JAWS • DECEMBER 2025 EVENT/TDM

[uruz]

TDM & EVENT: JAWS

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Show Me Those Pretty White Jaws

The dream has been coming in waves for those new to Sleep's touch, as a shoreline that never stays still. As a sky that never remembers to include its stars. Beneath it all, there is a voice. Her voice: silk-sweet, coaxing from just beyond the approaching wave that towers like a moving mountain. She tells you to come home. She promises it won't hurt, even if she never tells you what waits beneath. You see the shape just before the dream ends: a massive black tidal wave, yawning wide and black until it looks like a pair of jaws breaking upon you. You don't have time to resist.

You and your veteran Vessels will awaken in water.

There is no surface. No bottom. No sky. No sound but your own heartbeat and the echoes of water being slashed though, dull and endless in the still, frigid dark. You are suspended, weightless— Some may have difficulty to breathe without inhaling water the first few times, while those aligned with the waves will feel it come like second nature. Once you acclimate yourself, you'll notice that around you drift glowing filaments; thin, pulsing threads that coil like jellyfish tendrils, softly luminescent. They curl and twist through the water, and when you look closer, you realize: they show you things. Memories, maybe. Dreams, maybe. Each one unique to your gaze: a hand reaching for yours in the dark, a goodbye that never finished, a face you haven't seen in years. They are what you think love looks like. What you once needed it to be. And when you touch them, they wrap around you, gently, warmly . . . Hungrily— and begin to pull you down.

To ascend into the next level, you must let go. But not everything that binds you wants to be released. The filaments drifting through the water show you what you think love looks like— what you've built it into. They are gentle at first, beautiful even, but the longer you cling, the more they pull.

There are ways to escape them: You may bind your filament with another's and together speak aloud a shared truth: what you believe love really is. If your hearts align or at the very least come to an agreement, the threads dissolve into light and lift you upward. If your beliefs clash or contradict, the threads knot tighter, and something . . . May take interest in you.

Beneath you, something moves. Huge, silent and almost regal. It glides through the deep like a phantom, almost too large to be real. You feel its presence before you see its flash of pearl white and glowing red eyes, three on each side of its face: a shark.

The shark is here to choose its next meal. It smells grief, fear and seeks out trauma most of all. It is drawn to the most unspoken parts of you, the very parts you thought were buried, roused from the tightened ropes of what you crave in your heart. And when it chooses you, it does not bite immediately. It invites, with its jaws opening like a sanctuary and slow towards you.

Inside is I, whispers Sleep. Allow Me to have you whole, and you will be at peace. Show Me love.

Fight against her, or even with your current partner about what love is, and Sleep will open her maw, spilling tendrils from her throat and begin to stalk you. Best be prepared to fight the possessed Megalodon— She will laugh, amused as you do, like a great cat playing with its food. And if you were to be caught, well. You'll wake in the dream's next level with an undeniable prey drive, whether Token or Offering.

She will do anything to keep you here.

NOTES:

• There is no surface visible at first. Light only comes from the filaments. As characters resist, act, or ascend, a faint stained-glass shimmer begins to pulse upward, hinting at the dream's next layer.
• Sound is muffled— speech emerges as bubbles, but meaning travels regardless. Words feel heavy here. Some phrases may literally change the water (turn to light, birth dream-objects, or ripple with tension). You will do better using The Murmur as a means of communication. Luckily you have your mask on!
• The Shark always circles once it senses trouble within you. Sometimes close, sometimes far, but always felt. If characters listen closely, they can hear the echo of One's voice coming from inside it: pleading with a haunted, at times screaming melody.

TOKEN EFFECTS

• The dream bends subtly around Tokens, especially at the whims of an Aquamancer. Walls of pressure open before them, and filaments shift course as if expecting them. This can make their path easier, unless they start to doubt their purpose.
• Tokens perceive emotional resonance as currents in the water such as subtle flows of energy. These can guide them (or others) toward escape paths, or signal when the shark is near.
• When a Token speaks or acts with strong intent, the dream sometimes translates it into a symbolic structure: A word might become a floating glyph. A gesture might alter the filament's shape. A moment of clarity might reveal a hidden path. Other characters can interact with these dream-objects, but they're fragile, unstable, and prone to distortion by doubt.
• The deeper Tokens go, the more they feel themselves pulling apart and begin to experience dual awareness: one part dreaming, one part watching— some may even see flashes of within the shark's belly, and One's voice much louder. The deeper they go, the more detached they become, and the more they lack the ability to act at all.

