[Dream ♒ 06] Doubts can be so troubling
Effects: Confusion, loneliness, guilt and fear.
Warning: Colorful blood! Also lots of art and tl;dr!
Darkness.
No, not darkness, but rather void. Like an eternity of nothingness expanding around him.
Him?
The sudden awareness of the only thing taking up space in the bountiful void allows the form to come into view; it's a troll, one with lightning bolt shaped horns, spiked black hair with a wavy purple streak, a royal purple cape billowing from its clasps at his shoulders. A confused, yet apprehensive expression across his features. While there is no distinct light source, it seems as though there is still an absence of darkness, despite the empty black that has the entire area engulfed. Even though the sea dweller's wand seemingly is the only object admitting light in this strange realm, it hardly does anything to break through the surrounding blackness. In its brightness, it only reveals the lack of existence. Showing nothing more than that the sea prince is alone.
The lack of existence is crushing really, as if the sheer emotional weight of being alone had embodied itself before him. Wrapping him in its unforgiving coils that didn't even have the decency to actually touch him--rather leaving him there to endure the lack of presence.
As for sound, only silence is there--no noise to keep him company. It is near deafening. Even his foot falls were mute, even when he tried to speak, it was as if the voided area consumed the very presence of anything that were to exist around him--noise, light, objects. The only thing he had to keep him company was that silly wand he held so tightly in his hand--that is until a noise did ring throughout the area. The distinct sound of glass hitting a hard surface, but not shattering. It echoes, almost painful in its audio. The ear shattering sound resonating off of seemingly nothing, but the volume was so high--but suddenly it's silent again. Almost as quickly as the sound had filled the emptiness.
Swiftly he turns, looking, searching for the object that made the noise-- not far from him is a glinting. Silent foot falls, each one bringing him closer till he towers over the object in question. His gray and yellow eyes narrowing as he takes in its shape. A seahorse, much like his lusus, but small and fragile and made entirely of glass. It finds its place in his palm as he kneels to obtain it, viewing it closer.
There's nothing particularly significant to it, but he can't help his curious mind--why out of everything that could show up, this? It didn't make sense, it was lacking in any logistics. He's ready to just toss the thing, that is till he feels something pelt the top of his head. He stops a moment, freezing, whatever landed wasn't heavy, wasn't solid. Curiously, he brings his hand up, the one occupied by his science stick, to feel the spot. It's wet. But somewhat sticky, definitely not water, but what else could it be? His curiosity brings his inquisitive hand into view, eyes narrowing again, mouth pulling into a tighter frown than before. As he splays his hand out, thumb holding the wand securely, he inspects the assailant liquid. It's green. Jade green. With this realization, his heart sinks, the atmosphere around him nearly mirroring the feeling of it.
It grows cold, near unbearably. As this occurs, out of the corner of his vision streaks of jade and magenta descend. At first he questions maybe he's just seeing things--but then more pelts, like rain but this wasn't water, not even close. It was blood, the scent was proof enough of that if the hue wasn't anything to go from.
This was hardy a drizzle, the speed of the droplets persist, but instead of leaving puddles of green and pink, the lines of blood rain continue through the pitch ground, falling, descending into nothingness. He watches, eyes wide, curious of what was going on--but at the same time, unable to quell the remarkably powerful and crushing feel of guilt that's started to settle in his gut. It was unexplainable and completely unexpected. At this moment, he can't piece together what significance this blood-rain could have and why it makes him feel so utterly at odds with himself or so horrifically like he's at a great fault, when he knows he isn't. He stills himself, trying to think, remember, scan, what could have brought this, why are these feelings so prevalent, so overwhelming when he's done nothing wrong.
But then through the silence words come to him, accusing words, ones sputtered from those further on the time line than him--ones who were his team mates. Those he had played that incredibly difficult game with--the most important game in their entire lives. The ones who didn't give half a shit or fuck about him when he was alone on that planet. So what did these words mean to him? Nothing. Or so, he continues to try and convince himself as the rain pelts and stains his clothing, each drop of moisture staining his clothes, as if one drop at a time was tainting him, accusing him of a deed he hadn't done. A deed he was accused of, but he was not the culprit.
