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JERICHO ● SEPTEMBER 2025 EVENT/TDM
TDM & EVENT: JERICHO
ᛗ
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.
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.
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.
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.
ᛗ
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:
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.OFFERING EFFECTS:
• 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.
• 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.
ᛗ
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.
The table awaits.
NOTES:
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.TOKEN EFFECTS:
• 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.
• 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.OFFERING EFFECTS:
• 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.
• 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.
ᛗ
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
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.TOKEN EFFECTS
• 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.
• Spells cast during acts of intimacy may provoke a heightened sensation of euphoria for both caster and whoever is affected by the spell.OFFERING EFFECTS
• 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.
• 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.
ᛗ
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:
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.TOKEN EFFECTS
• 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.
• Magic recoils violently when used on The Abomination, backfiring with psychic screams or ripping into your flesh.OFFERING EFFECTS
• 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).
• 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.
ᛗOOC 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!
➤ 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!
no subject
[ You can find it. The trust placed in Caelus is moving. He doesn't know why, but he has a mysterious feeling it means something far more precious than it seems. It gives him warmth in this cold place. Though due to the urgency of the situation, he doesn't ponder over it right now. There's no time to appreciate it; he'll have to do all that later on. He acts instead, immediately turning his head again to look around the chaotic interior of the fallen palace. Everything is in disarray, and some parts no longer make sense, but it doesn't deter him.
At the same time, The Abomination doesn't take kindly to the young man's defensive barrier, shrieking through their ears vociferously, which causes Caelus's knees to quiver during the agonizing duration. Their vision appears to blur during its scream. The pounding on the door is constant, like a heartbeat that refuses to die. Still, he bravely makes his steps forward again, running through debris even if it collapses right after he runs over it. He doesn't want to fail that precious trust in him. He repeats the words in his mind to encourage himself: you can find it, you can find it.
Caelus decides to run up a set of staircases, almost tripping when a step breaks so suddenly, but he picks himself up and continues upward in the spiral layout of the room. It probably used to be a tower, but not much of it remains after it was left to rot. On the top floor, he reaches the roof area and sees a rope and a cannon. He checks if it still works. ]
One more shot…
[ It can do one shot. Caelus makes sure to make it count. He grabs a piece of destroyed wood, quickly shapes it into a makeshift spear, and securely attaches the rope. He hurries on, loading the spear into the cannon and firing it toward another opening in the palace walls. The spear pierces the glass and impales one of the furniture within. Now Caelus peeks down the lower floor again, checking on the beautiful stranger. He tries to yell down— ]
Mister! Come on!
[ They'll have to rappel and slide forward on the rope bridge to get to the other side of the palace. ]
no subject
Alright! [ He calls upwards as he sprints for the door, some of his nimbleness succumbing to exhaustion. His chest feels leaden, his arms too light, as if his bones could shudder themselves to ruin at any provocation — Subaru makes it up the stairs, breath papery in his lungs. He comes to Caelus's side, the muted color of his one good eye still stern. There wasn't a time during the end of his world where he ever thought that together was something that belonged to him. It still doesn't. It may never. Still, still... ] Get ready. It won't hold for much longer.
[ With the inability to do more at his current level, his gaze flashes urgently to the rope, understanding what Caelus has done. ]
no subject
Not wasting time after hearing the barrier will wear off soon, Caelus leads the way once more and jumps on top of the rope bridge. He slides forward while doing his best to maintain balance; the natural force allows him to skate down toward the other side. Once he's near the end of the rope, he does a big leap, landing safely in the new area after falling on the floor. The continued force causes him to roll a few times on it before he's able to catch himself and stand up.
Running to the window, he raises his arms to wave and try to signal that he's okay. ]
no subject
...a love tested as the Abomination breaks through his ward left behind him, a storm of grotesque yearning, of vast starving. When it comes into contact with his magic, the casting ruptures, its blowback against him intense and unforgiving. As if the magic abhors its closeness to this creature. Subaru manages to dive through the window at last, but his former grace hemorrhages, sending him straight to his knees. His skin tears beneath the sheer material of his banquet attire, blood coating mesh and flower. Still, he remains alert until the howling of the beast subsides. It doesn't follow them across the narrow rope; it leaves in search of closer, easier prey. ]
We made it... [ The price of magic and all. He wobbles slightly. ] Thank goodness...