OFFERING EFFECTS

• The shark is more fascinated by Offerings. It circles them often, sensing kinship— or potential. The more monstrous the Offering, the more the shark "pauses' near them, almost curious.
• Offerings feel "the pull" more clearly, particularly Merrows and other aquatic-based Offerings—they can sense where the surface might be, and where the shark intends to strike next. They may even see pulses in the water that others miss, similar to Spider Man's "spidey senses".
• An Offering may experience rapid body changes submerged. Fins may appear, bones may shift, teeth may lengthen without warning and so on. This makes their movement easier or harder, depending on how much of themselves they're holding back or how apt their monstrous forms are at swimming.
• Some Offerings may feel drawn to the shark— not in fear, but in understanding. They may see themselves in it, and vice versa— One's song in particular is hypnotic, and for split moments you may understand his pain through his words. This might make you more prone to being consumed, though, so hopefully your partner can help you out of it—?.

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Watching Me With Eyes Of A Predator

The surface you breach is not water— it's glass.

You strike it with the force of falling sky. It fractures beneath you in a bloom of painted light. For one weightless moment, the dream hesitates, sputters. Then the world shatters, and you fall with the cascade.

Water pours through the crack in the ceiling, carrying you down in ribbons of color and a shattering splash. Stained glass shards drift like petals through the now collapsing roof, and you eventually land not in sand, but upon a cathedral floor, slick with tide. Around you, the water spreads, pooling across the stone and swallowing the walls in a rising hush as it finds escape through the doors.

The cathedral is vast, impossibly so. Its architecture towers, crooked and immaculate, built more from longing than stone. No altar awaits you. No congregation. Only the sensation of having trespassed into something meant to be private. Veteran Vessels may recognize this cathedral as St. Patrick's— before it was drenched in One's blood sacrifice.

High above and surrounding you, the stained-glass mosaics churn with captured light. f you linger beneath one of the window's rays, your appearance may begin to change under the light. You appear as someone else sees you. Be it a hero. A monster. A disappointment. A god. A weakness. A temptation. Even a burden. That version of you clings to your dream-body like a second skin; uncomfortable, intimate, and undeniable. For some, it may be beautiful. For others, unbearable.

If you and another stand beneath the same window, you may each appear as the other secretly imagines. There is no control and no negotiation. Only truth twisted through the lens of want, resentment, fear, or love. And it doesn't go away until you leave the light.

Eventually, the cathedral doors open by dream's will. Beyond them lies a cloister garden: narrow paths, pale trees, and wild flowers that bloom in stillness. At the far end, behind the overgrowth and ruined arches, you see a hollow.

It is a corridor where the dream collapses inward, twisting, warped, half-swallowed in fog and dread. Its stones pulse faintly beneath a shallow film of water. Black tendrils reach from its depths like roots, veins, twitching toward sound, warmth, and movement. You see them dragging matter into the earth, and between them lie bones, contorted and fresh, half-consumed.

And farther still, a body that still breathes. Glimpsed only briefly, A masked man's form is stretched by the hollow's gravity, arms pinned behind the veil. He does not move, or speak. Or perhaps, he cannot. The hollow does not let him go and will not, should you make your attempts. If you step foot in the hollows that have consumed him, you too will be consumed. A three eyed Tod sits at the hollow's edge, a single bushy tail splitting into three, as its body plays with illusion like smoke put to dance over fire. It says, as its head floats up and its maw splits into a grin too cheshire to ignore: Wearing shoes, yet no feet in sight. You'll hear steps pound in the death of night. What is it that you need, to cross this narrow blight?

It disappears and only leaves you the riddle to chew on.

Nothing living can cross the hollow, you'll soon find. Nothing except . . . The Nightmares.

