70. [DREAM/DREAM/DREAM/DREAM]

[foolishwren]

[So while the rest of Johto alternately panics, cries, or rushes around trying to capture as many of the soulstealing insects as possible, there are dozens of souls floating around in that dream limbo, drifting in and out of each other's slumbering thoughts and visions. Whether it's nightmarish flashbacks or just those dreams where you're at school

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[digital_bingo]

[Well... she already woke up in some air vent and ended up in some forest... What would a door do?

So Miyako just opened it, trying not to hesitate. She wasn't sure what was going on, and frankly, this entire scene-changing freaky place was starting to give her the heebie-jeebies, but she couldn't turn back now. After all, there was nowhere to go. Nowhere except forward.]

[foolishwren]

[What doors are meant to do, of course. Open.]

[The world on the other side meets Miyako in a rush-- fog, and lots of it. It might even be refreshing after wandering in pure blackness for so long. Cool, white, and so thick it could practically be solid, it coats every inch of the landscape before her-- turning something that could probably be your average suburban neighborhood on a good day into a veritable ghost town.]

[The faded forms of trees and houses loom up out of the mist on either side, but the land directly ahead of her is bare. A broad street.]

[digital_bingo]

[Miyako spent a moment examining her surroundings. She wasn't exactly sure of this place either, but the change of atmosphere was pretty nice... Even if bizarre. Straightening her bandanna, she took a deep breath and just kept walking. She was never one for hesitation, and in this strange place, she was relying on her impulses first.]

[foolishwren]

[Although there's cars around, the world that Miyako is walking through seems... well, utterly empty. The fog is thick and cold, and every so often she might even catch sight of snow-- those tiny, dry flakes that might come down in flurries in early spring or late autumn-- drifting down here and there.]

[But it's silent.]

[... Silent... except for a far-off gusty sound. ... The beating of wings?]

[dead_black_eyes]

[L's soul is something between a monster and a child, looking like a creature that doesn't quite know what he is. All he knows is that he's free of his chains, and that there's suddenly a door, and anything is better than being in this dark prison of a room for even a moment longer. His glossy black insect-eyes scan over the note without really comprehending it, and he's scrambling through the door to get away from his own nightmare...

...and into someone else's, apparently. And what a nightmare it is. Everything seems to be cast in red light, and the whirring and humming of machinery makes him nervous. Even though he looks like he could fit into a world like this, he feels uneasy, like he needs to find a place to hide rather than continuing to stand out here in the open where any enterprising metaphorical hawk could swoop right down and snatch the wayward little creature.]

[foolishwren]

[Regardless of anything else that happens to L beyond the ancient and moldering barrier of that door... at the very least, he will be in good company. Not much that crawls or creeps through the Otherworld knows what it is.]

[The door opens surprisingly easily, even for the spindly little thing-- maybe it's because he's not quite human-- or maybe it's just the wind helping him out. On the other side, buildings. Dark buildings-- uninhabited, it seems-- save for one, whose windows are lit in the face of the darkening scarlet sky. And it is darkening quickly. The smoky sun is already disappearing behind the mostly-obscured horizon. He's right to be hunting for a hiding spot, because little things-- even little monsters-- aren't safe on the streets of the other Silent Hill

[dead_black_eyes]

[Every moment he spends out in the open is a moment his natural paranoia is amplified; the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and his mantis wings vibrate and flutter nervously as if sensing something on the oddly stagnant breeze that his human mind can't quite identify.

The sky darkens to a deeper shade of alarming crimson, and he knows down to his marrow that he does not want to be out in this.

The door jumps out at him; the stark outline is impossible to miss, especially when it's surrounded by entrances that just don't look real. He hurries toward it, heart pounding, slipping inside while drawing as little attention to himself as is possible.]

[foolishwren]

[As he scampers in through the doorway, the sight he will encounter is that of an everyday modest family household... the lights are bright and warm. There's a television on in the living room-- the volume is low but it's playing a slightly fizzly tape recording of 101 Dalmatians. There's a few dolls scattered about on the floor, as well as an open sketchbook, brimming with colorful crayon drawings. A bowl of popcorn lies upturned on the floor, its contents scattered.]

[It looks for all the world like a completely normal evening in a completely normal home, right down to the spilled snack-- a fairly understandable consequence of evening cartoon-watching in a house with a rambunctious child.]

[... But it's not a normal evening.]

[A man is standing at the foot of the stairs and looking up them, his back to L's odd little soul. He's wearing an overcoat, and his features from behind, although not noticeably absent, seem... fuzzy. Like a vague memory. His voice, when he speaks, is strangely stiff... but full of anger.]

Give her to me.

That picture is so badass *-*

[exeggutorhead]

[Envy has already been having terrible luck with ominous doorways. And this one looks particularly unpleasant. But still, there's nowhere else for him to go.]

Guess it's a good thing I'm not afraid of blood.

[And with that, through the door he goes.]

THANKS BRO

[foolishwren]

[It's a good thing he's not afraid of blood! Because... that's what greets him when he steps across that threshold-- well, not sprays of it or anything... but the stench will hit him like a brick wall. The coppery smell is almost overwhelmingly strong-- and underneath it, there's something... chemical. Like a vet's office combined with an abandoned pharmacy.]

[Worse still, wherever he is, it's pitch black... well, at first...]

