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

[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?

Edited 2017-03-15 02:29 (UTC)

[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?

Edited 2017-03-15 02:32 (UTC)

[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?

Edited 2017-03-15 02:46 (UTC)

[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.

[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?

[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?

Edited 2017-03-15 03:15 (UTC)

[ 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. ]

[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?

Edited 2017-03-15 03:32 (UTC)

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.

[ 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. ]

A paradise?

[He almost seems shocked by that description, blinking in owlish surprise over at Julius. A paradise. Somehow, that word doesn't seem right. He glances at Julius' arm, momentarily, before he speaks up again.]

...Does it really look like that to you?

[ It's probably noticeable how his expression isn't the same clear one as when they had met before - he's tired, more than anything else, and it eats away at his sanity. He's not fully conscious. ]

Isn't it? Plants are pure. They have no hate, they commit no crimes... to live with them, all-accepting and giving, isn't it a good thing?

[ Surely, if Heaven existed, it must be full of trees. ]

[ 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.

They are, but...

["I'm not", he wants to say, but it doesn't come out of his mouth. Instead, he hangs his head, gritting his teeth as he casts his gaze towards the fertile soil under his feet.]

Don't always judge things by appearances. [The flowers near him suddenly shudder, blackening like a scattering of ash has been thrown over them.] How do you think this garden came to be, anyways? It didn't just appear on its own.

Edited 2017-03-15 12:53 (UTC)

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!

[ 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.

[ There's a subtle shift in his eyes, as the resignation only deepens. ]

Did you grow this for enjoyment, or to harm other people?

[ Of course, wild trees are the best. But... artificial ones are not so bad, either. ]

[Steinbeck lifts his hand to his forehead to shield out the light as he watches Rhys shoot the pigeons, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he watches the shot just hit off target.]

Aw, almost got it this time.

[He lowers his hand and approaches Rhys, his eyes lidded - it's hard to read his expression. He's as smug as always, but there's something darker, there, too.]

You don't need me to aim for you, do you? Give you a few tips?

[ It's a hooded look that would have Rhys rankling under any normal circumstances in the waking world. Here though it doesn't set off any odd alarms, not yet, and he finds himself shrugging a little at the offer. ]

I can aim myself. Just...remind me? [ He knows he'll be able to get it after that. It's dream-logic. ]

...

[He's silent at that. He almost looks a bit lost, struggling to find words to say. When he finally speaks, his tone is quiet.]

At this point, I don't know.

[He finally pulls a hand out from behind his back, but it's not really a hand at all. It's a maligned mess of roots. They squirm like snakes as he talks.]

I was born with this ability, you see. I'll die with it, too. The reason why I suffer is because I was born like this. Other people suffer too, because that's just how it is.

["I was born to make people suffer".]

[A few roots are bursting out of the soil around Julius' feet, trying to wrap around them.]

That's the truth.

Sure thing.

[He lets out a chuckle, coming from behind Rhys to reach for his wrist, drawing it up so that the pistol is pointed at the sky. His voice is low. Ah, he has half a mind to point that pistol in the opposite direction...]

You just need to keep your eye on the prize. [The machine starts up again behind them, the clay pigeons sailing high once again. His fingers hold Rhys' hand in place.]

Go for it.

[ If Steinbeck expected some sort of revulsion, there's none. Instead Julius extends his own hand, the vines wrapped around his armlet coming to life, golden thorns glinting in the sunlight. ]

This world is unjust. People suffer because of it.

[ It should change. His mother wanted him to destroy it so that it could be reborn. But that's hardly a solution. ]

[ A loud crack cuts through the air as Rhys fires, and this time? He hits the target dead-on so that it bursts into shards of clay, and even if he logically knows there should bee recoil and a numbness in his hand there just isn't and honestly that doesn't bother him. He's more pleased with getting the actual shot, straightening a little in Steinbeck's hold. ]

There, see? Told you. [ Rhys Steinbeck just helped you...... ]

[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.]

[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?

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

for bucky

for kate

for alice

for takasugi

for lavi

for julius

C T H U L U

for rhys

[game of thrones voice] THE SQUID IS COMING

SQUID (LARGE)

best quality: his wiggles

the best squid clearly

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