1/2
Burning? What's causing it? For assisting this person? Seriously? Caelus fights off the harsh burning with pure determination and doesn't give in, as if silently telling whatever is causing it to fuck off. His physical and spiritual strength both come through as he easily holds the two of them up. He only slowly lets go once he's sure the man won't collapse. He lets out a sigh as the flames leave, then he coughs a few times. Nevermind him, though.
Caelus is more concerned for the kind stranger. His brows lift in immediate concern as his hands hover in the air. He can't heal. He doesn't have such an ability. He'll have to— ]
Hold on!
no subject
Now that they can both catch their breath, he takes the chance to say something he didn't get to earlier. So he smiles despite the burns and the atmosphere around them, still bright as ever. ]
You saved me back there. Thank you!
no subject
Even in the thick of his magic's own blood feud with itself, Subaru is aware of it. How touching him burns his companion doing his utmost to help him in his weakened state. For all of the times that Subaru wished the power of his clan never came to him, it leaves him deeply unsettled, to have it so changed. It runs so wild in him that he can't keep up with its demands. And so, this young man has to endure him, he has to hurt just to be near him. He grimaces, more out of displeasure than pain.
Subaru isn't the best of patients, but he does wait obediently for Caelus to dress his wounds. It looks like the claws of some creature caught hold of him, but the bandages help in pulling him back together, in staunching some of the backfire. ]
I... [ Thank you. ] — just acted according to my own ego, that's all.
[ He wants to sit straighter, but thinks better of moving too much. ]
That creature would do more damage to your soul than I did to my body with magic. And even so, you were still injured because of me...
no subject
[ No hesitation in refuting the sad thought, Caelus firmly says it with clear eyes, the golden color shimmering. Though they've only met today, the young man's forlorn demeanor already gives Caelus the idea that this person must be very hard on himself. Very much so. Caelus won't say anything against it when he barely knows him. Surely there must've been so much he had to burden, but the trailblazer will at least refuse the thought that it was the man's fault. ]
I know that you don't mean to do it, so it's not your fault.
[ Caelus may not have an idea of what's causing it, maybe it's an effect of the man's powers, or maybe it's an effect of being in this nightmare, but whatever it is, he's certain this person didn't willingly do it. Why would he bother saving Caelus then, if he wanted to hurt him? This sorrowful aura already silently speaks out the intense feelings that the man carries constantly. Sitting down next to the man, Caelus continues to hold his smile for him. ]
It was my decision. I would do it again. Besides, this isn't going to stop me! We'll leave out of here together, right? I am quite strong, you know!
no subject
I did get that impression. [ Catching his breath, Subaru finally pulls himself more upright next to Caelus, steadying one palm on the floor and one over his chest. ] Of your strength.
[ A glance around yields surroundings not unlike the rest of the palace: dark walls in the constant flux of shimmer, drapings of silk and flower, a low pulse of intent. The corners of his mouth downturn. ]
I'm sorry, I don't know the lay of the palace. And it'll be a while before I can cast again.
[ Even his shiki would be a risk. ]
no subject
Caelus's golden eyes move eventually, looking toward the distant, seemingly endless darkness. It's difficult to see around here, so it's quite a relief that they managed this far. His shoulders lower a little though, sinking in his thoughts as he recalls the devastating screams earlier and all those lost to The Abomination. The heavy feeling in his body is still letting him know that running was the better decision, especially since he didn't want to waste the man's efforts to protect him, but he can't help but be saddened that he couldn't help all those people.
Regardless, Caelus knows he should stay positive to keep going forward. People are waiting for him to return. Then, he hears the beautiful man's soft voice again, which snaps him out of his thoughts. ]
Please, don't apologize! You've saved me already. It's my turn this time.
