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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Comments

[dedicate]

[ move. they just have to move. what's important is to keep moving.

agent choi isn't blind. he can see it too, though perhaps not with the clarity that soleum does. he reaches out his hand to take his junior's, and words are scrawled down his sleeve, his arm, his hand, in ink. but that, that shouldn't be such a strange thing. there are worse things he could see painted over his clothing and his skin, and neither does agent choi have the luxury to stop and read them—not now, not here. whatever it is, it can wait a moment for them to get under some cover, yeah?

at least, he thinks that until the light catches, and so does his image—

in the glass of a window. ]

...!

[ in the midst of the intermittent pieces of glass that slice through the air, holding tightly onto soleum's hand...

Agent Choi : So, I’m on the third floor, and I’ve just found a door leading to the fourth floor. Agent Choi : I’m only going to open it a little. I’m not crazy, okay? But we can’t just leave that place alone, right?Isn’t it recorded that nearly a hundred people have gone missing after going upstairs? (The agent rambles on with personal excuses and parting words considered to be a will.) Agent Choi : All right, I’m opening the door to the fourth floor now. And… it’s open. Ta-da! (Sound of door opening, footsteps entering, door closing in quick succes

agent choi pauses, eyes locked on the reflection that should be his. ]

[roedeer]

[ agent choi's legs are longer than his, he moves so much faster than soleum can, but that allows the stretch of words to read clearer to soleum. one foot after the other, he has to make sure he doesn't trip over his own two feet as he has been a child before (more than once!), but ever new circumstance means he has to adjust.

he manages to refrain from having his arm shake, keep the hold that they share simple and without issue, but soleum's pinky finger twitches. in and out, in and out, he's unable to hold onto his firmly like moments before. his eyes that stare at the blood from his cut stands out causing the child to exhale with a shudder. when he stops, so does soleum, and he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to see this. if he were a real child, his eyes would have trembled, his entire body would have gave away his inner feelings as he stares into the mirror.

a young child dressed in the blue attire of a bureau agent, a snug fit where he would have believed it to hang from his arms due to being too big. there's some warmth to it, like handcrafted to be specifically for him acknowledging his place within the company. his glasses big and round, much like his eyes before, widen in some shock not at himself, at the way his finger slips between the hole of a korean character.

what should have been a hand is text he can read with ease, what should have been a human body is a string of words that type out the progression of a story, and what should be agent choi's face is only a myriad of colors that soleum has to parse. the color doesn't tell him what's wrong, the fact agent choi is unmoving — he's trying to parse himself, a seeker of the unknown, someone who needs an understanding to prevent the same thing happening to a civilian.

최 요원 : 평범한데요? 그냥 좀 낡은 비상구예요. 계단이 있고…. 진짜 다를 거 없는데. 나가는 문도 잘 있네요. (몇 분 더 관찰했으나 특이 사항 없음.) 최 요원 : 좋아요. 이제 올라갑니다.(발소리 메아리 들림.계단을 올라가는 소리로 추정.)최 요원 : 어디 보자. 나가는 문도 여전히 멀쩡히 잘 있… 아. ……사라졌네요. 이제 올라가는 수밖에 없겠어요. 가보겠습니다! (발소리 30초 지속.)최 요원 : 후우…도착했습니다. 4층 문 앞.최 요원 : 외양은 별다를 것 없어 보이네요. 그냥 철문이에요.

auditory cues, actions shaking and trembling as wall of text holds itself up in the form of a "human body". the construct at the end of the day performs and acts like what a person might, but soleum knows the truth, that this person who holds his hand to protect him isn't real, and mimics what's written in a story. it's always been like that. in his hand holds words written as a fellow publisher of an article on the dark exploration records wikipedia, and where the lines have been blurred, this cathedral splits them apart between what is human and what is not. no matter how much it may pretend to be alive, wearing the skin of a normal person, the truth is still written all over him. whatever "life" there is to him are the ideas of the creator used to move the doll here and there, a fake character who has fulfilled his potential and thrown away to prevent anymore decay to his design.

to prevent anymore flaws!

it's like words have come to life, that small comfort of having a favorite character acknowledge you in a dream, that's what it's like. however, the acknowledgement of his favorite character is a figure in his case, a miniature of a sword still in a box, the signed autograph of that very person written on a slip that he's placed in a glass box set on of a shrine, or the softness of a body pillow that he has to put away before the boys from the group chat comes over.

i know that!

soleum knows and yet, he's tugging at agent choi to pull him away from the mirror. his finger slips through the characters with ease, and unsure if this will work, he saddles up to the man's leg and wraps his stubby arms around him with his cheek flat against the spot where agent choi is bleeding. the characters stain against soleum's flesh, his grip only growing tighter. the text squeezing together, his arms a ribbon to the love letter of his obsession that would have his attention, make his heart race as he indulged in the story. ]

You said we have to move. They're still falling.

