselves home sometime between 1/20 and 1/30. Those who stay in the dream oasis will be comatose until the dream ends, and will not wake until 2/8. They will find the return to reality deeply unpleasant. What are you willing to endure to keep dreaming a while more?
no subject
I know it was the right thing, but it still felt wrong.
Taking away Fever's choice.
I just felt that your words didn't match your soul.
no subject
Her cheek rests against the hellhound's fur, taking deep breaths.
"Tell me. Did you really all go away? How did you find me?"
no subject
No. I believe this to be the working of a demon. Trapping us in our dreams. I broke free on my own and have been looking for the others.
no subject
"So, I've been wandering the land of dreams. Certain things make far more sense now." Her eyes shut, and she lays a hand on her partner's side, letting herself be comforted by the feelings that flow into her. "We have to find the source, and wake everyone. Tear out the heart of whatever sort of spell this is...however we can."
Think, Fever. Think, even if it hurts.
"Are you sure this is a demon's work, though?"
no subject
The Goddesses wouldn't harm us like this, so if not the demons, then you think Nyarlathotep?
It would be easier to blame the demons than the chaos god.
no subject
Mendel's dead, after all - and dreams are part of the Beyond, not concrete reality, so it would make more sense if there was less logic behind it. Aster's little display of power was to do just that -
Oh, her head hurts, when she tries to unpack it all right now.
no subject
I...really don't.
But she doesn't want to reflect on her nightmare, or how many times she had destroyed herself trying to break free from it.
no subject
She tries to send a little comfort back, dredging her own depths to find it.
no subject
It's as honest as she can be right now. Fever hadn't realized she was dreaming, so why had she known her own was a nightmare? Somehow that made the whole ordeal even more terrifying. Knowing it is a dream but being unable to break free of it.
But she had managed it in the end.
Do you really still carry so much guilt over your past?
no subject
"It's...complicated. Can I explain it, as much as I remember?"
no subject
Please.
no subject
She exhales, knowing it wasn't real, it can't be - but still, it had hurt. Still, it had frightened her. And still, it had worn away at her mind.
"I thought...I had to be left for a reason. And the only thing I could do was to make things right. It was the only thing that made sense anymore. I had to do something. Something that would make all of this worth it. So I started following my instincts. And I started hearing things. Asking for what they wanted. Telling me what would make it right."
Whether she'd lost her mind or not, the end result is the same.
no subject
You just accepted that we left you?
No, that isn't fair. The emotions impressed upon Fever were not logical, dreams rarely were.
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that you still fear such things. I wish there was some way I could take it all away.
no subject
She whispers it into Valdis's fur.
"The only way I wouldn't fear it is if you truly were all gone. If I had no one. If I was just...empty again. As long as I have something worth holding onto, I'll fear I'll lose it."
no subject
It is a logical fear, losing what you care about.
She nuzzles her partner affectionately.
It will be very difficult to lose me though, I am immortal after all.
no subject
"Do you have any idea how we're supposed to get out of all of this?"
It also shows how tired she is, if she's willing to bypass shatter this illusion into simply leaving.
no subject
No, but I don't dream, so these...don't affect me the same way. I can't get lost in them, so I plan to get you somewhere safe and then go find others.
Maybe if she can find Neil then he'll know more. This is his realm of expertise after all.
no subject
She huffs, but there's no real fire in it.
"That said, I'll concede. You'll just have to put up with me being a bit slow - I'm still recovering from whatever you did earlier."
no subject
You made several very good points, but I'm still going to go help everyone I can.
She falls silent and still when Fever reminds her of what she did.
Yes, it will take some time for you to recover. We have time, we can stay here awhile longer.
no subject
Ever curious about new magic, and ever wondering. She'll never lose that, she thinks - there's too much to explore and understand.
no subject
I was afraid you would fight me if you realized I was taking you away, so I drained your lifeforce to prevent that from happening.
no subject
"...Well. You're right in that I would have fought you. With everything I had. I might have brought the mountain down on us both to prevent it."
It's a strange, murky feeling that rolls around in her heart. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have cared, would have trusted Valdis easily, but with what she carries now, she cannot risk going too near death. If she dies, what will become of it? Will her own heart, where it resides so far away, cease beating? One of her hands presses over her ribcage to check - still intact. Still safe.
no subject
The soothing flow she had been sending cuts off as Valdis pulls away, uncurling from where she's wrapped herself protectively around Fever. The emotions within Fever circle around doubt, worry, fear, causing cold claws to dig into Valdis' own heart. She knew Fever would react like this, the only person insane enough to accept it is Max, because he loves and trusts her. It's frustrating to realize the trust she has isn't extended to her. She knows where the line is, always has, and she perfected her control on the Eterna.
To have Fever doubt her now hurts more than anything Fenrir had done.
no subject
Why is she moving away? It doesn't make sense to Fever, who sits up on the ground with one hand pressed to her ribs. Under it all she can feel it, as if it was preserved in amber, still beating, still enduring - her mission to protect, still ongoing.
"What's wrong?"
Was she supposed to simply brush that off, in the end?
no subject
There's no trace of the hurt in her voice, nothing that would indicate that anything is wrong. Her tone is even, calm, unbothered.
I need to go help the others.
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CW: Dismemberment and violence
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