multiversallogs

Who: Shrieky and Benji
What: Look! Look! It's a demonically tainted nightmare!
Where: In Wolfgang's Haus of frands
When: Pre-Fairytale plot
Notes: nope!
Warnings: Nightmares, demons, and flies. Possibly some body horror, because Shrieky has issues.

Shrieky slept naked, which could have made this a little awkward in different circumstances. His bedroom had originally had two beds in it, but he's pushed them together into one super bed, so that Benji can sit up in it reading while he waits to go to sleep.

Shrieky, for his own part, has pulled the blanket that he stole from Yahlii - his missing and presumed dead former housemate - up and around himself, so that his arms and legs are wrapped in a loose cocoon of fabric. Normally, he'd sleep more casually, with his limbs sticking out at awkward angles from beneath the quilt. He's making allowances though, to try and preserve Benji's precious eyes from having to see his junk. Again. ~~Shrieky has difficulties with navigation in the morning, and he's very sorry about that one time, okay?~~

He shifts, slightly, watching her through heavily lidded eyes.

"So, once I'm gone, you'll be able to follow me in? You'll find me quickly, won't you?"

He knows the answers already, she's been more than thorough in her explanations. By now he's just talking to delay the encroaching tide of sleep that's poised to overcome him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She cries out, a very human and instinctive response that the jury's out on whether it makes her an amateur at this -- it's startled at both the action, and the rage that ziplines through the make of the dream, electrical.

It's just that she doesn't expect that pull back, her feet sliding in the damp mud as she's drawn closer to the inky water's edge. The tension that thrums up and down the wire she's still holding can almost be felt as heat, and she's in some precarious position in between -- neither wishing to assist the beings behind her, but very reluctant to be dragged into the watery moat.

The next surge of strength almost tugs her off her feet altogether, before she hooks her fingers. Nails that are black and razor-edged in that ever exaggerated and frightening show of femininity she gravitates towards in these in spaces, they rake against the fishing wire in an effort to slice through it, to break it of its tension and cast both warring parties away from one another.

Behind Benji, the wire pulls back hard, dragging through her hands until the tip of a thrashing golden tail breaks through the surface of the moat, just in time for the tension from behind her to loosen again, and for Shrieky to plunge forward again into the water, harder, and more frantic now.

It's a fishing technique, dragging the fish in, then letting it try to escape, over and over until it's exhausted. Only with each drag in the shriek gets higher and louder, more desperate and agonized, and with each escape attempt Benji is dragged closer to the edge of the moat.

Under the scrape of her fingernails the wire begins to fray, and behind her, the force of the struggle intensifies in response. They're working against her now, dragging Shrieky in more quickly and forcefully, and letting him drag back with just as much panic and strength.

The story is a powerful one, and Benji feels-- maybe knows, but how much logic can she depend upon-- that to ignore it would be a mistake. Her stance buckles, knees sliding closer to water edge, one hand going out to brace herself as she twists to look back at the villains trying reel Mermaid in.

That frayed point continues to weaken beneath the stress of the tugging, and finally she switches her grip -- she takes a hold behind it, winds it around her hand, digs in heels, and pulls back against the Hypha. If she tumbles back into the water, by virtue of the wire's release or Shrieky's own panic, then, well--

She'll be fine. It's only a dream.

The wire snaps, and it lashes out at her like a whip, sharp and thin across her face. Shrieky's gone though. In an instant, he's gone. Buried himself in the silt at the bottom of the moat, and far away from flies and the creeping certainty of mold that infects the surface.

The Hypha seem to dissipate, and suddenly they're fishermen and villagers, men throwing lines into the water, and mothers chiding their children to stay away from the edge.

Lest Shrieky comes and gets them.

And there are knights, and maidens, and it's all like some pretty fantasy world, and it's hard to tell who the villain in the nightmare is anymore.

Maybe it's hard for both of them.

By the time the struggle is over, Benji is more or less kneeling on the soft ground next to the moat, hands hovering as if to protect herself and still feeling the sting of lashing wire. She simply remains there and breathes for a moment, more upset than she'd counted on being and knowing it's her own fault for allowing herself to become involved in the story, but--

Pushing waves of near-metallic red locks back from her face, she ignores the fantastical and ordinary people that populate the bank as she edges towards the water. She isn't sure she'll find much, and a strange kind of guilt has her be slow moving, her palms sinking into grass and dirt.

"Mermaid?"

Closed

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject