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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[sacral]

[ Sensitivities alight, Subaru wonders... does he feel the faint fissure and buzz of dread? Or is he just imagining it?

Hand in hand, the inky ribbon of his spellcasting fading to near nothingness, Subaru half-smiles anyway. One step becomes two becomes four as the shadow herd stalks their path back to the cathedral. Dreams have a way of looping their recollections, and on the horizon, they look nearly like the wave that comes to claim all who hear her promise. Quiet as a whisper, alert, focused. But also somehow unnerving in their lack of aggression, as if they're aware that they wield the tension of not knowing. ]

I'm afraid not. But I've never seen this particular wildlife before here, so...

[ Squeezing his fingers, Subaru pushes Soleum forward a little ways in front of him. Let him follow up; let him be the closer one to the mares. ]

This reaction seems like a warning, doesn't it?

[roedeer]

[ one was more than enough, an entire herd is a different issue placed before them. their eyes never let up, the intensity of their stares grow stronger as the two move along. it's the light squeeze and the encouraging push forward that becomes a red flag in soleum's mind.

why would he do that? why do that at all? he can't do that because when the situation calls for it...

soleum pulls his company forward, but not to take his place, instead, it's to place them side by side. splitting the attention, matching the same pace, and preventing any consequences going unshared... two is better than one. ]

Unique wildlife are common, but it's my first time seeing them like this.

[ it's hard to tell if the horses are moving about on their own when a strong gust rolls by, and the bodies of the herd scatter like dust. they return, some in the same place, others a little closer, but those red eyes remain. ]

If it is a warning, [ he turns his head in direction of the other, and he's ignoring that uncomfortable sensation in his stomach in favor of keeping the man safe. a light squeeze, replicating the same gesture from before. ] we'll handle it together.

[sacral]

[ Ah. He saw right through him and his tactics. Not to be outdone, is he?

Most people just tend to let Subaru do whatever he wishes without much pushback. That's what it meant to him, to protect spiritually the living from the transgressions of the dead or the dreaming. He was always the first and last line of defense against the things that stoke anxieties in humans, that come crawling up out of the dark. Resistance to that instinct tempers him; Subaru's pliant as they come shoulder to shoulder, pressing back down along the garden's pathway. ]

...alright.

[ He'll stay by him. Watched, brushing beneath the pale tree branches, through the damp flowerbeds... ]

If it is a warning, [ he repeats ] like I suspect, it doesn't seem to be a violent one. They aren't ghosts... or malignant spirits. At least not that I can sense.

[roedeer]

[ it would be against soleum's nature if he used someone as a scapegoat. he's familiar with the tactic all too well. daydream inc. would love for that to be utilized so the researchers have something to look into when people die. soleum doesn't agree that it's the proper choice to make in any darkness, especially the one he believes this to be, and so he wouldn't subject anyone... even those who are contaminated.

he doesn't dare look towards the herd, his eyes completely locked onto the cathedral coming into view. the sound of leaves blowing in the tree's limbs, the wet squelch of mud underneath their footsteps muffle the ominous sounds coming from their onlookers. ]

Their attention came from you using your abilities, so they must not want you to.

[ could be from the drawback, how much does the man suffer from using them. ]

If we assume it's a warning, we should keep your limits in mind.

[ he has to keep everything under control, if he does that, then they'll get somewhere without any consequences. no mistakes can be made now, especially when they have so many eyes on them, and he wouldn't be surprised when they go inside if the herd remains wary of their actions. ]

I'll take care of you.

[ as they come to the mouth of the cathedral, he stands still for a brief moment to compose himself, and his eyes wander around to make sure there's nothing out of the ordinary. it's a cover to show his calm demeanor is still in tact before encouraging the other to step inside with him. ]

[sacral]

[ They're not words he hears often. His fingers tick softly in Soleum's grasp. Part of him finds that reluctance wells in the bottommost floors of his soul, knowing exactly where this dream lets out to. When he closes his eyes here and opens them where his body lays dreaming, it'll be upon a world already consumed with rot and ruin. ]

You shouldn't.

[ — softer than the stillness of his hand, said aloud but lacking force.

This whole place rejects it as a concept. It cannot be coerced or impressed upon... but perhaps this man is much the same.

In stepping through the arched doorway, back into the cathedral's steepled, stone ribcage where it breathes with its strange divinity, he thinks there's no harm in taking a second look. Water still patters, slithering and wet as it drains across the marble in shining sheets. Above, light dances. The sea still shifts there in its infinite glass layers... but they cannot go back up any longer. They can only remain here or choose to progress further by their host's mercurial whims. ]

I didn't stay here long when I arrived. [ He admits. He's a Token, so light already gathers around him in constellate shapes, refracting off skin. ] What stands out to you?

