(no subject)

[specifythepoint]

WHO: The Dreamers; Inception crew + Arthur
WHERE: The Dreaming
WHEN: Thursday the 3rd and ongoing for a few days, until Arthur wakes up.
WARNINGS: Please warn in thread subjects!
SUMMARY: Arthur's powers go out of control, and the innocent (?) cityzens are affected.
FORMAT: As you like it! Please label your threads if they're open for other dreamers or just specific characters!

Comments

open to all; no warnings yet, will update as necessary.

[leaps]

[ sulu dreams of the enterprise, of the deserted bridge, of the viewscreen, opened wide to reveal the stars. it's the kind of unnatural quite that flagships never are, excepting the occasional beep from the equipment behind him. it should be peaceful, but it isn't; sulu can't help but wait for the rest of the crew.

it's impossible to be alone for long on a ship. especially a ship like the enterprise.

instead, he turns his eyes to the stars, looking for constellations, any clue about where he might be. but the stars are shifting and sliding away from him, even when he rises to look closer, one hand pressed against the viewscreen as if to hold his place. ]

open; possible violence and mental unstableness later maaybe;

[helpedyoupaint.livejournal.com]

[ olivia dreams in a different face, a different attitude, a different everything. and she doesn't even notice the difference between her waking and sleeping selves. in her dreams she stands straight, silent, and stiff. there's no outward sign of teasing or happiness, not a single hair out of place. she's blonde, hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wearing a work suit, black jacket and pants with a maroon shirt.

she wanders various rooms and hallways that seem to jump from place to place. a hallway in harvard, a living room with lived in boxes, a modern day office, the same living room all unpacked with signs of two people living there, a much more high-tech office, a laboratory... windows outside show different scenery as well- a forest, a sky with a zeplin, a street with perfectly replicated houses... the doors don't seem to have any logical connection either. a door can be opened to one room, closed, and opened again to a completely different room. this is a mind in disarray.

occasionally the shadow of a person will pass by but they have no recognizable shape. snippets of far off conversation filter through, but never enough to be comprehensive. the voices are just as removed as the silent people shapes wandering through her dream. ]

(yea)

[pilfered]

[ there is something wrong in this dream, eames can tell that simply from the feel of it. and olivia herself is wearing a different face, has shifted away from what he's seen on the network. eames himself doesn't know what to make of it. he hasn't seen a subject do that, not once.

and oh, if arthur were somewhere in this mess, it could be ages of searching. not that eames didn't have all the time in the world, but he wasn't enjoying this, straying through dreams willy nilly, trying not to leave anything disturbed in his wake.

for the moment, he was trailing along behind olivia, observing, trying to guage the situation before he tore off looking for arthur. ]

[helpedyoupaint.livejournal.com]

[ if there was a thing that olivia's mind was used to, it would be having a guest. she didn't find anything alarming about it, either. but she knew that there was someone else there and she wanted to figure out who it was.

eventually she stopped in front of a door. the hallway (http://www.fringefiles.com/gallery/albums/episodes/117/normal_fringe117-932.jpg) was long and white, in an L shape. she stood at the corner, looking through a window in the door, with the hallway behind her and to her left. if eames had gotten a glimpse of the room through the window it was essentially a prison cell (http://www.fringefiles.com/gallery/albums/episodes/308/normal_Fringe308Entrada382.jpg)- a little room with a bench along one wall. after a few moments she turned around to face the direction she was coming from. her voice didn't have any of the lightness of her waking self, just stiffness. it wasn't even so much of a question as a demand. ]

Who are you?

[ ooc: i don't know if eames is out of sight or not but she'd say it either way. also the pictures are approximations of what it all looks like. ]

open to all; warning for violence, and at least discussion of child abuse

[nottheanswers]

[Vic is seated in a very small, pitch-black room. The walls are bare, there are no windows, and the only feature is a large, steel door. He's seated on the floor, legs crossed, eyes closed: doing his best to ignore the banging sound just outside.]