[ Should The Abomination return, Caelus will try to fight it as well. His full abilities aren't working as they should, but he can still use some of them. It won't be enough to defeat such a monstrosity, but it's enough to protect the two of them. He wishes he at least had his weapons, but complaining won't change anything. ]
While it's lost somewhere, take your time to rest, okay? I'll keep a lookout.
[ Springing on his feet, Caelus does an energetic hop despite his burns. He walks to the edge of the broken windows to peek at the lower grounds, finding nothing of interest for now. Then, it shortly hits him, and he turns around swiftly with a surprised expression. ]
Oh! That's right. I'm Caelus, it's nice to meet you!
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Sumeragi Subaru. [ Terse, slightly downcast in his mouth. ] ...but Subaru is fine.
[ Familiarity given freely, soft and transient in this dreamed moment. ]
It's not your fault that you couldn't protect the rest of them. [ Subaru climbs to his feet, undaunted by the bloodstains he leaves smeared behind. ] If it helps to know, what happens here may not carry over into the waking world.
[ Horrifying as the creature was, is, it is a conjuring of their dreamer. Subaru isn't so naive that thinks there are no repercussions to its violence, but he's wise to the ways of this mirror between asleep and awake. Without knowing, the attempt at comfort is somewhat cold, but sincere. ]
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[ Saying his name to remember it. When Caelus wakes up sooner or later, he doesn't want to forget any of the names he's met in this dream since earlier on. It may not have been a comfortable dream in any way, but the people he's encountered in the dark ocean, in the eerie party, and now Subaru in these strange ruins— they're all worth meeting. He tries to pull a smile again to shake off the ache in his heart, managing well, especially after hearing Subaru's attempt to cheer him up. Maybe it is a bit cold, but the sweet intentions come across far more. ]
Thank you, Subaru. You're right. I hope they're in a better state in the real world.
[ Even though it may not be likely, Caelus can't help but want to hope for that thought. The probability is low, but that doesn't mean it's zero. The trailblazer raises his head a little, facing the beautiful omiyouji's pair of mismatched eyes. He didn't notice those earlier, considering the darkness here and how they were in such a rush. But now that he's standing still and observing him more closely, he couldn't help but make a worried expression. He wonders what happened to Subaru's other eye, but he probably shouldn't ask. He shakes his head to get rid of his lingering feelings, not wanting to be rude. ]
Ah, have you been told yet? I heard from a friend that when we wake up, we might not wake up at home, but could end up in this world's true form.
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I did hear that. [ He follows Caelus along to the topic of their current state easily, seeming grateful for the ability to sound things out. Not everyone has been so patient, understandably so. ] From someone I met at the banquet table.
[ Finally, his gaze breaks to study the spire they've ended up in, thinking that they ought to move sooner rather than later. ]
There are some people who've already awakened once... in a city they can't recall traveling to. This dream isn't the first of its kind.
[ And, wondering aloud at how easily Caelus might use the word "friend": ]
Have you met someone you know?
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Yeah! Someone very precious. He's been dreaming in that city you mentioned, for about two months now.
[ Subaru's intuition is right, because it sounds like That Thing hasn't given up. It will never give up. The Abomination's distorted voice is still somewhere distant, but it sounds desperate, attempting to locate any Vessel it can latch on to. Caelus's smile fades a little, a frown replacing soon after. Because of the current topic, he worries once more. They can't be the only ones down here. What if his precious friend is somewhere here, too? And the people who he considers family… Caelus's heart throbs, wanting to find them as soon as possible before That Thing finds them. ]
Subaru, I'm going to go find them. The people I love. If you still need to rest, you should stay here a bit longer. I'll be fine on my own.
[ He doesn't want to put Subaru in danger when he's about to perform something to catch the attention of everyone in this dark place. He still needs to repay the favor of saving him. ]
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He knows well what kind of regret threatens those who don't protect the ones they love. ]
I'll stay here. If you find them, you know this area is protected.
