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

[schietto]

[ If Dante notices Caelus trying to get a glimpse through the mask, he doesn't let it show. He does notice, but he has absolutely no idea what he's trying to do. To him, the little movements are just cute reminding him of a small cute animal that's impossibly curious. Like a chipmunk or... well, a raccoon considering the mask. ]

... [ Dante seems hesitant to answer these questions directly. He doesn't want to think so much about Nicola right now, especially not in a fond manner. It feels like something is trying to rip apart his already fragile defenses on Nicola. ]

Nicola... is very busy back home. It's been a long time since I could say to know his generalized patterns. [ Because Nicola is too busy trying to tidy after Dante and his own bad habits and inadequacies for Dante to dare say he knows anymore. Dante knows in truth this isn't because Nicola is busy, though, so much as that when it comes to Dante, Nicola has no schedule or tendencies. Or at least he didn't until very recently. And even then, Dante can't in his heart truly find it within himself to make any conclusions on why Nicola did as he did, because he still can't believe that Nicola would ever do something to cause harm to him.

( it sure is strange hearing someone calling him simply Dante in conversation that he just met. Not bad, just strange to his ears. ) ]

[trashblaze]

[ …?

Head tilt. There's an odd aura coming from Dante, but Caelus can't place why. Considering the bond of these two, shouldn't there be… a warmer sort of tone? But Dante looks hesitant, almost withdrawn, as if he doesn't want to think about Nicola. But… that's crazy, right? At least from how Nicola acted and worded things, Caelus knows for sure that these two are super close.

So, it's really weird. … Oh, could it be that he's the problem!? He is a stranger to Dante, after all. Caelus shortly makes a decision. He knows what to do! Besides, he can't wait to show Nicola who has arrived. Therefore, he quickly reaches for Dante's hand and begins to run forward with him, taking him along as they head somewhere. ]

This way, Dante!

[ Pulling gently! Eventually, they arrive at the garden somewhere outside, where he last left Nicola and another close friend. Once close enough to the familiar figure, Caelus slowly lets Dante's hand go and then jumps into Nicola's arms shortly after to make his return known. ]

— I'm back!

[panzana]

[As Caelus and Dante enter the garden, Nicola's attention is focused entirely on Aventurine attempting to tame a Nightmare some distance away, so he doesn't notice them at first. Since these creatures look and behave like horses and he noticed other Vessels riding off into the next layer of the dream on their backs, Nicola applied the horse-related knowledge he obtained from serving in the Italian army to tame one of his own and passed on as much of that knowledge as he could to his Avgin friend. He seems to have retained it well and doesn't appear to be as anxious about interacting with the Nightmares as he was earlier, so Nicola looks on with a subtle expression of relief barely concealed behind his mask as his own Nightmare stands a few feet away, quietly eating grass.

It isn't until he spots a familiar rush of gray launching itself towards him from the corner of his eye that he turns toward Caelus, catching the energetic raccoon-masked boy in a motion that seems to be well-practiced. A warm smile spreads across Nicola's face.]

Welcome back, Caelus. You didn't run into any trouble, I hope?

[The words are barely out before Nicola's gaze shifts to Caelus's new companion. At first, Nicola registers only the silhouette: tall, composed, achingly familiar in the way it holds itself. Pale hair catches the fractured light of the garden, but the face beneath is obscured by a thin veil, its gauze-soft folds muting details that should be unmistakable.

His smile lingers for half a second too long, then stills. His breath stutters. A tether snaps into existence the instant Nicola truly looks at him; violent in its suddenness, unmistakable in its weight. It coils tight around his chest, around his ribs, around his heart.

Dante.

Not a dream-echo. Not a cruel approximation. The tether does not lie.

Nicola gently lowers Caelus to touch his feet back onto the ground and then goes utterly still. His fingers loosen from Caelus's coat without him noticing, numb and trembling as the connection burns bright and immediate, dragging grief, relief, terror, and something dangerously close to hope through him all at once.

He doesn't dare step closer. The memory of his knife sinking into "Dante's" thigh and teeth sinking into his neck is too fresh, too sharp.]

...Dante?

[The name slips past his lips before he can stop it, his voice soft, hoarse, stripped of all polish.]

[schietto]

[ Observing Caelus jumping into Nicola's arms is actually somewhat fascinating (perhaps moreso because the two of them have never been even remotely like this despite their closeness so it's a bit of a wonder to observe,) and it's not until he hears the voice that it connects that it is actually the same person.

The tether is truly a moment, the first real sensation Dante has felt since "arriving here." Although everything has felt confusing and hazy much like a fog, the connection is sharp and clear like a strong wind coming in through an opened window or door. The feelings that wash over him now are not his own, he can tell, and his chest clenches as it becomes increasingly clear that Caelus was telling the truth—however it's possible that such a truth be when Nicola was still very much with him just before he "awoke here."

He doesn't know what to do. His end of the tether is concerned more than surprised or in disbelief even as his body language remains the same. He's worried something or someone has really hurt the other, and it bothers him further that he can't even begin to fathom what that might be. To him, Nicola is invincible, in control and ever capable of weathering any storm. What kind of storm, then, did Nicola experience that has him feeling all these intense emotions while standing there dumbstruck.

