JERICHO ● SEPTEMBER 2025 EVENT/TDM

[uruz]

TDM & EVENT: JERICHO

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Prologue: New Characters

You've been plagued with a reoccuring dream, as of late. Every time you sleep, the dream returns to you.

It always begins the same way: As a breath held for too long. As a pressure at the base of your spine. A silence that presses against the skin like confession, like prophecy. A ripple moves through your bones. A tide builds and pulls at your feet, familiar by now. You dream of a black, soundless wave, thick like oil and starlight, swelling across the horizon line. You've seen the wave before, countless times, always rising. With every night, it never reaches you. You always seem to wake before it does . . . That is, until tonight.

The wave moves slow, deliberate— like something ancient and alive. And when it finally crashes, there is no harsh impact. Only warmth. Only submersion. Rather than drowning, you are being claimed with saltwater that's sweet with myrrh. The darkness embracing you pulses with desire. Then, a voice envelops you.

"Come home."
It dribbles with honey-like promise, like a truth you've always known, whispered now from within your marrow more like temptation than a request.

"You are mine. You always were."
The voice offers purpose. Worship. Belonging. And when you wake . . . You wake changed, with a mask on your face you did not choose. Elegant. Sacred. Too important to remove. You have been given a gift. A new beginning.

Welcome home, new Vessels.

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Sink Down Like Precious Stones

( content warnings: drowning, body horror )

Vessels awaken within the dreamscape as the black wave recedes from their skin like velvet falling off the bone, their masks in place over their eyes and left afloat in the watery expanse. All around them, the ocean stretches infinite and lightless— so still it mirrors the sky above, indistinguishable from the void. Far in the distance, massive obsidian walls curve inward, enclosing this vast seascape like a forgotten temple basin. And there, at the far horizon, one glow pierces the dark: a low-burning fire flickering within a half-sunken structure of impossible architecture— arched, ribbed, as though built from marble and cathedral glass.

This is a test, and it begins with belief.

Those with unwavering faith— whether in Sleep, another god, or even themselves— will find the surface beneath their feet holds firm. The sea becomes glass, and they may rise, and walk. But those adrift in doubt begin to sink. Precious stone creeps over their skin. Joints stiffen. Flesh cracks. Breath slows. It is not death, but it is close and might as well be hell. Your only salvation lies in your own conviction . . . Or the mercy of another Vessel who happens to walk.

Those who drown will not die. They will loop this moment— sinking, blackness, return, sink again— until belief takes root in some way. Alternatively, they may awaken in a later dreamspace . . . Changed.

NOTES:

• Pale white fish as well as glowing jellyfish may be encounted. The fish stare at vessels as they drown, and jellyfish may leave behind a shock that could temporarily stop the process of crystalization. But only temporarily— and their stings are excrutiating.

TOKEN EFFECTS:

• Magic becomes volatile— spells flicker, overcharge, or fizzle unpredictably when cast on or near the ocean.
• When you cast, your veins glow from beneath the skin, but not with light. It's writhing. Like something trapped under glass.
• When channeling magic, your mouth may fill with brine and blood.

OFFERING EFFECTS:

• The water responds emotionally— thrashing with fury or calming with yearning depending on the Offering's state of mind.
• The sea amplifies desire and instinct, making base emotions harder to suppress— rage, hunger, longing all churn just beneath the surface.
• The black water feels too warm, too alive, clinging to the body like memory; any stillness invites visions of Sleep's embrace, both reverent and consuming.

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You Taste Like New Flesh

( content warnings: body horror, psychological horror, compulsion, unreliable reality )

The ocean path ends at a palace carved of pearl and spun silk, impossibly perched where water meets nothingness. Whether you have traversed the black sea on trembling feet or simply awaken seated at an impossibly long table, it makes no difference. You are here now, and welcomed, suddenly in attire fit for a gala. Around this table sit countless Dream-Vessels, many silent and still, faces unreadable in the flickering candlelight wearing generic, six-eyed masks. The table stretches beyond sight, arching beneath creeping vines that twist like ancient veins overhead, blooming with strange blossoms that beat with energy. Flames dance atop dozens of candles— some burn on brass holders, others hover, like fireflies caught mid-flight, their shadows flickering and shifting with an otherworldly rhythm. Around you, phantasmal forms shimmer on pedestals: Sleep's ancient Guardians are eternalized through memorial, monstrous and magnificent, lost to time yet enshrined in reverence. On the highest pedestal stands a still living One, silent and watching the feast with somber eyes. Sleep's voice whispers in your ear, encouraging a glance to, perhaps, see what you may become.