Just outside the garden's boundary, you'll find horses built from wind and shadow, flickering at the edge of your vision. Their bodies are black— not the color, but the absence, swallowing all light. Some of their craniums cound be seen, others have a jutting horn of bone from their foreheads. Where eyes should be, there are six: three stacked on each side of the skull, glowing dimly red like distant embers beneath ice. Their manes flow like torn fabric, like drifting vapor that trails behind them like the smoke from a snuffed candle. Their maws are too damn wide to be herbivorous, yet they seem to enjoy the act of grazing. They wait, unchained and wild in a herd.

This is the only way forward. Only they can pass through the hollow untouched. But how to ride one—? You may chase them. You may plead, command, kneel. You may offer them all your need and all your love, promises that you will provide if they become your steed. But they were not made to answer it. For every Vessel, there is one single Nightmare that will choose them, and thus you will choose each other. They have their own personalities, some more aggressive or shyer than others. The harder you reach, the faster they vanish or harshed they will attack if unready. Try to mount one through force, and you'll regret ever trying. Try to bind one, and it will break you.

But if you are patient, if you figure out its nature and how to please it— your Nightmare may come closer. One may circle you. It may bow its head. Their snort is warm and real against your palm. If successful, it will lower itself to its knees. If you've got the height, they will simply wait, patiently, for you to get on their backs (Or not; there are plenty of sassy mares out there).

If you accept, you might not be taken somewhere safe, but you will be taken somewhere true, away from here. And if you force your want upon them, if you cannot let go— you will be left with something else.

In the distance, across the flooded cathedral floor, you may see One again. Flashes, glimpses. Always chasing a mare he never reaches, or the opposite— the mare chases after him.

NOTES:

• If a character successfully forms a bond with their Nightmare, it will return with them in the form of a waking world steed, officially introduced in the next event. You're free to give it the personality you wish.
• If a character attempts to force a connection with a Nightmare at any point (tries to catch, mount, command, etc.), the mare will bite or kick, which Vessels will suffer as a persistent dream-mark that will carry into the waking world.

TOKEN EFFECTS

• Light clings unnaturally to Tokens in the cathedral, especially near the stained glass. It bends around their bodies like a false halo, casting them in divine or monstrous outlines depending on who watches.
• If a Token casts or channels any magic within the cathedral or near a Nightmare, the spell does not manifest, but instead, a cold mist escapes their mouth, and the Nightmare turns to look. The dream rejects force.
• When a Nightmare looks directly at a Token, their eyes eclipse, pupils vanishing into rings of shadow. In that moment, a fragmented vision floods the Token's mind . . . not from the Nightmare, but from another character nearby. It shows the Token how that character once dreamed of them, what they feared, needed, or hoped they would become.

OFFERING EFFECTS

• The stained glass causes a subtle change in scent and physical appearance turning into a more grotesque version of this— Offerings begin to smell or look like what others most want from them.
• Offerings may always know where the Nightmares are, even when hidden. But the more they try to act on this knowledge, the harder the Nightmares are to reach.
• An Offering's body will react before they realize it, flinching from lies, bristling in moments of emotional pressure, pulling away from contact, and so on. They may startle even at gentle contact, as if something inside them is as reactive as they are.

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Where The Delicate Stops

As your Nightmare takes you through the misty hollow, you may begin to notice the empty city of Manhattan as veterans remember. There is no warning but the eerie silence that surrounds you like impossible weights. The cathedral once behind you folds inward— wrong, deep and full of pressure. It bursts through the hollow's path, through the city's street, and then— The dream ruptures.

Stone peels backward like paper. Glass liquefies mid-air. The sky above the city pulls itself inside out. Time bends sideways. And from the edges of the dream, something, someone, begins to hunt. Sleep's presence moves like the very shark she chose as a vision of her physical manifestation. She does not speak or rage. But you feel Her, rising like fever beneath the skin of Her world as the hairs at the back of your neck do. She does not want you this deep, and neither does One.

Somewhere within the collapse, you may see them— entwined, shifting, trembling. One's face is turned toward you, screaming something that doesn't reach your ears. Sleep's hands are tangled in his body. She pulls him back with a gentleness that breaks the sky, and he screams, reaching for you with his last breath before consumption. The dream convulses.

The Nightmares bolt with you still on them.

The city rises to meet you from the shadows, but it's not the city you know. Skyscrapers twist at unnatural angles. Streets flood, then dry, then flood again. Tendrils burst from subway grates and gutters, slashing upward like tongues. Streetlights spin like compass needles. Cars levitate, crash, freeze midair. You move through it all at breakneck speed, but the exit keeps shifting— a hole in the world that flickers just beyond reach where you see your body, fast asleep.

