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

\o/ hopefully all goes well and i can bother your yuuto more huehue

[perilously]

[ may not.

for a while kamui says nothing either, though he steps tentatively away from the light and out of view of his own reflection, not wanting to see. his gaze rests instead on yuuto, still trying to place if he's seen or met him before; really he should remember if so, but to say he's a bit out of sorts to begin with would be understatement. at the same time, he tries to not be, and in so doing, achieves...mostly success. he tilts his head and when he folds his arms gently, a pink petal looses itself from where it nestled in his collar earlier, flicker floats to the cathedral floor. ]

"Trapped". By who?

[ he'll get an answer or not but he can't think of any way to proceed except 1. ask; or 2. don't ask and bully his way through this 'place' without this person who seems to know him even if the reverse cannot be said. the slight pull to kamui's expression is deadcenter of a pout and a frown, one of those moments where he knows he needs to wait to ask more questions and has to hold himself back. yet his pulse ricochets anxiously in this quiet place, a forcible waiting room. that yuuto seems so calm does nothing to soothe kamui, but much of this can be attributed to the other clearly recognizing him.

typically? not a good thing, in dreams or outside of them. ]

that would make me most happy - and man, it seems like i blink and days pass by what is that!!

[salaryman]

Sleep.

[ Perhaps, that is too casual an answer. However, it is the only answer he can give. He scratches the side of his face, letting his eyes drift away from Kamui.

His gaze fixes on the reflection - it looks like the teenager in front of him. Somehow, that is a relief. He wonders what Kamui would look like, but he supposes it depends on the person.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, he lightly chuckles into his palm. Lifting his head up, he catches Kamui's eyes and tips his head in apology. His other hand lifts to lightly wave in the air. Private joke.

Yuuto tries to gesture that out before returning to a serious expression because they are talking about serious things!

He's the one who let his mind wander. ]

I'm afraid I don't know much about her, but you're lucky. A ceremony of sorts happened... we were all requested to give something to show our devotion to her. [ He tips his head upwards. ] I'm glad you came after. I think you've given quite a bit up already for others.

[ And he smiles in a sympathetic way. ]

;3; <3!!! and dw this happens to me quite often i. can RELATE!

[perilously]

[ 'sleep'. kamui's brow furrows. he does not notice yuuto's focus being on the reflection, preoccupied with the answer he was given, then distracted in turn by the soft chuckle. nothing about this seems funny but then again he knows next to nothing about it, so there may be no room to judge. no reason to either, though his head tilts at the other thing he says.

ceremony?

give something?

his mind veers to the last person he saw.

what did you give?

what did you lose?

no time to linger on it, for better or for worse. kamui's own eyes widen at the last statement. ]

I haven't...

[ not compared to everyone else. on the contrary. others have given up things or lost things because of kamui's selfishness, a thing he cannot relinquish; a misguided promise to the dead.

faintly on kamui's tongue, the aftertaste of curiosity and a goblet that turned out to be filled with flowers. faintly on kamui's hands, the drying remnant of a sea that fractured apart with light that seemed strewn with memories that did not all belong to him. faintly on kamui's shoulders, the weight of not knowing what to do, how to proceed.

and knowing that he is supposed to know. ]

I don't...understand why you'd say that.

[ a soft shake of his head, kamui steps nearly shy of the light and the glass. it casts him only half-dark, and half shown, and it's as though only being able to perceive half of kamui, the glass procures a shifted image: blood strewn wing, enmeshed. fate? ordained. but beyond all of that, kamui's nerves: tighten.

the curve of this man's mouth is sympathetic, the picture of it.

but kamui does not particularly feel...anything from him. and he's not sure why. that he seems to 'know' kamui also is all but confirmed, and historically that's not a good thing.

not a little. not at all. ]

handshakes!!!!!

[salaryman]

[ Yuuto lightly scratches the side of his face. He can't say that it's a tic or a disarming gesture. It is probably something in the middle. His eyes roll to the side as he tilts his head away.

Honestly, he feels like Kamui has given up quite a lot for the sake of others. That is his bias opinion of the teenager's situation.

His eyes drift and dart around shadows before finally answering: ]

Ah, I'm sorry.

[ His hand claps onto the back of his own neck; he forces his head down into a partial bow. ]

I suppose I'm speaking rather flippantly on matters that are quite serious. It's a bad habit of mine and I'm afraid there's really no cure for it.

[ He pushes on the back of his neck more so he bends down further, to show his sincerity, even if he can't change his habits or mannerisms. ]

I'm sorry.

[perilously]

[ a soft hum. he shakes his head. no matter what he's lost, it wasn't given. others though, others have...well.

perhaps there is no point splitting hairs. they are trapped in a dream.

first things first. so, ]

It didn't seem flippant...just...wrong.

[ the way kamui says it is mild, the way one tends to sound when distracted, which to be fair he is: looking around at the cathedral with no dedicated feeling except confusion. displacement. a dream, but not like any dream he's ever walked through and he's been in quite a few at this point. that he does not remember falling asleep poses another concern. where was he? what was he doing? why can he not recall?

is it this place? does it make one...forget?

but everything else seems intact. more or less. energy invisible but familiar pulses at the tips of kamui's fingers behind a gate of 'wait and see'.

he sighs, lifting said hand to push back through his hair, still damp, a few droplets trickling down from his hairline to make him flinch and blink, a pale echo of a tear, easily ignored. ]

You're very calm...

