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

holds them close to meeeeeeeeeee /in the tune of you are my AaaanGELLLLLL hamster meme or whatever/

[perilously]

[ sleep. kamui files that, which is to say he begins to think about it a lot but also tucks it away for thinking even more on later, a soft 'hmm' both at the whole answer as well as the specificity of 'something'. when kamui thinks of 'things' outside of human shaped harbors, he thinks of those unforgiving too-big words: fate, foreordained, save us.

a breath. off kilter.

he nods with the awkwardness of someone who means well but still isn't sure what to make of the situation. and though he does not wink in response, he does not shy away from the hand on his shoulder either, a boy accustomed to people entering and occupying his personal space on the regular.

choi's words circle and interchange spaces in kamui's head. if. wake up. find.

kamui bites the inside of his cheek, just offering an inarticulate 'mm' at the suggestion at first before adding, ]

...you said 'when you wake up'...Agent Choi, are you also in Tokyo?

[ not a trick but rather, kamui has no idea where else to start with the rest of his questions -- burgeoning in a way he knows there are many, and swarming in a way it's hard to just pluck one out in clarity. some not-water (?) drips down from kamui's hair and into his eye, causing him to close them, rubbing with the back of his hand as he tacks on, ]

...you seem kind of familiar with this sort of thing too.

laying on top of kamui like this https://youtu.be/eKQR9m1SRUA

[dedicate]

Ahaha~ You're pretty sharp aren't you, kid?

[ and here choi had thought that he might be able to get away with noncommittal half-answers. it seems like kamui here is the type to feel reassured only if he understands the situation well though. well, it's not choi's own preference, but maybe it's for the best if he takes a minute to elaborate in that case. ]

I'm from Seoul. Actually, dealing with this kinda thing is my job. If people get stuck in a place like this, it's up to me to make sure they get back home safely. That'd usually be how it works.

[ pretty cool, right? but once that settles in, he offers quite the world-weary sounding sigh. ]

But, ah~~ This one's been a real doozy. I still haven't managed to chart an escape route!

[ how's he supposed to get anyone else out of here if he can't even get himself out? it's a bit of a problem. ]

Anyway, this isn't the main site, so if you're lucky you can still wake up back in Tokyo without having to worry about any of this.

distressed to say i don't have a visual so high caliber but yes please may it be so

[perilously]

[ seoul. kamui tilts his head a little, listening and eyes widening a bit as choi explains his...job. there's a warmth about this person that pulls at something in kamui, keeping him close and curious, prone to trust. ]

That seems like a difficult job.

[ he pauses, trying to take in their surroundings again as if another survey will tell him more (but it doesn't.) ]

"The main site"? If I don't wake up in Tokyo...

[ trailing off, the question is obvious enough but at the same time kamui doesn't finish it, thin hand going under his chin as he thinks about that 'if'. no. he has to wake up, to return, to...

...? to what?

it's not as if he can...

he shakes his head, clearing it, blinking. ]

But...that means...you're trapped?

[ a bit of a pinball game is what kamui's attention is doing, but zeroing in on this aspect sticks the landing, peering at choi again, brow slightly knit. worried. he wonders, a bit desolately and a bit hopefully at at once, if he can help. [

listen... u see the vision that's what matters!!

[dedicate]

Yeah, but it's fulfilling work, you know? Really rewarding!

[ even as kamui ends off on a different note, agent choi can't just let that comment slip by. find a job you love and you'll never work a day of your life, they say, right? as far as he's concerned, the satisfaction he gets from carrying out his work, saving lives and helping civilians, is more than worth the danger that it entails. ]

And hey, even if that's the case for now, let's be clear about one thing: it's not that there's no way out—we just haven't found it yet.

[ his confidence in that is unwavering, so don't sound so worried about them! that's his job as the adult to do.

he does look thoughtful for a moment though. it's not as if he can guarantee a way for kamui here to get back to the city where he belongs, right? they're still in the stage of defining the entry criteria; the sample pool is too small right now. so, rather than making promises he can't keep... ]

I'm more worried about you, so how about this. Is your English any good? I'm staying at 161 Mulberry street, so if you end up somewhere you don't recognize, you can find me there. There's another guy too, but you can ignore him~ Just say you're looking for me, 'kay?

truly we must bring it to fruition

[perilously]

[ that agent choi thinks of his work as rewarding does bring a small smile to kamui's face, a softness there that comes from the balanced parts of being surprised to find someone who actually likes what they do and, also, seems to have had some choice in it. whether or not that is true of course kamui has no way to know. but on the surface at least, it's a nice thing to hear, especially from someone as likable as choi is.

the rest gets a slight nod, the press of kamui's mouth closed obviously thinking about what that means -- we just haven't found it yet. how long have they been looking? who is 'we'?? kamui has one person in mind already who he saw but is again gone from him. but his thoughts get embarrassingly distracted when agent choi continues talking and...oh.

well.

kamui raises his hands waving them a bit. his english?

