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

[trashblaze]

[ Oh, very relatable! Caelus loves swinging things, especially baseball bats! Also, sorry. The young man is too handsome that the raccoon can't help himself— okay, kidding. He was checking the man's expression, or more precisely, looking at his eyes to see if he was potentially hiding anything to be nice (sparing him from pain or anything similar). But Caelus surmised that the man's telling the truth about not knowing, so he eases, especially after seeing the light in those eyes. ]

Ah, so you're like me. I think it's a dream, too.

[ That was one of Caelus's early guesses upon his arrival, since he was sure this place isn't Amphoreus anymore. But there's a constant strange feeling here, similar to what he felt when he was in the distorted dreamscapes of Penacony, only this place is much worse. It's unsettling, but he's not letting it get to him. After all, he still has much to go through and achieve. ]

What about them?

[ Gesturing with his eyes, Caelus looks up to where the unsettling entities are. They're always watching, it seems. He doesn't know anything about those guys. He doesn't believe he's heard anything yet. ]

[commitments]

I wouldn't be surprised if other people here are the same.

[ Victims? Of a dream? It sounds insane to him, but what the hell, really. He has to go with it. ]

Nothing that couldn't be observed right now. The one on the highest pedestal is the only one who's breathing.

[ But what does that even mean? He doesn't recognize any of them and doesn't know what this may all represent. He can theorize, but there's nothing in the banquet hall that could confirm it.

As he percolates, he starts eating some of the fruit that's nearby, though his eyes are trained on the pedestals that lift up these guardians. Again, the one sat upon the highest throne takes a breath. ]

[trashblaze]

Hmm!?

[ The only one who's breathing? Caelus didn't notice that before, so he quickly turns his head and looks up, trying to observe that detail. It's hard to make out from this distance, so this man must have really good eyesight. But he's right, that single one is the only one that feels… alive? Caelus isn't certain, since they never really know. Maybe the rest are simply slumbering.

Not wanting to stare at those entities too long, Caelus returns his attention to the man shortly, but is startled when he feels the effects of the Starpit Fruit this time around. Apparently, it's his turn to witness something. ]

[commitments]

[ Adolphe was going to say something, but the effect lays over them as a hazy blanket.

CW: suicidal ideation, child abuse, implied child trafficking

In comparison to Caelus' colorful memories is one of a young Adolphe who washed to shore, brought in by a nun to shelter. Whispers from his parents echoed in his mind as the nun told him about the new life he'd have with her—his parents said he was useless. A waste of space. Not worth a single coin. Why else would no one buy him? No one wanted him and he was using up their resources. They told him he should die in a cold place all alone and it was what he deserved for being a burden.

They were scum, he thought and still thinks that. The nun told him different things... Nicer things, that he was a blessing and she would be his new mother.

Still what you tell a child stays with them. Since then Adolphe wished to die, but he didn't want a cold death. Where he wanted to rest was somewhere warm and surrounded by people he loved, as if that could be an act of defiance to his parents' wishes of a lonely grave.

Instantly, he frowns and glares at the fruit that has left a silvery dust on his fork. That's going back down onto his plate. He's having no more. ]

... Why.

[ Who did this to the food? Why is the food like this? Why this at all? ]

[trashblaze]

[ Frozen and eyes wide, Caelus stands entirely unmoving after witnessing those memories. His gaze is nowhere in particular, golden pair of eyes staring toward the young man beside him, but their focus is elsewhere. On those shoulders. Those shoulders that must have endured so much in the past. He keeps staring at those shoulders as he processes it all slowly, then eventually a different kind of liquid leaves him. It's not the honey-like nectar anymore, but shining tears that shed from the sides of his large eyes.

Caelus blinks a few times, realizing that he's back in the present. The visions are over, and he quickly reaches up to wipe his own eyes, using the back of his sleeves to do it. He's speechless for a moment, unable to think of what to say immediately. His heart aches for this man. He doesn't want to say something insensitive when he has only seen brief memories. Is it actually insulting to cry for him? He doesn't know, but he couldn't stop his tears either way. ]

S— sorry… I saw it.