[Once his eyes start adjusting to the darkness, little outlines will start to show up in the darkness... blank monitors and bed rails... trays and bottles... what is this place...?]

[exeggutorhead]

[The smell doesn't bother him too much right away, except for being so strong; it's something he'd almost expected, going through a door like that. As he steps fully into the room, he realizes that there's no going back out the way he came in, and that's when he starts feeling uneasy.] Where's the stupid door out of here...

[After a few moments, he has to put a hand up to cover his nose and mouth to help block out the smell. It's the chemicals he doesn't like, it smells like a damn alchemy lab in here and really, that's the only thing he minds. Really. Certainly not the outlines of the bed or the bottles that he quickly looks away from. He decides that he's imagining the old, foggy impressions that start to stir in the back of his mind at the sight of them.]

[He walks to the side, reaching to find a wall--can't go to the center of the room, that's where the circle would be--no, that's stupid. There's probably things to trip over in the middle, that's all. And if he can feel around the walls, he can find another door out of this

[foolishwren]

[There's always a way out of the room, Envy. ... Whether there's a way out of this place... that's the question.]

[He'll be able to locate a wall, but not before accidentally knocking over a flimsy tray of equipment... there's a patter as needles scatter out across the floor. A couple of them might snap under his feet-- but then his hand will encounter the wall. It might take awhile to find a doorknob... but after bumping into a few gurneys (one of which is much heavier than the others... and if he feels it to see what makes it so, the thing he touches will be soft, fleshy, and still somewhat warm...), he'll eventually find the door...]

[foolishwren]

[Go on, Bakura. Step through that door. It'll be okay. I promise.]

[Beyond the door is a room. On the offhand, it doesn't actually look like there's much wrong with it-- it's a hospital room, that much is clear. It's largely bare. There's a few cots here and there and the tiles on the floor, once probably a shiny ivory but now off-white, are mostly bare. It's well-lit, both by lights overhead as well as a pair of frosted windows, presumably to the outside...]

[In any case, apart from being seemingly abandoned, there's not much in the room that seems to match the tone set by that ominous old door... in fact, only one corner of the room seems to have been occupied at all. The sheets on the cot in the corner are rumpled, and there's bits and pieces of junk all around it-- along with a corkboard which is easily the most colorful thing in the room... thanks to the objects pinned all over it.]

[Investigate?]

[foolishwren]

[If there's anything clickable in this room, it'll be on the corkboard. Because... well, EVERYTHING'S on there. Gum, magazine clippings, a colorful assortment of naked Barbie dolls, a credit card that someone cut up, coins of assorted values, some of those plastic gag spider-rings you get out of the coin-vending machines at pizza places, a whole oatmeal-raisin cookie

Ahhhh Kit. <3

[usedtherapy]

[[Where was she now? She wasn't sure. Things shifted a lot within wherever they were, and she barely felt the need to keep track of where she was. However, now she was trapped. Or would be, anyway, if there wasn't a door in front of her to take.

Curiously, she inspects it. She pokes at it, prods at it, before taking the time to read the message.]]

...Fear of blood?

[[Was she afraid of blood? Not really. The door being her only option, and feeling as though she's inspected enough, she carefully pulls it open and peers inside. The smells are an odd mixture of pleasant, yet overwhelming, and the sounds leave her nerves tingling and on edge. Still, though, she has no where else to go.

So she steps through.]]

NOW WE SHALL SEE WHETHER I AM QUALIFIED TO PLAY A CHARACTER FROM A HORROR STORY

[foolishwren]

[Brave kid! A healthy combination of courage and fear is what will let somebody survive the things on the other side of that door... but maybe Rose will be lucky. If nothing else, her smarts should be able to carry her along just like they carried the owner of this particular dreamspace...]

[What waits on the other side of the door is.... well, surprisingly? Nothing. ... Nothing of particular strikingness, anyway. It's a hallway-- dark and musty. Its walls and floors may once have been clean, but now they're spattered with big dark splotches and peeling paint-- sort of like blood clots. Either this place has been abandoned for a long time, or the janitor really needs to be fired.]

[But a more urgent thing to pay attention to than the decrepit state of the building is what's ahead... There's no brief pause of silence to build up the tension once she steps inside-- immediately cutting in above the thrum of far-off machinery is a long, gurgling bellow-- when Rose steps through the door, it's right in the middle of the cry, which

I should not be this excited. Probably. Maybe. But I am anyway.

[usedtherapy]

[[Her eyes only take a moment to skim over her surroundings - barely enough to really take them in - before snapping in the direction of the sound as she gives a slight start. She stills as it dies off and merely bubbles quietly afterward, wondering just what would or could make such a noise. She has her theories - being interested in the zoologically dubious gives one a wide range of possibilities to choose from when questioning sounds that are organic enough to be considered lively - but merely lets them linger on the edge of her mind as she takes a few cautious steps forward

HAHA I hope I don't disappoint, then!

[foolishwren]

[The blotches on the floor are unpleasant to behold-- and even more unpleasant to touch. Upon closer observation, they appear-- ... well, to take a brief dip into the vat of particularly disgusting metaphors, they look sort of like what happens when one blows their nose a few hours after a nosebleed. Furthermore, some of the larger clots physically shrink away when touched... as though the very fabric of the building is somehow alive.]

[But the sight she'll glimpse around the corner is a tad more attention-grabbing...]