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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[cantilevers]

[He could focus his attention on her, not the bloodlust that otherwise might have dictated his life through rigorous torment. He wasn't aware of the difference, but he was currently calmer as he had been in his final days before even that tormented life as he had known it would come to an abrupt and agonizing end.

His elongated ears flicked forward, and his body relaxed as she closed the distance between them. He bowed his head, allowing their foreheads to touch and the coolness of the luminescent finger prints were a contrast to his body which ran hotter than normal. He shifted his weight and wrapped his fully fleshed arm around her protectively.

Her words made no sense to him as he had no idea where 'here' was or how he had ended up in this place. He grunted noncommittally, and he at least recognized this was not the first time that she had been looking for him.

The brief chase at that prison full of blood. The abandoned mines shafts. Now this place with the horses. And long, long, long ago, her chasing him around tables in a faraway place. A different time. A different body.

He nudged their foreheads lightly before turning his head to regard the horses grazing around them except that one massive mare who was staring. He gestured with his head, as if his daughter would know what it was that they were meant to do here.]

[opheliac]

[ she follows his gesture and spots the largest horse gaping at the two of them. but before jinx could come up with an assumption, the mare's pupils shadowed over, and something sharp punctured the side of jinx's temple. the pain catches her a bit off-balance, her palm pressing flat on his chest to keep herself steady. there's something trying to enter within her mind, which she is used to, but this feels... more forced and spiky.

with her eyes shut tight, she winces and blindly fishes in her back pockets for her blindfold. her fingers work clumsily to fasten it over her eyes, but when it's secured, his daughter tucks herself inside her father's arm. ]

Okay...okay... [ she mutters to herself, taking deep breaths while small images of herself flutter in her mind. except... the images are of how powder would have looked like. ]

[cantilevers]

[He shifted his weight, glancing back over at the massive mare that was watching keenly before immediately turning his attention back to his daughter. He moved closer, his arm tightening in a protective gesture as if he sensed the discomfort of the connection of memory perception granted by the mare.

A human hand reaching out in the mind's eye to stroke Powder's crying cheek. A caress. A comfort. It repeated over and over, trying to wipe away her sadness always.

The beast instead picked up his daughter carefully and moved further away from the grazing herd, shielding her from them with his bulk. He rumbled softly in his chest, unable or unwilling to risk stroking at her braided hair and cause damage. He was a source of pain to anyone and everyone that encountered him; it was his purpose and his suffering.]

Don't... go...

[He'd seen and heard the difference in name: Powder or Jinx. Even his other daughter called her by the other name, but he didn't like it. He didn't wish to upset her but also couldn't yet let go of those old impressions and feelings that grounded his humanity.]

[opheliac]

[ it startles her when he scoops her off her feet, but not enough for her to squirm or protest. jinx vaguely remembers this happening to her once before, arthur carrying her away to safety from the monsters while she was having one of her many "episodes".

she never properly showed her gratitude for that day. she said, "thank you," sure, but he risked his life to ensure she got out of there okay, and he deserves way more than just words for having to deal with such a liability.

the throbbing ache that's prolonging on the center of her forehead is subsiding at such a snail's pace, but she pats her hands against her father's enormous chest to give him some reassurance. ]

No, go. [ she answers, still unclear if he is able to comprehend long, fluent sentences or if it'd be simpler for him to speak in broken parts. but, just to be safe, jinx does the latter. ]

— Looking hurts.

[ she clarifies when she stretches out her arm, pointing loosely to the mares without turning towards their direction. but then she gestures to her blindfold. ]

This helps, maybe? [ his daughter doesn't know for sure if it will, but looking directly at the horses seem to jab visions in her brain it seems. ]

[cantilevers]

[He would protect her, even if it meant chasing, rending and killing the reason that they were clearly here in the field. It didn't matter to him as long as she was safe, though a part of him wondered if these horses even could bleed or if they would evaporate to shadow.

His heterochromic gaze flicked over his shoulder to view them as they returned to their grazing except the one mare who was still watching them. He growled and turned his back on her again, holding Jinx close as he rumbled softly to acknowledge her disjointed simplified speech.

They did that sometimes. Treated him like he was an animal with low intelligence for understanding speech, and he didn't mind. He looked the part, and more often than not, he saw no point speaking in the first place. Normally they were chatter at him, except the littlest one. She was mostly silent he understood. He didn't feel the urge to ask about her.

If looking hurt, he would block the view. Pain was a natural order of things, a constant war waged within. He did not wish for her to suffer the same.]

Maybe.

[opheliac]

[ she smiles up at him, then scuttles to inspect the little garden, keeping her head low for good measure despite feeling the horses' gaze intensifying on her. jinx crouches down to feel the grass and then takes it upon herself to lie on top of it, exhaling out a much-needed sigh. ]

No grass where I've been. [ she tells her father, in case he's curious as to why she is relishing over the feel of it. ] ... It's hard to find food, too. The city is very empty.

