Absolute Immersion - A Child's Nightmare - Backdated [OTA]

[spiritwalks]

Who: 1.) YOU, 2.) some nightmares??? and 3.) either Vyng spiritwalks, Tuck bardbarous, or Billie wapples! (Or you can tag all three, that's fine too!)
What: Repressed trauma ensues after your character reads a magical book from the Absolute Immersion prompt in August's TDM
When: End of August + all through September
Where: A dreamscape that can be simply described as "the stuff children's nightmares are made of"...

Content Warnings: Image of blood; Description of dead or bleeding animals; Vague references to intimate partner violence; Wartime violence; Apocalyptic imagery; Other canon-specific content, depending on who tags in



More info beneath the cut. Prompts in the comments.

What

Nightmares

Are Made of

Absolute Immersion - September TDM Prompt

So. You read the magical book.

An anthology of short stories about three idiots who thought it'd be a great idea to tote around a bottle labeled:

A CHILD'S NIGHTMARE

Unfortunately, it 100% bites them in the ass. And as you tumble face-first into the book's contents, you realize it's probably gonna bite you in the ass too. Sorry about that.

---

> What the hell is happening?

1. Congratulations! Your character read one of Gaze's books and got sucked into a dreamscape comprised of terrors that keep children up at night. More specifically, it repeats characters' recurring nightmares on an infinite loop. Nightmares can be literal or abstract. Characters may or may not be aware they're stuck in a nightmare, or they may gradually figure it out.

2. If a character is "killed" by their own nightmare, OR their nightmare is "killed" by anyone, two things happen: First, the loop resets. Second, the character is restored to the state they were in during the previous loop. Injuries sustained from your own nightmare are gone, and deaths do not "stick".

3. Characters CAN be seriously wounded or killed by the nightmares of OTHERS. These consequences will not reset with any loop. Also? If you die in the dream, you die in real life.

> What if my character's nightmare is some world-shattering, cataclysmic inferno?

Y'all better run. And pray you stumble into somebody else's personal hell ASAP.

> Any souviners?

1. Why, yes! Adorning your character's finger is a pretty obsidian ring that softly glows. Alternatively, the ring can hang from a chain around their neck. This item enables the wearer to share memories with others who bear the same ring.

2. If your character has not already taken a canon item from a different Absolute Immersion book memory, they are free to take the ring back to Trench. Note that it will emerge as a mundane ring...although it does retain its subtle glow. Curious!

3. The ring's original magical properties CAN potentially be restored. You will need to ask either Vyng, Tuck or Billie for more information about it back in Trench.

> How the hell do I get out?

Simple. Reclaim the power you always had — by taking off your ring!

Of course, that assumes you can think clearly while your deepest fears come to life. Or while your friend is getting hurt fighting your personal demons. But maybe, just maybe...you can shape a better reality through sheer willpower and dream logic. For some Sleepers, it's a well-practiced survival mechanism.

> Can I do a separate spoopy thread with a character who isn't in the Spout Lore cast?

If two characters would feasibly be reading the magical book together in Trench, then sure! Knock yourselves out.

> More questions?

Feel free to reach out to Jansen at jackets or Jansen#8997.

CODING

Comments

Vyng | OTA

[spiritwalks]

Initial Passage

"Rustle?" The Spiritwalker called into the woods. "Is that you, pal?"

Almost in response, a black snout emerged from the underbrush. Then, a dead snow owl clutched between rows of iron-grey teeth. Followed by the remainder of the beast: A hulking, nightmarish, black-furred wolf. Malicious eyes, deep as pools of night, stared through him. Row after row of arrows punctured its bloodied hide.

The sound of the Spiritwalkers' friends' laughter faded to silence. And he was utterly alone.

I. The Wolf

You're not going to hurt me.

[Vyng's warm, even breath is visible in the winter air. Immaculate spear in one hand, his feet dig into the frost and dirt beneath him. Despite the mangled bird hanging from its mouth, the beast's eyes are trained on Vyng. Hungry for more.

With a vicious snarl, the wolf lunges for him.

It always does.]