[ he pushes, the water above them still dripping, one trickling down and against the back of the agent's neck. ]

1/2

[dedicate]

[ he can't help it.

he's an agent, after all. what else is he to do but investigate?

his eyes skim the words, scanning the content. it's strange.

why is his name there? why does it sound so much like him?

his voice. it says:

he is not crazy. he is not going to go through the door.

he has not gone through the door.

the door?

there is a door.

the window, too, is a kind of door.

the glass reflects. ordoesitreveal?

his thoughts begin to lose their direction. did they ever have any direction? no, that direction was ■■■. it has always been ■■■.

it's true.

the truth.

is that it?

he can't understand. it's beyond his understanding. only ■■■ understands. agent choi cannotunderstand. heisnotmeantounderstand.

his stomach turns. his? bile rises up. nothing belongs to him.

yourfreewillismeaningless. onlythewillandselectionof■■■holdsignificance.

he can hear it whispering.

into his head.

his soul.

his being:

there is no escape.

thereisnoescape.

thereisnoescapethereisnoescapethereisnoescapethereisnoesc— ]

[dedicate]

[ something pulls.

his leg. hisleg? something wraps around his leg, and it pulls—away from the window. his gaze is pulled away. who is pulling it? ■■■, is that

...

instinctively, agent choi wrenches his eyes away from the window—away from the words that fill it in the shape of his own silhouette. the silhouette that is not his silhouette, but is filled with him.

he looks down.

beside him, a small child with black hair and glassy red eyes looks up at him.

red lettering has begun to stain its cheek. like stamps.

ㅊㅗㅣ ㅇㅛㅝㄴ

they look about to cry, and agent choi reaches down.

he wipes the stamps away—smears red against the cheek.

cold water runs down his neck, his spine.

a smile takes its proper place. ]

Sorry, did I worry you?

[ that's his job, to be worried about their youngest.

bending down, he scoops the eight year old kim soleum into his arms. ]

Let's go.

[ and begins to move again. ]

[roedeer]

[ if kim soleum were the child shifted by a trick, he would have cried, he would have wailed, and in hindsight he thinks he should have. would that have pulled him away from it sooner? limitations by being in the agent's arms, soleum leans against his chest as red eyes stare at the glass surface behind. the further they move away, the harder the text becomes for him to read which is a win in his book. a closed chapter, the end of a story, something he doesn't want to deal with again. his chin rests on agent choi's shoulder, his other arm hooking at his other shoulder to avoid his neck to make himself comfortable. in the distance from a trick of the light, he can see those crumbling words wave goodbye.

soleum shudders, his small head turns away to stare at the crook of agent choi's neck, well... what he thinks is the crook. words jumbling around in colors that give him an idea of what he's looking at, the darker stretch along fair skin indicating a scar.

that was a mistake!! how could that have happened, what warranted it, and soleum isn't sure how to prevent it from happening again. the mirrors are dangerous, this place in general causes harm, and he's not in the position to change his appearance because of its influence. his left wrist press against his heart, and he thinks of turning, shifting through selections, but there's nothing. is it because agent choi thinks of soleum like this, even free of imperfections.

... ]

Do you have your shoelaces?

[ spoken like a curious child about the possessions of an adult, needing to know, wanting to know just for the sake of knowing.

kim soleum is a child, and if he's distracted like that again, then the laces in his own inventory are a solution he can weave through his sneakers. the issue? having agent choi look again, distract him, let him walk and freedom!

it's an option, an option he has to take. ]

[dedicate]

They won't work.