[ Subaru lifts his arm. ]
Give me your hand.
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[ Together, they'll all escape this place. Caelus firmly believes that, because he refuses to allow this nightmare to trap any of them. He's relieved that Subaru will continue to rest here in the meantime, and even offered to protect this area for him and his friends. He's once again fully appreciative of his newest friend.
When Subaru asks for his hand, Caelus doesn't hesitate to offer it to him, blinking in curiosity several times. Since directly touching seems dangerous, he settles for tenderly holding onto the end of Subaru's sleeve. ]
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The energy pulls inwards and breaks in a quiet heave; on Caelus's palm is a rune drawn by holy light. Subaru lowers his hand and then gently pushes him off. ]
With this ward, you'll be shielded for a short time. Go find your loved ones.
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I can't seem to stop thanking you. I'll surely repay everything soon. If we don't wake up in the same place, then I promise to find you one day.
[ If it wasn't for that burning curse, Caelus would've sent a friendly embrace before he leaves. As it is, he can only longingly stare for a while longer. He smiles one more time, then straightens up, feeling Subaru's encouraging push— then the trailblazer turns around, summoning a shining microphone stand into his hands. With the power of the Aeon of Harmony, Xipe, Caelus calls upon the Path of Imagination within him again. This power is dulled in this dream filled with sorrows and loss, but he strains himself and concentrates. He musters everything he has, wanting to ensure Xipe's song spreads across this place.
If only Robin were here to help him. Her voice will surely pierce through all of this despair. But he can't think like this. Right now, he has to rely on his own strength to do this.
Please. Let this reach them.
Caelus runs, running across another set of stairs that spiral up this ruined tower. Subaru's holy barrier shines in his hands, illuminating together with the conjured microphone stand, which glows gold. Eventually, several minutes later, after reaching the highest place he can find, Caelus stands at the edge and sets down the microphone stand. He takes a deep breath and assesses the view in front of him. Still the same darkness, unchanged from earlier. Still the same dreaded environment with faraway screams and cries. He almost doubts himself if he even stands a chance against all this never-ending gloom, but manages to hold it back. He can't doubt himself now.
He has to be their beacon, starting now. So the trailblazer raises his arm, the one protected by Subaru's magic, and a spotlight from his abilities comes forth above him. In this dream, there is no music. So he sings for them, using the Harmony of Xipe to carry the sound as far as his limited power allows, through this horrible nightmare's dissonance.
He will break it with his own voice, allowing Robin and all his friends to inspire him. ]
We rise together as our destiny unfolds
We face the darkness, and our trials are yet untold
Through the shadows of despair
Oh, in silence, hopes we share
To chase our dreams that we've declared
We glimpse, through our eyes
Yet fools, blind our sights
Can't make what they say
We'll find our way, we'll find our way
Heads up! The wheels are spinning
Across the plains, in valleys deep
To dawn, the wheels that sing
An unending dream!
[ It continues while his stamina holds. He can sing for an entire minute or perhaps two minutes. Not enough for the entire song, but enough to fulfill its purpose. Unlike Robin's soft and graceful voice, Caelus's voice is deeper and more determined, boyish notes with his determination seizing the darkness as the top of the spiral tower glows and echoes. A lighthouse of hope. ]
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Robin senses are tingling...But his halo does glow faintly, some of the song filtering through his mind as he wanders elsewhere through the castle. He unconsciously starts to hum the same tune as a subtle feeling of warmth swells its way through him. If only he could properly beam the same sensation back, but he's still working on accessing his own Harmony powers from here. Maybe that will come with time and practice.Whatever the case may be, he knows innately that it is Caelus reaching out to him even if he is not sure why from the song he chose. Perhaps he ought to start looking for him so they can reunite sooner rather than later. ]
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or is it something different? a warmth. a resonance.
dan heng closes his eyes and sighs softly, allowing the song to soothe his mind, to ease his soul. still, if he does not hear from caelus soon enough, he will have to reach out. ]