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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Choso | Jujutsu Kaisen | Bloodmancer | new

[gimu]

a. those pretty white jaws

i.
[ In the airless space between a sweet dream and cold waking, reality shifts in time with the lurch of choso's heavy heart. It is such a gentle thing that he does not notice its creeping until the water is up to his chest; in a quiet perfect glade lit by warm filtered rays of sun, a family picnic becomes submerged beneath water welling from the earth itself. Chairs bob on the surface, the table and its passengers of tureens and six glass containers all taking to the sea as if the tabletop were meant to be a raft after all. A boy with pink hair sitting in the neighboring seat continues on like he hasn't noticed the sudden flood, and as he offers a fork spun 'round with thin pasta, the tide retreats in a soundless rush.

It takes with it the furniture, sweeping away their dinner and the jars to leave four of them standing in an empty glade. But, no, it's only the two of them, this boy and himself; where have Eso and Kechizu gone? No, there is no time to even wonder, because there behind the smiling sunlit boy is a wave, stretching so high it blots out the world, it darkens the sky until the only light remaining is of the boy, shining like an ember in the dark. No time for panic, to even put a word to the sight, for as the titan wave descends over them choso looks up with arms outstretched and

wakes

up.

For a too-long moment, he thinks he has gone blind. The absence of the world aches like a tooth, so total and so complete that he cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot blink, cannot even dare to think a single reasonable thought in the current of the questions screaming by behind his eyes. What, where, why, how, when, why now, why him, what was that, was it because of this, or that, was it his doing? Was it? Is it? Is that not light over there, just on the periphery?

It's something. It's real. So he blinks, confirms the glow is still there before he remembers how to breathe. It becomes a cough almost instantly. He must wrestle with his musculoskeletal reflex to gag and choke because if he expends too much energy now he will not be able to do what he must, which is swim. Which is discovering how to. Which entails wrangling with every primal instinct to panic just enough to do something that will not lead to his drowning.

The thought of calling for help does not even occur to choso as he begins to struggle, instinctively reaching out into the dark to wind his hand around the nearest luminous filament. ]

ii.
[ He sinks.

It is an inevitability. Whether he fought to flee or let the visions lead him, the filaments take a hold of him anyway, wound so snugly like a trawling net that he could not tell you if it was the trap or his own ravenous want of it that had tangled him so thoroughly. Whatever it is choso sees as he descends, it is so beautiful a vision that he cannot bear to look away.

Look: are they not perfect? Their faces turned up to him, newfound mouths breaking into their first smiles? How beautiful his brothers be, how joyous, they three who are one.


choso sinks, and something vast circles from below. ]

b. the whites of your eyes

i.
[ There is something familiar about how reality twists this time; water, the shattering of glass, a violent arrival followed by pain. As it was then, choso must remind himself now that the pain is welcomed, it is something, it is the absence of nothing, so he accepts it. It sucks, but he accepts it, pushing himself up off the wet floor with a grim sort of determination, which happens to be the only kind he has on hand.

The place is massive, surprising in its scale but not in its illogical bearing. Luckily, he hasn't the time to waste on contemplating megalithic architecture, so he turns his attentions away for the moment to examine the creeping sense of apprehension now oozing down his spine. It isn't hard to understand why: that he isn't meant to be here, that no one was ever meant to see something like this, that none of this was considered normal by any means.

He wonders if this is what it was like for mice, to be out from under the safety of cover; for an animal, let loose in an alien world.

He wonders what else is watching. What other unknown eyes may see when he, this strange thing in the shape of a man, starts walking, without direction but with a purpose he has only begun to examine. What might those eyes see, when he's passed under the scattered lights? Would they want to meet his gaze in turn?

Possibly not.