Without a word, he'll go to lift the veil briefly to show his face despite the sudden dread that creeps over him to lower it. It's important, he thinks, that Nicola's mind and his heart not have any small chance of doubt. Azure eyes lock onto jade ones, and although Dante doesn't dare move forward himself, yet, and he speaks carefully. ]

...Nicola. You really are here. Are you all right...? You look as if you've seen a ghost.

[ if only he knew how true those words are he might have not spoken them at all. ]

[trashblaze]

[ "You didn't run into any trouble, I hope?"

Not at all. But look who is with them now. Caelus initially smiles back at Nicola, especially while he was being held up. But once Nicola's own smile freezes and Caelus is set down, his expression changes as well. At this point, the trailblazer quiets down and observes the two of them without a word.

Many things are on his mind, though. Especially as he feels the intensity of Nicola's tether, a plethora of emotions all brewing at once, like a thunderous storm. Eventually, Caelus finds the timing to speak again after Dante's words. It seems these two will need a private moment together to discuss that serious matter.

That's not surprising, of course. So Caelus will give them that needed chance. ]

I realize I forgot to introduce myself! But that can wait. For now, please take your time to talk. I'll be nearby if I'm needed.

[ With that said, Caelus bows politely to the two before running off. He decides to go play around with Aventurine and the Nightmares in the meantime. ]

[panzana]

[When Nicola watched the life drain from Dante's face back in Burlone, his eyes had been full of rage and hatred toward the man who killed him. The emotions he feels from Dante's end of the tether and the words he speaks now make it apparent to Nicola that those haunting final moments aren't weighing on him here. As though he doesn't remember them at all. But how...?

Whatever the cause, it's a relief that Dante doesn't have to carry the same weight Nicola does. He isn't burdened with this burning desire for vengeance that may never have another chance to be fulfilled, yet which Nicola is still preparing himself to see through regardless. A fury that can only remain bottled for so long, until either its rightful target is summoned by Sleep or it finally reaches the point where it can no longer be contained or controlled. (A small portion of it had already leaked out onto poor Caelus and Aventurine a couple of weeks ago.)

As Caelus so courteously excuses himself, Nicola offers him a silent nod and a grateful look. He watches his friend's retreating figure for another brief moment, letting the space settle, letting his breathing steady. When he turns back, the familiar mask is already sliding into place—not cold, not distant, just... managed.

The tether still hums between them. He doesn't fight it. He simply doesn't let it show.]

I'm all right.

[The words come easily, delivered with a small, reassuring smile meant entirely for Dante.]

This place has a talent for theatrics. It catches people off guard. I wasn't expecting to see you, that's all.

[He takes a careful step closer, measured and deliberate, as though nothing at all had been amiss.]

At any rate... I'm glad you made it here safely.

[schietto]

[ Dante says nothing at first, debating on how to approach this. He knows Nicola is lying, because Caelus already gave enough hint of that away.

...But clearly, for whatever reason, Nicola doesn't want to show it to Dante (not exactly surprising of Nicola) even if he had managed to open up to his new friend concerning it. At best Dante is confused. With his inability to understand the nature of a tether, it means that the uncertainty he's feeling over Nicola's honesty with him bleeds through it to the other man despite his body language remaining unaffected without being any the wiser.

He lets the veil fall back into place in careful resignation, not finding a reason to fight against hiding his face once more with Nicola's behavior as usual. He doesn't push despite a small nagging encouraging him to do so, even though he is concerned thinking back to Caelus's initial reaction to seeing him.

Well... this is simply how it is, isn't it? Nicola should know he can tell him anything, and Dante doesn't know how to pressure or push when Nicola so casually deflects even when Dante gets to those rare points of direct inquiry. Nicola is only going to tell him what he wants Dante to know, he can't change that, right? He will not get frustrated over the way things have been for so long out of respect for the young man's earnestness for Nicola's wellbeing.

( That's what Dante cares most about, anyway. Even if he knows deep down letting it slide as he does doesn't mean Nicola is okay at all. )

He also has since realized that he's dealing with some sort of unusual feeling here that isn't quite his own. If he lets his mind spin it gets harder to keep it from taking over, like this is all meant to be a hunt rather than a nonsensical dream. He doesn't want to stirr that up by doing anything even remotely assertive that might have to do with what he's feeling.

Nicola is acting fine, and it looks like even with a worst case scenario that he actually isn't fine, he has some kind of support here. That's a relief.

He'll nod at his explanation, folding his arms loosely over his chest. Under the veil his eyes drift to the ground after lingering on the other's reassuring smile for a few moments. Has he really arrived anywhere at all? Or is this just a fleeting passing like two ships in the night, and Dante will wake up with Nicola and his friend here in this strange place as nothing more than a fabricated dream? ]

This is ... New York City? [ he asks, unable to hide the doubt in his voice. ]

[panzana]

[The uncertainty bleeding through the tether doesn't go unnoticed. Nicola feels it settle against his ribs like a question left deliberately unasked, and for a fleeting moment, guilt threatens to surface. He doesn't let it.]