. . . ]

Ah....well. It's...not very good,

[ this is of course teenager speak for: it's pretty bad! excuses like: but the apocalypse was happening. seem...silly. even if it is true, and then the fact that kamui was trying to continue studies at all at the time is...even sillier as he stands in this odd cathedral. on his shoulder: a few pink petals from his curiosity with the goblets earlier. on his hair: shimmering droplets of the water from before. on the tip of his tongue: how do i ignore someone and ask them to find someone?

it is the last thought that makes him laugh, a small almost giggle out of nowhere. he feels a bit hysterical, on edge but also wholly trusting of this person he's with. ]

How can I ignore him if I need to ask for you?

[ and then, because he's mostly joking, he adds, mouth quirked up on one side, ]

Thank you...I'll do my best to remember. 1-6-1...Mulberry.

[ the way kamui says it is reminiscent of how people count slowly off of their fingertips. thoughtful. and then, because it occurs to him only belatedly, ]

...but I'll try not to bother you, if I don't need to.

🎉️💞️

[dedicate]

[ ahh, cute, cute! guess not every kid can be a top student? choi's sure though, that there must've been other things that were important to kamui if they were distracting him from his studies like that, and as he offers a flustered wave of his hands, interrupts himself with a giggle that almost seems to bubble up despite himself, choi can't help the chest-deep laugh that escapes his own throat. ah, no, but for real—he likes this kid! it's for that reason that he can say: ]

Wahaha!! That's it, that's it. Let's hope that you don't end up needing to!

[ he means it, too. says it with absolute sinceirty. if kamui does end up in manhattan, it'll be good that they've made these preparations—but it'd be even better if he didn't wake up there at all. in the spirit of 'just in case' though, he'll offer this much for kamui's curiosity: ]

If you do, well—that guy has a bad personality, but he's pretty well behaved. What I'm saying is, you can ignore the personality part.

[ sorry, saheon, but even if you're growing on him here... the truth is still the truth, isn't it? ]

Otherwise, hmm. Let's just think of it like a field trip! I'm sure we can find you a tutor or something like that.

[ he'd make the offer himself, but it sounds difficult to teach a language when you don't even share your first one. luckily, there seem to be a few reliable others who speak japanese and english both with some familiarity. there's some practicality to knowing it too, so he'll see what he can do on that front. ]

[perilously]

[ the bemused look kamui gives him at 'bad personality but pretty well behaved' is hard to describe as anything else, but it's also shortlived, swapped out for a sheepish smile that conveniently works in reply to both the matter of a field trip and a tutor. again his mind goes to one particular person. again he tries to push it away from that thought at least for the immediate moment; mixed success. ]

I --

[ this time when kamui sneezes it's softer because he presses his hands to his face more tightly, muffling it, wide eyes blinking rapidly against the reflexive tearing. once he's sure he won't do so again, he lowers them, slightly clearing his throat (or trying), before saying, ]

Er...If it's very bad...I would have problems?

[ where on earth is this 'place' or dream? well, very presumptuous to even think in the frame of a cliche like 'on earth'. kamui should know better. but with his spirit distracted by the nearly-there-but-not presence of others from his world, he can't help his dozens of questions. he's heard 'when you wake up' multiple times, but wake up how? where? and when he does how can he be sure? the matter of language simply hadn't even occurred to him until choi brought it up, and it's so practical it stumps kamui on the spot.

some of this may be obvious, the peaceable but anxious fold of thin hands, the flit of his gaze from choi to the cathedral to nothing at all, not truly ready to bolt but reminiscent of an animal who's considering it. if only he knew to where. but even then he wouldn't, not yet.

you remind me of... he thinks softly and it's a calming, aching kind of thought. is everyone okay back home? in the waking world? how much time does he have?

will it be enough? ]

[dedicate]

[ if nothing else, it's a relief that he can get kamui smiling like this. he'll be the first to admit that the circumstances are far from ideal, but hey, positive energy begets positive energy, right? he certainly subscribes to that belief, though he'll rub at kamui's back when he sneezes... yeesh, hopefully that cold doesn't follow him to the waking world.

still, after observing those timid behaviours for a moment, choi answers— ]

Problems? Nah, probably not.