[ the way she is describing manhattan can easily be mistaken for zaun, and in some ways, the two towns do have a few things in common. manhattan has way nicer homes than zaun, but zaun's cuisines are far more delicious. and who knew she would miss hearing those creaky and leaky pipes at night? ]

[cantilevers]

[He released her without complaint, watching her move off towards the grass. He rose onto all fours and followed at a sedate pace as his daughter lounged in the grass, eying the horses to be certain he didn't need to chase them off further afield.

There was limited grass in Zaun; the commune was one of the few places it seemed sustained anyway. He seated himself down as a seemingly normal man might, his hindlegs sticking out awkwardly. He was still learning the bipedal walking skills on these legs.]

Hunt? [If he could arrive there, he could make certain that she was fed. There was no creature with a source of blood that could escape him. It was a more refined skill these days too.] Fish?

[opheliac]

[ the way he sits is... adorable, but she keeps it to herself, not wanting to discourage him or offend him. she can't imagine becoming what he is, but she can relate how it must have felt—signed isn't exactly a doctor who uses his hands delicately. his daughter smiles at the suggestion, but it's short and weak. ]

Yyyyeah, about that, big guy, just about every smorgasbord out there is spoiled or rotten to the core. [ the crow rolls on the lawn, lying on her back as she gazes up to their ceiling. ] But I hold my nose and chow it down anyway. Think I'm getting immune to my own puke.

[cantilevers]

[For all that he had been through, the Doctor was a manifestation that he could not act against. There was some hope that the old man would not be here to disrupt things, though he recalled that final approach like a calm master closing the distance to assure him. The commune screaming inhumanly and just the two of them together...

He grunted at the information, and it was unlikely to make him sick. He had eaten fresh and rot to sustain himself, though Chem-tech allowed him fewer calories necessary to maintain himself.] Why? [It seemed to mean that everything was dead, but that was different from empty.

He wondered about this 'Manratten' place. Would he end up there? Maybe they should eat the horses here then.] Plants gone?

[opheliac]

[ a snort bubbles in her throat and she stretches over to grab one of her braids, twirling it nonchalantly like it's her own personal cane. ]

Oh, there are plants, but good luck finding one that isn't poisonous. Been there, done that, wouldn't recommend it.

[ jinx slants her head to take a quick gander of her father's monstrous physique. ]

You could probably take it, though.

[cantilevers]

[That sounded much like Zaun, especially in the lower levels. There were plants closer to the surface, but they were harsh and resilient, much like the people that lived there. Most people did not, as a rule, have the benefit of fruits and vegetables fresh; canned and dried was a novelty and worth every cent.

That they would have to avoid plant life beyond this place did not particular bother him. He had been fed fruits at the commune like everyone else, but he had craved meat and blood equally even then. He just hadn't been allowed to leave to hunt, and he couldn't guarantee he would come back if he had.

He flexed his mechanical claws and dug them into the grass, growling an acknowledgement to her. As far as he could tell, he couldn't die or at least it would take more that toxic food.]

I feed you.

[opheliac]

[ she chuckles, not in a mocking way but appreciative. jinx scoots closer and reached over to clench his giant finger that takes up her entire hand to grip almost. ]

Heh, yeah? You'd hunt for me? [ she can imagine it, vander prowling at night to kill whatever hosts that seems edible enough and then carrying it home for the two of them to fest over. but then, a thought crashes through her mind. ] — Whaaat about fire? Does that still upset you? Be tough to cook if it still makes you all jumpy.

[cantilevers]

[He bobbed his head in agreement to confirm that he would range far and wide if he had to in order to provide for his daughter. He let her have his finger without complaint, even moving it within her grip and splayed the others to not impede her fingers surrounding the one digit.

He rumbled regarding her question about fire. It had not been the fire itself that bothered him, but the combination of metal on metal and the sizzle of that heat in water. For many years he associated such noises with his 'transformation' process at the hands of the doctor. More and more and more pain, pushing him to his limits, experiments to ascertain his regenerative abilities.

He shifted where he sat so he could rest his chin on the top of her head.] Fire okay. No... sizzle?

[opheliac]

[ she hums sweetly to him, her thumb grazing lovingly against his single digit. ] No sizzle.

[ her tone is quiet suddenly; a flood of sorrow bursts to life in her heart, and she tries to distract herself by keeping her stare on how green the weeds are. for a quiet moment, her tongue runs dry, and she sucks in her lips as a way to prevent herself from saying something stupid or to bring more worry for vander. but then, she decides at the last second to open up. ]

I don't want to go back. [ she silently admits, her voice wavering. ] I don't want to go back without you...

[cantilevers]

[He sensed her sadness whether by virtue of the dream world that they happened to be trapped in or the aura that she happened to release due to their closeness. Either way, he crooned softly even before she had spoken as a manner to try to soothe her; where was the confident young woman bursting through the glass to defend him?

He lifted his head to stare down at her with his two different coloured eyes. He flicked an elongated ear as he listened to the nightmare herd grazing closer to them; with her blindfold on, she was protected.]

