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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Yuji Itadori | Jujutsu Kaisen | Beastkin | Current Player/Character

[cursedvessel]

a; show me those pretty white jaws
(cw: blood, hints of gore)

[Yuji comes to with a gasp and inhales a mouthful of water that he promptly begins coughing up. He's two for two for waking up in bodies of water during these weird dreams and he's beginning to think Sleep must have a thing for drowning people. Once his body stops seizing with coughs and his lungs manage to take in a quick breath of air, he's able to get his bearings.

The soft glowing light draws his attention immediately to the surrounding filaments floating around him. There are so many and they seem to stretch out into the distance. He's hesitant to touch them at first, expecting a trick of some kind. Do they sting? But the longer he looks at one, the more it draws him in. Showing him things. Images of cherished faces, people he misses so deeply it causes an ache in his chest to see them. He reaches out, grasping for one of the tendrils, Yuji is standing with two other teens and a blindfolded man. He's arguing with a brunette girl over the virtues of hamburger steak over sushi while the blindfolded man laughs and the dark haired boy frowns at all of them.

Yuji reaches for another tendril - The same brunette haired girl, an uncharacteristic soft smile on her face. She's patting the head of a little boy in Yuji's arms. "If I had died or had been the only one to live, the future wouldn't be so bright."

Another - A dark haired boy, Megumi, stands before him. "That's why I never regretted saving you. Not for a moment." Yuji smiles as strange markings recede from his face. Blood drips from his mouth as he staggers, a gaping hole torn through his chest. "Fushiguro...live a long life, okay?"

The tendrils are tangling around him, some attaching to his arms, others to his legs. But he's too caught up in remembering to notice as they begin pulling him down.]

b; watching me with eyes of a predator

[Being in St. Patrick's cathedral does nothing but remind Yuji of how horrible the past month has been, and that the worst of it had happened in this very place, on that very altar. Or the real world version at least. He's eager to break out into the gardens and put as much distance between him and that building as possible. And that's when his luck begins to look up.

While the sight of the Nightmares would be startling or disturbing to many, Yuji looks delighted to see them. With his senses as a Beastkin he's able to reach out and brush against their thoughts, determining which ones would be the easier to get along with. And pinpoint the troublemakers.

He takes it upon himself to observe others as they try to make friends with their new steeds. And he's not shy about giving suggestions.]

I wouldn't. Trying to sneak up behind him is only going to get you kicked in the face.

[Perhaps you found something in the garden you're trying to use as an offering?]

She hates those. Try some hydrangeas instead.

c; where the delicate stops

[The world is collapsing. Roads rip up and tear away, water floods and in an instance dissipates. Nothing feels real except for the pounding of his heart, beating straight into his eardrums, the feel of the Nightmare beneath him galloping as hard as she can, and the creeping presence of Her causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise like hackles. A portent of doom if he's ever felt one.

He has so many close calls, a flying truck nearly knocking him off his mount, a blockage in the path nearly sending his mare toppling. But somehow they manage to remain on the path. His chest squeezes as he watches other Nightmares who aren't so lucky unravel in an instant. But there's still the riders to worry about. With a quick thought his mount swerves to the side, bringing him closer to someone who is now stuck on foot. He stretches out a hand to them.]

Grab on!

d; wildcard

[The choose your own adventure option! If you would like to plot something PM this journal or ping me at NearTheHeart]

b!

[inverseye]

Wrong.

[ Yuuji's helpful suggestions meet stony faced resistance. Saheon turns from where he's been reluctantly patting the nose of a nightmare, holding a garland of vines and flowers just out of the creatures reach. It snorts at him in clear irritation. Please Yuuji....save it!]

You can't just give them what they want. They won't respect you. [ Clearly like with all ruminants, there is a hierarchy in this herd, and Saheon is dammed if he's going to be ranked lower then something without thumbs. He will be top dog... horse... nightmare! ]

This moron just doesn't know what's good for her. She's going to con every sucker she meets, and then you'll be so fat you can't even get across the hollow, won't you?

[ If a horse could roll its eyes, this one would make an attempt. ]

[cursedvessel]

[He observes the poor nightmare's posture, the straining for the garland of flowers hanging just out of reach. He can practically feel the creature's frustration rolling off it in waves.

The look he eventually turns to Saheon is unimpressed.]

You need to build trust first, before you worry about respect. This one is about a minute away from taking a chunk of your hand instead.

[inverseye]

Been there, dodged that.

[ He waves a scabbing mark on his hand in Yuuji's direction. Soneyo...you are a nasty girl aren't you Sonyeo? Saheon doesn't like you at all, even if you act cute with strangers!