II. A Light in the Dark

[Footsteps everywhere. Like a legion of soldiers marching through the snowy woods in pursuit of a single target. And up ahead? Blinding light — brilliant beams of the full moon — spill from a clearing just a short distance away.

A beacon, drawing the footsteps closer. Drawing you closer.

Your ring hums with a warm, gentle sonic tone. You sense a presence up ahead. The closer you move to the light, the thinner the marching becomes...until, finally, all that's left is the steady crunch, crunch, crunch of your own shoes through the snow.

"Vyng," a cold voice echoes from the clearing. "You know I have to kill you."

"You're my dream." Vyng's own words, steady and assured, float from the light's blinding core. "My nightmare."

The response is immediate. Impassive. "And you, mine."

Pools of shadow gush from the beacon like blood. They eclipses the moonlight, plunging the forest into total darkness and filling it with a low, distorted drone. And yet through it all, you still sense a presence. Up ahead, where the clearing was just moments ago.

What will you do?

Dig through the tar-like shadow to save the person trapped inside? Try to escape? Either way, you'd better hurry — before something makes the decision for you.]

III. Your Nightmare

[May receive responses from Vyng, Tuck, and/or Billie]

[We all have our own nightmares. Our own demons. Our own burdens to bear. No matter where you go, they will almost certainly find you. Perhaps you're especially unlucky today. Maybe you run into yours before you stumble across anyone else.

Hopefully you don't have to face it alone for too long. Will you call for help? Run? Or stoically face it head-on? Then again. . .

Nightmares only have whatever power you give them.]

IV. Wildcard

((OOC: Hit me up at jackets or Jansen#8997 for additional plotting))

i.

[dohaeris]

[of course it hurts. sansa doesn't even have time to think that it's worse than nymeria ever bit joffrey.

but sansa has grown used to pain. some part of her says this is a dream. in her dreams she has always been a wolf. she slams the spear against the wolf's head. even so she is surprised by the force in her arm.]

No. Get down. Wolves don't attack people. They don't hurt anything except stupid sheep and deer that were going to die anyway.

[she slams the spear against the wolf's head again, haphazardly, struggling to pull away from the wolf.]

[spiritwalks]

[With arrows puncturing its body and a dead creature trapped in its jaws, the creature gives off the menacing vibe of a blood-drenched warrior. But against that blow's sheer force? Death has no choice but to stagger backward. For a few precious seconds, it even seems stunned. And in its stupor, it actually drops the dead snow owl to the ground.

Vyng, startled by the rebuke, can only utter a quiet "wow. . ." at the newcomer's incredible willpower. After a beat, he helpfully(?) offer in way of explanation:]

That's my dad.

[dohaeris]

[sansa scrabbles backward, bleeding, her heart beating too fast to be stunned (though she is very surprised that the wolf let go. the arrows make a little more sense). she rises unsteadily to her feet, using the spear as leverage.]

I'm sorry.

[not for what she said or did, but that his father should be so terrible. wolves don't attack their own. the pack survives. she holds the spear out in front of her as she watched herself do once in a dream, beside her lady mother in the crypts of winterfell. it would be comfortable enough, except for the pain in her shoulder. it aches in time with her heartbeat. she glances up at vyng.]

Do you have enough arrows?

[she brandishes the spear at the wolf with a glare, hoping to drive it back. she doesn't know if she has the strength for a wounding blow, much less a killing one. rage presses her forward. this body may not have learned how to fight, but it remembers how to talk to wolves. every part of her says ears up, tail out, teeth bared.]

Get away, coward. What kind of wolf are you? We are nothing without our pack. We never hurt them.

The Wolf

[onekindsoul]

[There's a flash of frosty rose petals as Ruby appears between the wolf and Vyng with her scythe drawn.]

You're darn right it's not going to hurt you.

I wont let it.

[spiritwalks]

[He's steeling himself for a fight, until—

A flurry of rose petals, flying between the falling flakes. A woman wielding a scythe. A defiant declaration.

The wolf snarls at the sudden obstacle. And barrels right at her.]

[onekindsoul]

[Ruby isn't fully sure what's going on here. But she isn't about to let her friend get hurt. Not if there was something she could do about it. When the wolf comes her way she'll swing the scythe to try and intercept it. She's careful though, turning the weapon to hit with the blunt end should it connect.]