[ It's really only to apologize for seeing it. Caelus doesn't want to be sorry for wanting to be saddened. His concern is genuine. ]

[commitments]

[ Adolphe wonders to himself why is this stranger shedding tears for him... Maybe people from the orphanage, but those are people he considers close. They're his family. It puts him in an awkward place. It's uncomfortable for multiple reasons.

Of course he doesn't want people to see his memories, especially these. It leaves him tense, his whole body wound tight and stiff. ]

It's... Fine. It's not your fault. [ It's maddening that he has nowhere to put this frustration. It has to stay bottled within him, left to simmer and eventually die out. ] We can forget about it.

Just... Clean yourself up.

[ Another napkin, this time for the tears. Stop crying for him. ]

[trashblaze]

If that's what you want…

[ Wanting to respect the man's wishes, Caelus will try to forget if he really wants that. Through blurry sight, the trailblazer sees the next napkin offered to him again, and he can't help but smile softly at it as he accepts it. This man is compassionate; it's even more so after such terrible experiences that could ruin a soul. The man could've grown into a bitter, unfeeling person or something worse. Maybe he is, and Caelus just isn't seeing it yet, considering he doesn't know much about the man. But right now… The way he stands next to him like this, and their conversation until now…. Everything has the trailblazer carrying a good feeling that this person is truly kind.

Sometimes it's the people who suffer the most who end up being the most precious kinds of people. Caelus has seen that time and time again through his journeys across the stars. He tries to calm his breathing so he can stop his tears, then slowly cleans his face using the clean napkin given just now. Once he feels better, he looks at the man again with a renewed, stronger smile. ]

But, mister, you don't have to say it's fine. It's okay to say it's not fine. We can talk about it until you feel better. Of course, only if you want to, and it doesn't have to be right now.

[ Maybe one day, in the distant future, the man will change his mind and will want someone to listen. Caelus is letting him know that he doesn't mind hearing him out anytime. Therefore, a proper introduction is in order. ]

I'm Caelus, by the way. I'm a Nameless from the Astral Express.

[commitments]

[ It is what he wants, though he's sure that Caelus likely won't forget it anytime soon. It isn't harrowing, just pitiful. Maybe pathetic. He doesn't care about what others think, but he had lived his life keeping details about himself so close even though time and time again he'd claim to be a normal person.

Normal, everyday, not more compassionate and kind than another and not worse or vile than another. The napkins are small offerings. Caelus is just messy. ]

Talking about it won't change anything. [ So he would prefer if they moved on because he has moved on from then, or he'd like to think so. ] ... Adolphe.

[ ... ]

I have no clue what any of that means.

[ Caelus really said WORDS. Even if he pieced some of it to Caelus' memories, it was still overwhelming. ]

[trashblaze]

It wouldn't change the past, but it can still change something else.

[ Mainly, the present and the future. The purpose of talking to each other is to ease feelings and lighten some of the burden. Of course, everyone is different, and some require more than simply talking. But it's a start to the healing process. Caelus won't push this man into anything, though; as a Nameless, all he can do is observe and support. He's here to understand, come what may. ]

Of course, only if you want to.

[ Then, Caelus will stop there as he proceeds to follow Adolphe's feelings. He's not ready to speak, and that is fine. Things like this always need a lot of time. The trailblazer gives him a light laugh to shift the mood and the topic. ]

Gee, I'm meeting more and more people who've never heard of us! That's okay, I'll explain. The Nameless are followers of the Path of Trailblaze, meaning we explore the universe and aid other worlds. We are intergalactic adventurers who travel the stars using the Astral Express.

[commitments]

[ ... There's a complicated expression on Adolphe's face as he wonders if it would be nice to talk about it. He had kept everything in, everything close, and sharing is uncharted waters. The thought is suffocating, even if relief is tempting. ]

My parents are scum. That's it.

[ At the very least, he's comfortable saying that. Anything else he leaves to silence. Maybe someday.

As Caelus continues, he gives more reason for Adolphe to not share. What happened to him is so small in comparison to traveling universes and aiding other worlds. His scowl unwinds into something neutral, curious with wonder. He almost forgets their dreary and unsettling surroundings. ]

So being here isn't too weird for you. [ He isn't sure if that explains Caelus' demeanor or not. ] You have any insight on escaping? This all feels like a bad omen.

[trashblaze]

That's the spirit!