[ let him shut that idea down right now, though his mind is still racing, and his heart feels like it could beat right out of his chest.

but soleum leans into him, buries his face against choi's neck, careful as he is to avoid the scar. even that fast-beating heart feels a bit softened by the gesture. even agent choi's thoughts are gradually able to slow under the gentle touch of the child who needs him here and now.

and slowly, the truth begins to disappear.

fading back to the threads that weave together into what they call

"reality"

... ]

But they might for you.

[ even as he speaks, his footsteps echo the sound of dripping water from the shattered ceiling, only occasionally pierced by the sound of further glass striking the ground.

they approach the confessional, and agent choi ducks inside, soleum still in his arms.

even as he sits down on the bench he continues to hold him gently, like something precious, and says fondly: ]

You should try, Grapes.

[roedeer]

[ he holds onto him, not because he's afraid of him disappearing, but because he doesn't want him to know. there's something different about him, the air around agent choi thick and suffocating, and it's no different from smudged text in a book.

but soleum is unable to see his face, from how he's pressed up against the older man like a tired child so it's difficult to see. what expression does a man like that have after what he saw? his chance comes, he thinks, their hideaway within the confessional is now behind closed doors.

it's not a tight fit, not when he's like this, and he can feel himself sliding against the agent's chest to sitting down in his lap. he's facing the door, his legs kick slightly as they bounce off the older man's knees. it's forced, something to do to get his mind off...

...

shards drop and shatter outside with the light filtering into the booth. ]

Seniors should go first, shouldn't they?

[ we came here with others, didn't we? i have pills, i have laces, i have enough to account for you and them. ]

You're always asking to go first.

[ soleum can't let agent choi stay here, and as he continues to speak. ]

Staying behind is not an option.

[ because agent choi found him, and soleum can leave this darkness easily, especially if it's connected to sekwang as it all starts with a dream.

when he turns his head, the darkness obscures his person giving choi a more human-like look, his body tries back together by normal standards, but there are still characters that linger around. in the blue center of his eye, he can see from the light that flashes there, by his neck, a few words are shuddering away from the dark.

... ]

[dedicate]

Hey, I'm not saying this because I wanna stay, you know?

[ he does like to go first. it's his favourite thing to do. after all, there's an order to these things.

but this isn't one of those times where the order applies. his head, normally clear and sharp, feels uncharacteristically foggy in the wake of information he shouldn't know, quickly absorbed and then censored out, as if with pitch black ink. what's left? what's left? the child in his arms, of course. ]

This place isn't the main disaster site. You can think of it as a doorway.

[ the shoelaces won't be able to pull his real body back to the place where it belongs, even if he uses them within this dream. but soleum? ]

You haven't stepped past the threshold yet, Grapes.

[ standing just on the precipice between "inside" and "outside", there's still time for him to turn back. sure, it's hard. nobody wants to turn back when someone they care about has already gone ahead. but what choice is there? he wants to be rescued—but not at the cost of soleum's safety. that's why he says: ]

If you want to help me, you should go back and report to headquarters. They'll take it from there.

cw: suicide

[roedeer]

[ then why? let's just go...

agent choi is acting like this because that's the sort of character he is, unknown places that he shouldn't investigate always sweep him up be it by a tug of his arm, or a noose around his neck. a doorway, like the windows, is he still caught on the windows? ]

What... are you talking about? We...

[ they all came together. it's not hard to understand what he's saying, that this darkness isn't the starting point, it's them middling. they're on a train, they're riding on a train, and all they have to do is evacuate from it. if they open the window, he's sure they can squeeze through, but agent choi has to leave first. ]

I can help you. We can go together.

[ but, it wasn't the initial plan.

it's fine, soleum only has to pretend to take it. it doesn't take long for him to pull out two pills, and they'll look over familiar to agent choi immediately. the same pills found in the bureau's handy-dandy manuals for civilians who want to leave the world peacefully if there's no escape.

euthanasia pills rest in a young child's hand.

one pill settles into each hand, and as soleum turns around properly to face agent choi... those chubby hands of his goes to his mouth to slap the pill against his lips, but he's probably missed the mark. as for soleum? he's already smacking the pill into his own mouth.

agent choi should know that in sekwang, it'll work. they already decided that this was the method that works best. ]

cw: (attempted) suicide - https://dedicate.dreamwidth.org/file/27647.png

[dedicate]