He wiggles the garland of flowers one last time, before tossing it at the pink haired boys direction. ]

Catch, kid. Put your money where your mouth is.

[cursedvessel]

[He catches the garland purely on reflex, looks at it for a moment, and then back at Saheon.]

You want me to tame it for you or something? I don't think that's how this works.

[But he approaches the nightmare with a quiet assurance and holds the garland out right in front of it in a silent offering.]

Here ya go.

[inverseye]

Ugh, why are you so picky?

[ Saheon puts his own hands up with a sigh. Kids these days! So ungreatful. ]

You don't like how I'm doing it, so show you know how its done.

[ The nightmare meanwhile, seems very pleased! The enormous beast pushes closer with excitement. She leans her big head forward, easily taking this garland by the end and starting to chew.

Om nom nom. She's pulling Yuuji closer. Om nom nom. Her mouth is getting close to his hands! ]

b

[beaffrayed]

[ In this dream, Fray is once again weightless, near-unbound. His edges trail off into shadow, his footsteps are light; he seems almost like a Nightmare himself.

Not that it makes it much easier on him.

He pauses in the midst of offering a bouquet of purple flowers, some kind of vaguely mountainous plant that recalls the slopes of Coerthas to him - and while the Nightmare certainly seems interested, the beast is eyeing his fingers more than the blooms in his hands. ]

In truth, I've never been much interested in beasts you can ride -- nor flowers. [ His tone is a little wry, a little rueful. Look, these sorts of beasts were for rich people... and besides, this isn't a good, honest chocobo. Those birds ate sensible things, like vegetables. ]

I'll gladly give over what she wants, if I knew what a hydrangea looked like.

[ Help him out, Yuji... ]

[cursedvessel]

[The thing is, Yuji would be just as clueless on these matters as Fray if it wasn't for his Beastkin abilities giving him a bit of a cheat sheet to go off of. He's never even seen a normal horse in person before. Not that he thinks regular horse knowledge would help all that much with the nightmares.]

Oh, well they have big petals that come in a bunch of different colors.

[Is he trying to describe the flower based on the vague images of them in the nightmare's memory? Yes, yes he is. He's not a flower guy either.]

I can help you look? There's so many flowers and plants around here, there's got to be some.

[beaffrayed]

[ They are united in Not Having Seen Horses Before, then. ]

May as well. Quickest done, soonest over, eh?

[ The Nightmare watches him in amusement as Fray begins to hunt about, looking for hydrangeas on that vague description, gathering ones he thinks she might like. She makes no move to help, though she doesn't hinder him either.

From time to time as they search, he does glance at Yuji, as if checking on him. Concern pulses through the Murmur, faint but ever-present. ]

[cursedvessel]

[Yuji is diligent in his search, but also makes it a point to pluck random flowers or plants that he thinks the other mares would like as well. And every once in a while he'll hold one of his finds out to Fray's mare for inspection.]

Not these either?

[Why is picking flowers so difficult? He's taken exams that took less effort.

While Yuji might be oblivious to the looks, he can definitely feel the concern pulsing through their tether. The sensation still feels strange and new to him, despite it feeling similar to the tethers he's made with his animals. But somehow those connections don't feel so personal as being connected to another person. Should he just pretend he doesn't feel anything? However, feeling Fray's concern only makes him concerned for the other man. It can't hurt to just...ask, right?]

Hey. Are you feeling okay? Seems like you have something on your mind.

a

[trashblaze]

[ This is not something Caelus ever expected. No, more precisely, this is something Caelus wished would never be. He cares deeply for the future, and he's especially empathic towards the future of those younger than him. Megumi is such a lonely child, and Caelus is so relieved to know that someone so bright and cheerful like Yuji is there by his side. Those two belong together.

So, what is this?

"Fushiguro… live a long life, okay?"

Those words aren't even addressed to Caelus, but they still pierced right through him as if they were. If they weren't weightless underwater, his knees would've given in and dropped to the floor entirely. As it is, his golden pair of eyes is open widely, frozen as he fails to process the memory he witnessed. Through the Murmur, he calls out his name. ]

Yuji!!

[ No, he shouldn't give up hope yet. He doesn't have the full context of that memory. But even if he did, Yuji is clearly right there. Sinking, but right there. Without wasting any more time, Caelus swims forward and tries to reach out to him. ]

[cursedvessel]

[Yuji floats weightless in the water, his gaze entranced by the filaments wrapping around his limbs. Visions of familiar faces flood his mind, tugging him deeper into memory. He doesn't seem to notice his surroundings or Caelus' presence until the man calls out to him.