But then there's a resounding crack that fills the area. So much was its loudness one could have confused it for lightning, but there was no such thing--but then, amongst the downpour of gore, he feels the palm of his left hand begin to dampen, and confusion runs high within him. Instantaneous is his reaction, bringing the hand up like he had just before to inspect the glass seahorse, but to his befuddlement it was from the seahorse the sound emanated from, his assumption proved correct as another loud cracking sound reverberates from its source--that being the cracks in the glass. The most curious thing though, isn't the cracks nor the volume of sound, but the very familiar purple that's beginning to leak from the cracks around the midsection of the glass sea creature, leaking and pooling in his hand. As if the poor thing was bleeding. His brows are forever knit as he stares in wonder, trying to grasp, trying to understand exactly what's happening, but it was making no more sense than anything else thus far had.
The rained blood is starting to mix with the purple leaking from the sea horse, and for some reason Eridan can't handle the sight any longer, he tosses the crumbling sea horse, the two halves splitting in its descent, scattering and glinting across the nonexistent ground like white jewels scattered across black. Eridan takes a step back, his heart heavy from confusion and crushing emotion, the fear that grips his is just as unexplainable as the guilt that had just previous--but then there's white in the distance. His head snapping to the source, body soon to follow. His form facing it, wand clenched, ready to defend from whatever could possibly be causing the sudden white. But soon he feels frozen, locked in place, as if fear itself has grappled him, like rigor mortis settled in too early especially seeing as he was very much still alive.
Wasn't he?
Of course he was, but movement was impossible at this point, all he can do is stand there, watch the light as it spirals towards him and soon consume all the black within its way, lighting the bleak world with an almost menacing benevolence. It was devouring all the dark, all the emptiness, all the cruel loneliness--but it wasn't stopping, it races forward threatening to consume Eridan in its wake and all he can do it watch in horror with a body unwilling to move and it hurts, it burns and it's consuming him, wrapping him in its overwhelming light, snuffing out everything---
[Eridan jerks awake--sitting up in his bed staring around the room in a somewhat panic, eyes wide, he's obviously sweating from the sheen on his gray skin. He stops though, calming himself enough to notice the dreamberry in the next instant. He offers it an uncertain glare before reaching over and cutting the feed without so much as an uttered curse.]
((ooc: I'm throwing this up now, but am heading to work so tagging you back will probably not happen till I'm home!))
Warning: Colorful blood! Also lots of art and tl;dr!
Darkness.
No, not darkness, but rather void. Like an eternity of nothingness expanding around him.
Him?
The sudden awareness of the only thing taking up space in the bountiful void allows the form to come into view; it's a troll, one with lightning bolt shaped horns, spiked black hair with a wavy purple streak, a royal purple cape billowing from its clasps at his shoulders. A confused, yet apprehensive expression across his features. While there is no distinct light source, it seems as though there is still an absence of darkness, despite the empty black that has the entire area engulfed. Even though the sea dweller's wand seemingly is the only object admitting light in this strange realm, it hardly does anything to break through the surrounding blackness. In its brightness, it only reveals the lack of existence. Showing nothing more than that the sea prince is alone.
The lack of existence is crushing really, as if the sheer emotional weight of being alone had embodied itself before him. Wrapping him in its unforgiving coils that didn't even have the decency to actually touch him--rather leaving him there to endure the lack of presence.
As for sound, only silence is there--no noise to keep him company. It is near deafening. Even his foot falls were mute, even when he tried to speak, it was as if the voided area consumed the very presence of anything that were to exist around him--noise, light, objects. The only thing he had to keep him company was that silly wand he held so tightly in his hand--that is until a noise did ring throughout the area. The distinct sound of glass hitting a hard surface, but not shattering. It echoes, almost painful in its audio. The ear shattering sound resonating off of seemingly nothing, but the volume was so high--but suddenly it's silent again. Almost as quickly as the sound had filled the emptiness.
Swiftly he turns, looking, searching for the object that made the noise-- not far from him is a glinting. Silent foot falls, each one bringing him closer till he towers over the object in question. His gray and yellow eyes narrowing as he takes in its shape. A seahorse, much like his lusus, but small and fragile and made entirely of glass. It finds its place in his palm as he kneels to obtain it, viewing it closer.