[ agent choi doesn't have to look at it for long to recognize what it is that kim soleum has pulled out of seemingly nowhere. two little white pills. round and familiar, and in no way pleasant. something that every agent is familiar with, even if none have the desire to make use of them. they're two pills that couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything else but what they are.

euthanasia pills.

this son of a—

there's no time to think. the pill shoved towards him catches on his lip, and he spits it onto the floor without hesitation. soleum will be the next thing to follow, not from the effect of the pill, but because agent choi grabs him by the scruff near immediately. first, it's fingers in his mouth, checking to make sure that the worst hasn't occurred. it's only a moment before, the two of them collapsed on the ground from the urgency, agent choi manages to withdraw a wet, slimy pill from his mouth. he takes the one off the floor next, shoving both of them in his pocket.

this is the part where he'd confiscate the rest, but this bastard... choi's seen the way he pulls things out of thin air. if he can't take soleum's supply, then he has to at least prevent him from trying to take them out again.

grabbing soleum by the collar of his shirt, agent choi turns, placing himself between his junior and the exit and pushing him up against the corner of the cramped space. in the absence of the thin light that had shone through the crack, the kim soleum he pins against the corner confessional is no longer the adorable young grapes of the ocean palace, but the man he's always known: clever, caring—and infuriatingly reckless. he can't help the way his voice rises, feeling panicked, but coming out as nothing but anger. ]

Are you crazy!? Just what the hell do you think you're doing!?

cw: suicide mention STOPPPPP

[roedeer]

[ the sound of his body thumping against the wall, his head coming into contact is just as painful as the scarred hand forcing him into place. a breathy, but nervous chuckle, a dull pulse in the back of his head, and one eye closed as the other stares at the man before him. the expression he's making is not what he expected, but this outcome wasn't what soleum would have thought was possible. ]

Agent.

[ as calmly as he can, soleum speaks hoping to bring agent choi to his side by easing him into the idea. he confiscated the drugs, but there's still some use to them. swallowing down the saliva thick in his throat, the expression on soleum's face is neutral as he doesn't hesitate in his next set of words. ]

There's no choice.

[ follows after.

when he says it, as he reads the look settling in onto the curve of agent choi's face, the bit of rage bleeds into his expression. an eruption, the heat rising to his cheeks that spreads red across his face, a sort of lava boiling underneath. was he that offended? those feelings are just as suffocating as before, but he's not feeling them this time. it's seeing them and knowing that there's something wrong moves him, causes soleum to need to act faster. he can't take any chances considering, something's off. ]

You know this.

[ should know this from their line of work, they messed— soleum messed up the first time, he won't make another bad call a second time. does he not remember, should he try to convey that he's thought about this thoroughly because in this darkness, there's something wrong. there's something wrong with agent choi, was it because of what he saw, did it mess around with him to the point his reasons are backwards.

damn it, he should have accounted for this.

he saw the pocket agent choi had placed them, both of them, but kim soleum only needs one. that's when he reaches out into the direction of the pocket, but whether me makes it depends on if the agent's other arm is slow to catch him. ]

It can save you, us, j— just take it!

[dedicate]

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

[ those pills, they aren't meant for situations like this—situations where there's still hope for survival. they're not even meant for agents in most cases. rather, the dread and the fear and the pain of an ordinary citizen trapped in a position that they just can't bear. the loneliness, and the inability to fight back. those tablets are meant to give a peaceful end to those hopeless individuals, but the two of them? they don't need to use them. if agent choi had his way, nobody would.

but they're here now, and soleum is insistent. it pisses him off, quite frankly. he can't stand it. ]

First you run away, do you know how long Bronze and I have been looking for you? You didn't even take that stuffed rabbit with you. What were we supposed to think!? That scam company, I knew they couldn't be trusted, but...

[ the hand that reaches for his pocket isn't even smacked away. rather. agent choi snatches it out of the air, grasping soleum's wrist tightly. so tightly that it would be sure to bruise if they were in reality right now. so tightly that soleum's hand almost begins to tremble.

and the anger seems to trigger something feral in the agent. even as he meets soleum's eyes, glares with all his might, gaze shaky, his teeth are bared—the slightest bit of sharpness visible in his canines. but he doesn't act rashly. not like soleum does. deep breaths, in and out. he has to keep his head on straight.

but one thing will not change no matter what: ]

I'm not letting you get away this time.