[ not that kamui sounds agitated, either, but it's different. then again, since yuuto has been here/had this dream before (?), he supposes that tracks, even as he adds, tilting his head towards him in a way reminiscent of how a cat peers, ]

...are you just...waiting?

[ kamui does not even bother asking 'for what'. part of him has already made its assumptions: to wake,

to leave. ]

[salaryman]

[ He closes his eyes as he smiles.

Yuuto isn't sure if he's wrong, but he doesn't think it's right to press the matter either. Or rather, not feeling like pressing the matter, maybe it's better to say he simply doesn't want to cause any ripples or disturbances? Not out of fear of Kamui or Kamui, but it just being his nature.

He slides his hand off the back of his neck and straightens his posture. ]

I will warn you that we can die in these dreams and face quite painful consequences in the waking world.

[ Folding his arms behind his back, he tilts his head as he gives his warning. Of course, this is something that is generally known. Kanoe showed him that much when she tried to poke at the teenager in his dreams. ]

But yes, I'm calm. Being worried or anxious about it won't stop it from happening if things fall to much outside of my favor.

[ And he laughs. It's the same bright, cheerful one as always. ]

I am waiting to see what happens next. I guess that is what I always do.

[ Indeed, his nature hasn't changed at all. ]

But what do you intend to do?

[perilously]

[ the way yuuto talks about being worried or anxious makes it sound like he has complete control over those feelings, which kamui can neither comprehend nor understand. when he first came to tokyo he thought he could control his feelings to the point of simply not having them, to simply acting on what he was told and not realizing how little that really was until, over and over, it was too late. he's still not sure what the 'right' path is, or if there even is one. more and more the answer leans towards a dismal 'probably not', despite all the prophecy talk and the dreamgazing and the indelible matter of multiple people he loves dying for the sake of this 'fate'.

it's a three headed dog's response from a cat: dislike, envy, mistrust.

sighing, kamui rubs at his palms. a habit formed; somehow, the scars there are grounding. ]

I can't stay here.

[ not that he wants to, but rather: i must go.

so then the question: how? ]

But this dream feels different than all the others.

[ the word is not 'deeper' but something in the same cadre. biting the inside of his cheek, kamui narrows his gaze at the glass as he notices it again finally and steps completely out of the light. yes. it feels different.

and once again he's found himself on the map circled 'you are here' but the map is utterly blank and no compass to speak of.

in the distance, there are sounds kamui can make neither heads nor tails of. other people? animals? are there animals here? he feels strangely...disoriented.

absently, he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. ]

[salaryman]

That's fair.

[ Trotting after, his steps are light and easy as he peers over Kamui's head to glance at the map. It doesn't seem like it is going to be very helpful. ]

It still has its own rules.

[ He chimes in return as he tries to be as helpful as he can. Scratching the back of his head, he mulls over what those rules are. He hums and pinches his chin; he walks in a half-circle as he takes in their surroundings with a little more scrutiny than before.

He lifts his index finger of the hand not holding his face up. Like a light bulb has clicked in his head and he shares his thoughts. ]

We came through the ceiling, but we should go through the door. [ He drops his hands down as he feels rather proud of his revelation. ] This space feels a little more bent on rules of how we should leave than the ocean of before.

[ He snaps his fingers as he points upward. ] Rather ... we can leave on our own two feet ... [ Since they aren't being held down by tendrils this time, but??] ... but there probably is still something more we should do here before we go. [ Another little hum. ] But what could it be?

I suppose exploration is in our future?

[perilously]

Mm.

[ its own rules. ]

I guess so...

[ the door is a consideration, but kamui can't help but wonder if there is another option, slowly stepping around the cathedral's interior, stepping in and out of the light depending on what he is looking at. sometimes he runs his hand along a ruined wall, and sometimes he stops, trying to discern if there really is something else in the shadowed divisions of light and altered visions. ]

It really does look like there's only the door...even if I can get to the ceiling...it doesn't seem like the right choice.

[ big words for the uninformed, one of his hands moves under his chin, head tilting softly. ]

I don't think...

[ when he touches the glass, nothing happens, which is more or less what he expected, but there was a tiny part of him that wondered if it might act like a passageway, as in some dreams glass or reflective surfaces can. well, not here it seems. a soft huff of breath as he asks without looking over, ]

...does it not bother you, being trapped?

[ in other circumstances he might not even ask, but they are suffused with a bizarre contradiction of a feeling of endless time and no time at all. and maybe also because it is a dream, kamui finds himself speaking what flows through his head like an automatic reflex. he really is not sure what to make of yuuto, or how his levelness almost unsettles kamui in a way he does not feel that it should. ]

[salaryman]

[ Yuuto tips his head upward to follow Kamui's line of sight. He doesn't say anything as he lets the teenager think through what he is going to do. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he listens with an easy smile.

He only pauses at the question. ]

No.

[ Rather than answer a question with a question, he decides to simply answer the question. It doesn't bother him that he's trapped. They're already trapped in the waking world so dreams don't make much of a difference. ]

There is nothing I can do about it. I find that it's easier to simply go with the flow than fight against what's happening.

[ His smile softens. ] But the way I live isn't for everyone. There are those with a sense of responsibility and -- [ He lightly scratches the side of his face, thinking of how to word his next point. ] -- sense of self than I do.

[ "Sense of self" is a nice way to put it, and he isn't sure how else to put it. ]

You know... despite being trapped here, I think it'd be okay to do whatever it is you want to do, Kamui. [ He quietly decides to give this offer to him. ] It's one of the few luxuries that we have at the moment. [ And if he isn't sure what he means, he has a lot of suggestions! ]