[ reading street signs and maps helps, and magazines and such pass the time, but the most important things to know can be committed to memory. ]

But if you're in America anyway, might as well use the chance to practice while you can, yeah?

[ because the truth is, manhattan kind of blows. it's tedious to survive, it's dangerous to try to learn more or make progress, and they don't even have access to most basic amenities. having something—anything that could lend to a sense of normalcy would be a good thing, as far as agent choi is concerned. especially for a kid who's as young as kamui. some busywork to keep him busy and active wouldn't be a a bad thing if he ended up there. the best thing choi can do for him here, is probably to be confident as he helps him start off in the right direction. ]

[perilously]

[ turning over all of what he can gather from that information, kamui...well, he does not precisely bluescreen, but it's something adjacent. america? what? but this dream...

...

his brows raise as he opens his mouth to ask one thing, closes it, opens it, closes it again.

there's a faint bristle in his posture, not quashing the smile nor the little tics of anxiety, but...convoluting it. to say the least. he finds himself nodding despite not necessarily meaning it how agent choi probably does, ]

Um. Yes...but...

[ the longer he stands here though, the more he thinks, the more kamui remembers of the place he was before this strange illusory cathedral with its goblets of flowers and well meaning strangers. his eyes close and he can almost almost feel...

a breath.

to someone else, it probably looks like kamui is trying to retain his calm or not panic; in truth, he's just...searching.

where are you?

it proves fruitless though, and when he opens his eyes, there's a soft bite to his lip, the smallest frown. with no explanation for any of it, indeed only looking around now as if that will help him find what he is searching for, kamui's gaze eventually ends up falling to the ground between the two of them.

there's nothing there, but the way he keeps his focus there might suggest otherwise. ]

Agent Choi...um...if I saw someone earlier...does that mean I can probably find him here too?

[dedicate]

[ he's an interesting kid to watch, choi will say that much. it feels like each and every one of his feelings is written all over his face, his body language, and the way he speaks—its just a shame that agent choi doesn't know him well enough to read the thoughts behind them.

he'll give kamui a moment to go through the motions, and when the question finally comes out, a hand comes up to his chin, looking thoughtful. ]

Someone you know?

[ —if he's so eager to meet them? it isn't unheard of; it feels like people arrive in batches based on origin, just like agent choi and a certain cult company employee happened across one another in the same dream. for that kind of thing to happen again, well, no. it has happened. ]

There's no guarantee. [ just to be completely honest. ] But it's not impossible either.

[ it would be too bad to get the kid's hopes up, but choi's not going to write off the possibility either. instead, with that smile of his warm and curious: ]

What kind of person are they? I can keep an eye out for them, and if I see them around, I'll let them know you're looking for them.

[perilously]

[ embarrassingly, color floods kamui's pale complexion when choi asks what kind of person subaru is. kamui's mind floods unhelpfully with seeing him not long ago in what felt like a sea, some creature lurking beneath them, filaments like ribbons of ghosts and light and heart shards strung through and pulling them down. he thinks about how subaru told him to close his eyes and how the next time kamui opened them, he was gone. a sobering thought, his color evens out but none of this stops him from looking away. ]

A very kind person. I was looking for him before, actually. Um. This tall,

[ at least with this, kamui looks up again, raising his hand to quite a taller than himself, biting the inside of his cheek. someone else's words come back to him: he's quite handsome. ah. not how he's going to describe him out loud even though it was easy to agree at the time. well. his gaze falls as his hand does, folding it atop the other. he can't help but smile, but it's not a particularly happy expression. ]

...sorry I'm not...good at describing...his name is Sumeragi Subaru.

[ selfishly, even knowing maybe subaru does not want to be found, kamui cannot help it. he's about to say something else, but sounds in the distance distract him, having him curious enough to look. ]

...?

[ it's far, through doors down the way that lead to a garden that isn't a garden, and beyond that the source of what kamui does not realize he feels more than hears. entities that bear resemblances to horses but aren't really, not the way he knows them. unconsciously, he takes a step towards the garden doors, murmuring under his breath, ]

Someone's there.