His teeth itch. ]

ii.
[ It's unpleasant. He mislikes the nature of the place that is coming to light shard by brilliant sharp shard. He mislikes the idea of it; of mazes and riddles, of the little animals that scurry through them, and the amusement of the halfmoon eyes that watch on, and the more that he lets the thought of it tumble around his cranium the darker his mood seems to become. It is a visible shift, choso's mood is, widening his eyes and tensing his jaw 'til his teeth shine through; stained, each tooth thrown into relief where blood has dried tacky between the gaps. It isn't the sort of expression one wears when approaching a herd of horses or cursed spirits or whatever those things over there were, but it's what he's got, so when the lot of them start up half a stampede on his approach he really has no one else to blame but himself.

It takes him about three minutes into circling the periphery of the herd before he realises that one of them isn't running like the others. He catches it on his periphery; a flash of movement, one body moving in from behind another, unmistakably tracking his stalking pace. Well, why, one of the quadrupedals was stalking him. Wasn't that so very quaint?

choso must not think so, for there he goes: stalking into the herd himself, head lowered, Flowing Red Scale spreading like an inkspill across his cheeks as he turns his attentions to the scattering creatures. He threads through the half-flattened grasses, watching the anomalous nightmare as the herd keeps its growing berth from him. Is he, perhaps, making this harder for other pilgrims on this same road? Naturally. Luckily for him, he's too busy narrowing in on the distant nightmare to notice any other poor souls in the vicinity, just as the nightmare, too, is busy narrowing in on the distant man-thing to pay much mind to entities beyond the herd. ]

move toward the door

[ The world breaks. Reality curls like paper in a flame, like wood splinters transforming into something ephemeral and insubstantial. The nightmare erupts into motion before choso has even a chance to process the taste of the dread that's slid all the way down to sit heavy in his stomach. For a long moment, it's all fighting against the momentum to keep his balance, his heart in his throat until he manages to lay flat against the beast's uncomfortable spine.

Splayed out on a nightmare's back like a saddle blanket is how he finds you, dreamer, a smear of colour against the whipping debris between him and you. He could leave you, stranger, carried away like one more leaf on the tide, but your eyes have met, and the hesitation lasts as long as one heartbeat: he cannot leave even you to this. His arm hooks around the neck of the nightmare for balance as he reaches out, his big mitt of a hand stretched out for yours. ]

Here--!

[ He cannot leave you to this terrible dread. ]

b, i

[beaffrayed]

[ Fray's footsteps are far too quiet for a man in armor as he strides through the distorted halls. Though he looks much like a shadow himself, like an ashen silhouette that might dissolve at the light's touch, he crosses through the beams of light without stopping as he searches for a way out of this distorted dream.

He glances over, and sees nothing more and nothing less than what Choso presents to the world around him; simply a stranger, another new person. He's not seen him before, not met him before, and so there is no judgement in his mind. Perhaps he looks a little sharper than he is; Fray is always on his guard, after all, especially in a dream.

It doesn't stop him from raising his hand slightly in acknowledgement, though. His voice echoes through the cathedral as he changes his path to walk towards Choso instead. ]

I've not seen you before. Are you new to all this? [ Poor luck if he is; he might be one of the newest souls snared by this swiving goddess. ]

[gimu]

[ The air in the cathedral is alive with whispers, the kind of quiet that is anything but. In the distance: the chime of shattering glass, the meditative rush of water, the directionless susurrus of something else, or somethings? Someones? How many others walked beneath this towering roof like he?

It isn't easy to creep up on choso (so he wants to think), but still it takes him too long to register this new hushed whisper of presence. The faintest tap of boots on tile, the hiss of heavy cloth and plate. When the newcomer speaks, the suddenness of their voice startles him, has him lifting from the floor a fair few inches. When he whips around, the absurd urchins of his hair style almost seem to bristle even more wildly. ]

Who?

[ are you, is what he means to say, but the rest gets lost somewhere in his throat such that the only part he manages comes out shaped like a snarl. Shoulders hike up, hands snap open wide, a peculiarly wide stance for someone caught on the back foot.

