(closed) and in that sleep of death, what dreams may come

[graftage]

Who: John Steinbeck and everyone who has the misfortune to walk into his dreamland
Where: Leith and Westerley, everywhere pretty much
When: week 6 - 9
Summary: Steinbeck has some dreams. They're not very nice dreams.
Restrictions/Warnings: Body horror verging on gore, violence, murder, Cthulhu, plants, etc. Basically: MESSED UP STUFF.

[This log is a catch-all log for the dreams Steinbeck will be sharing with others! If you want me to write up a unique dream prompt for your character, just PM me or hit me up at vampirize to plot stuff!]

Comments

for bucky

[graftage]

[It's a beautiful sunset.]

[The city around them is just as beautiful, with shining skyscrapers that catch the warm glow of the sunset well. They're near water - apparently they're at a port, judging by a large boat docked not too far away. The smell of the sea is pungent, indeed, and the waves lap up calmly against the port, tinged red and yellow from the light of the dimming sun.]

[Steinbeck is here, sitting at the dock with his feet dangling over the water, kicking them back and forth casually. He's not dressed in his Scarback robes - he's in overalls, a small brown fur-lined jacket on top. One of his feet is bandaged - there are crutches lying on the concrete near him.]

[He's looking up at something.]

[Follow his gaze, and...well, it's hard to not notice such a thing. There's a giant whale hanging in the air, a low thrumming coming from it as it slowly moves towards the city in front of it. It's hard to get a true understanding of its enormous size, but one can see that it's vaguely mechanical in nature. It keeps going, without little regard for the people below it. Occasionally, an aura shimmers around it, but it doesn't stay for long, just coming in and out every couple of seconds.]

[Steinbeck turns his head over his shoulder, smiling wide when he sees Bucky approaching. He points up towards the whale.]

Here to see it all end?

[lefthandfree]

[James walks down the pier toward him, stopping only when he’s a few feet behind. He’s taking it all in. The smell of the air, the sound of the waves. The whale of course holds his attention the strongest. He hasn’t seen anything quite like it before. Feels like a fantasy, a world yet unexplored while still so real and fragile. He thinks he’s supposed to feel fear, but there is only an unfamiliar calm that keeps his hearts steady.

When Steinbeck looks back toward him, he looks down, smirking faintly, before he lets his eyes find the horizon again.]

Seems like we’ve got the best seats in the house.

[Carefully, he finds a space next to John and sinks down beside him, legs joining John’s over the water. He remembers sitting beside someone like this, waves rocking while a ghost nurses his head. █████ doesn't do well with fast rides, but they're both laughing anyway. James looks to his side and sees John instead. The moment suddenly seems so palpable, even if it isn't. But his arm reaches out instinctively to give his companion a friendly pat on the shoulder.]

Thanks for inviting me. [His hand withdraws, palm pressing to the edge of the concrete as James leans his weight forward.] I know we don’t always get along so great. So it means a lot to me.

[graftage]

Hey, it's no big deal. It's good to share this with a friend.

[He smiles, but it's a somber one. He's gone through so much up till this moment. He's shed blood, tortured children, and now he's going to watch an entire city go down in flaming glory.]

[Steinbeck lets his feet kick as he turns his gaze down towards the water. That's where a whale belongs. Not the sky.]

...How many people do you think are in that city, Bucky? Over a thousand?

for kate

[graftage]

[It's a lively time at the Steinbeck household.]

[It's dinner time, so obviously everyone is far more noisy than usual. One has to properly squeeze between several family members to even find a seat at the large dinner table, laden with homemade food of all kinds. Of course, the food is hardly anything lavish, but it's warm and comforting all the same. Steinbeck's younger siblings scramble around the table before being chastised by the matriarch of the family to return to their seats. The whole scenario is a bit chaotic, but it's wonderful all the same. Everyone is happy to be here, and the feeling is contagious - it's hard not to feel glad to be in the midst of such a large, loving family.]

[The windows in the dining room are oddly dark, though. You can't even see a thing through them.]

[Kate is here, somehow, in a seat of her own right next to Steinbeck, who beams at her and gestures to some of the bowls of food on the table.]

Hey, Kate, want me to pass you anything you can't reach?

[fledges]

[This is a far cry from the dinners Kate had with her family growing up. Everyone is happy to be here—everyone wants to be here, and there's no awkward silences or forced conversation or someone making an excuse to slip away halfway through. His family is huge, too, something she knew, but it's much different to actually experience it. She's trying to keep the names straight in her head when he asks her if he should pass her anything, and she smiles at him.]

I don't have any more room on my plate, John.

[There is an insane amount of food here.]

[graftage]

Hey, now, if you don't take something, you know my Ma will chew you out for it.

[He says, semi-seriously - his mother is an imposing figure on a good day, and an exceptional cook even when dealing with the bare minimum of ingredients. He can't say getting on her bad side is a good idea.]

Besides - [He winks as he leans over to her.] - I can always sneak stuff off your plate if you're not hungry enough to eat it.

