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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Baek Saheon | GDCG | Current Player!

[inverseye]

a). JAWS

[ The dark water is as cloying and choking as it was the last time it took them. Back then, Saheon hadn’t known where he drifted in this alien sea, but now the stakes are clear. This is a dream. They’re all going to die in it, but he’ll wake up when it's over.

Maybe... Probably...

The filaments around Saheon are frayed and greying, many have long lost their moonlit luster and now only drift aimlessly. The few that remain are wound tight, tangled around every limb so struggle is near impossible. It hasn’t stopped Saheon from trying, his form malleable enough in this dream to find a webbed claw where a hand should be. He reaches out with that monstrous hand, holding tight around a cord that should have long since been severed.

It’s like touching a live wire, but instead of pain, it’s warm without warmth, like the brightest possible second could be distilled. It’s like grabbing the concept of honey, of new-fallen snow, of roasted pine nuts, chestnuts and cinnamon. Like the last hug his sister ever gave him.

Saheon retracts his hand with a hiss. ]

It won’t go away.

b). EYES

[The hallways of the cathedral are vast, yet claustrophobically familiar. All a dream of course. They haven't actually returned to the events of that night in all it's bloody, wonderful glory. Despite constant repetition of that stubborn mantra, Saheon can't help but rub his wrist as he wanders the halls alone, keeping up a steady pace even as the light shining down makes his body feel hot and unstable.

It's wrong. Saheon pauses, trying to focus on his hands, which waver in his vision like they're as intangible as smoke. Something is wrong. He groans again, looking up at the stained glass itself to try and find the cause- ]

Ow!

[ He has to shrink back, covering his eye with his hand as it waters and smarts. For a moment there, Saheon is certainly he tried staring at the sun, not a simple disk of stained glass. Maybe it's his own fault, trying to stare right at the supernatural after spending so many hours in the dark water.

But hold on... doesn't he hear someone? Saheon reaches a hand out to beckon or capture the passerby, even as the other still rubs his watering eye. ]

Hey, sir. Miss? Hold on a second. Can you give me a lift?

c). PREDATOR

No! Absolutely not.

[ In a corner of the cathedral's dark garden, a river-stone path wanders off into a tiny wooded glade. A small ornamental stream burbles by a few well tended patches of flowers, currently crushed underfoot by man and horse, clearly in the midst of an intense argument. Or… it’s at least an argument on Saheon’s side. All that can be heard from the other is the odd snort and whinny.

Saheon stands with his arms crossed. In the realm of the dream, he's once again dressed in his usual suit and tie, with no caprinae traits but the goat mask on his face. He's totally dwarfed by the massive Nightmare in front of him, sixteen hands at least and a beach bone grey in color. It paws at the earth between them, turning more flowers into mulch. The white points of its skull push up between empty eyes, but it turns to you as you approach, lowering its head with a quiver of its massive lip and sharp teeth that almost seems… beseeching? ]

I won't give you what you want, so you’re switching sides? [ Behind it, the one eyed man waves his hands in irritation. ]

WILD(card!)

[ Hit me with whatever you’ve got. If you’d like to plot something specific, please PM or message me at blueseawitch ]

predat(e your horse)or

[hallowedly]

( The second one-eyed man is, meanwhile, a vision of heavenly patience, benevolence and radioactive smiles, content to right the numerous wrongs inflicted on this one dainty horse. The kitsune mask is evidently here to adjudicate in the name of the thespian animal kingdom.

And the horse is a fine creature, as beasts of enormity go, prepared to embark on either a gentle afternoon saunter, or a fire-eating gallop to the end of the world, mood depending. Seishirou, who has been battling the better part of a nightmarish eternity in the throes of his ceremonial robes, attempted drowning and far too literal Cathedral-given questions over his public image, can't bring himself to complain.

He thinks, one man at the crepuscular frontier of the cloister garden's world, to ignore the sad sight before him completely. Let each man turns his reins to noose and hang himself accordingly. But then, the shrill muttering betrays itself, the horse reviles the hand intent to feed it, and Seishirou finds himself as the third wheel destined to be sidelined at the end of a star-crossed romance between Saheon and furry companion.

In the end, steps staggered, he holds two fingers before the mare, signaling he comes in either peace or resigned martyrdom — and lo, the horse leans in to scent. )

She has good taste in men.

