Dreamscape Event
Characters: Rhode Kamelot and OPEN
When: Every night March 6th through 12th
Where: Rhode's dreams
Rating: R+
Summary: Rhode dreams. You dream with her.
( It’s hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep // Cause everything is never as it seems // When I fall asleep )
When: Every night March 6th through 12th
Where: Rhode's dreams
Rating: R+
Summary: Rhode dreams. You dream with her.
( It’s hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep // Cause everything is never as it seems // When I fall asleep )
Take a sip.
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The items littering the table were fairly boring for the difficult to please teenager, but as long as he was stuck here, he might as well make the best of it. He'd never been the most hesitant person to take what wasn't his, and it was with no thought at all that he reached for the tea cup, eyeing the top hat even as he did so.
"Weird," he muttered to himself before taking a sip.
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Someone as strong as Killua shouldn't find them hard to break out of, but for some reason the vines are stronger than diamond, or possibly Killua's weakened. But the mild pain of the prickles is nothing he can't handle. A few scratches, not even a bother.
A whispering begins, not around Killua, but in his mind. A soft scratching at the back of his thoughts like a rat in the walls. At first an annoyance, but rapidly increasing to something maddening. Something wants inAnd there's a feeling that starts. It's incomparable to any physical sensation, because it is fear, longing, agony, malice. The deepest hate like a stone beneath Killua's heart, the blackest despair like a pit in his stomach. ( ... )
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He immediately began to struggle against the thorny bindings, shaking his head to buck the hat, completely unwilling to accept that he was trapped. Anything to get away, anything to get away. It was what he'd been taught from day one; never, ever get caught. The thorns drew blood, but he only pushed against them harder in his futile attempt to escape, ignoring all else even as the whispering began.
He barely heard it at first - too focused, too panicked, too frustrated. It wasn't long before those little whispers escalated in urgency, however, and any focus he may have had began to deteriorate. The only thing that kept him from shouting at the warring voices to shut up was the sudden urge to vomit.
Something. Something was in him. He didn't know how else to describe it. It was right there - in his brain, in his lungs, in his stomach, in his blood. All struggling had ceased by then, though even Killua wasn't sure when that had happened. Now ( ... )
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Cold so chill it burns, but not a physical cold, another of those soul-sensations. Freezing, defiling. Nothing should be able to cause this kind of experience. The soul shouldn't be accessible to feelings like this. It goes beyond emotional and physical, until Killua's very identity slips away and his knowledge of himself consists only of pain and violation and even that existence is slowly deteriorating as something consumes him.
There is only one sure thought that lingers, one bleak certainty. When it is done, Killua will not only cease to exist, but his essence will never be again. It will be as if he never existed in the first place, because worse than death, he is being unmadeAnd with that, the terror and pain blocks out all ( ... )
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Like something is weighing her down. Her very blood seems to become lead, and her limbs are almost impossible to lift. It's paralysis, and unlike any physical force it's impossible to fight off because it pervades every cell of her body.
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However, she does reach for the tea cup. There's something about the smell that draws her to it, even though a part of her warns her that drinking this is probably a bad idea. She's not normally one for tea, but the temptation is so overwhelming that she won't resist it. (And she is very thirsty, after all.) She lifts the cup to her lips and takes a sip.
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