Somewhere in the chaos, a few Nightmares are caught. Sleep strikes like lightning— she coils like a viper and tightens like a vice. One touch from Her, and your Nightmare collapses mid-gallop, its body unraveling into smoke and light. No sound. No scream. Just absence. And you fall right off it like a ragdoll.

Others fall beneath impact, too— a wrong turn, a shattered wall, a burst of heat from One's grief. A broken leg. A crash. A wound too deep to ride through. If your steed is lost, you fall. And if no one reaches for you, you stay fallen. Others are near, and their Nightmares still run. All of you have a terrible dread in your bones— if you are caught or left behind, the consequences will be dire. You might not even wake up. So, call out. Cling. Climb. Share. Two Vessels on one mount. Anything to survive and flee as the dreamscape tightens its wrathful grip around you.

Sleep calls inside your spine. You can't make out what She says. One answers, the same blur of garbled words in your marrow. And then, just before the dream can take you, just before you reach an exit— you rise.

Your body lifts from the Nightmare as it paddles the air with desperation, it too rising. You're pulled upward, weightless, as if a thread inside your heart has been yanked by a furious god. You float, twist in the air. Your vision glows white.

We've got you.

And then you wake up— mid-air in the waking world.

Your body slams into your bed, floor, street, soil, wherever it was that you had slept. Reality greets you with terrible impact.

NOTES

• If a character does not find a mount in time, they may be caught in the dream collapse. They still wake— but they wake broken. These characters may wake up bruised, disoriented, or emotionally fragmented, and this can be explored in the next waking world event.

TOKEN EFFECTS

• Any Tether they feel becomes unstable—splintered. For brief moments, they feel it breaking and re-forming again and again, with slight differences each time.
• The more emotionally charged they are, the more the dream pulls toward them; tendrils snap faster, debris veers unnaturally close.
• Their body flickers with signs of their own magic—sigils, symbols, runes— burning just beneath the surface of their skin like constellations. These glow brighter as the dream collapses, as if trying to tear free.

OFFERING EFFECTS

• Where Offerings are grazed or injured, they bleed light, not red. It floats up like mist.
• They hear One's heartbeat, not theirs, and it speeds in panic. It affects their own pulse, the mare under them . . .
• The Nightmare no longer follows the Offering's will—it will respond to their fear instead.

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OOC NOTES

➤ Welcome to Somnia's third TDM, which doubles as the month's gamewide event!
➤ This TDM is considered game canon. You are free to have your character remember as many details as possible when they wake up.
➤ Only new characters are free to experiment with the Vessel options, Token or Offering 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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Toki Wartooth | Metalocalypse | Current Player | daemon

[dethangel]

[A. Show Me Those Pretty White Jaws]

[Toki loves sharks. Maybe that's why he pauses when he sees the megalodon. He's already in the water, already stuck with all this... everything, what else is he gonna do? It distracts him from the tangling things.

Or maybe it's because he can hear One's voice. It's definitely not because of Sleep, he can't stand Sleep, even if he accidentally left her an offering. But maybe that's part of it, his frustration with everything superceding the relief he felt upon finding out One was still out there.

Maybe it's just the way the shark draws him in with the song of his friend, the way he wishes he could play along, fingers sluggishly reaching through the water to mimic matching chords on a non-existent guitar.

Whatever it is, he's staring, not moving. That thing's gonna fucking get him.]

[B. Watching Me With Eyes Of A Predator]

[Toki's been through the cathedral when it was normal before, so he hurries to get the hell out of there. See, his demonic nature makes all the religious iconography super uncomfortable. It's much better, then, when the doors open.

He's drawn, eventually, to one of the Nightmares that feels a little... awkward, standing away from some of the others. He smiles at the sight of it.]

Brutal.

[Sometimes it moves away from him, but he's doing his best to make friends whenever they cross paths again.]

Hey, [he says, voice gentle, hand out like he's trying to encourage a cat to come to him. All animals basically work like cats, right?] I'm not gonna hurt you.

[If someone comes up behind him, the startled noise he make just might make the horse run away again, but he's determined by now. Once he makes friends with this thing, he's naming it after Nathan. It just seems like a Nathan.]