[roedeer]

[ has he seen the agent like this before, that build up of emotion cut so perfectly onto his face that should strike fear into the hearts of men? kim soleum should be scared, much like he should be scared of the idea of death by the use of a single pill. there's still something human by agent choi's standards, a narrative decision to keep him from being an individual that wards those that need help away. the baring of teeth, the glare in his eyes, it's heavy, but the shakiness reveals that it's all through disbelief.

kim soleum remains pinned against the wall, his wrist unable to move, and he thinks if he adjusts it in one direction he could break it and worm himself out. he's still in a position where he's unable to move his body, so any other damages to his person will only work in agent choi's favor. his hold is tight, he thinks he can feel nails wedge into the flesh, burns and reminds him that this is real to an extent. ]

You're not making any sense, Agent.

[ he groans underneath the weight of agent choi's insistence, this budding delusion of a timeline that they're way past. it doesn't make sense at a glance, but he keeps talking and talking and talking. the phrases he choose breaks suspicion onto kim soleum's face, his own eyes sharpening as he wonders if what he saw broken agent choi a little.

he wasn't meant to see that. ]

I've lost someone, I might be losing you too.

[ before that happens, he needs agent choi to swallow the pills. whatever this darkness is capable of seems to tie in with memories, maybe, that's an issue. the more he loses, the more of a liability he could be to himself.

with his free hand, soleum raises it upward in the direction of agent choi's face, he cups it briefly to turn his head to the side. what little light sinks into the confessional hits along the tips of his hair, the words he makes out are so thin they seem to merge together. is it because of the light, is it damaging him, editing his script not like what kim soleum is capable of doing as 130666?

if that's the case, he hooks an arm around agent choi's neck, pulling him down closer against him. head in his chest, rays dancing along kim soleum's skin at the back of his hand. it burns, but not like the tight grip clamped onto his other. the sound of kim soleum's heart beats quick, he has to get agent choi out of the light and maybe he'll mellow out. ]

Quickly. What I don't see, I won't know.

[ if this is because of agent choi's code of not wanting to do it because it may be acknowledge, then sure, hide here and just take the pill so kim soleum can move. ]

You can let me go this time on your own.

[dedicate]

[ it doesn't make sense. none of it does. whether it's kim soleum's gentle embrace as it wraps around him, pulling choi flush against his chest, or the kind (resolute) way that he tries to encourage agent choi to go along with his wish.

but what kind of wish is that? to die... one might think that that's what kim soleum wanted. it might be easy to think that, if you saw the way he acted, but...

does he?

agent choi allows himself to be cradled against soleum's body for a long moment as he considers it. he doesn't dare release the wrist still caught in his hand, gripped so tightly that if this weren't a dream, the bruises would certainly follow him after all this had passed. still, it isn't soleum's fingers that will tremble at the action, but choi's own.

why is this idiot so stubborn? so determined?

against the relentless and steady crash of his own emotions, each breaking with all the gentleness of tidal waves against a cliff, agent choi forces himself to think. to steady himself. to understand. he can't understand, of course, and he refuses to—but maybe, if he tries, he can see a hint of why this is happening.

... ]

Whatever you think this is, it's not.

[ is what he finally decides to say, after that long moment between them has passed. the light of the cathedral dimmed and distant when agent choi pulls himself back, disentangling himself from soleum's arms and his body, and meets soleum's eyes again. his own are alight with defiance—refusal, but there's still something about that gaze that feels shaky.

scared. ]

Grapes, listen to me. Listen to your senior, okay? This isn't that kind of situation.

[roedeer]

[ it was never a wish. a need, a want, the only way that kim soleum believes that he can save agent choi from himself. if he'd take the pills, swallow them down, then he'll be removed from this darkness before it's too late.

as long as soleum can withstand the pain, the tight grip that causes the tips of his fingers to twitch, then he can keep going. it hurts, he thinks if he moves his wrist wrong that it might snap, but he can handle it. for him, the man before him, he'll handle it. nothing would hurt worse than realizing he's failed by leaving agent choi here, he's already did wrong by lee seonghae. this time, agent choi needs him now more than kim soleum needs him. he knows what he's risking by staying behind, he knows.

he always knows. this situation is a bit different, and he knows that, but anomalies in disasters are a dime a dozen. in his mind, he knows reassuring him again is getting repetitive. saying it over and over comes easy, encouraging him to listen is easy, soleum's need to control the narrative is easy, and that's why agent choi is so difficult.

he wants to save everyone, whoever it is, even trying to save "grapes" when that's not who's here right now. it's soleum, kim soleum.

why is it so hard to ask agent choi to trust him this once? that amalgamation of words would burn on his tongue, it'd sting, and when he goes to speak? he can taste blood on his tongue, he must've been biting too hard. ]

Agent, where do you think we are?