For the moment, it seems like he doesn't quite know what to make of this new shadow's appearance; it takes him a second too long to find the eyes, the whites gleaming bright in the depths of a strange helm. ]

[beaffrayed]

[ If Choso's more aggressive reaction shakes Fray, he doesn't show it. He's not being attacked, he's being spoken to, and that's good enough.

He does stop, though. While he has a sword on his back, he doesn't draw it. He simply stands, casually, and talks. ]

Name's Fray. Trapped in this dream - like you. Our generous host's not one to give us good exits.

[gimu]

[ like you, that sticks like something sharp. So does trapped, dream, and host. So that sleek voice was not a hallucination. So there must be a rhyme and a reason here. He can work with that. ]

Hn.

[ A man of eloquence, this one. Some of his dour attitude could be due to his lack of a mask, face left barren and open for all the dreaming world to see. ]

You have been here before.

[ It isn’t really a question, but he does pause like it is, expectant, curious. ]

[beaffrayed]

[ In stark contrast, Fray seems near-faceless apart from his gold eyes. His mask is held in hand, a silver-crowned veil that would render him utterly expressionless, but he hasn't felt the need to put it on yet. ]

Somewhere like it, at least. [ He glances around the distorted cathedral with a slight huff. ] Though in the waking world, it's nowhere near as large.

The dream that took me -- that was a feasting hall. This one's more to my liking. [ It's quiet, mostly dark. It's nice, almost, even if he can't let his guard down here. ]

ii. b

[hallowedly]

( All alone here in the monastic jungle, come effervescent twilight, and Sakurazuka Seishirou, all drenched dregs of dark ceremonial robes and a Noh mask to his name, is confronted with the apex predator:

...the wide-eyed, tragically misplaced juvenile delinquent. A wild beast that's dangerous in the penitent seclusion of his Axe-sprayed territory, but deadly as he prowls alongside horses like a satellite sauntering down a defunct orbit. Faintly, Seishirou — steps away from the blossoming love affair between a boy and his stallion — thinks to warn the young man of the follies of foaling around too much, before defying neigh-sayers and settling down into a stable family.

At thunderous step, the remaining horses recover the dregs of their dignity long enough to excuse themselves from the sorry sight of a bashful love affair. Seishirou, hands drawing behind his back with the terrible, terrible exasperation he drowns in amusement, sidles by young Romeo, gaze snagged on the cut of a body leathered by ugly use. Tsk. They start so young. )

I think he likes you. ( Either that, or the horse has drawn the strapping hooligan for a bellicose bout of dinner for one. )

this man is slaying me

[gimu]

[ There's someone nearby. This time choso is ready, so that when the new presence approaches and speaks up he can continue on without startling. He can't let that suspicious creature out of his sight yet. ]

Then he better speak up soon. I don't have all day to play with him.

[ Annoyance burbles up from within, but for which? The nightmare horse or the fellow? ]

So, who are you now?

literally his job

[hallowedly]

( One suspicious creature is patiently trotting with the air of a bon vivant heiress, the world at her hoof's beck and whinny call. The other one has taken to the local parlance of stifling laughter between the spells of a howling wind, posture correcting by tenuous degree with each step sloshing through churned black earth.

Grass, lightning, petrichor. Wild, unwashed animal (two, by Seishirou's count). Nature is a wonderful thing. )

I suppose, your matchmaker.

[gimu]

[ Truly, the quadrupedal looked the least wild of the two of them. The stink of blood lingers around choso like a miasma, mingling still with that of wet thing that has dried poorly to create a truly muddy aura indeed. Whether it be dream or reality, it seems his perception of himself extends no further than what he last remembers doing before this interruption of unbidden sleep.

Messy. ]

Hah?

[ Whatever this wild guy is, what he isn't is afraid to use his eyebrows to convey how little he got that.

Funny, where's his mask? (Maybe that's why he seems so dour.) ]

I don't need any. You're in the way. [ Seishirou is, in fact, not in the way. ] I'm busy.

HI, CAT

[hallowedly]

What you are is inefficient.