[C. Where The Delicate Stops]

[Toki reaches back for One, and he feels like if he just stretches out further, maybe he can help him somehow. Just when he feels like maybe he's got it, the horse starts running. Devastated, he shouts out for him, but everything's falling apart.

As they travel with absolutely no input from him, his wings spread out and he's holding on to Nathan (the horse) for dear life. Please don't trample anybody, please don't trample anybody...]

Watch out!!!

[At least he's doing a good job at clinging; he's still got the horse. Or, at least, the horse has him. Get on, if you can.]

[D. WILDCARD]

[hi new pals!!! toki's a daemon so look out for his big giant wings. he's kind of having a bad time because he's seeing his friend one everywhere and it's not good! wanna do something else? bring your own prompt, plot with me, or ask for your very own starter here or at agentkaz! plotting post is here.]

B

[markingnight]

Are you sure that's wise?

[ It wasn't that Ironeye had never ridden a horse; he came from medieval fantasyland, after all. It was only that... well, they hardly seemed like normal horses, and even normal horses were half-ton nervous death machines. He ought to know, as some psychotic armored knight motherfucker was always trying to stomp him out with one. ]

[dethangel]

Fuck!

[The horse doesn't run away at Toki's startled exclamation this time, but it does look at him warily, not remotely approaching.]

He looks friendly!

[He has absolutely zero idea of whether the horse actually looks friendly or not, but it's not trying to bite his head off or kick him in the chest, so it's probably nice. Probably.]

I don't know, I kinda like him.

[markingnight]

Sorry.

[ Ironeye forgot how quiet he was sometimes. A hazard of the occupation. A faint smile at Toki's answer. ]

You like everyone. Do you have anything to bribe him with?

[dethangel]

I don't like everyone.

[He might have a petty issue or two. Still... he is usually pretty easygoing, when he doesn't have beef.]

I didn't bring anything. [He glances back towards the garden.] Do you think he'd like flowers?

[markingnight]

You mean Sleep? And irritating photographers?

[ If Toki had beef with anyone else, Ironeye wasn't aware of it. Still, good to know. As for the horse... hmm. ]

Horses like fruits, carrots. That kind of thing. They might like flowers.

B

[dustyroad]

Yanno- I heard once that one of the requirements to get a job as a cowboy was being able to sing. Softly.

[Shelley, somehow still wet from their dip in the dream ocean, had been watching this whole process with interest. He didn't know where he was and couldn't read anything in a way that was meaningful, so he had fallen back on old habits: observe, assess, and take a few guesses.]

They're big creatures, but they get real nervous.

... Sweets might help, too.

[dethangel]

[Toki is trying so, so hard not to get startled when other people talk to him, but for some reason no matter how much he steels himself for others to approach, he just can't get used to it. Still, at least he doesn't yell this time, just a little jump.]

Singing, huh?

[He's not the greatest singer, although he can kind of manage death growls, but those aren't exactly soft noises to attract animals.]

Maybe I can give him some plants...

[dustyroad]

Yeah. Like lullabies, or stuff by Simon and Garfunkel.

[Please, don't death growl at them. That's the opposite vibe they're looking for.]

Plants? You have an apple in your pocket?

[It was a valid question. He often kept snacks in his pockets.]

... Maybe the church has some communion wafers we can borrow in the back. It's not theft if it's for a good cause.

[dethangel]

Simon and Garfunkel...

[He knows who they are, but not enough of their material to sing it to the horse.]

I don't know, I was thinking some of the flowers maybe. Or maybe there's fruit in the garden that I didn't see. Do we really have to go back in there?

[He was so happy to get out, and having to go back in... ugh.]

[dustyroad]

'The Sound of Silence?' 'Scarborough Fair?'

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme~

[Shelley cut off his (rather poor) singing with a shrug. Horses and cattle probably didn't care about quality. Maybe.]

We don't have to go back in. I just need to get back to where I was, and solving these puzzles seemed the quickest way.

That's how these things with mysterious voices seem to work.

( c )

[offseers]

[ oh boy. noah rolls out of the way. ]

What're you doing?!