[ as much as he wants to say he's losing his mind, he knows better than to touch a sleeping lion's whiskers. his arm is starting to hurt underneath his touch, it's so unbearable that soleum finds peace placing his pain onto his tongue.

damn it, agent choi. it hurts!

he inhales. the crimson center of his eyes lock onto a matching pair of an opposite color, his own reflection staring right back at him. that bright blue cast above him like the sky as agent choi's feelings brew up a storm behind in voice. the problem at hand hasn't struck soleum yet, as he's no different from a boy raising his kite in the middle of bad weather. there's always a certain look to agent choi's eyes, that darkness holding a wealth of mystery, and soleum can never tell what the other is thinking. all because the sky hasn't dropped for him to realize he wasn't properly prepared for this adventure, he's dressed in a crisp, black suit that isn't ready for the downpour. ]

I'm listening.

[dedicate]

[ it's a feeling like finally releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding. of course agent choi can't be so obvious about it, but there's no doubt that the relief in his eyes is genuine as soleum gives him this chance. his shoulders slump, his grip relaxes a bit, and that smile of his returns to the place it belongs.

a little breathless. a little exhausted: ]

We're in a disaster. Of course.

[ of course. ]

Not one the Bureau has on record yet. I'm thinking 'The Sleeping City'—you know, like the city that never sleeps, but the opposite. Then it goes something like, PSYA-2025... would it be da? There can't be that many new ones since I left, so something like forty-two, maybe~

[ as if any of this matters, but it makes him feel a little better to talk about. ]

Right now, we're in the entranceway. The real disaster site is further in. But with any luck, you're not gonna make it that far, so I've got another job for you.

[ is he listening? choi is going to let go of his hand now, resting them both instead on soleum's shoulders. gripping tightly, but not so tightly as to cause discomfort. just to, you know, to show that he's serious about this. he's not joking around. ]

Grapes, I need you to stay alive, okay? And when you wake up, you're gonna report this disaster to the Bureau with as much detail as you can remember. I'll tell you everything I know so far, and the dream will end on its own, so just... Just stay here for a little while longer, yeah?

[ don't be so quick to leave him again... ]

[roedeer]

I know.

[ he knows they're in a disaster, he knows that it's a city... but that information doesn't match with what he knows of it. closing his eyes, everything agent choi says to him sounds about right but shifted a few inches to the left.

the one thing about kim soleum is that he will listen when it comes to information, and because there's no immediate danger, he's able to digest it. cutting into his senior's desperate attempt to explain— what soleum already knows, mind you—the annihilation-sanctioned supernatural disaster they're been debriefed about would cause problems. soleum decides to let him talk. it's agent choi who doesn't remember, who doesn't recall that they've done this before. the sleeping city is right with as many dead bodies hanging from tree limbs, and... ]

I'm sorry. That's not something I can do.

[ that wasn't part of the plan, agent choi, that's not why they're here because they all entered together to search for someone. if that ray of light did something to him then it's showing itself during moments soleum wishes weren't the case. he decides not to leave off on completely shutting agent choi down, not when he makes a request like that. ]

But I'm not going to leave you or anyone else here.

[ soleum mentally prepares himself for the grip on his shoulders to tighten if agent choi isn't fond of his response. if he isn't, then that would be on brand, especially when it's keeping information from the bureau. he realizes something as he stares at the other, why does agent choi feel older, not in the way of physical appearance, but like he's seen too much that it's weighing him down? the way he talks, the discrepancies in what's being said, how he reacts... it's starting to bother soleum. it's like needles poking into his sides, it's uncomfortable, but he's not allowed to ask directly yet. ]

That's why I'm— we're here. We need to find everyone else, but it might be best for you to wake up now. You're disoriented.

[dedicate]

No, Grapes. If anybody is disoriented, it's you.