[fledges]

[Kate smiles, kissing his cheek surreptitiously when he leans in. It's quick and very chaste and hopefully mostly unnoticeable. She whispers in response, her tone almost conspiratorial.]

You'd do that for me? What if you get in trouble?

[graftage]

Believe me, you live in this family long enough, and you find ways to get away with things you're not supposed to be doing.

[With that, he reaches forward for the salt, but secretively uses his arm to cover the fact that he's using his fork to sneak a few pieces of potato off her plate onto his own.]

[He sits back in his seat, winking at her as he offers the salt shaker.]

Need some?

for alice

[graftage]

[Alice finds herself in a forest.]

[Its oddly quiet, for a forest. There's the sure sound of an occasional breeze through the trees, leaves shifting against each other, but other than that, there's nothing else. No animals. No insects. Just a forest, empty and devoid of life.]

[The trees stretch so high it's impossible to see the top of them. It's hard to even tell what time of day it is. It's just dark, and it's hard to see too far in front of you. There's no one here...is there?]

[No. Alice isn't alone.]

[A very tall and thin man steps out from behind a tree. He looks rather odd, what with his long black hair and torn black coat and incredibly tired gaze. He scratches the back of his hand in a nervous gesture, casting his wide-eyed look down at Alice questioningly. When he speaks, his voice is incredibly deep, his tone exhausted:]

May I...help you?

[digophelia]

Well.

[ Just how she was as a child, Alice is prone to lose her focus. It is awfully quiet -- it should be unsettling. Alice, on the other hand, wants to explore more of it. ]

This isn't quite like Tugley Woods.

[ She was sure she had fallen into one of her dreams- or a very good hallucination. She's almost child-like as she takes in the forest before she realizes that she's being very rude by ignoring this man in favor of daydreaming. Alice gazes up, her hands behind her back as she starts to rock on her feet. ]

You don't look familiar, although this is very familiar-!

[ Finding tall strangers, gazing up at them as she holds her hands behind her back. She hopes this doesn't end up in another hooka-smoking riddler. ]

I think I may be lost, you're a face I haven't seen before in Wonderland.

[graftage]

[He stares at her for a rather long and uncomfortable time without blinking, his pupils so big and wide in his eyes that they almost threaten to swallow up his irises.]



Wonderland...? [He tilts his head to the side - the quiet sound of cracking bone can be heard, as if vertebrae are slipping into the places they're supposed to be in.] I can't say that this is any kind of...wonderland.

[He's quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing as he peers at the trees, his fingernails scraping the back of his hand once again.]

Well. Perhaps you're here to see him?

[digophelia]

[ Alice finds herself trying to tilt her head alongside with him, leaning her body being unable to tilt her neck like he is doing.

What an oddball. ]

I... I suppose so? If I knew who I was looking for.

for takasugi

[graftage]

[This might be a welcome sight for Takasugi. Not for anyone else, because morals simply dictate that anyone in their right mind would never feel welcomed by this.]

[It's a scene of death and destruction.]

[Blood soaks the soil around him, tinging it a dark red. Corpses are scattered all along the ground, and out of many of them seem to be sprouting plants. Not just any kind of plant, though - it seems the majority of them are flowers. They're almost shaped like sunflowers, but their petals are red instead of yellow, and they twist towards the sky with crooked stems. They're ugly things.]

[The man of the hour, John Steinbeck, is standing in the midst of it all, his overalls stained with blood as he's finishing off another poor victim. As the body sags in his grip, lifeless, there's a split second before a vine shoots out of Steinbeck's wrist, burying deep within the body in front of him.]

[He looks over at Takasugi, his eyes empty.]

The blood is going to help it grow, you know. [He says, his smile too cheerful in contrast with the horrifying scene around him.] The plants adore that kind of thing.

[shikomizue]

[A mangling of corpses strewn along the ground, limbs bent awkwardly casting shadows just as the roots of the trees that stand as the only testament to the virility of life, is indeed a sight Takasugi views with a spreading smile and a feeling of restfulness.

His hunger for slaughter lies poised, sated for the moment, as he watches the breeze rustle leaves and blood soaked clothing alike.

He pays careful attention to the flowers, verse spinning in his head about the veins that run through their leaves and petals. They writhe upwards, too still and too distorted to be anything but what comes of life at the end.

Ugly futility.

Takasugi wears it too, in the way his head sways to the side with a laugh while he watches Steinbeck rip through another victim.] More beauty in death than life, huh? [At least, there's more to gain.] You sow such ample crops.

What will you reap?

[graftage]

I'd say "justice", but I'd be partially lying about that.

[He drops the dead body in his hands to the ground unceremoniously, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, which only smears more blood on him. There's no cleaning off what has been done. He glances at his morbid field of crops before chuckling, his expression oddly happy for such a macabre scene. Two men standing in pools of blood, laughing.]

Hm, no, a better word would be revenge. Vengeance, maybe? Either way, there's a sense of satisfaction doing this that you can't get anywhere else.