[pilfered]

[ the first thing eames does is turn on a flashlight.the door is wide open behind him, and escape route of sorts, although there really is no backtracking, just a headlong tumble into another dream. he's no architect, or rather, that isn't his specialty, but even at risk of bringing the dream down on his head, he'd add in lights if he could.

eames likes to know what he's facing. ]

open to everyone, especially robert and arthur; just trippiness as far as warnings go.

[slayerpreferred.livejournal.com]

[Buffy's brow furrows in disturbed sleep, and it isn't just because of the lack of warm body beside her. She's in the desert, and she knows this place. A place she only visits when things are bad. The first slayer is there, as silent and omnipresent as in all her recent dreams. And her dream self almost laughs.]

I didn't think you'd find me here. I thought I was really on vacation, you know? It's not fair to toy with a girl's emotions like that.

[The ancient woman tilts her head, turning to face the waves - a mirage. But Buffy can't complain, the fake imaginary sea breeze feels nice.]

Yeah, yeah. I know. Once a slayer, always a slayer. Dying didn't get me off the hook this time. You would think-- well. I guess it doesn't matter anyway.

[A beat.] You know, you could've shown up like a week ago. Or did you just come to gloat about would-be-apocalypti. I have to say, I'm disappointed. This so isn't like you.

[specifythepoint]

[Arthur is still in a suit as he stands among the rocks in the dream. It feels like he's slipping, like the fabric of the dream is pulling down, but how is that possible?

The bottom line is really that he doesn't know where he is, and he doesn't like that.]

They find you anywhere.

you rang?

[dreamsonaplane.livejournal.com]

[He always knew Buffy was a strange one. Since Robert was just a wanderer, it was easier for him to wander in and out of dreams. Though, some dreams, like the one that he was witnessing now, were harder for him to escape from.]

Buffy?

[ open; creepiness & possible violence ]

[meowminx]

[ It looks like a nightmare, but she's been here before. The hospital walls drip darkness and pulsate like something alive. Somewhere, she knows, there's a dead man with a black ring. Waiting to kill her.

Except that's not right, is it? He came for Maggie.

But didn't Maggie want Selina to kill her? Hadn't she begged? Isn't that why there's a knife in her hand?

It doesn't matter. All that matters now is finding Maggie. Saving her this time.

So she races down the breathing hallway, tendrils of blackness following her. ]

best second date ever.

[pilfered]

[ eames appears at possibly an inopprtune moment, just in time for selina to nearly run smack into him. at this point, he's tumbled through half a dozen dream with no sign of arthur at all. this is beginning to get out of hand.

and this is hardly an easy dream to navigate. it's...twisted up, a nightmare, and nightmares are trouble in and of themselves. if arthur was in here, then finding him would be hellishly difficult. ]

Selina?

open; warning for violence

[bests]

[ it's hot. almost unbearably hot. it's not even a dry heat that could be tolerated, but it's humid in the small, dark room. even though she's just sitting in her bra and underwear, carol's sweating quite a bit.

not that the heat and humidity are what carol's worried about. no, she's worried about the fact that she's stuck cuffed to a chair, wrists and ankles bound to arms and legs. she's worried about the fact that she's still shaking every once in a while and that there's a steady drip drip drip from her fingernail-less left hand onto the floor and the wound in her leg seems to shift and change every time she looks down at it.

and she can't shake the ominous feeling as she looks at the closed metal door in front of her and listens to the faint arabic that comes from behind it. she can't understand it, though she recognizes it. ( she should be able to understand it, she learned arabic after mazar-e sharif, where is she, again? ) it gets louder and softer as people walk past. she sits and watches and counts under he breath. ]

... Two thousand three, two thousand four, two thousand five, two thousand six...

/shoves warnings aside.