"Feast, My Dear Vessels. Until you taste like New Flesh."

The foods before you don not come unmeddled with. Each bite pulls memories from your bones to the surface— moments buried or erased, but these are not just yours. The banquet feeds on shared history, stirring secrets tangled between you and the others here. To eat is to open a door: to risk awakening something dormant, to invite others inside your buried truths, to forge bonds or betrayals that can never be unseen.

Eton Mess: Crushed meringue, tangled cream, and berries that bleed like bruises when bitten. Sweetness melts quickly, leaving your tongue cold. As you eat, a memory rises— but you don't experience it alone. The person nearest you sees what you see, hears what you hear, feels what you felt. Together, you can alter one key detail, and that change ripples outward, shifting how you both remember the event.

Deviled Kidneys: Spiced and seared, the metallic richness clings to your mouth, as if tasting old blood. Eating summons the echo of a painful or violent memory, but your partner experiences it with you.

Roasted Lamb in Mint Sauce: The sweetness of the meat is cut by mint sharp enough to sting the throat. Your act of consumption awakens a craving, but not in you— in the Vessel sharing this dish. They feel an inexorable pull toward your memory, even without knowing what they seek. The bond persists until the craving is confronted.

Honey Scouse: A thick, golden stew heavy with warmth, but beneath the sweetness, something cloying curls around the edges. Every shared spoonful spreads a slow, creeping influence between you and your partner: intrusive visions, subtle compulsions, small lapses in agency. Neither of you can tell whose thoughts belong to whom.

Starpit Fruit: Plum-sized and faintly glowing, the juice leaves your fingertips dusted in silver, like handling starlight. When bitten, the fruit releases the memory of a forgotten wish, not to you but to the person beside you. They see it clearly— and know exactly what you once wanted most, even if you had buried it.

Marigold Brandy: A golden spirit served warm, glowing faintly as though sunlight has been trapped inside the glass. When lifted, it releases a soft, floral scent. The first sip draws you and your partner into a shared burst of joy— a memory that makes you swell with happiness. The sensation is so immediate, so electric, that when the memory breaks, your bodies ache to move, to speak, to draw more positivity to light. You may feel an irresistible pull to get up and dance on the wide palace floors, even if no music is playing . . . And if others nearby drink as well, the effect multiplies.

Saints Breath Chalice: A dark, wine-thick cordial served in tarnished silver cups etched with symbols that shift when stared at too long. The liquid smells faintly of frankincense and something sweeter— blood-warm and alive. Drinking it floods you and your partner with the overwhelming sensation of being inside someone else's celebration, a memory that belongs to neither of you: a vast mass of black, with branching antlers and six, glowing red eyes. It reaches to sink its claws into your chest as she sings: One. Beloved. We were meant to be. It is impossible to tell whether you're witnessing joy or manic worship. There is chanting you cannot understand but somehow already know, drums that sync with your heartbeat until you can feel nothing else. Your limbs begin to twitch, then sway, then move without conscious thought, drawn into a dance you do not remember learning. If more than two people drink, your movements synchronize perfectly, your breath matching theirs, until the room seems stop to watch.

The table awaits.

NOTES:

• Feasting becomes addictive. The more a character eats, the harder it is to stop. Gluttony may cause physical consequences: nosebleeds, twitching fingers, warping speech, uncontrollable confessions, or dripping nectar from their mouths.
• Those who refuse to eat at all begin to starve in a dream-sense: they lose color, smell burning, and feel the weight of Sleep's gaze. Her wrath isn't immediate— but it grows the longer you reject the feast. She takes offense.