( The horse might be bizarrely attracted, moth to the flame, but it is still likely to excuse itself on first-nose encounter with the reeking monument of curdled blood staggered at Seishirou's side. Animals have a way with fear, they learn the appetites of men. This creature has — teeth.

And what a handsome agglomeration of earth and bacteria he is, every mysophobe's truly wet (drowning?) dream. Seishirou can weather all too many offences, but the implication of intrusion against his smellier friends — no, no. His hands fly up, palms outward, the perfunctory image of peace. )

But I'm sure, given your exemplary... skulking? You know horses too well to need advice.

i a!

[inverseye]

Hey!

[ There is a strangled yell. Choso's struggling catches a filament by hand, pulling taunt a cluster of glowing strands wrapped around another young man's neck. The shift in the water pulls him into view, just in time for the struggling miscreant to aim a ill-timed kick that sails over the others head and connects with Choso's own tangled web of light and the ties that bind...

The bond sparks.

The scene is initially very similar. The picnic glade remains, even if the climate has shifted by angles, and new autumn mountains peak above the wooded pasture. Instead of a young boy with pink hair, a girl of a similar age with long brown hair and bright green eyes holds Choso's hand. She smiles, pulling him forward towards a ratty old blanket spread on the grass.

She calls his name. It's muffled, but the affection is real and warm. Don't be stubborn! It's your birthday, so come see the surprise!

Then the spark fades, and the scene reverts to cold black reality.]

-think you're doing? Not enough for you to drown, you need to drag another guy with you, huh!?

[ Meanwhile, it seems Choso's new companion has been complaining the entire time. ]

[gimu]

[ Thrashing in the water, resistance in the dark. Between one moment and the next, choso is again stricken with memory, the only bright one left to him.

And it is beautiful. The warmth, the smaller hand pulling his, the smile and the sky and the blanket and the simple notion that he was born like she was—

choso, he does not realise that his own expression is so open; stricken with emotion, droplets seeping from his eyes to disappear into the dark. ]

—eh?

[ When the spark fades, he’s left facing some guy he’s never seen before, save for the one eye; a brilliant green like the girl’s, green as the leaves, green as life. The confused crush of his attention has him staring at Baek’s eye maybe a little too intently. ]

Who are— where is she? Where is she?

[inverseye]

[ The memory sparked between both of them, but Saheon pays it no mind. It's an intolerable thing to think about, a dredged up horror. The idea of this oddly dressed stranger with the red rimmed eyes seeing it is worse, but Saheon has to set his teeth and focus on the present. ]

Back off!

[ Saheon isn't an intimidating man at the best of times, but he bares his teeth with a bark. Still, he can't help but flinch back from the sudden focus on his sole remaining eye. One bitten, he's twice shy about the thought of losing the other, forced go blind or get by on the dim ghostly visions provided by the prosthetic he keeps covered. It blinks rapidly at Choso, before skittering off to avoid his gaze and seek shelter or escape in the dark water.

His hands come up to the bright strands tangled around his neck, shining brightly, and he makes an attempt to rip them away. He doesn't want them. ]

What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?

[gimu]

[ Teeth, a gaze that won't hold, a harsh voice. Man or curse or animal, choso knows enough to recognize the warning; he flinches back in kind, hands flying open to release his fistful of not-nothing. ]

I saw something. I have been- [ The bond sparks, copper to copper, water to naked sodium.

you open your eyes ]

-seeing- [ for the first time you see the dying daylight from a southern facing window fading from an empty room and it should be dreary but it doesn't matter nothing matters.
there are two entities in front of you
there are two monsters in front of you
a muscular male figure with black sclera takes your hand
a misshapen thing smiles with its two mouths, putrefaction-green arms open wide
when they say your name, it is with a love you know in your very marrow
for the first time, you meet your brothers and know completion. ]

-things. My mind is where it must be.

[inverseye]

She's not for you-!