[dethangel]

I don't know! [Toki calls from on top of the horse. Well, he knows that he's riding a horse, kind of, badly, but he also doesn't really know how to make the horse... horse.]

He's just... he's just running!

[offseers]

[ noah's not familiar with this animal. like the "dog", this is something new to him. a steed of some sort, clearly. he reaches for lucky seven, his Blade glinting in the light. ]

Shall I stop it?

[dethangel]

[The horse has been maybe running in circles? Toki can't tell. But as he turns, he gets a glimpse of the weapon, and the horse takes off in more of a straight line as he freaks out a little.]

Don't hurt him!

[offseers]

[ noah looks baffled but obligingly sheathes his sword. ]

So what do I do?

B

[schietto]

[ In a sheer strike of irony, Dante has noticed Toki and his efforts with the Nightmare. He has said nothing and maintained a respectful distance as to not interfere. The irony isn't him noticing so much as that seeing a man with giant bat wings and a horse that looks like some kind of spawn of the devil is also the most sensible thing he's seen in this entire dreamscape so far. Don't misunderstand; he's never seen a demonic creature or anything resembling one in his life because such things don't exist where he's from behind stories, lores, religious texts, and legends. He's also quite religious himself, so it's not to say he is a fan of tales about demons and the like as a personal interest or some such, either.

It's simply: demon looking human and demonic horse interactions make total sense. So, all things considered, he's found himself internally calmed by watching them and ignoring the rest of what they've all been through so far, including all the other people that are very normal looking humans that he is used to seeing trying to make nice with the creatures.

( ...And now he supposes he's become a little bit invested in Toki's struggles to win the Nightmare over, as well.

Lowkey silent support for your your eventual success, stranger.) ]

[dethangel]

[Toki's been doing a fine job making friends with this horse, he's pretty sure. He's still pretty nervous (the horse, that is), but he's been accepting Toki's offers of pets and flowers and the like.

Maybe soon they can graduate to a hug.

Eventually, though, he gets a kind of nervous, prickly feeling, like there's something behind him. He's been a little jumpy here, even though his horse project has been calming him down a bit, so he slowly turns to see if there's anything to be concerned about.

There's someone there, someone watching. Should he be concerned?]

Hello?

[He sounds more worried than he's trying to.]

[schietto]

[ Well, in Toki's defense, the person watching him is the boss of a powerful Mafia family, so it's probably fair to say Dante is perfectly capable of making even normally non-paranoid individuals sweat just by off-vibes alone.

However, unlike in Burlone, where every breath Dante takes is with purpose and for doing his duty as the head of the Falzone and only engages others with purpose... here? Not so much. Honestly, what else is he supposed to do with himself than people-watch? If the object of this playground was to get him to think he should be making friends with a demon horse thing, Dante didn't get the memo.

Despite his rather chilly presence, though, Dante replies in a much gentler voice. He isn't particular enthusiastic or friendly, but there's none of the most likely expected aggressiveness or intimidation Toki might be mentally prepping for.

If Toki speaks any Italian or knows a few words or greetings, he'll hear a polite: ]

...Buongiorno, signor.

[ If he is completely unfamiliar with the words, it will sound to him as specifically:]

Good day, sir.

[dethangel]

[Toki's been around the world, so he's pretty good at figuring out at least the greetings in a lot of languages, even if he generally defaults to his native Norwegian here. So, either way, a pleasant greeting calms him down a bit. He's not sure why he's been feeling so jumpy lately, but maybe he can relax here. The guy seems nice enough, in being not mean.]

Hi. Sorry, didn't know you were there. I was just... [He gestures at the horse.] This is Nathan.

[He doesn't know if the horse likes the name or not, but he hasn't seemed mad at him about it, so he's just gonna keep calling him that.]

[schietto]

... An apology is unnecessary. I'm the one lacking manners for not making myself known.

[ looks a bit quizzical at being introduced to the horse by name— but only because he doesn't understand why everyone is trying to "tame" these creatures. He does of course feel the pull off the dream telling him they're the only way out, but the Falzone boss is not so convinced in his circumstances and overwhelmed state in such a short period of time. He can't find it in him to leave. If he tries, the prey drive effect from being swallowed by the shark spikes and Dante can barely control it. The willingness needed to have the strength to leave is not something Dante can justify when this seems to be more or less Hell. He never truly believed in eternal damnation, certainly never feared it as a boy born into one of the most devout Catholic families That had a storm duty by the church to fulfill at all costs for the safety of the people.