Are okay, Vyng? To fight? Or what's going on here?

III - Shadowbringers spoilers

[aetherweaver]

[The space is dark and empty, a strange blue tinge at the edge of vision pulsing slightly. Nara'a stands in the space, staring up at a creature.]

[The creature is huge and stark white, a monstrous panther-like being covered in bits of armor. It roars and leaps at the miqo'te, slashing and batting the man around. His whole torso fits within the thing's paw, and it uses its size to harry him and toss him from side to side.]

No - stop!

[He squirms, trying to get away - but it pounces on him and slams him to the ground. His breath escapes in a gasp and he claws at the ground, doing his best to pull away. The creature lets him up and he runs, only to be chased and pounced on again.]

Help... me...

[spiritwalks]

[Vyng isn't sure what this panther-like being is. Some sort of battlecat, maybe?

But if he knows cats, he knows they're hardwired to avoid certain creatures. So when he appears on the scene, it's not as a man — but as a long, gray billow cloud that writhes and wiggles across the ground like a snake. "Hood" flared outward, the creature's eyes of plasma glow and burn menacingly in the cat's direction.

At the same time, a forked tongue made from lightning licks at the air.]

I

[survivalthroughhate]

[There's not a lot Maul is afraid of, at least on a physical level, besides his master. That would always terrify him. So the sight of a giant, bloodthirsty wolf is intimidating but isn't about to make him lose his head.

After he regains his bearings as to where the hell he's ended up, he starts to think practically. Where is his lightsaber? There it is, as always, clipped to his side. He unleashes it with a loud Thrruummm! but he doesn't attack just yet. Instead, he waits at the ready to see what the wolf will do next.]

[spiritwalks]

[Vyng knows he can't show weakness. Not here. Not now. At the same time, he refuses to strike out in fear. So, jaws clenched, he plants the back of his spear into the ground with all his strength, so that it's tilted at an angle.

He doesn't need to do anything else — the wolf's sheer aggression is poisonous enough for the both of them. With the force of its own weight, the beast pierces its chest against the spear's sharp, crystal head. Blood covers its teeth. A gargled snarl bubbles up from its throat. And then...the creature dissipates into smoke that's soon carried away by bitter winter wind.

At that moment, the mangled owl falls to the ground. Vyng drops to his knees, gently scooping the creature up from red-stained snow. His heart clenches at the sight of its lifeless form, feathers mussed and broken from its cruel end inside of the wolf's jaws.

The low hum of Maul's lightsaber is nearly lost amidst the howling wind, as Vyng tenderly cradles the dead owl against his chest.]

III

[schoolingfish]

[He's racing through the streets on his bike, chased by Ercole who is holding a harpoon, ready to kill him. It's like that day when he won the triathlon, only Alberto isn't there. He's on his own in this, and this time everyone there wants to harpoon him or net him so their friends can harpoon him. He goes down street after street, but the ocean is never in sight, so he just has to keep going while the gentle drizzle keeps him in his sea monster form.]

[spiritwalks]

[Vyng isn't sure when the snowy shores of Old Shear morphed into warm, winding back alleys. It's not a place he's seen before. Nor his mother before him, as far as he knows. But now isn't the time to ask questions.

Some stab-happy stooges need to be stopped.

From further up the hill, Vyng rushes forward—]

You want sushi for lunch, pal!?

[—and launches his own harpoon right toward the spokes of Ercole's bike.]

Well, eat dirt!

ii, with option open to blend in a nightmare from illarion if we more bad parent times >)

[unsheathedfromreality]

[Illarion isn't ordinarily one for storybooks--not anymore. Not since his death; most fiction's not interesting, not purposeful enough to capture his dead heart. His time in the Archives, reading through Iskierka's eyes, is invariably spent on research appropriate to a Disciple and Hunter; he does hours of it, near the turning of the Seasons and the changing of the month, gleaning everything he could on the threats and changes to come.