[ He might say more, emboldened by the way Choso flinched back from Saheon's toothless warning but the sparking fire of memory sweeps it all away and leaves him gasping and clutching his head.

There are very few pillars of identity that Saheon has not knocked down to make space for something new and awful, but he knows this, he had a sister. She was the most defining part of his tumultuous existence and her absence is more grounding to the rotations of his life then gravity or pain or death.

In that absence blooms: ]

Brother..?

[ No. Stop. He yanks his hand forward as hard as he can, trying to rip it away from the threads that have begun to cover it like a glove. He's never had brothers! The thought of it is more distressing then their monstrous faces. But it's all so familiar he love that bleeds across into his mind, like he had it all again, completion down to his marrow. ]

No... I never. It was a sister. A sister?

[ But he must have brothers, or Saheon would have nothing but a skull in a box... ]

c

[trashblaze]

[ The young Nightmare, Luna, is attempting to carry Caelus to a safer spot, but it's almost impossible to find one anymore. Even if they find one, it wouldn't last. The destruction of the dreamscape is inevitable. That's why, even in Caelus's dazed state, he's trying to convince Luna to just run. ]

Luna, forget it… I can escape by myself, just go…

[ But Luna isn't convinced at all and neighs in protest, not wanting to abandon its new friend and escape alone. Thankfully, that's when this man arrives, and Caelus squints as he tries to shake off some dizziness. He sees a hand outstretched, so he lifts his own and attempts to reach back. He got very unlucky earlier, and a flying debris hit his head in a bad spot, which led to his current vertigo. ]

[gimu]

[ It's less choso's choice and more the mare's when she and her rider veer off the main thoroughfare to blaze down a crumbling side street. Perhaps the creature sensed her kin, or perhaps it was tactical, but more than likely (so he thinks) it was merely whimsy; why follow the stressed guy's directions when the world was ending anyway?

But no, no, that was grumbling for later. Pay attention, choso: don't let go.

The grip that catches Caelus' hand is a strong one, almost crushingly so; it's a pretty alarming squeeze before choso pulls to hoist Caelus right up off the ground. Or, more like, launch.

Was this bleeding guy lucky enough to catch himself and assume a dignified second-rider position, or was he about to become a glorified rice sack? choso's attentions are too focused with keeping himself seated to spare a thought for a comfortable ride. ]

[trashblaze]

[ It takes a little more for Caelus's dizziness to subside, and he can finally see clearly after some time. Normal people would've taken longer to recover, but his self-regenerative abilities are rather solid. Initially, he fell onto the man's back right away after he boarded along, but now he's sitting up well enough.

Luna seems all right with handling two people, and eventually begins to sprint down the crumbling streets once the two are secured. Now that Caelus has a clear vision, he observes the large back of the man who assisted him. Oh, he's never seen him around before. Another new face that Sleep pulled into this mess. ]

Thank you, mister.

[gimu]

I am no ‘mister’.

[ Called over his shoulder, the words whipped away by the winds of their passage. Trusting his new passenger to stay mounted, choso settles back down against the nightmare’s ghostly back.

All in all, he seems to be less riding the mare than he is just hanging on for dear life.

Into the ephemeral mane, he shouts: ]

I am Choso. I don’t know where we are going. Hold on tightly.

[trashblaze]

[ A small smile, followed by a short laugh. Lately, Caelus has been meeting a lot of people who dislike being called mister… But out of respect for those older than him, he just reflexively does it. Well, that, and it's not as if he knows their name.

But now that the man has said his, then Caelus will remember it. ]

I got it, Choso.

[ With Choso's warning, Caelus braces himself and hangs onto the man's shoulders to secure himself. Luckily, while in this dreamscape, Caelus regains the use of his original abilities— which means he's able to communicate with Luna directly. ]

Luna! Head to your right and keep going straight if you can!