[inverseye]

[ They're no longer lingering under the transformative light of the cathedral, but Saheon is sure that mask is winking at him, with the same smug fox-like expression he's sure the man beneath is wearing like a mask. Of all the people to run into in this dream... It would be Seishirou, wouldn't it? Lady Luck never bestows any favors upon him, the ragged old hag.

His body language shifts, head lowered, shoulders closer to his ears, arms by his sides, but Saheon keeps his composure intact, taking the time to roll his singular eye at a line straight out of a joseon courtesan drama, or worse. ]

Is this a competition now? I'll give you the win, sir. [ Please spare him from university level machismo. Saheon is very comfortable being on the bottom rungs of personality, and he only cares about his appearance on the rare chance it could get him something. ]

I'm not giving this thing what it wants, and that's final.

[ See, he's so ungrateful? The nightmare leans over, the massive head moving like a pendulum, back and forth, as the blind beast scents a new victim. That massive white head shifts near Seishirou's own, regarding him if not with vision, then some other sense. As delicately as a noble countess taking a ring from a suitor, the horse muzzles over Seishirou's extended hand, taking it gingerly between those razor sharp fangs.

She does have good taste in men. ...Seishirou does not need all his fingers, surely? He could spare one or three. ]

[hallowedly]

( He's won without contest or abeyance, without minimal effort or intrigue. He's won for showing up.

Truly, only Sakurazuka Seishirou and ambitious kindergarteners have it this well. And he's hardly put off by the tawdry turbulence of the horse's sudden appetites, fingers spidering in her mouth, tapping her teeth, searching them for gold.

Trojan creatures, Trojan gifts. She threatens to snap — his hand withdraws, patience ossified, while she weans herself of disappointment with a hefty whicker, gaze wild and quixotic.

She might, she supposes, hand dragging to meet its brother behind his back, gallop for him. But then, they're both watching Saheon with abrupt, feverish interest. )

Well, well. It seems I can't hope to compare, after all. The heart wants what the heart wants.

( a )

[offseers]

Let me take a look.

[ maybe lucky seven could cut it free? though saheon does have an issue with swords. still, it's the least noah could do to help. right now, they all need to help each other. otherwise . . . they won't get very far. ]

[inverseye]

Be my guest.

[ Saheon gives a shrug, holding out his wrists as best as he can. Noah is such a nice kid... helping a guy sever the last dregs of his humanity. Saheon is as leery of that sword as ever, but Noah seems less deranged then the last time he was swinging it around. ]

...How did you get that out of it's sheath?

[ They're tangled pretty tightly here. Even as Noah might strike out with his sword, there are tendrils everywhere around Saheon, bright or frayed or dying, reaching out towards Noah in an attempt to connect. ]

[offseers]

[ who knows how real such a severing would be? dreams and reality are melded together. and noah doesn't know the significance, he only feels the twistedness around them. hedging them in. ]

This sword is special.

[ the sheath folds itself away, turning into a metal glove that covers noah's arm, revealing a thin rapier-like blade. it's the least ostentious blade a person would see. and yet . . . it seems to hum. ]

It cuts through everything.

( b )

[hongtian]

[ This is neither a place that Ruhong likes nor enjoys being. For all the cathedral's high-vaulted beams and beautiful shimmering colored glass, it is inexorably stained in her mind as a place of evil and grief; a place to worship, if one were such the kind to do so, a kind of darkness that trickles over her skin like the water that still weighs down her clothes and slides beneath her collar like a reminder she cannot shake.

Here One died, and here Ruhong nearly broke. She cannot get out fast enough.

At least that's the plan, anyway, and she might not have seen it through even if she hadn't heard a voice calling out to her. The light, where it lingers beneath the stained-glass mosaics and windows that throw colored prisms across the stone cathedral floors, would have brought Ruhong to a halt one way or another (as it usually does, especially now more than ever), but his voice is even more a binding force for her tracks than the light might have been alone. She avoids his hand but peers close as she approaches, her footsteps echoing as she draws close. ]

A lift... where? Are you all right?

yess

[inverseye]

Something in my eye.