He blinks and his body jolts in surprise, as if just noticing how entangled he's become. His eyes search blearily through the dark water before finding and settling on Caelus.

Knowing that trying to speak would be pointless, he reaches through the Murmur.]

Caelus. What's...going on?

[Yuji reaches out to him instinctively, catching his hand.]

[trashblaze]

[ When Yuji reaches out, Caelus is quick to grasp that outstretched hand once he finally arrives by his side. He attempts to pry the luminescent tendrils off, but it's futile to. Every time he manages to remove two or three, more and more reach up to keep wrapping themselves around the younger man. ]

I… I don't know. But we're surely within Sleep's dream again… Hold on, Yuji. I'll get you out of there!

[ Without letting Yuji's hand go, Caelus swims the opposite direction in a determined attempt to pull the younger one along. But despite the trailblazer's immense physical strength, it's still so difficult to actually pull. The glowing threads are clearly not going to give him up. ]

It's no good. We should try something else. This might be connected to what we saw just now…

[cursedvessel]

[Yuji tries to help unentangle himself, but his efforts prove futile as more filaments replace those that he manages to pull off. Attempting to swim away also proves difficult with the filaments weighing him down. No, not just that.]

I think they're pulling me down! Caelus, you should let go.

[He doesn't want to put the man in danger because he had been stupid enough to let himself be caught.]

c.

[hallowedly]

( This — the maelstrom, the gravitational inversion, the polite expulsion of all street lights like uprooted mandrakes, the slate and sooty skies, the howling of asphalt ruptured — is all... a little much, isn't it?

Far from Seishirou to contest the dramatic flair of their latest apocalyptic fumble, but the fluttering state of his ceremonial robes and kitsune mask have reduced the practicality of a sensible retreat to a midsummer dream of napalm and road shrapnel.

Noble steed abandoned, skies wailing, what's an exasperated, still water-drenched illusionist by blood to do but accept the first cordially extended hand, sling a leg over (through?) the wispy deformity of the nightmare horse and assume his seat behind Itadori Yuji, knight extraordinaire? )

I can only hope your ride fares are reasonable. ( Come destructive hell and having just escaped high water, grandpa's puns will always still betray him. )

[cursedvessel]

[It's through sheer force of will, strength, and no small favor to the steadiness of the nightmare below them, that Yuji manages to pull Seishirou up without toppling one or both of them. A sure win considering this is his first time riding a horse of any kind. Lacking any kind of saddle he's forced to cling to the mare with his knees and hope for the best. He can only hope his new passenger will be able to manage the same.

The ceremonial robes and mask have done a good job in disguising the man, and it isn't until he speaks that Yuji is struck by familiarity. Despite the tense situation they're in, the joke draws out a chuckle. His own 'mask', a thin black blindfold, is currently pulled down around his neck.]

No charge. So long as we make it to the other side.

[He doesn't want to think about what kind of cost Sleep would extract if they didn't make it out in time.]

What's with the robes?

[Seishirou had never struck him as the super traditional type.]

[hallowedly]

( Crisp, clear, 'never you mind': ) Laundry day.

( Really, who raised this child?

(Grandfather, he knows. A distinguished gentleman with apparently no gilded touch for the rearing of well domesticated, dutiful and gentle-minded children. He should be embarrassed. Seishirou faintly wishes he could be transported to the appropriate time and space coordinates to kick him down a strategically situated set of steps. )

One does not ask why a distressed stranger arrives all but in their lap in mockingly ceremonial garb of his enemy's people. One takes it, like Seishirou has, that Sleep's beastly sense of homour is in dire need of criminally minded correction.

Barring Seishirou's deplorable riding posture, as his kariginu layers bloom and wilt in their path, there's nothing a scalpel can't fix. )

What's with the equine Ferrari? ( Maybe there's some benefit to Itadori Yuuji's penchant for rallying singing animal sidekicks, after all. ) Most dispersed.

[cursedvessel]

[Yuji shrugs off the clearly unserious response and chalks it up to more of Sleep's shenanigans. This being a dream, maybe he should be surprised that more people aren't appearing in crazy looks. Would he be able to control something like that? Not now, clearly. But it's something to think about for the next dream.]

She and I have become good friends. [One of his hands reaches out to smooth the side of her shadowy neck.] And...I may have offered her all the treats she could want if we make it out.

[One thing about his new companion, she's deeply motivated by food. Not unlike himself.]

a.