Toki will hear the Italian pronunciation of Nathan rather than the more traditional pronunciation. ]

...Natan is a fine name. May I ask where you both are planning to go?

b!

[criatura]

[ The Creature watches from afar, as he always tends to do. It's safer this way, for both parties, he mulls . . . Neither will have to feel terrified, even if it's at the expense of his own blooming curiosity. It could always wait. The Nightmares have perplexed him, and wish he does, to approach one magnificent creature of the shade . . . But he knows their hearts and how startled they could be of just about anything that moved their way. The Creature would know this . . . All too well. He allows them the time needed, and that time is rewarded. He sits just underneath the umbrella of a simple tree at the garden's edges, and soon a magnificent mare larger than a doorway scavenges the pastures for gross to tickle its snout with.

He's always felt so connected to animals— they never take appearances into account, and thus befriend him with an ease he could never find in his human counterparts.

He watches this mare in awe where he sits, with an almost too innocent wonder as he fails to move from such a vulnerable spot. It could trample over him with ease. The Creature was not unaccustomed to timely deaths, either, even if he many times simply wishes for it to come and be done with his suffering.

It's moments like these that allow him to forget. The six red eyes stare back him as she comes closer, and closer. Would it want a berry? He shares, when close enough. The Creature cannot contain an unfiltered gigle of surprise when the great beast's snout scuttles for the treats on his stitched palm. ]

[dethangel]

[Toki pets his new horse friend, offering it one of the flowers he'd gathered. He's been strangely jumpy lately, but now that he's been doing super well with making friends with his horse, he's been moving along a little to see if he'll follow, going through the edges of the garden.

He turns, holding another flower out to entice the horse to follow, when he notices another presence. There's another horse, yes, but also another person. Only slightly startled to spot them, because they're a bit of a ways over, Toki offers a friendly wave from where he is.

These dreams have their stressful parts, so it's nice to be able to share a bit where it's just... pleasant. Hanging out with brutal horses. He moves a bit closer, although he's careful not to get too close, knowing how he himself keeps feeling about sudden moves here. So he makes it clear he's approaching, and his own horse follows along looking for more to eat.]

Hi! [he calls.]

A!

[faa]

[ Freddie wakes in the water.

There's a split second in which he seems to have some grace period of buoyancy, and then—it vanishes. He can immediately feel the presence of his wings, heavy and expansive in the full wingspan needed to support an adult man of his height, waterlogged and without any sort of shorebird's water resistance to coat the multitude of thick white feathers. He reflexively starts to paddle upwards with his legs, or tries to—but the water passes through his toes, which feel long and soggy and different, and that's when he realizes that the paddle-like feet of a human being have been exchanged for the long, useless toes and curved talons of a snowy owl. His wings slap against the water, burning with effort as they push against the thick resistance of the cold salty waves, his heart pounding in his chest as he begins to spread his arms in his best effort at a breast stroke with the added difficulties of wings and avian feet.

Something animal takes over. All that matters is keeping his head above water. Continuing to breathe. He doesn't even notice the presence of another at first, or the tall dorsal fin hovering above the lapping waves—not until, heart thudding so hard and fast he feels nauseous, air refusing to return to his lungs, he's managed to find some awkward state of equilibrium in which he's not drowning or sinking.

Then he sees it. Toki. The shark. The shark staring at Toki, like it's about to charge—and his friend seemingly mesmerized, any and all instinct toward self-preservation utterly lost. ]

Toki! Toki, don't make any sudden movements! That thing's getting ready to bite! Can you hear me?

[dethangel]

[At least Toki doesn't have to worry about things like feathers, even the tattered ends of his wings not that big of a deal around here. He's got bigger things to worry about, though.

He hears Freddie, but he's not even thinking that hard about what he's got to say. He hears him, but it's like he's barely processing it, slow, occasional. Part of him is thrilled by the shark. Part of him is thrilled by One's presence. Part of him knows he should get away.]

Do you... do you hear it?

[He doesn't make any sudden movements, at least, only slowly turning his head in the direction he hears Freddie's voice coming from, making no move to escape.]

Do you hear him?