ONE - DREAM There is an old country house in a field. V finds himself in the middle of the field, by a tree, transfixed by the sight of the building for a time. Somewhere in the distance, a lone bird sings. A gentle wind rustles the branches. Finally, the man finds the courage to move, to walk towards the home, even if he has a heavy weight in his chest, even if his reluctant feet feel like lead. He opens the wrought iron gate to the garden, his tattooed hand trembling on the metal.
But he doesn't dare go inside.
Instead, he moves to the windows, peering through them. Sunlight streams through into the entrance hall, bathing the family portrait hung there in a soft glow. From an adjoining room he can hear soft laughter; he moves to another window to find its source.
A woman is there. She has two young boys sitting in her lap, and all three are the same as from the portrait: she blond, the boys identical twins, each with snowy white hair. They're seated in a large armchair together in the library, and she's reading a storybook to them. One boy is dozing off, but the other boy with swept-back hair is listening attentively, hanging on to her every word and gazing at the pages as she follows the words with her finger.
V lingers at the window, so close he can see his own breath against the glass, barely daring to move lest he disturb the scene. And he watches.
TWO - NIGHTMARE Inky blackness all around. V walks through the darkness of a nightmare he's all too familiar with by now. Somewhere along the way, he lost his cane, so he can rely only on his own footing and his sight to see where he's going. His breath is so loud in the silence, it sounds deafening to his ears.
Then the floor beneath him sinks suddenly and he gasps, tripping him up until he throws out his hands to stop him tipping face-first into the darkness. He isn't falling, but he doesn't dare move lest the floor sink further.
He's afraid, and alone -- or so he thinks. Then he feels two hands grab him from the darkness, coated in armour black as night. Too weak to wrench himself away, he can only watch as the hands use him to pull itself up from the depths, revealing a face white as a sheet, hair equally as white, and glowing red eyes. Lines of demonic corruption mar its features, and from the neck down, it is encased entirely in demonic black armour and a cape.
"Haven't you tormented me enough?!" V hisses, still struggling to pull away in fear and revulsion. The knight doesn't respond, doesn't perhaps seem capable of a response, its face a blank emotionless slate. Still, it does not let go.
[Feel free to have your character watch or intervene in the dreams at any point. For anyone who might decide to interact with others appearing in the dreams, I'm happy to NPC them accordingly. Will match brackets or prose as you prefer!]
no subject
There is an old country house in a field. V finds himself in the middle of the field, by a tree, transfixed by the sight of the building for a time. Somewhere in the distance, a lone bird sings. A gentle wind rustles the branches. Finally, the man finds the courage to move, to walk towards the home, even if he has a heavy weight in his chest, even if his reluctant feet feel like lead. He opens the wrought iron gate to the garden, his tattooed hand trembling on the metal.
But he doesn't dare go inside.
Instead, he moves to the windows, peering through them. Sunlight streams through into the entrance hall, bathing the family portrait hung there in a soft glow. From an adjoining room he can hear soft laughter; he moves to another window to find its source.
A woman is there. She has two young boys sitting in her lap, and all three are the same as from the portrait: she blond, the boys identical twins, each with snowy white hair. They're seated in a large armchair together in the library, and she's reading a storybook to them. One boy is dozing off, but the other boy with swept-back hair is listening attentively, hanging on to her every word and gazing at the pages as she follows the words with her finger.
V lingers at the window, so close he can see his own breath against the glass, barely daring to move lest he disturb the scene. And he watches.
TWO - NIGHTMARE
Inky blackness all around. V walks through the darkness of a nightmare he's all too familiar with by now. Somewhere along the way, he lost his cane, so he can rely only on his own footing and his sight to see where he's going. His breath is so loud in the silence, it sounds deafening to his ears.
Then the floor beneath him sinks suddenly and he gasps, tripping him up until he throws out his hands to stop him tipping face-first into the darkness. He isn't falling, but he doesn't dare move lest the floor sink further.
He's afraid, and alone -- or so he thinks. Then he feels two hands grab him from the darkness, coated in armour black as night. Too weak to wrench himself away, he can only watch as the hands use him to pull itself up from the depths, revealing a face white as a sheet, hair equally as white, and glowing red eyes. Lines of demonic corruption mar its features, and from the neck down, it is encased entirely in demonic black armour and a cape.
"Haven't you tormented me enough?!" V hisses, still struggling to pull away in fear and revulsion. The knight doesn't respond, doesn't perhaps seem capable of a response, its face a blank emotionless slate. Still, it does not let go.
[Feel free to have your character watch or intervene in the dreams at any point. For anyone who might decide to interact with others appearing in the dreams, I'm happy to NPC them accordingly. Will match brackets or prose as you prefer!]