[ Even if it was only for that one line, it matters. It matters a lot. Caelus is quite proud of Adolphe's resolute tone when he said it too. A soft smile graces the trailblazer for a second. It's good to see that Adolphe has strength despite his heartbreaking past. Caelus hopes to witness more of those feelings being let out one day. Even if not him in particular, then he hopes someone will be able to truly heal Adolphe's heart. One tiny step at a time. For now, it's enough.

Moving on, Caelus observes how Adolphe's cute curiosity grows. He keeps up with the new topic and is happy to answer his questions. ]

Haha, it is still strange for me. While there are some familiar elements I've experienced before, there are still more than enough unknown factors that I wouldn't know what to truly expect here.

[ Looking around them, Caelus's eyes follow the movements of the silent crowd. ]

When I found myself here, I thought it felt like a dream. Turns out, that feeling is right. I know someone who has been in this world for about two months now. He said that when we wake up, we'll see this world's true form. But it's also possible that we'll wake up right back in our homes. Let's hope for the best, huh?

[ Either way, Caelus is prepared. He is a trailblazer, and he won't turn his back on anything. If it's destined that he'll wake up to this world's true form, then he'll go forward bravely without hesitation. Besides, he's been worried about his friend… ]

[commitments]

[ His self-worth may be shaky, but he doesn't think the same of his judgment. He knows garbage when he sees it.

Caelus answers his questions with casual flare, which makes it comfortable despite the dark and unsettling setting. What he says however doesn't provide more comfort and he continues to think that Caelus could stand to be a little more vigilant and serious, especially if the unknown factors are marionettes on pedestals and food with effects.

... He digresses and doesn't comment, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. Only when Caelus mentions recognizing someone in the dream does he shift, lips parts with some surprise and expectation, maybe hopeful to get answers. Which he does, but at what cost? ]

We can wake up somewhere else?

[ It's so abrupt, so sudden, and he was never going to consider it when his life had been locked to an island. He barely knew what was outside of Arpéchéle, now he has to think about dreams and the other side of dreams.

This is overwhelming. He is overwhelmed. ]

That's—very inconvenient. I don't want to stick around to know the other half of this place.

[trashblaze]

[ Sorry, Adolphe… Caelus would, but he's already too adjusted to the craziest things going on the different planets he's been through to date, and he knows that will only continue. That's why he isn't too phased about any of this now. He's still nervous to an extent of course, having not much information currently, and not knowing what might actually happen after waking up. That's why he's already braced himself for anything and is ready to face whatever may be.

But Caelus understands that it's the opposite for some people. Not everyone can adjust the same way. He can sympathize with the dreaded feeling of being thrown somewhere they don't want to be. He gives Adolphe a bit of a sad look, but it's only for a second. He has to stay positive for himself and others. ]

Yes, it's a possibility. I don't know if there's anything we can do to affect it, unfortunately, and neither does my friend. He's hoping that I don't wake up to where he is. But even if I do, I'll be sure to do what I can. I want to help my friend through this, and now you, too.

[commitments]

[ Adolphe will continue to be the opposite. Aloof, standoffish, and stern in how this all concerns him. His tactic is to stay distant enough to keep a clear mind and make decisions.

None of this is logical, though. If this is a dream, then all things go... Including Caelus extending help yet Adolphe's eyes round in confusion, lost for words. ]

... But I don't know you.

[ So he isn't sure why Caelus would have any stake in helping him. ]

[trashblaze]

[ A lighthearted laugh follows, filled with a boyish youthful spirit. It's the kind of personality that lives through the present and looks forward to the future— hopeful, warm. No anchors to weigh him down. ]

Not yesterday. But today, I met you. We're friends from now on, Addy!

[ Instant nickname to ram the point home. ]

[commitments]

[ The goodwill keeps on coming. Adolphe is naturally resistant, confusion growing because he isn't catching a break.

If he were more vocal and expressive, he'd be sputtering, but his expression twisting more and more tells enough. Adolphe searches Caelus' face and again can't seem to form a blot of doubt.

There's nothing to gain... Little point to ulterior motive. Just friends. ]

Addy...?

[ No one has done this to him in his life. It rings so foreign that he can't figure out if he hates it or not. It's just

Baffling. ]

Let's slow down. We can't be friends so quickly. I barely know you. [ Caelus barely knows himself was about to escape his lips, but he bites it back. ] We should focus on our situation instead.