[ it's true that their 'destruction king rookie' has a knack for knowing all sorts of things that he should have no way of knowing, and maybe agent choi should trust in that. it would make sense, right? even when it came to a one-on-one confrontation with kim soleum, he wasn't able to win. but even so. even so... this is an incredibly dangerous situation, and there's no manual for him to fall back on if his kid gets in trouble.

he just can't bring himself to do it.

so he continues firmly, not dissuaded in the least. ]

I'm telling you, I've been here for a while. I know how this works.

[ kids these days, they don't know how to listen to their seniors, but just because grapes here is so used to breezing his way through things... it's like he forgets that agent choi is experienced too. much more than himself.

he'll finally lean back, letting his arms fall back to his sides with a resigned sigh. it's not soleum's decision that he's resigning himself to though; it's his own. ]

For now, you'll stay with me. I'll explain the situation and keep an eye on you so you don't do anything stupid—so don't think you're getting those pills back!

[roedeer]

...

[ he wants to correct him that he hasn't been anywhere, that he's been with them. he's been hung with them, he's died with them, he's woke up with them, and he was locked away in bed with them. he agreed with them, he kidnapped (on director ho's won) with them, and he entered a darkness with them. he hasn't been anywhere else aside from with them, kim soleum knows this, but over and over... agent choi corrects him.

is it difficult to tell him that he's wrong?

no, he could say it now, because soleum doesn't think he's wrong, but it's difficult when he's only seen agent choi act like this. he believes in this place as a darkness that soleum hasn't prepared for, and if soleum hasn't done this over and over then maybe he'd listen.

what can agent choi tell him that he doesn't already know? ]

They're our contingency plan if things go wrong.

[ even admitting this, agent choi must think that's stupid, he probably dislikes the option of it being a plan at all. he understands that he's not getting them back, but he has to explain why they're an option. ]

We'll wake up, and we'll be outside the Darkness. As you said, we are in a dream.

[ agent choi has confirmed that, but the parts about the disaster site being further in... is he talking about what lies beyond the train station. soleum brings one hand up to find its way to agent choi's shoulder, and his firm grip locks into place. ]

You can rest, Agent. [ he can't quite ignore the "what if" in the back of his mind when agent choi is like this. he can't ignore the look in his eyes, not when agent choi believes so strongly in what he's saying. it makes soleum almost want to believe, and he remedies this by looking away. ] I can take care of myself.

[ "count on me," goes unspoken because he can't promise it long-term. ]

[dedicate]

No.

[ his firm answer comes without hesitation. he can't rest, and kim soleum can't take care of himself. he wouldn't take care of himself even if he could. agent choi has seen and heard about it time and time again—if anything, he takes care of everybody except for himself, and that's precisely why it's up to agent choi to ensure his safety for him.

it's not that he doesn't understand though. ]

I get it. There are other dream-like phenomena that you exit that way, like that school—so you think that it must be fine, right?

[ makes sense. it would be consistent that way, after all, but choi? he's seen assumptions like that go terribly wrong, so he shakes his head. ]

But that's not a safe assumption to make Grapes. There are just as many out there that will really kill you.

[ he says this, but all of it sounds tired. exhausted. even so, even so—he brings his hand up, wrapping his fingers around the wrist of the hand that's come to grip his own shoulder. ]

Do you remember what I told you that time? At dinner, after you first joined the team?

[ not only would having certainty in your actions during a disaster be the real supernatural phenomena, but the trust too. the trust in the people who've come before you. who've tried things before you, and leave their guidance behind for you. in this case, just like agent choi has been in this place for some time before soleum's arrival, he needs his junior to listen to him here. he needs his trust.

he'll give a smile here. warm. reassuring. a little bit desperate. ]

Believe in that.