TOKEN EFFECTS:

• Each spell cast after eating releases parasitic energy— manifesting as flowers, thorns, parasitic insects or rot— either from their own body or from someone they recently touched.
• Casting warps your limbs temporarily: too many joints, fingers curl the wrong way, nerves burn like wires.
• Touching others leaves sigils burned into their skin. These will briefly carry over into the waking world during next month's event. Runecasters will get the innate feeling that this symbol has a meaning summed up as "The Night Does Not Belong To God". How they interpret that is up to them.

OFFERING EFFECTS:

• The act of devouring awakens an overwhelming desire, often physical, but sometimes emotional or spiritual. This desire clings to another Vessel at the table, creating obsessive attachment or aggression.
• The more they eat, the more their monstrous traits subtly emerge.
• Consuming another Vessel's memory (if shared or touched) grants a brief glimpse of their deepest fear or weakness.

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There's Something In The Way You Lay

( content warnings: sexual content, voyeurism, body modification, omegaverse traits, loss of agency )

Beneath its pearlescent halls, beyond the banquet of flickering candles and dream-Vessels who eat in hollow silence, a spiral staircase winds downward. Its steps are damp and velvet-slick. The further you descend, the warmer the air becomes— humid, cloying, thick with the scent of sweat, salt, and incense. The sounds reach you first: Slaps, gasps, the wet chorus of bodies and perverse intimacy. Laughter, muffled sobs, the echo of whispered names long forgotten. At the base lies a corridor of "private" rooms. Their doors swing open with dreamlike invitation. Inside, the scenes unfold: past dream-Vessels lost in tableau— arched backs, bitten lips, mouths open in prayer or obedience. Some are alone, coiled in worship. Others tangle in groups, indistinguishable where one body ends and another begins. Vines bloom across the ceilings, watching. The walls glisten with breath. You see their faces, but you can't quite distinguish what or who they are. You may not remember choosing a role, but the dream has chosen for you. α or Ω— and with the naming, your body changes. There is no shame here, only devotion made manifest. This is how Sleep is worshipped now: through cruelty and surrender, through the giving and the taking of flesh.

NOTES

• Masks may optionally offer a sort of glamour for Vessels who wander into these chambers— they will not be able to recognize each other. How much of that, whether it be appearance, voice, and so on, is up to you.
• Past dream-Vessels perform for no one, eyes vacant, movements perfect, as if only a ghost of a memory. Player characters may interact with them and even partake in intimacy with them, but be warned: they are emotionally absent and may cause symptoms of succumbence that could be remedied with a proper, player-character tether.
• Tools hang on the walls: Rods of all sizes, slick with heat. Collars that hum with low, seductive voltage. Blindfolds that intensify physical contact, There's no need for cuffs or chains when there are vines that seem to respond to the α party's mood— tightening, flowering, or reaching for skin. You are free to come up with your own items.
• α perks:: Instinctive claiming (done through biting, rubbing, branding, etc), an almost predatory focus and obsession for those who interest them, pack gravity (the ability to attract one or more vessels at once), emitting a scent that ignites heat/rut in others, darker urges surge and a commanding voice.
Ω perks: High pain tolerance, instinctive yielding, emotional synchrony with those being watched, self-lubricating, hypersensitive, scent tracking, intense need to please or be filled emotionally, physically, and spiritually. When touched, glowing runes bloom across the skin.

TOKEN EFFECTS

• Spells cast during acts of intimacy may provoke a heightened sensation of euphoria for both caster and whoever is affected by the spell.
• Magic may manifest as misty appendages— extra hands, tongues, eyes, etc.
• Divine energy becomes volatile when passed through the body— ecstasy may border on agony, or vice versa, and Tethering becomes impossibly euphoric.

OFFERING EFFECTS

• Flesh becomes malleable mid-act— bones bending, jaws unhinging, skin blooming open, etc.
• Animalistic traits emerge: tails, claws, growls, tentacles, scent glands— all begging to be used.
• Feeding and Tethering are indistinguishable— hunger becomes worship, and worship becomes need.