[pilfered]

[ eames is quite possibly not what carol expected to come through the door. but regardless, he is what arrives, wearing tweed and an obscenely patterned shirt and a look of disappointment.

carol is not arthur, and this dream is proving useless already.

a part of him would very much just rather shoot carol in the head, wake her and be done with it. dealing with fallout can be messy, and eames doubt he has the time.

but the likelihood of running into this woman again is fairly high. he's seen her on the network. it wouldn't hurt to foster some good feelings, in case he ever does meet her in the waking world. so he carefully shucks off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. ]

If you'd allow me, I'd get you of that.

here have this open thread too; some disturbing imagery? will add warnings as needed

[wins]

[ jim's dreams always lean towards the side of really fucking weird, if they're not memories-turned-dreams. tonight is a really fucking weird night.

the setting may be a bit odd for anyone wandering in mostly because it's very obviously not any place on earth. instead, it's a planet with a rust colored sky and a different sun. it's hard to tell much about the planet itself, even though jim's outside, because all the plants are shriveling up and dying. wind blows occasionally and the worst of them turn to dust as the air takes them away. there's no other signs of life other than slowly dying foliage.

jim himself is just sitting in the middle of this, dried blood smeared across his hands, face and shirt, watching. his face is mostly blank, save for a small hint of confusion as he looks around at all this happening. something isn't right here but he can't tell what. ]

[helpedyoupaint.livejournal.com]

[ olivia isn't sure either what's going on. it looks a bit like the end of the world, like a universe that died (how does she know what that looks like? she's never seen it but this is what a dying world looks like, she's sure. everything dying, slowly but surely.). she isn't sure why jim is there or why he's bloody, but he's a friend (how does she know him and why is he a friend?) and she's concerned.

she walks over, kneels down next to him, and puts a hand on his shoulder. he's not the olivia he's used to seeing, but it is unmistakably her. she's blonde and severe, but her voice has a soft edge to the stiffness and there's concern in her eyes. ]

Hey, you alright?

a billion years later.......

[leaps]

[ sulu has the impression he isn't supposed to be here, wherever here is. he turns in a slow circle, taking in the scene, before his eyes land on kirk, who happens to be the only thing here that isn't turning slowly to dust.

sulu drops to his knees beside kirk, not touching, expression intent. whatever kirk has to say about the chain of command while they're here, sulu doesn't buy it, and he's not disregarding it, especially not now. ]

Sir. Captain, is that...

[ whose blood? if it was kirk's, the bleeding must have stopped, but it's still cause to worry. ]

open ; dead bodies and probably violence

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

[Nighttime in London - or, it seems like London, but none of the buildings are quite right tendrils of the City seem to be creeping in.

Everything is ridiculously detailed, and in a strange way, the details seem to jump out - as if their importance suddenly doubles or triples. Suddenly even the most unobservant person MUST notice them, and then they disappear into the background again.

Sherlock is standing over the corpse of a woman, eyes running over every detail. She's obviously been killed violently, huge running gashes running up her side and her face, the blood pooled around her. Sherlock is staring down at the wounds, before he sweeps his jacket back and leans down to press gloved fingers next to one of them.

Images start to flash around him - wound patterns and the weapons associated with them, as if he is running a list through his head and projecting it around him. One of the images flashes - a bread knife with a long, serrated blade. He smirks to himself.


In the background stands Lestrade and Donovan. Donovan is arguing with Lestrade about letting Sherlock onto the crime scene, but their voices are strangely muted and far away, because Sherlock isn't paying attention to them.]

[specifythepoint]

[When Arthur enters the dream, the details seem to sharpen, and he blends into the background. Through the dream, a little boy runs, interrupting Sherlock's line of vision. The boy has short hair, and is wearing a thin grey shirt and a pair of ratty jeans.

Arthur clamps down on the dream, but he can't find the way out, even though he feels the fabric of the dream strain against him. There's another moment, tense, and Lestrade turns and snaps, "Damn kids."]

hello!

[anagrammatist]

[Oh, London. It's been a while. Long enough that the differences go mostly unnoticed; plenty could have changed in seventy years, after all.

Tom pauses not far from the scene, blending into the background well but not quite well enough--his clothes are too old fashioned. He wouldn't usually care about something like this, but the amount of detail has caught his interest, not to mention the images (some sort of mind magic? completely inefficient if that was the case).

The smart thing to do was leave, really; police generally didn't take kindly to civilians interrupting an investigation. But instead, Tom took a few more steps to get a better look, his shoes audibly scuffing against the pavement.]