[ His hand pats at nothing, but Saheons vision clears without help. He blinks at the women across from him, but under the light of the stained glass, two people who have never met before are just people. Here stands a man in his mid-twenties, in the proper suit and tie of a working adult. A black ghost mask hangs by his hip, still dripping water and a damp eyepatch has been pulled down around his neck to reveal a pair of mismatched eyes, one green, and the other a violent mess of black and purple. ]

Sorry to disturb you, miss. [ The man smiles, lowering his head in a slight bow. ]

I wanted to see if I could get up to the stained glass to get out of here... but I had a hard time looking at it.

[hongtian]

Could you not walk through the doors?

[ This would, of course, be the obvious answer, had Sleep seen fit to make it so easy. Despite her haste to get away from a place she would rather not be revisiting, Ruhong has nonetheless not yet made it far enough in her attempted escape to actually try the doors herself.

Still, agitation at their circumstances and resulting shortened temper aside, she doesn’t dismiss his request immediately. Ruhong glances up at the window for a brief moment before she looks back at Saheon. Six months ago, she had never laid eyes on a simple suit and tie; now, they have become rather commonplace. Ruhong herself is dressed in multiple layers of rather waterlogged robes, white and gold and sky blue with a red belt around her waist. From that belt hangs the mask at her hip, reptilian and ruby-scaled.

She looks at him, awaiting his answer, and does not at first notice anything too strange about him from where he stands in the rays of colored light. His multicolored eye would be difficult not to notice, though it’s not as though she’s never seen strange eyes before: her own are a red that rival the gems on her mask and the paint on her forehead, and she’s seen still stranger. But something about that black sclera and its central purple ring trigger… well, curiosity. And then a memory. And then another, and then for a moment he flashes in her view, a black-eyed, white-haired vision that is among one of the last things of which Ruhong wants to be reminded in this space.

She starts, jerking almost violently forward, and then—

Nothing. Back to normal. ]

I—pardon. [ Ruhong blinks and puts a hand to her own head, heart hammering. ] I must have seen something in the light. As I imagine you did as well.

b

[trashblaze]

Saheon!

[ That voice is unmistakable. Is it a surprise at this point? Caelus is here yet again. He enters the range of the light, quickly making his way to hold onto Saheon to stabilize and reassure him. The tone in his voice indicates worry, but if that's not obvious enough, then the feeling of their tether will spell it out.

Caelus tries to examine Saheon's condition, but he can't see with the older man blocking his eye like that. The trailblazer allows him to adjust a little longer, then eventually holds onto his hand, gently guiding it away from his eye. ]

Don't rub your eye. It might get irritated. Here, let me help.

[ If it's dust or small particles that got caught in it, Caelus will help out by gently blowing some air onto it to safely remove them. So he leans in, intending to do so. But? How does he look while doing this? ]

last chance to pm me to rewrite this

[inverseye]

Caelus?

[ Saheon looks up when he hears his... when he hears Caelus' voice. Behind the black of his shut eye, he can hear footsteps approaching, and then the firm grip of a hand on his. ]

Hey!

[ Caelus pulls his hand away from his eye before he's good and ready. Saheon shakes his head, opening his mouth to look over and glare, but something abruptly stops him short.

It's not Caelus standing there, holding his wrist. Instead, it's a pretty offering girl with a petite, doll like face. She shares Caelus' hair and eye color, but the similarities end there. A good head shorter then Saheon, with two rounded grey ears sticking out from her messy hair. A black mask puts her eyes in striking contrast, and a black and white ringed tail twitches demurely under the hem of her knee length skirt.

Even the hand holding his is different, small and tipped with dainty black claws. Saheon...is frozen solid. Suffice to say that this is his type... Um. Looking down at where her white blouse is buttoned around her chest, he can definitely say this is his type! ]

Uh... H-hold on...! [ Saheon puts himself up on his tiptoes, pulling back suddenly to get away! He's not ready for a hot crazy chick! Where did his wonderful Caelus go!? ]

Are you-?

It's perfection 👀

[trashblaze]

[ Oh, this is now a Ranma Caelus 1/2 episode, apparently. Caelus doesn't notice the changes right away, but he certainly feels something different. However, since he's more focused on being concerned about Saheon, he doesn't put thought into anything else but his friend. That sudden breezy feeling on his legs? (Losing pants for a skirt will do that.) Completely ignored. His boyish mannerisms stay the same, too. He looks delicate, but his gestures aren't.