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I am not worthy

( content warnings: body horror, violence, gore, parasitic/invasive feeding, death )

Wherever you are, the palace begins to rot. First slowly, then all at once: vines swell with black fluid, splitting at the seams. They burst from beneath marble tiles, coil up pillars, slither across frames and vacant thrones like arteries choking a heart. The candlelight flickers. One by one, the flames throughout the palace float upward . . . And die. No smoke. No warning. Just wet silence. Then the Dream-Vessels begin to fall. They do not scream as they do. They collapse like marionettes, limbs askew. Their flesh splits open along wounds that should not exist— a rip at the neck, teeth marks prying open the ribcage, a bite that swallows half a torso. Bones jut like sculpted ivory. Entrails slither across the floor like garlands. Some burst mid-air, as if the dream demands spectacle. Others fold in on themselves until all that's left of them is a mound of flesh.

"I am not worthy."

One voice. Ten. A thousand—layered, glitching, sweaty. It echoes from the walls, the bodies, the seams in the floor. The corpses twitch in time with the chant, jerking violently. Some snap backwards, eyes wide, jaws unhinged. Others explode— blossoming in gore, raining viscera. From the heaving pile of ruined Dream-Vessels, something forms.

It lurches into being: stitched from tongues, teeth, torsos. Weeping. Wailing. Worshipping. A monstrosity of raw flesh and faith: all failures made meat. Its eyes (are they eyes?) blink out. Arms claw outwards, too many to count. Its scent is of copper, sweat, and sorrow.

When The Abomination chooses to feed, it seeks not flesh, but the softest rot inside you. An appendage uncoils from its writhing mass and unhinged jaw— veined, slick, and trembling like a violated root. It drives itself into your mouth, splitting your lips with obscene tenderness, and sinks deep into your throat, locking you still.

What it draws out is not blood. It siphons your doubts, your fears, your most secret self-hatred. Your inadequacy. Every buried shame. Your hate. Your negativity. Every flinch of unworthiness. Every moment you believed yourself unlovable, unseen, too small. It gorges on what you hide from even yourself, and the more you try to resist, the sweeter your sorrow becomes. The last thing it takes is your life force, and then your viscera, leaving you wilted and shrivled like a hollow log.

This death is violating and feels painfully slow. You're drained raw of your vitality until you're but a brittle husk that breaks to dust in the wind. It seems near impossible to destroy, always reforming into bits and pieces left smudged behind. Perhaps your best bet it to run, or attempt to wake yourself up from this nightmare.

One's voice repeats in choked sobs: I am not worthy.

NOTES:

• Wounds from the beast linger. You may wake bleeding or marked.
• If devoured, characters will awaken the following month extremely fatigued during the first 3-5 days of the month. They may also sporadically rigurgitate black sludge. Characters who die and are already in the game may requesta plot clue, that will be a vision your character will dream of before awakening.

TOKEN EFFECTS

• Magic recoils violently when used on The Abomination, backfiring with psychic screams or ripping into your flesh.
• Your hands glow uncontrollably, burning what you touch— even those you love.
• Magic becomes hungry; it demands pieces of your body to function. A tooth. A nail. A rib (and so on).

OFFERING EFFECTS

• The rage it stirs in you is monstrous. You begin to shift uncontrollably— flesh blooms, bones crack under strain.
• Your body begins moving before you decide to. Twitching toward The Abomination, and toward the scent of despair.
• During the chaos, you may develop a fixation with another Vessel's flaw. You can smell it on them. It entrances you . . . To the point that you may feel the urge to feed them to The Abomination.

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OOC NOTES

➤ Welcome to Somnia's second TDM, which doubles as our third gamewide event!

➤ This TDM is considered game canon. You are free to have your character remember as many details as possible.

➤ Only new characters are free to experiment with the Vessel options to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible. Current characters must remain as their chosen Vessel type unless you requested a switch, which can be done on the Taken page.

➤ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!

➤ Veteran players, I ask to please refrain from making post-event threads for the time being! We have some important information to take into account in next month's event when characters are slated to "wake up". At the very least, please wait for the information to be offered on the next plotting post. Thank you everyone for your patience!

➤ Please comment on the TDM's INVITE TL if you are a new player interested in joining the game, but don't yet have an invite. Current players or the mod may reach out to extend an invite. Once you've got one, please don't forget to comment on the Invite page so you may properly link it in your reserve and app.