There's nothing particularly significant to it, but he can't help his curious mind--why out of everything that could show up, this? It didn't make sense, it was lacking in any logistics. He's ready to just toss the thing, that is till he feels something pelt the top of his head. He stops a moment, freezing, whatever landed wasn't heavy, wasn't solid. Curiously, he brings his hand up, the one occupied by his science stick, to feel the spot. It's wet. But somewhat sticky, definitely not water, but what else could it be? His curiosity brings his inquisitive hand into view, eyes narrowing again, mouth pulling into a tighter frown than before. As he splays his hand out, thumb holding the wand securely, he inspects the assailant liquid. It's green. Jade green. With this realization, his heart sinks, the atmosphere around him nearly mirroring the feeling of it.
It grows cold, near unbearably. As this occurs, out of the corner of his vision streaks of jade and magenta descend. At first he questions maybe he's just seeing things--but then more pelts, like rain but this wasn't water, not even close. It was blood, the scent was proof enough of that if the hue wasn't anything to go from.
This was hardy a drizzle, the speed of the droplets persist, but instead of leaving puddles of green and pink, the lines of blood rain continue through the pitch ground, falling, descending into nothingness. He watches, eyes wide, curious of what was going on--but at the same time, unable to quell the remarkably powerful and crushing feel of guilt that's started to settle in his gut. It was unexplainable and completely unexpected. At this moment, he can't piece together what significance this blood-rain could have and why it makes him feel so utterly at odds with himself or so horrifically like he's at a great fault, when he knows he isn't. He stills himself, trying to think, remember, scan, what could have brought this, why are these feelings so prevalent, so overwhelming when he's done nothing wrong.
But then through the silence words come to him, accusing words, ones sputtered from those further on the time line than him--ones who were his team mates. Those he had played that incredibly difficult game with--the most important game in their entire lives. The ones who didn't give half a shit or fuck about him when he was alone on that planet. So what did these words mean to him? Nothing. Or so, he continues to try and convince himself as the rain pelts and stains his clothing, each drop of moisture staining his clothes, as if one drop at a time was tainting him, accusing him of a deed he hadn't done. A deed he was accused of, but he was not the culprit.
But then there's a resounding crack that fills the area. So much was its loudness one could have confused it for lightning, but there was no such thing--but then, amongst the downpour of gore, he feels the palm of his left hand begin to dampen, and confusion runs high within him. Instantaneous is his reaction, bringing the hand up like he had just before to inspect the glass seahorse, but to his befuddlement it was from the seahorse the sound emanated from, his assumption proved correct as another loud cracking sound reverberates from its source--that being the cracks in the glass. The most curious thing though, isn't the cracks nor the volume of sound, but the very familiar purple that's beginning to leak from the cracks around the midsection of the glass sea creature, leaking and pooling in his hand. As if the poor thing was bleeding. His brows are forever knit as he stares in wonder, trying to grasp, trying to understand exactly what's happening, but it was making no more sense than anything else thus far had.
The rained blood is starting to mix with the purple leaking from the sea horse, and for some reason Eridan can't handle the sight any longer, he tosses the crumbling sea horse, the two halves splitting in its descent, scattering and glinting across the nonexistent ground like white jewels scattered across black. Eridan takes a step back, his heart heavy from confusion and crushing emotion, the fear that grips his is just as unexplainable as the guilt that had just previous--but then there's white in the distance. His head snapping to the source, body soon to follow. His form facing it, wand clenched, ready to defend from whatever could possibly be causing the sudden white. But soon he feels frozen, locked in place, as if fear itself has grappled him, like rigor mortis settled in too early especially seeing as he was very much still alive.
Wasn't he?
Of course he was, but movement was impossible at this point, all he can do is stand there, watch the light as it spirals towards him and soon consume all the black within its way, lighting the bleak world with an almost menacing benevolence. It was devouring all the dark, all the emptiness, all the cruel loneliness--but it wasn't stopping, it races forward threatening to consume Eridan in its wake and all he can do it watch in horror with a body unwilling to move and it hurts, it burns and it's consuming him, wrapping him in its overwhelming light, snuffing out everything---
[Eridan jerks awake--sitting up in his bed staring around the room in a somewhat panic, eyes wide, he's obviously sweating from the sheen on his gray skin. He stops though, calming himself enough to notice the dreamberry in the next instant. He offers it an uncertain glare before reaching over and cutting the feed without so much as an uttered curse.]
((ooc: I'm throwing this up now, but am heading to work so tagging you back will probably not happen till I'm home!))