[ In these mirrors? ]

[roedeer]

[ he wants to ask what he shouldn't do. assume or take care of him while they're here, but the subtle twitch of his fingers tilts the scales on the answer. soleum's eyes sharpen behind the mask as he looks to the side investigating their surroundings. he knows that he shouldn't do a lot of things, but has that ever stopped him? he has to do what he can, he has to, if he doesn't then he'd be resigning to his fate. this is not his life. the faint drip of water from above, the clear glass with spiderwebs for cracks knitted into the surface that could tear at any moment keeps him moving. it's best not to be underneath, and even when they are, soleum's steps quicken. ]

It's an interesting place.

[ let him confirm this first, but if he's learned enough about this place is that those who have already been within this darkness have a relationship with it.

once the light dances along the man's skin, constellations following a breathing-like effect: they come in, they go out all coordinated underneath the rays filtering from the windows. soleum tugs his company on beat of the waterdrops, a smooth transition that gracefully brings the other into the darkness with him, and closer to him as well. all to remove him from the light. it appears soleum has done this many, many times with how easy it is to do.

that's lessons learned. when lights would flash on him, and the audience would cheer...

...

subaru will feel a flat surface against his back, a mirror that casts their reflections, and it's only soleum who can see. this close, he can see their difference in size, and soleum lifts his gaze to the mirror behind the other. his time here has never proved fruitful for anyone he was with, and he's grateful this time to only see himself face to face with his company seemingly normal. ]

A basic answer would be our reflections. Since you're spiritually inclined... are you able to see more in them?

[ past transgressions? the horror that apparently struck here that resulted in death? is he able to see those final moments? something entirely different? he knows not to take advantage of what the man can do due to the warning, and he won't, but soleum's ... "human", and even through his eyes, he can see

himself.

himself who looks back, himself who keeps a wide, chilling smile on his face, and himself who lifts his hands to suggest a game.

closing his eyes, soleum can feel his blood run cold, a sort of sickness pooling into his stomach, and with a practiced smile if anything: ]

It'd be too convenient to take a piece with us where you can use your powers.

[ a small step back to give the other some space, he's a little apologetic as he finally releases the man's hand. ]

[sacral]

[ His body doesn't protest the chill of the glass through the back of his vestments. His light dims, like stars under a city's pollution, but doesn't fade entirely. Magic favors him, even under the cathedral's threat. Briefly, his eyes cast low to adjust to the position, and when they rise again he's met with the height of Soleum's throat, the strain in the hollow of it, the breath he holds when he sees something that Subaru doesn't. But he senses it in the animal knot of tension that takes hold of him. Even when released, he remains there, contemplative. If he has a problem with not being able to see his reflection in kind, he's not making it known.

The mirror runs cold. But so does this person opposite of him, a war of wills running fast in his veins. What is he holding back, he wonders...? ]

We can try, [ Subaru offers, finally lifting one of his hands. ] but there's no guaranteeing a shard will manifest on waking.

[ Or is it escaping? From this dream, this darkness... maybe they're still one and the same phenomenon. Soberly, he continues: ]

Our host has never treated those who take from her kindly. But these mirrors are already enchanted to reflect something that your mind might wish for.

[ Bridging the small gap between them with an outstretched hand, Subaru touches the pads of his index and middle fingers to Soleum's chin. ]

I'm not you, so I can't see what you see. But I can tell you what happened here, if you want to know.

[roedeer]

[ if that's true, then his mind is soiled by his fears and worries by bringing them to life to ensure he doesn't stop moving. when he thinks like that, then manipulating what he sees will be easier, but now a certain something is on his mind. it's what he wishes for, how many times has he wished only to come up short? his underlying fear shifts from concern to a brief, small wave of disappointment only for it to disappear once he exhales. the touch on his chin doesn't go ignored, rather, it's a reaction that ignites warning signs in his head. the cold of this building to the warmth of his touch, and soleum's eyes lower to check and see what it is that he's doing. he wants to say isn't this a little too much, but here he is having the other pinned against the wall, maybe soleum is the problem here! holding a hand is one thing, having them in this position is another (he realizes that the flickering lights never really fade), but isn't this third secret thing like what you see out of a romcom?

he must notice something's off, or that's what soleum can figure from his comment. perceptive, he thinks. even when they were outside of the cathedral and subaru wanted to place himself between soleum and the herd; he somehow manages to guide his attention from the problem down to him. a skill, a character trait, maybe... he needs to get out of this darkness. ]

We can both hold onto one to see what we manage. If you're able to obtain a shard, then it's good information for the future. I've come from the outside willingly, and since this is an important location, a piece will help reinforcements locate this place if I'm unable to find an exit by the time I leave.