This month-- This month is different. This month, as Never Mind's tenure is drawing to a close, Illarion's in a mood, in a state, feeling in ways he hasn't in years. After the initial horror of what the Emperor'd done to him wore off--after he became accustomed to the shock of being really embodied in his own dead flesh--he'd determined to take the whole awful experience as a strange gift and gone seeking out reasons to feel anything and everything he could.

When one of the Archives' attendants had dropped A CHILD'S NIGHTMARE into Iskierka's grasping talons, he thought: Fear would be interesting, and bid her open it. Together, Omen and Sleeper began to read,

and

fell

into

the

dark.

Somewhere between the disorienting wrench of falling into the book and Illarion's boots touching snow, Iskierka disincorporates, returned to smoke and Darkblood. Her Sleeper's left alone in pitch blackness, in not-blackness, the ordinary nothingness that's with him whether his eyes (and eyes) are open or shut. The uncommon situation does provoke a welcome little frisson of fear, then a warmer one of familiarity at the sound of a troop on the march. (Everything about this feels strangely familiar, like winter hunting in Shroudwood, and he can't place why.)

He follows that sound and the intangible pull in his chest, drawn unerringly toward the clearing for all he can't see it. His tread's steady, unhurried, until the sound of Vyng's name and Vyng's answering voice ring out from up ahead and the texture of you've been here before and you know this ends badly suffusing the scene bubble into sudden horror on the other man's behalf.

He starts to run-- And when the shadows become tangible and sweep up to suck him down he dives into that embrace like it's a breaking wave, talons shifted in to slash away the choking substrate.]

Hold on!

always love some good bad parent times >8D

[spiritwalks]

[Against sharp talons, the viscous muck has little choice but to pry apart. Despite the harsh shadow enveloping the world around them, the shrike's ring still softly hums and resonates around what remains of the snowy clearing.

"Hold on!"

Vyng's lungs burn for air. But the muffled words still reach him. And he does what he always does: He stretches his arm out as far as he can. Fingers spread apart in a bid to grasp onto something — anything — that may be reaching out for him too.]

2!!

[shiro2hero]

Vyng!

[Shiro would know that voice anywhere. Okay, granted, that other voice actually said his friend's name, but that's not important. That voice isn't important. His friend is. His friend whom Shiro has let down, all too recently.]

[How long he's been wandering in this nightmare land, he has no idea. Lost track of time, entirely. He knows he should be more concerned about that. On the other hand, time is weird here. Hours or days in this pocket of crazy could mean minutes in Trench. It's disturbing, it's unsettling, and he's wearing out, wandering.]

[Hearing his friend's voice sends a spark of much-needed adrenaline through him. His right hand ignites, pushing, slashing through the dark as best he can. Surely, the brightness of glowing metal digits can help literally cut through it to reach the source of those voices.]

Hang on!

[spiritwalks]

["Hang on!"

He's not sure who that is. They've gotta be better than the thick darkness threatening to suffocate him, though. So Vyng's pale, ethereal hand instinctively reaches out toward the voice. Skin like pristine, moonlit porcelain. And none of the scars he bore in Trench.

But he grasps for a friend all the same.]

iii

[eudaimonikos]

[Michael's nightmare is a throwback: an old threat made by enemies long-since defeated.

Or is it? When you look at it - at a second him, casually at work torturing a small group of unfamiliar humans - it's really hard to say if it's an impostor in a duplicate suit or just...him.

But the nightmare being what it is, the double fairly quickly turns on Michael himself. It can't kill him if it's only focused on others! Michael's glad the guy's coming after him and not the humans, but - well. They're a pair of demons. Things pretty quickly escalate.

At this point, the environment has been absolutely destroyed. There's two massive, miles-long flaming squids duking it out. They're very evenly matched; it's difficult to really tell them apart, unless you happen to get a fleeting glimpse of a tentacle with an obsidian ring still fastened around it. But it's sort of a slimy mess: a lot of twisting and grappling tentacles, and an awful lot of fire that doesn't seem to be effectively burning anybody.

Michael - real Michael, actual present-day Michael - is not having a great time!]

Oh my GOD this IS the worst!!!

[It's an apocalyptic battle between two massive, terrible entities. It's also basically a slap-fight as far as demons go. These things can both be true!]