[shikomizue]

[Two men who couldn't be happier to see a field littered with the bodies of their enemies. Takasugi has seen vast expanses covered in the corpses of his friends, so any massacre of either culprits or tools beyond their use is welcome scenery.

A man stained in blood, grinning in the middle of it all, is a pleasant addition.]

Ah, revenge. [He speaks the word as if cooing the name of a lover.] It's the only satisfaction left to have in this world. [His musing is accompanied by his fingers brushing the trunk of a tree, rough callouses splaying over rougher bark, slick with blood.]

for lavi

[graftage]

[A child is screaming in pain.]

[Steinbeck ignores it. He's standing outside what seems to be a worn-down cabin, leaning against the wall of it with a lazy sort of expression. The feeling of this dream isn't "lazy", though - there's a real sense of tension and dread that hangs in the air, almost thick enough to be palpable. The child keeps screaming. Steinbeck offers a glance to the doorway of the cabin, but seems to reconsider something mentally, turning away from it with a huff.]

[He looks over at Lavi, but it's hard to say if he's actually addressing him or not - he almost seems like he's speaking to himself.]

Orders are orders. [A huff.] Don't think I should go check on him. What's the point?

for julius

[graftage]

[It's a gorgeous garden. A rich Englishman would probably chew on his hat in indignation when seeing how perfect it is. The flowers are blooming and beautiful, the butterflies and bees out and about, the air cool and crisp against a beautiful blue sky.]

[It's a beautiful garden, and there's a young man standing in the middle of it. Steinbeck stands in his overalls, head leaned back as he enjoys the garden...before he notices that someone has approached, in the form of Julius.]

[He instantly steps back, his expression turning from one of peace to one of paranoid annoyance. He's hiding his hands behind his back for some reason...]

W-what are you doing here?

C T H U L U

[tousei]

[ It does seem to be Julius, but he looks slightly different from how Steinbeck last saw him. A little thinner, a slight paleness to his face, his sleeves rolled down to cover most of his arms. If one looks at the armlet welded to his right hand, they would see that some sort of dark red vine has wrapped itself around the device. ]

This is a beautiful place. I was drawn to it.

[ Yknow, plants. ]

[game of thrones voice] THE SQUID IS COMING

[graftage]

It sure is.

[His voice is rough. He takes a step back into the garden, hands still behind his back, like a child who has found something and refuses to show anyone.]

[The plants shift and whisper in the breeze.]

But this place isn't for you.

SQUID (LARGE)

[tousei]

[ Isn't it? A perfect place has no room for the damned. And in that instant, the thorns on his right arm curl just a little deeper. ]

A paradise for those like you... I see.

[ The righteous. There is no anger in his voice, no resentment, only resignation. He keeps himself close to the exit of the garden, but not outside entirely. ]

for rhys

[graftage]

[Rhys will find himself standing on a boat.]

[It's a very nice boat, a large cruise liner, in fact. He's not dressed in his usual outfit, oddly enough, but in some snazzy pastel yellow ensemble. The ship seems to be in the middle of some kind of port, a large city looming in front of it, complete with large bridges and skyscrapers. It's certainly not any city Rhys would recognize on Leith or Westerley.]

[There's a weight in Rhys' hand, suddenly - if he looks down, he'll find that he's holding a small pistol. There's a low clunk clunk clunk noise behind him, and a few clay discs are shot out into the air past him, hovering in the air before they slowly descend and splash into the waves below.]

[Someone whistles behind him.]

[It's John Steinbeck, of course, who looks very, very smug.]

You aren't good at this, are you?

[rhygret]

[ And just like every dream regardless of where it starts, everything makes perfect sense and nothing seems amiss. There's no need for any sort of background understanding or reason for why Rhys would be here, like this, in the company of a man he detests in the waking world. It is what it is, and Rhys doesn't question it as he blinks down at the heavy weight of the pistol in his hand--his flesh and blood hand, no longer cybernetic and fully functional.

He stares for a moment wondering what's wrong with him today, the feel of a gun in his hand isn't anything strange to him. Rhys wraps his fingers around the handle more securely. ]

Right, no--sorry. [ he shakes his head and looks up, shooting Steinback a mildly exasperated look. ]

Gimme another, I'll get it this time? I'm just, uhh...rusty. You know how it is.

[graftage]

Sure thing. Wouldn't want to think you're slipping up.

[Steinbeck chuckles as he steps back towards the clay pigeon machine, reactivating it. It whirrs for a short moment, and then the clunking sound happens again - the clay pigeons are shot out into the air.]

Now, don't be slow!

[rhygret]

[ In the waking world Rhys has never shot a gun in his life. He doesn't know how to aim or what the proper stance is for firing one, but somehow that all comes naturally and without thought in the dream. He lifts his hands and the shot rings out without him even properly focusing on the moving target. He just sort of needs to know it's there for the shot to glance it, clipping off portion but not giving him the bull's-eye he's looking for.

Oddly he doesn't mind much. Normally slipping up at all in front of Steinbeck would irritate him beyond belief, but right now it doesn't bother him. He doesn't even think about it, really. ]

Hmph... One more--that'll do it.