➤ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!

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Comments

[shatteredlenses]

I'm sorry to hear that. These aren't the most inviting of circumstances.

[Of course, he supposes that there are those who have become used to dealing with such things and the familiar does bring comfort, even if maybe it should not. Seeing Noctis during the first dream he was in had brought Ignis comfort even though the last thing he would ever have wanted was to have his liege be in danger.

There had been relief then, when Ignis woke up and found Noctis not there. Relief and loss. Something tells Ignis that loss isn't going to go away until he manages to find his way back home however long that path may be.]

I was shown an image of a castle beyond these waves. I would suggest making haste toward it. Lingering here is not a good idea. If you wish, I can try to fill you in on a few things on the way.

[He raises a hand to gesture at the blindfold he is wearing and the scars that peek out from under it.]

I may not see as much as others, but I've learned as much as I can in other ways to make up for it.

[whomthebelltolls]

[In truth, most people in Yharnam cover their eyes because of the Eldritch Truth, and the role of eyes on the brains being more important than those on the face. In many ways, she's used to people having their eyes covered or purposefully blinded... so that he has some sort of Insight she doesn't.

A castle beyond the waves?] I wonder if that is the distant light that I espy.

[Distant Light. Ugh, it better not be whatever thread Ludwig saw within his holy blade.]

So I am to take it you are unfamiliar with these environs yourself?

[shatteredlenses]

[The Insight he has comes in two forms. One is tied to his powers as a chronomancer and the glimpses of the future it occasionally gives him. The other is one she will likely come to know far too soon for her liking if keeping her thoughts and feelings private is something she strives to do. The Murmur cares little for wishes of privacy.]

My guess is that it is exactly that, for better or worse. The being who led us all here likes to play at being a saviour when it is anything but.

[Ignis can't stop himself from frowning as his mind drifts back to all the little clues they have found so far. The ruins and the ruined forms of those who once occupied the waking world. A saviour Sleep is not.]

I am unfamiliar for all that this is the second dream I've walked in. The first dream was much different than this, though the more I experience, the more there feels like there is an unsettling similarity as well.

[So far there have been no monsters like those that stalked them for the last third or so of the last dream, but both dreams have started with waves and water of some sort and then moved to a "pleasant" setting.

He's not counting out the appearance of monsters at some point, though he wishes he could.]

[whomthebelltolls]

... I see.

[A savior would put it at odds with Kos, who is punishing Maria...

Mmm. She wonders what the Great One would think, to have her ripped from its nightmare realm and put into another.]

Shall we walk toward that distant light? I can lead, as I can see it.

[And as they walk, she can ask...] What else is similar, here.

[shatteredlenses]

Please do. Barring any sudden loud noise setting in, I will be able to follow the sound of your footsteps and voice quite well.

[Ignis isn't sure if his hearing is actually getting stronger or if he's just becoming more used to relying on it for clues, but either way it's rapidly becoming a replacement for his eyes.]

One thing is the presence of a place that seems pleasant and even safe in a way. In the first dream it was an orchard heavy with fruit. Here, whether it is or not, that light and the palace seem to be a place of safety from the dangers of this water.

[He pauses for a moment, considering his wording for the next answer and then continues.]

In the first dream, we felt compelled to follow someone from that place of safety as if they were shepherding us somewhere. There is no person here, but at the same time, I can't help but feel we are being shepherded somewhere nonetheless.

[whomthebelltolls]

A light would be a shepherd in its own right, yes. I don't think you're wrong to have such a suspicion...

[Her footsteps slow, briefly, as she looks around them. She squints against the caliginosity, hoping to spy even a shred of some other, less obvious landmark in the distance... but she finds nothing.]

... Unless you fancy walking to the edge of a sea and trying our luck at vertical cliffs, though, it is the only thing I can see in this place to lead us anywhere. Or anywhere that is not floating upon the sea... and I'd rather not linger here.

[In fact, she'd rather be anywhere than here.]

[shatteredlenses]

[Ignis can' argue her point. Even if he can't see the light, someone or something--be it Sleep herself or the powers he was given--made sure he saw the palace the light illuminates. Just as before, even the blind have not been left out of this particular shepherding event.]

There were no alternative paths last time, though there was some space to wander. Apparently, Sleep doesn't feel like letting us wander as much this time.

[One could wander the sea, as she suggests, but Ignis would rather not wait to see if it becomes as dangerous as the beast-infested plan of the last dream did. All it would take, he suspects, is the addition of one bleeding moon.]

My name is Ignis, by the way. It is a pleasure to meet you despite wishing it could be under better circumstances.

[whomthebelltolls]

Yes. This sea is indeed wide, but we've certainly no real choice in destination.

[And no matter how she looks, she sees no secret alternative destination but the one.]

I am Maria. Indeed, I would prefer less... troubling circumstances.

[That's putting it lightly. She remains thalassophobic, and the more she stares at the obsidian sea, the worse she feels.]

We should... keep a brisk pace. I've no idea how long it may be until this water gives out below our feet. [And she is wearing heavy leather, on top of her phobia.] I've no idea why it is holding us at all, but I'd rather not tempt it deciding to make us swim instead.

[shatteredlenses]

Well met, Maria. Likely it is Sleep who keeps us afloat and her whims can be fickle. Let's not tempt her.

[Ignis motions forward toward the light and the castle it marks like a beacon.]

Pick as quick a pace as you wish. I can keep up, so you needn't let that worry you.

[He will give her a moment to settle into said pace before speaking again.]

You said this circumstance is familiar to you. Would it be rude of me to ask why? Is your world as chaotic as this?

[whomthebelltolls]

"Sleep"? [This, she repeats a bit, because that is a verb, not a noun.] Is that the thing's name, then?

[... Sleep? Or is it the concept the thing embodies? This, she can only presume. She sets off at a decent pace - she could walk a lot faster than she is, because Maria is unnaturally tall for a (seemingly) human woman, but it seems a brisk enough pace to keep her new acquaintance from having to jog or run to keep up.

She doesn't get much time to fall back into her own thoughts, though, because he asksa a question.] Ah-

Something like that. Not... chaotic, but the usage of dreams and nightmares. The gods of our world reside within or on the borders of them. At least, so far as we can tell. But, like this, they are physical spaces, as well. Things that can be visited and interacted with. Know you any of the Great Ones?

[He doesn't... smell like someone from Yharnam, so it's easy for her to presume that he has not visited and is no resident, but surely some of the knowledge must have escaped the little town.]

[shatteredlenses]

[As they make their way across the water, it strikes Ignis that Maria's footsteps seem to be coming at the rate of someone with a longer stride. Perhaps even a little longer than Gladiolus' stride which would be impressive since the Shield is 6 foot, 6 inches tall.

Thank goodness Ignis is used to having to keep up with Gladiolus from fighting and training with him. It's coming in rather handy right now.]

Yes, that would be her name, not that she's told it to us properly. It tends to appear in the consciousness in odd ways and has been whispered through the Murmur as well.

[When Maria explains why the place seems familiar, Ignis listens intently obviously curious. For a moment, he thinks of Arthur and how the man told him he doesn't really dream anymore. Is his world something like the one Maria describes? It seems like it would be quite dangerous to allow oneself to dream in a world like that.]

We have some people on Eos who say they worship the old gods instead of the Astrals, but I suspect that has nothing to do with the Great Ones you mention. I've never heard the title used like that in any event.

[whomthebelltolls]

[Alright, there's a second term she's not entirely used to, but this time she doesn't ask about it, because of the casual way he says it. Murmur. Maybe that's something for her to learn later, if this dream does not eject her entirely upon waking... or Kos does not come after her.

(And wouldn't that be a sight to see, she thinks. Would Kos, mayhaps the unborn Orphan, come after her? She's supposed to be in their clutches, after all.)]

I see. So odd that such a similarity would manifest itself, but the idea of the Great Ones would not. Unless... those before simply never thought of it. Yharnam was a special place.

[shatteredlenses]

Most of our worlds are likely special places due to something that did or did not happen.

[For Eos, the introduction of the Scourge may have been the defining factor, though Ignis can't help but wonder if it maybe even goes back beyond that. Could the fact that Astrals continued to interact with the world at all be that defining factor? Maria's gods also sound like they are still a big factor in her world, where Arthur had been completely baffled by the idea, so his world's defining factor must have been something else.]

This may seem like an odd question, but how likely do you think it is that some other being--divine or otherwise--could have defeated the Great Ones? We know that Sleep appeared in the world we awaken on in conjunction with a lunar anomaly, though we don't know if she was always there or if she arrived from somewhere. In either event, the gods of that world didn't step in to protect humanity. They were on their own. I can't help but wonder how differently things would have turned out if some god had challenged her. Would it have been defeated or would Sleep have been defeated?

[whomthebelltolls]

[That's an interesting question. Maria presses her lips together, but thinking hard draws her attention down, and staring at the glassy sea makes her stomach roil, so she snaps her head back up.]

Killing a Great One is entirely possible; I've seen the corpse of one, even, before this. But... that does not mean their consciousness dies. I believe one would have to kill both their physical form and whatever the root of their counsciousness is within their dreams.

As little as that likely makes sense. Physical death does not seem to be an end, is mostly what I am getting at. So perhaps if this Sleep was able to destroy them utterly? It seems possible.

[shatteredlenses]

Actually, that makes complete sense to me. All of our gods are known to have earthly forms separate from their true essences. Shiva had her earthly form destroyed, but she still freely assists those who need her. In a reversal of sorts, Titan's earthly form used to stand locked in place where he stopped the meteor that nearly destroyed my world; however, the amount of energy that required sent him into a deep sleep that he did not recover from for over a millennia.

[Having seen the fight Titan put Noctis through and then having see the Astral fight in Altissia, Ignis would say he recovered fully from that bringing even more evidence to Maria's point. Gods with two forms are very difficult to completely kill, especially when both forms are very resilient.]

Having witnessed the state of the world after Sleep arrived and having heard some journal entries from these who survived her initial coming, I have no doubt Sleep probably eradicated them completely if they existed on this world. I wonder if she too has two forms. It might help explain her success.

[whomthebelltolls]

Mmm... [She doesn't like the sound of that, if she's being honest. Kill the original form, and then having to traipse through a nightmare to kill the rest... and even then, does that guarantee a victory?

... Would it have guaranteed a victory over Kos? She and the others thought Kos was simply dead, at first. They never knew the full extent of it.]

To say nothing if it requires some sort of special weapon, or...

[She sighs.] Some of the beings in our world are inscrutable. We can hear them, know they speak, but we cannot see them. Not for what they truly are. I wonder if her true form would be similar - how do you truly fight something you know not what you're even looking to defeat?

Aside from pray that is not how this Sleep works.

[shatteredlenses]

[Ignis' lips press into a thin line as he listens.]

I had not even considered we might need some kind of special weapon in addition to everything else.

[But, the idea is not a farfetched one. While the Royal Arms haven't been absolutely necessary for Noctis to complete his tasks so far, they have made doing so much easier...

Actually, with how close Noctis came to failing Leviathan's test, perhaps they were necessary. The realization doesn't make Ignis feel any better about all this.]

Sleep as a concept is definable, but at the same time it also has many facets. Add in the fact we don't know why she calls herself that, and really, that definition doesn't mean much. We really need to learn more as quickly as we can.

There are two of her servants who have made contact with some of us. I've not spoken to them directly myself, but I know those who have. Their names are One and Espera. Given how close they are to Sleep, I don't know how much we can trust what they say, but at the same time, they have helped us in some ways so it's possible we might be able to use them to learn more.

[whomthebelltolls]

[Really, all she can do is sigh. The more complicated it gets, the worse she feels.

There's a lead, though, buried in what Ignis says. A lead that piques her interest. It shouldn't - but it's not like she can just quietly try to resume some sort of a normal life in an environment like this. The only path forward seems to be through this Sleep god.]

I see. Do you know how to contact them, or are they cagey and elusive?

[shatteredlenses]

I would guess they probably answer only when they feel the whim, but since I've not contacted them directly myself, I don't know.

