8th Leap | Dick Grayson | First Nightmare
[Warning: Violence and Death.]
[Dick has already adopted the same sleeping cycle as both Tim and Damian. He also might even be going with less sleep at time depending on what he's doing at the time.]
[The dream starts with what looks to be a warehouse. Or some type of room. It's almost bare and made of concrete and it doesn't look very comfortable or friendly. There's a door in front of you which quickly opens. None of the men that come in have faces. They're obscured by darkness. But you can tell what they're holding: crowbars and bats.
You're watching the dream from Dick's point of view. You don't know it's Dick. But you know it's a grown man when you hear stifled pained cries as the faceless men start beating him with the objects at hand.
You hear bones crack and the disgusting sounds of flesh being hit by metal and wood.
But it doesn't end there. Suddenly it's as though you are omnipotent. You're viewing the entire room. There's a man being hanged from his neck. But he isn't dead. No. He's breathing somehow. Brilliant blue eyes staring out, full of pain. Ropes are tied to his ankles and wrists and it looks like the same faceless men are tying weights to the ropes. But they don't stop when he grits his teeth. Nor do they stop when it looks like he's in pain. They keep going and going until finally, the weight on his limbs seem to surpass the strength of his neck that's being hung up and the skin and everything else just tears, the body and head ripping away from each other with a sickening sound.
The only thing that's moving is the blood dripping. The only sound is the blood drooping.]
[There's no second or even third dream. The faciliberry cuts off. But there's the heavy sounds of panting before it does so.
Don't expect another cast by his own anytime soon...]
[Dick has already adopted the same sleeping cycle as both Tim and Damian. He also might even be going with less sleep at time depending on what he's doing at the time.]
[The dream starts with what looks to be a warehouse. Or some type of room. It's almost bare and made of concrete and it doesn't look very comfortable or friendly. There's a door in front of you which quickly opens. None of the men that come in have faces. They're obscured by darkness. But you can tell what they're holding: crowbars and bats.
You're watching the dream from Dick's point of view. You don't know it's Dick. But you know it's a grown man when you hear stifled pained cries as the faceless men start beating him with the objects at hand.
You hear bones crack and the disgusting sounds of flesh being hit by metal and wood.
But it doesn't end there. Suddenly it's as though you are omnipotent. You're viewing the entire room. There's a man being hanged from his neck. But he isn't dead. No. He's breathing somehow. Brilliant blue eyes staring out, full of pain. Ropes are tied to his ankles and wrists and it looks like the same faceless men are tying weights to the ropes. But they don't stop when he grits his teeth. Nor do they stop when it looks like he's in pain. They keep going and going until finally, the weight on his limbs seem to surpass the strength of his neck that's being hung up and the skin and everything else just tears, the body and head ripping away from each other with a sickening sound.
The only thing that's moving is the blood dripping. The only sound is the blood drooping.]
[There's no second or even third dream. The faciliberry cuts off. But there's the heavy sounds of panting before it does so.
Don't expect another cast by his own anytime soon...]