[gimu]

[ Like blood in the water, choso can almost taste it. It mingles with the phantom idea of tomato sauce and pasta, something salty and possibly savoury, sweet in a way he cannot place. Bitter in ways he knows down to his bones. He cannot swim, can only flail ungainly and undignified in this endless black expanse, but still he tries to follow the scent. The irresistible pull in his breastbone leads him into the abyss, trailing filaments tangled 'round his limbs like chains. For a long moment, it feels like he hasn't moved at all.

But there, his hand closes over something in the blackness, and suddenly he is blinded. He sees again an empty basement, unfurnished and unoccupied save for the three of them. Eso and Kechizu look at him, their mouths stretched and eyes crinkled in the things called smiles. This is what joy and love looked like: three brothers together as one in limbo and now in the waking world. It is beautiful, but it is not what he is looking for. He lets go of the bright filament with a regret that burrows deep.

Where is it? Where is that presence, that sensation? Something greater than cursed energy, something more than just a hunch, where?

Gritting his teeth, choso reaches out, hand thrusting out into the dark in hopes of grasping... something. Anything. Anything but nothing. ]

[cursedvessel]

[A number of filaments have wrapped around his wrists and arms, drawing him downwards so slowly he can barely tell. With no surface in sight it's impossible to tell how deep he's gone or if he's moved at all. But he's not focused on that at all.

His hands reach out, trying to draw another of the filaments to himself. What will it show him? Who will it show him? He's filled with a longing for the loved ones he hasn't seen in months. He reaches and grabs - not a filament. Something warmer and fleshy and alive. A...hand?

His eyes widen as a familiar appearance begins taking form, the glow of the filaments casting the only light in the water. He could almost mistake him for another illusion, if it wasn't for the fact he could feel him in his grip.]

Choso?

[His lips move soundlessly, forming his brother's name as he projects his 'voice' through the Murmur.]

[gimu]

[ From out of the dark materializes choso, mouth open beneath his mask on a name that the black water consumes in a stream of bubbles. Yet, despite this, it still comes through clarion bright when he gasps a relieved and confused: ]

Yuji!

[ The filaments still glow bright, the darkness still yawns around them, but the hand around choso’s is solid and real. He grips at it, wrist twisting so that he may clasp Yuji’s hand in turn, and oh is his grip tight. ]

Are you okay?!

[cursedvessel]

[A moment passes before he responds. A rare moment of stunned silence from Yuji, who can only wordlessly study the man's appearance, mainly his mask, as he's overwhelmed with feelings of relief and happiness. His own 'mask', a thin black blindfold, has already been abandoned, and hangs around his neck. He grips Choso's hand with equal vigor, partially afraid that he might float away if he let go.]

I'm fine. Or as fine as I can be in one of these dreams. What about you? Have you...seen anything?

a

[commitments]

[ Again... Water. Sleep wants them to feel at home, but through drowning? Adolphe curls up in this vast space as bubbles float in his lungs—it's a familiar feeling, one he hates, and he considers to close his eyes much like he did before he arrived here. It's comforts of the dark, even if the filaments light up the space and shine past his eyelids.

They can wrap around him if they want. He just wants to sleep a dreamless slumber, but his eyelids flicker when he senses another presence... He takes in sights not his and wonders if this is mourning of simpler times, at least some of them. Quickly, he shakes off the tendrils that circle him and grabs Yuji's wrist before he goes too far under if that's possible in the space. ]

This is a dream, but that doesn't mean you can doze off like that.

[ The murmur delivers his voice, hypocritical words from the man who was going to try sleeping and letting whatever happen. ]

[cursedvessel]

[Yuji blinks slowly, like he's coming out of a dream. Where once he saw familiar faces and cherished memories, now it's dark waters and the weight of a hand tugging his wrist. That's right, this is just a dream.]

Thanks. I could've been in big trouble without you.

[The onslaught of memory had happened so fast, he hadn't even felt himself sinking.]

Did you...see all that?

[Maybe he should be used to having his thoughts and emotions on display for others by now. But he's not, and he doesn't believe he'll ever be comfortable with it.]

[commitments]

Don't thank me. We're probably going to run into more trouble, anyway.

[ Regardless of what he did, Sleep is going to make it worse for them, he's sure. While there's nothing to leverage him, he uses force to pull Yuji up and over. Enjoy floating aimlessly above, even though the tendrils are slowly following him. ]

... Yeah, sorry. [ No reason to lie, but... ] You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to. You didn't get a choice.

[ The filaments threaten them with their soft light, glimmering brighter again. ]