[roedeer]

[ the small flash of light in his eyes at those words, it's hard to ignore that it doesn't resonate with him some.

during then, he was wet behind the ears as an agent, he had tried very hard to avoid even getting into that position. truthfully, he didn't want to be on that team so to anyone that had reservations, that would have been a waste of wise words on them. he did listen though, as scary as it was with imposing, named characters right next to him... kim soleum, no, grapes did listen.

he believed in the exploration records then, and isn't their success of black tortoise team 1's teamwork and trust all written there? all where soleum had scrol through and read each and every log while working his 9 to 5s in the office, and kicking his feet when their advice really made a difference to the story. he couldn't really appreciate it then in the thick of things, but when he thinks like a person not involved in the dark exploration records...

isn't the advice, that writes itself back into the plot, kind of cool?

soleum rides a high, one where he knows what's best, he's been doing this for so long— it's agent choi who doesn't remember, so shouldn't he believe in kim soleum to get him through this? take the pills and wake up. it sounds so easy. though, he hasn't been in this location as he isn't familiar with it, and there's no text logs that start with an underwater location to a cathedral either. well, there wouldn't when this is attached to the mysterious sekwang.

there's a part of him that doesn't want to budge from his beliefs though. ]

I was an agent then when you told me that. I've resigned so...

[ it shouldn't count, right? he doesn't have to be limited to the advice of an agent anymore. he reminds agent choi of that in case he's forgotten. even if 130666 is registered as a helpful supernatural entity that can be trusted, there's still a chasm split between them as he's no longer that rookie listening to his team leader.

agent choi doesn't remember, so soleum has to remind him.

agent choi is dealing with discrepancies because of the light, so soleum should do what he can to get him out of here.

what agent choi does remember is information towards this place, and he sounds so confident as he applies previous circumstances to this darkness.

his hold onto the agent's shoulders starts to relax, that firm urgency no longer there like it was before. a snake who's uncoiled their prey, or rather, a deer who no longer wants to joust their horns into a fight where the opponent is only standing their ground.

it's not anything to win. it was never about winning. it's about believing in something.

in that, he supposes. ]

...What advice do you have for me?

[ back then, he couldn't trust himself with making the right choice due to the responsibility, and even now... as agent choi corrects him, advices him, guides him... he feels like he should trust himself a little less. ]

[dedicate]

Just trust me. Trust in your senior, okay?

[ that's the most important advice he has. almost the only advice he has, really. as long as soleum can do that much for him, he's confident that he can keep both of them safe—and alive for that matter. though, even more importantly than that in his eyes, is this: ]

Besides, you didn't resign. You just ran off. As far as I'm concerned, you're still a part of Black Tortoise Team 1.

[ and here, his smile relaxes into something more sincere. ]

Didn't I say we'd be working together for life?

[ in the very same conversation, no less.

but, jeez. what an emotional rollercoaster, huh? with a sigh of relief, agent choi will lean back again, pulling soleum's hand off his shoulder and letting both of theirs drop back down, his into his lap. finally, he'll let himself sit down in this safe confessional space, and he'll even spare a peek outside of it. ]

Seems safe enough in here, so I guess I'll start from the top.

[ he's not naive enough to think that soleum will believe in him wholeheartedly without the context for why he should. first, now that the situation doesn't feel quite so dire, he'll gesture for soleum to make himself comfortable too. ]

[roedeer]

[ silence. it's confirmed, he doesn't remember past that time, and he isn't familiar with soleum's current position at the bureau. he's fine when inside of this darkness, somehow the mechanics of the story allows for him to have his original body back, but it makes proving his worth difficult. he's been here, they've been here, he can handle this.

he's unable to even touch on the current topic, the "working for life," isn't an opportunity he can follow through with. agent choi should be aware that soleum wants to go home, and knowing him, he probably believes it's faraway and that soleum's main concern is getting to the job. knowing him, he'll find some way to make it so soleum can return to their branch. knowing him...

there's no need to resist, but a feeling of unwillingness settles into his chest, a commonplace acceptance that he's known for some time now. he no longer fusses with the issue of when to leave, how to leave, and while he's unable to say he isn't part of the bureau completely.

he can say that he will be leaving.

slowly his hands are peeled away, and he chooses the most comfortable position he has, which is to curl up with his knees against his chest. this allows for soleum to wrap his arms around his legs, and hook his hands together by his right grabbing his left wrist. two of his fingers linger where the tattoos are for security as he doubts agent choi will let him near the door of the confessional. ]

This is a Disaster we enter by sleeping, that's a basic understanding that we share, correct?

[ since they're starting from the top, dark eyes find themselves looking to the agent to see if he agrees. not only that, to find if there are any other telling marks that he's been here "longer", but he doesn't look any different from when he saw him. eyes lower to the man's pocket.

the sound of glass shatters still like raindrops, and soleum can't see from where he is, but he'll work on audio cues at least. ]