[ The Nightmare responds almost immediately, neighing with energy and follows the instructions as it gallops through the ruined streets. It sometimes pauses when it gets too frightened to proceed, but Caelus soothes Luna quickly enough, and it once again sprints forward. All while doing its best to avoid the hazards around them. ]

By the way, I'm Caelus, the Galactic Baseballer. It's nice to meet you!

a, ii!

[salaryman]

[ Yuuto finds himself floating down. The water is his element but the tendrils are another issue all together. Can he call them the rude third-party interrupting a joyous romantic reunion? He might! He certainly might!

But he isn't alone in his lamentations - because unfortunately, he has no real thoughts on love. He cares about people in his own way, but he can't say he loves anyone. Kanoe is someone dear to him, but she loves someone else more. Satsuki is precious in her own way, but she doesn't understand her own feelings. And he doesn't push either one of them to think too deeply about his presence or existence.

It's better to just float but I feel this is ridiculous.

And so he's pulled in seeing smiling faces of people he's never seen before. They sure do look happy. Yet the person next to him seems to be struggling - or is drowning the nicer term? It's probably more accurate, at least!

So he reaches out to grip onto his shoulders - swirling the water to give them some literal breathing room even if the tendrils are still doing their business. Very rude. ]

Hey! Sinking anymore is dangerous, don't you think?!

[gimu]

[ Solid are the shoulders under Yuuto's hands, but as awareness expands from those points of contact the muscles beneath begin to bunch up, bearing the tension of an animal caught unawares.

The eyes that crack open to stare at this interloper are distant and dark, limned with red and flitting behind eyebags fit to come to life on their own. The gaze clears with each subsequent heart beat, and as it does it sharpens, it narrows down on this intruder like the singular point of a blade. ]

Where else is there to go?

[ He lifts his arms as if to demonstrate, perhaps to try and encompass all of the perceived nothing around them, but they stop short not far from his sides. The filaments weigh him down like moss overgrowth on branches, gleaming bright and wound tight around wrists and between fingers. (As if he'd grasped and pulled them too much, entangling himself.) ]

[salaryman]

[ Yuuto pauses to glance around where they are. He lets out a few bubbles as he agrees there doesn't seem to be a surface they can swim toward. Furthermore, there does seem to be a looming danger just out of their sight - swimming through the darker shadows of the waters.

But still --

-- he offers a smile and says: ]

Well, we don't need to go down, right? [ Another small pat on the man's shoulders. ] Besides, I didn't get to see what love is to you yet.

[gimu]

[ It starts with a touch; Yuuto's hands on choso's shoulders initially strike the first flickering spark. It wakes something, so that when the next pat comes it sets memory ablaze in a flash of unforgiving sunlight. ]

It can't be hel-

[ there is nothing and yet you have everything. an eternity spent in the primordial sea of amniotic suspension has left you, oddly, not wanting for much at all. there is the darkness and there is the comforting familiar warmth of another's presence, and though you haven't even the concept of speech you still spend uncountable hours talking to your brothers without words, without reason, without sense or even mouths.

you do not open your eyes, because they are not developed enough. you do not move to join your kin, because you are less an entity and more an object, a small and unbaked thing in a jar collecting dust on a shelf in a storehouse in the pits of the unknowable earth. existence is narrowed down to the simplest, but truest sensations:

you are loved, and you love in turn, and nothing else matters as long as you three can hear each other in the dark. ]

-ped.

[ the dark ends in a blaze of light and colour and sound. it is not birth in the way the living experience it, but it is the closest you will ever know. the dark ends when you open your eyes to a view of an empty white apartment room; empty save for the empty-]

Listen well:

[ -glass container on the floor and the two creaturescursesmen entities looking up at you with the untouchable wonder of eyes seeing a world anew. ]

-Love is-

[ love is a physical thing. it is a warmth that suffuses the flesh, it is the joyous beat of the heart in your chest. ]

-the connection shared-

[ when you look at these two strange things, for the first and only time in your existence you feel truly complete. at long last you can look them in the eye and greet them properly, your family, your kin. ]

-by brothers.