[Ignis brings his hand up to his temple and gently pulls on the blindfold he's wearing.]

As for contacting them, your best bet is probably through the Murmur. You woke up with a mask you didn't have before, did you not? This one is mine.

["Mask" here is just a general term since it's obvious to him that his being a blindfold and not what one would generally term a "mask" means they can have different forms.]

Wearing that mask is what connects you to the Murmur. It's a kind of mental network that connects all of us, even the animals that remain in the waking world. Their minds obviously don't work like ours do, but there is still something there to contact.

[For a moment, Ignis can't help but wonder how Freddie is fairing with Shadow. Gaining the mutant dog's trust has been difficult thus far, but Freddie seems determined to do it nonetheless.]

I would advise you to be cautious using it, though. As helpful as it can be for allowing us to contact each other over distance, it also seems to have a mind of its own and will sometimes share things you would rather it had not.

[whomthebelltolls]

Mmm.

[That's unfortunate. If only they had something more consistent to call upon them. But then Ignis begins to explain the Murmur, and... well, Maria finds herself frowning more. The mask... She'd pushed it to the side when she thought she was drowning, since it was not helping the panic, but now she has to consider it again. She'd almost forgotten it.]

What kinds of things?

[That... she has to ask, because that's going to determine whether or not she ever interacts with the thing at all.] And how frequently?

[shatteredlenses]

Memories. Feelings. The truth behind words you were using to hide. It's rather intrusive that way.

[Come to think of it, the Murmur broadcasting Ignis' feelings without his knowledge in those first few days was what had led Rain to him. The god usually worked with The Lost, so it was only natural he had been drawn to one who was feeling so lost and uncertain of his place after being blinded. The results had been positive then, but when The Murmur shared memories several times while Ignis and Lortel were reconnecting, it only left them feeling even more overwhelmed than they already were.]

It has happened to me a couple of times, and thus far I have found no pattern to when or what it decides to share. I apologize that I can't be of more help there.

[whomthebelltolls]

[Fantastic, it's random, and Maria likes keeping secrets. Sounds like a match made in hell to her.]

It's alright. I appreciate the information you have shared thus far.

[Even if it's all... basically dour and depressing.] If this stretches on long enough, we'll need all the information we can get to try to bring an end to the dream.

[Or... do nothing if it turns out to be something on purpose. Maria has done that before.]

[shatteredlenses]

You're most welcome. I may not be able to explore like the others right now due to my vision, but I am well-versed in talking. Perhaps, too much so.

[The chuckle that follows Ignis' joke is small in amongst all the bad tidings he's had to deliver, but it's a bit of brightness nonetheless.]

I suspect there is nothing we can do to cause Sleep to end the dream before she is ready, but that doesn't mean we can't learn as much as possible so that when when the dream ends, we are prepared for what she sends our way. The end of the previous dream was not pleasant.

[In fact, dealing with the blood moon and all the monsters made waking up in a ruined city almost pleasant.]

[whomthebelltolls]

[She huffs something approximating a laugh as well - she appreciates a little self-deprecating humor, even if he is ultimately being helpful. There's not really anything to laugh at, but enough Hunters developed dark humor after a while.]

Hmm... perhaps you're right. And hope she does not deign to keep the dream going forever.

[The Great Ones sure could dream for... ever.]

... The beginning of this dream has been unpleasant enough, as it is. I loathe to see how it may continue, or even end, especially as it may be inevitable. [Sigh.] You'll be alright, yes? You seem capable, even if you're blind. [And blindness doesn't preclude anyone from anything in Maria's world, so...]

[shatteredlenses]

It may be a little early to jump to any conclusions, but there is a part of me that suspects keeping us in a dream she can control completely gets boring after a while. Why let us wake up in a different setting at all otherwise?

[Either that, or this kind of extensive dream setting starts to wear on her powers after a while, but Ignis doesn't think that idea is as likely as the previous one is.]

I do my best. The power I was given when I came here allows me some control over time. Sometimes it lets me see things in time to change them; other times it lets me rewind time to fix things that haven't gone well. It doesn't always cooperate with me, but it has helped keep me alive many times thus far. It is something of a safety net while I relearn how to navigate the world.