Daughter. You go, I go. [He growled it out like a promise, a commitment on his part to not leave her alone. It felt good to be wanted, to be needed, even despite what he was and how dangerous he could be to her and those close to her.

She made him feel less like an abomination. Just a father again.]

[opheliac]

[ she takes a deep breath, trying to keep her thoughts from spiraling off to "what ifs." what if they wake up and he won't be there? is it selfish of her for wanting vander in manhattan where he could get hurt, tortured, or killed? does that make her a bad person? was she ever a good person to begin with? ... what if he dies because of her again?

his daughter exhales a sigh, then counts backwards in a whisper, tightening her grip on his finger/claw to remain in the here and now. ]

I'm so tired, Vander. I don't think I have any fight left in me. Crazy, right? The Loose Cannon's screws and bolts are finally rusted out and falling apart.

[cantilevers]

[Sensing the disquiet of her thoughts, he shifted closer, leaning his bulky shoulder over her like a protective ledge. He had no idea where he was now let alone where he might end up, but it wasn't the commune and she was familiar so he opted to stay here with her. She had pursued him, taken opportunity to fight for him and tug bits and pieces of who he had been to the surface.

He could not easily repay that kindness except with being close, protecting her. He was, in the end, still wanting that feeling of being a father to her.

He chuffed softly at her admittance, and it did seem true based on chatter he overheard or was at the periphery of that she had been subjected to a lot of fighting, internal and external.] What... you want?

[opheliac]

[ her brows fling up at the question, interpreting it way deeper than it's probably intended. she forces a laugh past her lips as her gaze drifts somewhere else—her fingernails racking awkwardly along her forearm. ]

Yikes, really trying to dig into me, huh, Hairball?

[ she joking clearly and trying to make the question not so heavy. ] I.. I don't know what I want. Nice crap? A time where I'm not being woken up by my own screams?

[cantilevers]

[He watched her without comment as she needed to recover from his question. It seemed no one had asked her such things or perhaps she hadn't had reason to provide an honest answer to most of them.

Yet, he flicked an elongated ear at her for calling him hairball. She was hilarious.

Instead, he lay his head down on the grass next to her own and rumbled softly in understanding. The only sleep that had been 'okay' had been when the Herald had forced his mind to rest.]

Snuggles? [Would that help? Make no difference?]

[opheliac]

Heh, what? With you? [ it almost comes out as a disgusted remark, but it's the smile on her face that pivots the energy in an entirely different direction. ] ... How can a girl resist?

[ and with that, jinx shimmies closer to her father and tucks herself into his large body. ]

You think the four-legged ponies will leave us alone enough for this?

[cantilevers]

[Well, he would state he was warm at least, but it seemed pointless when she pressed close to him often and surely would know. He rumbled and shifted and lay more in the grass on his side carefully to not disrupt the attachments on his back or the piping inserted in his sides.]

No bad dreams here.

[A half-truth. They had no idea, but both of them were rather prone to nightmares. Perhaps the presence of the shadowy horses would assist in chasing away the overactive mind offering only horrors?]

No. [That one massive mare was grazing nearby, but she had been eyeing him since he had first lay down.]

[opheliac]

[ she hums for a moment, her mind whirling in thought before her lips curl into an impish leer. ]

How's this for a plan, big boy? They bother us, and you give them a sweet "hello" with your teeth? Sounds pretty fair if ya ask me.

[cantilevers]

[He slowly lifted his head from where it rested near her own to peer at the herd, considering the value of rising and chasing them further away. Their circulatory systems were different, but he would tear them apart if it meant Powder's safety.

His claws dug into the grass before his muscles rippled as he pushed himself up and for a moment his blue-yellow eyes flickered red.]

I go.

[opheliac]

[ perplexity wears evidently over her face until it drains and molds into fear. she knows that look, the color of those crimson eyes; jinx had seen it when they combated in still water and another time within the mines with her sister and her little one. without a second thought, his daughter scrambles to her feet—her hands up with fingers spread wide in attempt to stop him in place and to not take another step further. ]

Woah, woah, wait...! [ she croaks, waving her hands dramatically to draw his attention down to her and not the mares. ] Vander, no. Stay. They're not hurting us now, so don't hurt them. Only when they do, okay?

[ maybe that was her own fault for not being clearer, but it would be luck to accidentally cause a blood bath. ]

[cantilevers]

[He rumbled out a growl as she rose, eyes flicking from the nightmares to Jinx to determine if she was immediately in danger. Her wish for him to stand down with hands and words earned a curl of his lip to reveal his sharp jagged teeth, and he moved to walk around Jinx.

However, he stopped at the word stay, twitching and clawing at the grass. He would chase them and kill them, regardless of their strange circulatory systems that were varied and distorted. He should. He felt it. Yet, he stayed.

He shot the nightmares another murderous look before he turned his head and buried his forehead against his daughter's chest, ears flicking.]

Spoilsport.