[dedicate]

[ oh, that guy.

it clicks for him immediately—it's just unfortunate that before he can manage an answer, both of them turn their attention to the sudden ruckus beyond the doors.

it's the least he can do to keep smiling though. no, rather, doesn't it feel a bit more confident now? rather than warm, it's a self-satisfied kind of expression, and he'll pat kamui on the shoulder a couple times as he walks past, turning to glance at him only briefly. ]

Stay here for a sec, 'kay? I'll check it out.

[ hard to gauge what's dangerous and what isn't in a dream like this, right? and even if this kid wasn't looking for subaru, of all people, choi would still want to make sure he's safe. that mutual acquaintance is just a little extra incentive.

as choi makes his way up to the doorway, various snorts, whinnies, and stomping sounds make their way further in. the horses—horse-like creatures don't seem too excited about his presence. they back up, they stomp at him, and one even prances right up into his business as if to intimidate him away. for his part though, he just holds his hands out in a gesture he hopes will placate them some, offering muffled reassurances that he's not going to hurt them. we can be friends, can't we? let's get along~

it takes a moment for things to calm down, but the nightmares seem content to give him some space in the end. or rather, it might be more accurate to say that they seem reluctant to come any closer to the man at the door. one or two might still be peering longingly through the doorway—right at kamui.

but once they've reached this point, agent choi will turn and gesture for kamui to follow. ]

[perilously]

But -- [ ...

kamui waits, mostly because he's not certain he'll cause more problems by doing anything else, and less so out of sheer obedience. he watches, as much as he can, muscles jumping a bit in that knee-jerk reflex of wanting to go with or ahead of choi, then forcing back that impulse. to keep himself that much more in-place, one of kamui's hands folds over the opposite wrist, holding. wait. wait.

wait.

but even without seeing the source of the sounds, he feels them. he's not fearful so much as deeply aware, overly sensitive. his skin almost prickles. or is he shivering? he blinks, shaking his head to try and clear it. his feet carry him a bit forward after all, disconnected from his thoughts. so it happens that when he looks up again, he meets the gaze of something that seems reminiscent of a horse but is not. he doesn't need preexisting knowledge or experience to know. he can feel it.

the hair on his nape stands up.

there's a whinny from one of the nightmares or maybe a few, the interested ones, equal parts offense and curiosity or perhaps even hunger, lined with agitation.

kamui bites his tongue. the hand white knuckled around his own other wrist, tightens, his body subtle but also clear in one thing: reluctance. his gaze shifts to choi instead of the not-horses, knowing he doesn't know this person enough to have the right to act on his instinct. but it's a bit hard for some reason to swallow it down.

so somehow one of his hands does end up attached to one of choi's sleeves or whatever part of clothing, a slight backward tug. not fear, rather, apprehension.

distrust. but also... ]

...there are a lot of them.

[ peering past choi, still holding onto him albeit lightly, kamui's voice comes out calm, a bit curious but still like a line pulled taut, prone to either staying level or snapping up like a stray bullet. a faint shift of light makes his own eyes dilate more like a cat's, the blue-violet veering more violet, as a handful of the ones showing interest before try to push in closer again. he does not know he requires one of them to continue forward, nor that he has to be chosen.

then again, even if he knew, part of kamui might reject that. being 'chosen' has not done much for him, after all. ]

[dedicate]

[ a lot of them, huh? that's true. they crowd around like these guests are a truly novel sight to see, and choi spares only a glance to kamui at his words. habitually, he shifts, positioning himself subtly between kamui and the nightmares, but he doesn't seem frightened by them in the least.

rather, there's interest sparking in choi's gaze as he looks the creatures over. it can't be said that they return the same to him, turning their heads this way and that to keep this predator within their sights, but neither do they seem interested in leaving with the actual subject of their interest so close. brave things, these are.

experimentally, with the sleeve that kamui doesn't have hold of, agent choi will reach out to them. it's a slow, tentative gesture, as if testing the limits of what he can get away with—which, it would seem, is not much. even as he takes a half-step forward, the nightmares who had been so bold as to approach for the sake of investigating kamui seem in no way fond of his companion. they shuffle back, hooves against the dirt, shaking their heads as if to reject him.

agent choi pulls his hand back and turns his attention back to the boy next to him. ]

Guess it must be you they're interested in.