Inception Crew | warning for violence and possibly child abuse

[specifythepoint]

[Arthur's dream isn't a dream, precisely. Finding him is always a challenge, because Arthur is a ghost in the machine: when he doesn't want to be found, he won't be - that's just how it is. So this dream is Arthur's in that it's got Arthur's signature all over it: soft, deep yellow lighting, pinpoint precise architechture, the interior design that leans towards Post-War British painters and otherwise clean, precise lines.

But every once in a while the veneer cracks, the lights brighten to white and dim, the walls turn grey and dirty. It's the locked room behind Arthur's dreams, where he hides his secrets. Ariadne found Cobb's, thinking he built a prison for Mal, but what person who extracts doesn't have a space like this, built out of secrets and hidden things, full of things that they know better than to allow out and into the world?

That is Arthur's dreams.

He's here somewhere.]

YAY I CAN FINALLY TAG

[pilfered]

[ it's progress. after tumbling through dream after dream after dream, eames is tired and impatient and it's almost enough to make him sloppy.

almost.

instead, eames looks for the cracks. the easiest way to bring someone running is to lay your hands on whatever it is they're trying to hide. and oh, eames is good at being stealthy, at distracting the mind so it doesn't realize what he's doing, but right now, he'd very much like arthur to come running.

so mr. eames moves down the hallways to the places where the dream flickers before his eyes, hands in his pockets and a jaunty whistle on his lips. the only thing that betrays his nerves is how tightly he holds himself, how tense the muscles in his shoulders and neck are, the unbuttoned holster beating against his ribcage with each step.

this could end poorly. ]

open // possible violence eventually

[anagrammatist]

[When Tom dreams, they usually take place at, surprise, Hogwarts. Tonight's dream is one of the few that takes place outside. The Hogwarts grounds are there in perfect detail as Tom knew it in 1943. Certain places are a little dimmer than others, such as the Quidditch pitch, since it has very little importance to him, but overall the world is bright and has a distinctly magical feel to it, the castle in particular being the most prominent feature of the world.

Tom is currently leaning back against a tree, with a book in one hand and his wand in the other--his wand and not Harry's--practising spells, although his movements are already precise and he's hardly glancing at the book. On the ground next to him is a pile of parchment and a couple more books. None of the books have visible titles, and none of his notes are legible, a stark contrast to the detail put into the rest of the world.

There is no sign of him being Voldemort anywhere in this dream; he keeps those thoughts and memories tightly locked away even while asleep. But a keen observer might notice something else: there is absolutely no one else around. The only sounds aside from Tom's spells are from the wind through the trees and various animals in the forest nearby. He's completely alone here, as he always is in his dreams.]

after arthur. WHY HELLO.

[sh-consulting.livejournal.com]

[ -- and steps into a very strange place.

He knows almost instantly that this is wrong. His eyes are drawn to the castle and the trees and the - what are those giant hoops in the air?

The details aren't jumping here - not that he would notice - but he's still analyzing every part of it, even if it doesn't make sense.

He's obviously still dreaming but he's never had a dream like this before and --

He stops when his eyes fall on the boy under the tree. The only living thing for miles around and he knows him, he only just met him, but he can't quite put his finger on it because that dream was already fading...

He steps cautiously towards him, hands in his pockets. The gun was there too.]

open. warnings for extreme creepiness and death.

[breakhisknees.livejournal.com]

[Cross's dreams are mainly memories of the dead back to haunt him. This one isn't a horrid memory, but rather painful in the sense that he knows that he's dreaming about her again. Sitting in field somewhere, laying on his back while a faceless woman talks to him about the future. Even though he wants to listen, he knows what happens next, it's only natural.

She leans in to stroke his face, he just looks back passive as if he's done this so many times that he can't bear to trick himself into thinking that this is somehow all real. It never really changes to that, soon she decays while she's near him and now he dreams of the science department years ago and waits. He waits for all the things he's regretted to come to remind him of why he does what he does.]

openchan

[herturn.livejournal.com]

[Her dream is simple, static. She sits alone on an endless stage surrounded by darkness, interrupted by an ethereal spotlight. Nina wears a long and white ballerina dress, reminiscent of a dream she had almost a year ago.]