[spiritwalks]

[Vyng stares out over the vast wasteland — and the two absolutely gorgeous squids duking it out like they're in a boxing ring. Or like two toddlers trapped in a playpen. Hard to say. Regardless of what simile is most appropriate, these two creatures clearly cannot exist in the same space. And the outcome won't be pretty.

Despite all the destruction bombarding his senses, Vyng's eyes are drawn toward the soft hum emitting from one of the tentacles — and the glow of an obsidian ring . Naturally, Vyng roots for the one who's wearing it.

From next to a pile of rubble, he shouts:]

YOU GOT THIS, RING-BUDDY! I BELIEVE IN YOU!

I

[justoscar]

Oscar didn't have time to get his bearings and thing. He saw the wolf-- and he moved.

Running towards Vyng, he grabbed the Druid by the arm and pulled him along as they ran into the darkness and the unknown with a wolf on their heels.

"I know you talk to animals," He said quickly, his breath coming out in short bursts while he tried to speak as he ran. "But you can't just expect them to listen!"

[spiritwalks]

Vyng doesn't fight against the person dragging him; He assumes they must be one of the locals. Or the specter of someone his mother once knew. Still, his face pinches with frustration at the lecture.

"And running," he says between breaths, "is a better idea?"

i. slides in a month late with starbucks.

[bolstafir]

[Qrow doesn't have the opportunity to wonder what's going on when he suddenly finds himself in the snow, with a massive wolf creature bearing down.

There's a tremendous sound Harbinger's inner gears clink and clank, the weapon shifting into its scythe form as he fires a couple shells from the inbuilt shotgun right as the wolf lunges.]

Nobody's getting eaten today, sorry.

Billie | OTA (CW: blood, death, war, cenobites, child endangerment)

[wapples]

You find yourself in the forest surrounding Trench in winter. Wet snow is falling, and it looks like it has been for sometime judging from the build up on the ground, and the way it clings to the branches of the trees, and the chill in the air feels unnaturally cold.

The smell of acrid smoke hits first, carried along by the wind, followed quickly by the sounds of a distant battle. The clash of swords, the screams of the fighters, and the occasional whoosh of magic.

Heavy footsteps draw near, as a figure moves through the trees, and for a moment, it looks like it's a tree that's moving. The warrior is tall, formed from wood, and ice, and stone. Strapped to his back is a longbow and a quiver of arrows, and in his hand is an axe with a blade of blue ice. Arrows pierce his back and chest, but he doesn't seem to notice them. On his finger, he wears the same obsidian ring you are.

The warrior pauses, and looks towards you with a grumble of disapproval. You're not the enemy, and he doesn't intend to attack you, but he doesn't think you belong here either. He looks like he's about to speak when something else draws his attention, and he looks away, raising his axe as hoofbeats approach.

The zealot is mounted on the back of a nightmare steed, its face heavily mutilated and unrecognizable, but its ears end in points, like an elf's. In its hand, it carries a flaming torch that it seems to intend to use as a weapon. The steed rears up as the warrior rushes forward to meet it in battle.

[martyrofduty]

Cool bow. Cool arrows. Cool utter disregard for the recent pin cushion piercings. Cool axe.

No time, apparently, for conversation. Pyrrha's not surprised. These memories always come with danger. Fire, ice, and her as someone else, whatever their abilities. Regardless, there's little to guide her on that front, and she knows how to fight even without a weapon.

Quietly, she moves through the familiar trees. This memory isn't of someone's home exactly. It looks like Trench, something recent. Pyrrha watches the two from the side, ready to intervene should the pin cushion with a matching ring need support.

[wapples]

The battle between the warrior and the zealot is fierce. The warrior starts off moving quickly, easily avoiding the swings of the torch, but quickly he starts to slow as though his feet are sticking to the ground. The axe strikes never seem to quite land either, even though sometimes it looks like they ought to.

Out of nowhere, comes a flaming arrow that strikes a nearby tree with a thunk, and the warrior is torn between the existing threat, and the new one, hidden somewhere among the trees. Without a word, he turns towards Pyrrha, and throws the axe to her, trusting her to take up arms and join him, so he can turn his attention to the hidden archer.