[trashblaze]

[ Addy! 🌸 Yes, there's nothing on Caelus's face but that same energetic expression. There are no layers to it. This is its full form, no complications. Just a pure smile of friendly affection. ]

Really? Why not?

[ Genuine question. Does Caelus have to climb a mountain for Adolphe first? He would do it, by the way. ]

Oh, but you're right. What should we do, though? I've explored the area as much as I can already, but I couldn't find anything else helpful. Hmm, but I haven't done downstairs yet. My friend told me to stay up here, though! He said I should stay so I can keep a lookout for anyone else I might know.

[ Considering what's downstairs, it's actually to protect Caelus. ]

[commitments]

[ It's like his head is empty... Adolphe is having a hard time accepting it, but what can he do here except focus on something that is actionable.

Which means skipping over the topic of friendship. How to become his friend isn't something he can easily vocalize. It isn't some kind of checklist he can assemble, so...

He sighs and brings his hand to rest the heel of his palm against his forehead, hoping the pressure clears his mind some. ]

If you trust his word, then we won't go down there. [ It'll narrow things down to avoid downward stairs. ] Exploring really amounted to nothing?

[ Wracks his brain. ]

No hidden passages, either...

[trashblaze]

[ Poor Adolphe… He's doing his best. ]

Nope, sorry. I tried to look around that weird ocean outside too, but there's nothing but ugly fish and jellyfish in it. It looks like all we can do is wait and see when we'll wake up. Or for whoever's dreaming all this to wake up. Maybe something will happen at the end of this dinner party?

[commitments]

[ He's just a ball of stress that tries his best to manage. ]

Yeah, there's definitely nothing out there aside from water and fish. [ Ideally, he would not like to go back to the ocean. ] I'm going to give the castle a look myself.

[ Not that he doesn't believe Caelus, but... He never quite liked waiting and seeing, even if he had to do that a lot before. ]

[trashblaze]

All right, Addy! That's a good idea, you might notice something that I didn't. Tell me all about it when you're done! Good luck!

[ That nickname is staying, it seems. After all, Caelus does what he wants. ✨ ]

I'm staying around here. I'm still on the lookout for other people that I might know, and my friend might return from downstairs. Ah, if you happen to see him, do say hello. His name is Aventurine!

[commitments]

Adolphe.

[ This time he's prepared and decides a correction is a good idea. The nickname isn't one he's used to... And he doesn't think he wants to get used to it. There's no bite to it, though.

Quietly, he wonders to himself how would he know it's Aventurine, but that isn't his problem, either. ]

Okay, but don't stick around when something bad happens.

[ A feeling that Caelus could wait it out for his friends. Ill-advised. ]

[trashblaze]

[ Oh, look at this awkward big brother. Caelus has to stop his giggle. He decides not to tease the guy since he's obviously unused to people like him, so he leaves it at that for now. But sooner or later, Adolphe will get used to it, because the trailblazer has no intention of leaving him alone. ]

Yeees. I got it.

[ Waving at him cheerfully before he leaves! Also, don't worry, Adolphe will undoubtedly know if it's Aventurine. Flashiness aside, that gambler loves introducing himself to potential trade partners, after all. ]

[commitments]

[ So many bad things are going to happen, Caelus... Adolphe is going to leave, though every once in a while he may see him return to try a different way before he realizes there really is no way out.

Internally, he's horrified and this dream can only get worse. We can wrap up here unless you would like to thread more!! ]

[trashblaze]

[ No matter what terrifying things happen, Caelus will be here for all his friends, Adolphe included!! Also, here is your ending tag. 🌸

By the time Adolphe returns for good, Caelus will greet him with a much-needed cold glass of fresh water. Something not cursed for once! It must taste better after all that walking and worrying. The trailblazer encourages Adolphe to sit down as he listens to the results of the man's own attempt to explore, nodding in understanding, and expresses his own disappointment that nothing new turned up…

Caelus pats Adolphe's back a few times, an attempt to uplift him. ]

Hang in there, Addy!

[ The nickname is a distraction on purpose, trying to ease Adolphe even a little against all odds here. Because for now, Caelus's cheerful presence is the only thing he can offer. ]