[ it's an idea, but he's hoping he can work out something here. his method of escape works, but if he allows anyone else to follow suit, he's not sure what could happen or where the other will end up. it's not like his body will be resting in the therapy room with them. if anything, he wants to avoid outcomes that he can't follow up with.

a step back, the warmth of fingertips disappear, and soleum nods. ]

Any information to understand this place is welcomed, it may also give us a direction to take.

[ the mirrors could be a front, and if their host is upset with their digging then they best not get caught. ]

[sacral]

[ Without power, touch is a diviner's mode of understanding. Even within a dream, where what he speaks aloud may be twisted by the dreamer's preconceptions of him, of the both of them, what they see and think and are capable of, to touch is to exact power or prayer or understanding in its place. Nothing magical flows from his fingertips, but the reaction to them speaks volumes in its stead.

When he moves, Subaru allows him the distance, the strange residue of his attention lingering on them. ]

You're not the first person I've heard call it that. An exit.

[ As if there's more to this than simply waking up. But he saves it, casting his eyes upwards to the stained glass and its strange shifting, the rays of light that beam down off of it casting errant shadows on the wet floors. ]

This is only my perspective — we're a dream that belongs to an entity called One. In the reality where I'm sleeping, another entity, Sleep, has brought the Earth to ruin. There's a small settlement of us in Manhattan, generally referred to as Vessels for her magic. Some believe she's a god. Others think differently... calling her a contamination, so forth. One has been trying to turn her eye away from those of us looking for the truth, but he's also enmeshed with her in ways even I can't easily divine.

[ Pausing, Subaru brings his palm upwards. ]

Just before this dream, One sacrificed himself to her in this very cathedral and plunged reality into darkness. His power made her that much stronger. This image of it isn't how it appears to me in the waking world. There were runes on the ground...

[ Because he senses his distrust of the situation, he traces these symbols on his own palm in the same faded ink. ]

[roedeer]

[ that method does make sense, and funnily enough, he wouldn't mind where subaru's touches go in order to understand if it was anything else but him. does he touch because he knows soleum's attention is elsewhere, did he do it because of how close they were that the sound of his heart thrashed in his chest? if needed, he could say that he's so excited about the situation, and that would make him come off... slimy, but at least that hides his true feelings. ]

I wouldn't be surprised if you met others familiar with Darknesses.

[ he confirms thinking it's a topic that'll pass, but another word stands out, and soleum's stare from behind his mask hardens. a contamination. he wonders if that term was used by the same person that called it an exit, and soleum's hands come down to his pants pockets, hiding them away. as human as the other sounds, depending on how long he's been here, he's just as contaminated to this place like everyone else. it could be why he's unable to use his abilities properly, and because he's a vessel, then this "god" is siphoning from him.

soleum's eyes come down to subaru's hand as he starts the first symbol. ]

What are Sleep and One to you?

[ he said before that others see them as gods or as contaminations. soleum knows the question doesn't decide whether he can be saved or not, but what it can do is tell him subaru's mental state at the moment. to understand how he views these two, and why he does.

as another symbol stains his flesh, soleum wonders if he shouldn't let him complete them. would something happen from letting him, or is it best to see it through? upon the last one, he waits for subaru to finish the final stroke and his right hand slips out from his pocket to point at the first symbol. ]

If there are no symbols here, would you say they belong to Sleep and are what empowers you?

[sacral]

[ Carefully, his one good eye hones on Soleum's reaction where his touch has fallen away. That's two points of recognition now, enough to draw a line of connection.

His question makes Subaru fall silent as the last mark imprints on his skin and fades just like the one he'd drawn in his mother language. Nothing comes from it — no spark or spell or rite. Just the shapes as drawn from where he committed them to memory when he encountered them in the bloody scene from the cathedral. ]

I haven't been able to tell yet. [ He admits. ] I divined One's blood after his ritual. All I could sense is that he wasn't a god, but close to one. It might be that he performed some rite to ascend to something godlike.

[ Or it'd simply been given to him by her favor, but then... what had he done to gain that in the first place?

The bond between Sleep and One seems complicated, but he'd bet it's simpler than it appears. ]

Sleep is more difficult to grasp. Her memories seem like they stem from something ancient, but her presence reads as young. [ Mercurial, romantic, violent. Punishing but receptive to love. ] There's an instinctive grasp of this language in the power she's given — [ his fingers flex, the symbols almost gone now. ] ...but it's not a perfect understanding. I've had to learn quickly.

[ To protect others. ]