Well... the place we're in right now is nothing more than a dreamscape—a shared dream, though the building we came out of does St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City. Once the dream ends, you may wake up there... or you may find yourself back in Burlone as though nothing ever happened. Like a normal dream.

[His tone remains even, practiced. Informative without being revealing.]

I'm among those who woke up in New York after a prior dreamscape. This is the second I've experienced.

[A pause. His gaze lingers on Dante a moment longer than necessary, as though weighing something unseen.]

I've been there for a while now, but... I'm getting the impression nothing has been amiss on your end.

[He tilts his head slightly, voice gentle but probing.]

Is that right?

[schietto]

[ Dante understands what is being said to him, but he doesn't find his mind about to comprehend and digest some of it, particularly about potentially waking up in either New York or Burlone.

He doesn't feel Nicola did a very great job of giving the details of the situation to him just now. He feels like he's being left in the dark about things he shouldn't have to ask for— and that Nicola knows he shouldn't have to ask for and would want to know& mdash;and the lack of context and critical details brings with it a familiar scratching at his patience. There's an edge to his voice, holding back his exasperation. He got submitted through the depths of the ocean, eaten by a shark, met with a guy that was talking very seriously about some entities of darkness all the while having the reflection of the cutest little deer with tiny antlers he's ever seen, met a lady that was meditating and then a few demons trying to make friends with shadow spawn horses, got followed around by one, went back to the cathedral, found an angel to top off the demons, then while wandering alone in the shadows was attached onto by the silver-haired young man that already knew who he was. That person also was able to so easily interact physically with Nicola in such an affectionate manner.

??? ]

...Have you been here so long that you really expect me to find that explanation satisfactory or are simply doing as you always do...? [ ...but, like always himself, Dante doesn't push it beyond that. It does at least match to what Caelus had said about Nicola being here for a while.

Then, Nicola is probing him about things back home... in such a way that doesn't make it feel like simply asking about how everything's supposedly been since he was last there. At the same time, Dante doesn't know what he's looking for, either. ]

I don't recall. I can't remember falling asleep, either. I remember being outside... and anything before that aren't what you would consider amiss— although, I suppose I did see you too recently for it to make sense you have been here for such a long time.

[ he's looking from under his veil towards where Caelus ran off to, wishing the other had stayed because he's sure Caelus would be more clear about the situation, even if he won't spill anything he might know further concerning Nicola. He sees the other with the mares and a blond that he can't from this distance make out the gender of, but they seem to be in much better spirits than most would be about this kind of situation. So, he really can only assume that quite a few people really have been here a while. ]

[panzana]

[This frustration with Nicola's behavior is indeed familiar, though Dante's response to his question is an amusing surprise. So this is what it feels like to be on the receiving end of his own evasions. To his mild surprise, it draws a faint, genuine softness to his expression. Nicola doesn't have a right to complain about his cousin being vague when he is too, and his elation at being able to talk to him again at all far outweighs his desire for the finer details. It did tell him some things, at least.

His response is accompanied by a soft, airy chuckle that's fond rather than dismissive.]

Perhaps a bit of both.

[He steps forward then, unhurried, gradually closing the distance between them. With the shortened distance, the tether tightens almost imperceptibly, its presence warming and brightening in response. The feelings that reach Dante through it are unmistakable: relief, affection, something deeply protective... and beneath it all, a subtle, indescribable heaviness.]

I just don't think it's necessary for you to worry about the finer details right now. Not when this may all fade the moment you wake up. But if you find yourself unable to return home like many of us...

[He stops a few feet away and follows Dante's gaze towards the blonde and gray-haired figures in the distance, lingering on them fondly for a moment before returning it thoughtfully to his cousin.]

...I'll explain the rest then.

[The promise carries a weight reinforced by the tether as Nicola smiles with his usual confidence.]

I hope you can trust my judgement as you always have.

[schietto]

... How will I find you if that happens?

[ He feels the connection, and it is admittedly reassuring but comfort and utility aren't necessarily the same thing. A soft sigh escapes him, admittedly still projected by everything but clearly squashing it in favor of trusting his cousin. ]

I was told these face coverings can act as a way to communicate, but I don't understand.

[ He has no doubts Nicola is only doing it because he thinks it's best for Dante. That's part of the problem, as usual. He can't count on Nicola to do what is best for himself.

At the same time, though... ]

Who are they? [ Or who is that, in particular? Although he saw that Nicola was with the blonde most likely first, he didn't see any reactions like he did with the younger man. So he's far more curious who the one that can make Nicola smile like that is (and he'd rather not get a good look at anyone with blonde hair right now.) He's relieved to know that he has managed to find someone who makes him feel that way, that at ease even in such a place as this. The idea of Nicola being here alone, afterall, doesn't sit well with him, even if when he wakes up Nicola will be with him in Burlone still if everything will be as normal as is being claimed. ]