The raccoon ears reflexively twitch a few times, curious and worried at the same time as Caelus continues to stare at Saheon. Once again, he leans in way too closely. ]

Hm? Hmm?… Hmmm!?

[ Now that Caelus takes a better look at Saheon, he visibly looks happier? His skin has a good glow, his eye is bright, any stress lines he might've had are gone, his eyebrows don't furrow as much, and he looks even more handsome than usual. Enough to actually make Caelus's eyes grow wide in surprise. ]

Wow, Saheon. Did you eat something nice lately?

[ And of course, can't forget to mention that he's taller… Actually, Saheon has the same height. It's just that Caelus shrank in his current form, which makes him think that Saheon grew taller. ]

A

[sculptedash]

[Ash is in about the same position as Saheon here. There is a part of her that is enjoying sinking down toward the bottom, but she was just a little twisted like that.

She blinks with interest as he grabs onto the tendril only to pull away.]

...Do you want me to take a swing at it?

bleh sorry this is so late i was out sick

[inverseye]

[ If she's enjoying the sensation of drowning, please leave him out! Saheon isn't interested in experiencing this again!

But Ash isn't the worst person he could have drifted near, even if he hasn't forgiven her for Choi's untimely survival from her wonderful sewer suicide mission. ]

Do you have a knife?

[ He twists in the water to extend his hands closer. ]

Or the- The shadow thing?

Don't sweat it! Life has been kind of wild for me.

[sculptedash]

[She can't help it. She kind of has a thing for death and doomed suicide missions.

She considers her options for a moment. Then concentrates to bend the darkness around them. Eventually settling on a flare of shadows shaped like a blade.]

Uh... Do you think this will do the trick?

[And she'll reach out to offer it to him. She hasn't really tried this but it should keep it's shape if she concentrates on it.]

jaws

[dedicate]

[ the more saheon struggles by his lonesome, the further the filaments wrapped around him will pull, sinking him down, down, down. with only the dim light of his own threads to illuminate the space around him, it may come as a surprise when, eventually, it begins to grow brighter again. until finally: ]

Saheon?

[ it isn't through the bubbles and the water that he speaks, but directly to him. hmm, maybe this tether between them does have some use after all? ]

Aigoo, don't tell me you've been struggling this whole time.

[ the 'lol' is kind of audible towards the end. implied, at least. ]

Don't worry, this ace agent is here to help now~ So stay still for a sec, and let's think about it calmly before we act, yeah?

[ according to a certain magical movie, he's learned that you have to relax to get these things to let go of you. or rather, that seems to be what agent choi's been doing, and sure, he's still been captured, but his threads cling to him nowhere near as tightly as saheon's. some give off only a mild glow while others shimmer brilliantly. could be worth hearing him out! ]

[inverseye]

[ Down and down into the dark. It's cold, even if the strands around him burn too warm, an awful contrast. Struggling is at least something to do to escape the constant pressure and fear.

He blinks his eyes in the dark water as another light comes into view. Hardly at the end of a tunnel, it's below him like an anglerfish' lure, the illusion of a savior. He struggles again, harder, like a fox in a trap with only one leg left to knaw through until: ]

H-

[Saheon tries to snap back at the voice in his head on instinct, but the water just fills his lungs and he spits out what feel like an endless stream of bubbles. He can't drown, but it isn't pleasant. ]

And just let them pull me down?

[ Choi was lower then him, so clearly it isn't working! If his bonds are looser, that just proves how weak his attachment to life is, a fact Saheon has easily come to know. ]

No thank you! I'm in my right mind, agent? I don't need to calm down to know I don't want these...things on me.

[dedicate]

[ agh! well, nothing choi can do if saheon's so panicked. the attempted outburst, muffled, and followed by bubbles. of course choi feels a little bad, but the blue of his gaze remains fixed on saheon, his lips still, but curved into a smile. ]

Right, right. And when you enter a disaster, the first thing you do is hit the ground running. If you're fast enough, maybe nothing else will notice all the ruckus you're causing~

[ because, being fair, agent choi might be a bit further down than saheon... but isn't saheon the one who's approaching more quickly? for him to catch up like this, he must be sinking faster—or maybe it took a moment for agent choi to stop doing the same thing as him. whatever the [ ]reason may be, as things are now, saheon will find that the threads are only pulling him closer.

luckily, agent choi isn't so easily dissuaded as to let saheon struggle himself to the bottom here. ]

C'mon, that doesn't sound like the approach of a guy who was up near the top of his batch. You know better, right?