[ he sounds amused by the idea, smile easy on his face. even as he says it though, he's sure to watch kamui with sharp eyes, gauging his reaction. it would already be hard to say that he seems comfortable with these creatures, and though choi wouldn't call them so frightening, he'd like to use kamui's feelings as his guide here. ]

What do you say? Do you want to try? [ and, appended just in case: ] I won't let anything bad happen, so don't worry about that.

[perilously]

[ for a longer time than is polite or normal, kamui is silent in the face of choi's words. he just watches the nightmares, trying to understand what exactly it is he's both seeing and feeling. it pricks at a fight or flight instinct in him like some kind of animal, but also...something missing; something lonely. and...?

to choi it might look like kamui utterly dissociates, even the pupil of his eyes near to disappearing the way a trick of the dark or the light might cause.

but even so, kamui's body moves: forward.

somehow his steps are silent, as if on cat feet and claws retracted.

when he passes choi, it would seem as though he does not know he is there anymore. the nightmares who showed interest, continue to. the ones who did not, don't change their minds either. and kamui stops just shy of them, extending one upturned palm, the scar there still deep and abiding like some kind of curse.

quiet, so quiet, ]

What do you want, hm?

[ what should i be for you?

not so conscious a thought but kamui startles himself once there is the feeling of one mare's touch; not chosen but considered. weighed on some set of scales he's not able to see. his own startlement in turn riles the nightmares. one rears, distressed, distrusting now of this no-longer candidate, and kamui is aware of two things at once: 1. the horse-like-thing-that-isn't-a-horse seems a great deal bigger than he realized and 2. also he has no idea what happens if he dies (by trampling or otherwise) in this dream. he still doesn't even know whose it is.

by reflex, he leaps back with a narrow arm outstretched to make sure he pushes choi back with him, or at least tries to. ]

[dedicate]

[ it's interesting to watch—if a bit worrying.

first, kamui is quiet. then, he's stepping forward. finally, stumbling back, pushing choi back with him, and that's when the agent decides it's time to step in.

he allows himself to be pushed a half-step back, but he hardly feels an ounce of fear even staring down this beast. taking the arm that kamui has stretched out to push him back in his hand, agent choi yanks kamui behind him, shielding him with his body and stepping forward instead. with his other hand, he reaches ahead of himself, towards the nightmares.

his voice sounds more scolding and exasperated than it does frightened or threatening. ]

Calm down, calm down. You—if you want to meet someone, who are you to get upset? Nobody taught you any manners?

[ even as the horse-like creature rears up on its hind legs, it's stepping back rather than forward, once again frightened itself by the firmness of choi's voice and something sharp and predatory that glints in his eyes. it's the very thing that instills him with such instinctive bravery that pushes the nightmares back a few paces once more.

still, it feels like there's some tension lingering, doesn't it?

the smile he offers to kamui over his shoulder is just as tired as he'd sounded. once he meets kamui's eyes, he even rolls his for effect. ]

Jeez, these guys, am I right?

[perilously]

[ even as he's pulled behind choi, kamui catches it again: that sense of something sharp, something pointed in a way he thinks of more often related to animals than people. perhaps the not-horses agree, what with how they respond, but they don't retreat too far. with how much taller choi is, kamui settles for sort of peering around his side instead, eying the nightmares and garnering nothing specific from any of them. chaos. feelings. fear. alive, alive, alive. but more than that, kamui really cannot say. ]

I don't really understand what they want. And it feels like I should.

[ he stops his cat-like craning moments before choi turns to look at him, and it's knee-jerk to return the smile, though instead of tired kamui toes the line of sheepish and hapless. as one of the nightmares does the agitated side-to-side kamui has seen actual horses do, he's more keenly aware of its attention on him. on the one hand, it does not make him want to hide per se; on the other hand, it doesn't exactly feel like an invitation either. his brow knits as he replies on quite a bit of delay, ]

They feel...restless.

[ one word for it. and...incomplete. kamui isn't sure why that's the word that comes to him, and he knows very well he could be wrong anyway, probably is. gaze shifting back to choi and then to the other mares still quite distrusting of the former, intimidated enough to maintain some modest distance. kamui's head tilts again. ]

And...afraid of you. Or...wary.

[ in a way they aren't of me, is the unspoken but it's fairly obvious. kamui doesn't mind not being taken as a threat, all too aware grimly that he is one, even if many people fail to understand this until it is too late. details, details. he needs to wake up. matter of order. faintly under his tongue: the taste of petals and salt water. a presence of familiar hands. he shakes his head. clears it. but to someone looking at him it would look like a dizzy spell as his hand goes to his head. ]