[ he knows saheon has it in him. just needs a little reminding, maybe. ]

Let's figure it out. I have a hunch it'll be easier with two of us.

predator

[commitments]

[ Something drawn him here, whether it's their tether that bound tighter recently or the sound of a strange snort and whinny. He's still armed, as this is a dream, and he's wearing the mask given to him when he was kidnapped here. It still sits weird on him, he thinks, but he focuses on the familiar scene.

How is it familiar— ]

Why are you harassing it?

[ Adolphe instantly assumes it's Saheon's fault. He may also sense that Adolphe is most interested in the mare... ]

[inverseye]

[ Tethers sure are useful! Saheon felt Adolphe coming, he feels that hurtful, wrongful assumption and he feels that Adolphe like the horse more then him~!

Saheon rips the garland out of the mare's reach one last time, turning to instantly toss it in Adolphe's direction. ]

Because it looks like you?

[ Well, it may be white instead of brown, with a shaggy mane and a mishappen eyeless face, but it's got sharp teeth and a terrible personality, so Saheon doesn't think the comparison is that far off.

Said massive creature pauses it's irritated focus on Saheon to turn towards Adolphe. She's very hungry... ]

[commitments]

[ Adolphe is interested in the horse, but the bar isn't high for him possibly liking a creature more than Saheon. We will see.

Instinctively, he catches the garland. ]

I know you only have one eye, but this is sad.

[ Metaphorically shoots him in the knees back, but now looking at what's in his hand when he notices that the Nightmare pivots her attention. He holds it out to show it can be hers, then places some of the garland on the ground because he isn't insane enough to try to feed her by hand.

Regular horses are dangerous already. These can only be worse. ]

b) slides in here because i'm doing the world an injustice to not have these two in this situation

[sorte]

[ the laugh that comes in response is darkly amused and surely as soon as Saheon hears it, he gets why. (to be honest, it might or might not be almost malicious-=sounding from both Saheon's and Aventurine's perspectives, but literally to anyone else including their closest CRs it's just going to sound like a bad villain fufufufu cackle.

honestly, who says you can't shape your reality, your own mind is an incredible cheerleader (or troll, depending.) ]

You really think I'm letting your feet near this coat again after last time when that was just your hands? Also, sometimes I'm your boss these days, meaning you should be giving me lifts, instead.

[ Saheon + water is almost always going to be a forever no bueno combo from Aventurine's point of view. ]

UR RIGHT... i always need aven in my inbox anyway

[inverseye]

You could just say no, sir.

[ The voice is immediately distinctive, even as Saheon massages his remaining ocular socket. Of all the people to be passing by!

...Aventurine's coat was looking a little too clean lately anyway.

Upon opening his eyes however, he only see's Aventurine's familiar gaudy regalia for a second before the light around him bends like a bad reflection in a gas station mirror, leaving behind the shape of a handsome well-dressed executive. ]

Or... er. Director?

<333

[sorte]

[ ...listen, in Sleephattan, Aventurine's coat wears you, don't mess with it...

Oh hey, but you know who looks absolutely fantastic in a regular suit that isn't gaudy as all hell like a peacock's plume spread?

This guy.

Aventurine blinking, turning to look at his reflection in the nearest surface. ]

...Ohh! What's this?

[ i guess he's walking away from Saheon without even offering him any help there to get a better look at himself—yeah he doesn't even offer him that no. ]

No really, what is this? If the first level was what our idea of love is, is this our deepest darkest desires made flesh, maybe?

[ He turns to look over at Saheon again, as if he's testing this theory by getting with a graceful sweep of his arm for the other to a good look at himself. He'll laugh, although it's actually not mean like it usually is when directed at Saheon. Sounds exactly like he finds this situation pretty funny and nothing less and nothing more. ]

Oh, I think we look good together either way, what do you think? [ he winks, gesturing towards Saheon's reflection now, too. Saheon himself is also in a very nice suit and well put together with some really expensive accessories (like a watch that is probably worth more than most people's entire salaries for starters.) Although Saheon probably already wears a suit, he can tell this one is tailored a little different, is a lot more expensive, and it has an IPC insignia pinned to one of his lapels. ]