✗XXIX✗Dreams of Absurdity
{┼}Since the first night he had descended upon this city like a new battlefield with which to wage a novel war upon, the Nosferatu had been awaiting this pivotal moment. Seated upon a sanguinary throne, begilded with the eye of Ra, a pair of fiery red orbs, suspended upon blackness, stare out through the pitch dark and snow of film-grain cast by
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Five… and then he finally answers.]
I’m coming.
[And that’s it. At least his arrival doesn’t take as long. Perhaps he was already on his way, and that explained the pause. He knew where to find the vampire at least, quietly entering the room and searching out a place to sit for now.
Not a word was spoken, the priest didn’t even give the vampire a glance. The weight that seemed to enter with him though, was not for the dark haired man in the coffin.
But he wouldn’t speak of it.]
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Something.
Something was amiss.
Crouching down again like a musing canine, he sat upon the edge of his coffin directly across from the vampiric priest.]
Your silence is deafening.
[A curt pry.]
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But he didn't wish to unload it now]
There isn't much to say.
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[Lofting a slender sable brow, not convinced nor impressed with his son's deterring.]
Surely you do not despair over the simple duty I've asked of you.
[He was doing this city a great service after all.]
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But in his dream he is currently in a forest, watching over a nine year old Subaru playing with a nine year old him. And he is just hovering behind them, following them because it is a memory and they can't see him and he can hover because yeah. And he's kinda solemn. And well. Calm. And maybe even a little happy.]
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The childish vampire's content revere wavers with the chanting echos of a equally child-like nursery song, corrupted by a sibilant baritone that seemed to come from everywhere...
...and no where at once.]
♪~Three... blind... mice...
Three... blinnnd... miccce...~♫
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What happened to my happy dream :( Kamui lets out a small sigh that is basically his equivalent of "here we go again". Except this time things are a little different. The moon is red. The forest is changing.
...And who is that singing? It's more like chanting. Where is that voice coming from?]
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His dream was bright, full of sun and colour, whites and golds and pastels. It was a garden, a garden filled with flowers. Flowers from all over, and several fictitious, many of the flowers were hazy as well, as if the mind making them wasn't quite sure what they looked like, but they were represented anyway.
Alessandro himself sat at a table in the middle of the garden, tea set out before him. He wasn't wearing his Papal finery, instead he was dressed as a young noble. It was the sort of thing you might see in a movie about some young aristocrat on holiday in the summer months of the early twenties. Or, perhaps summering somewhere in the teens. Either way, the dream had a safe feeling, at least for now.]
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The flowers scattered a rainbow of petals into the air as a fable wind slithered swiftly through the garden like serpents searching for vermin amongst the dandy-lions. The brush stirred at the child's side, a sibilant hiss rising up from the soil. . .
The the mussed sable crown of a wispy youth sat up as if arisen from the dust itself.
( ... )
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He reached up to hold a cross that hung from his neck, it wasn't there previously, but now it was as if it had always been there.]
Are you a saint?
[For now, in his dreams, Alessandro had no worries of stuttering.]
(OOC: Don't worry! Things happen. :3)
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She was inside; this was normal.
It was dark; this was also normal. There was no one around...also, normal. No one wanted to be around her when she was out of the basement...or around her at all. Not the soft, delicate ticking of a clock that would indicate Sakuya--at least in her mind, even though the maid rarely made the slightest noise when she moved about. No sparkling chime from a fairy's wing--or even the leathery snap of Remilia's properly living ones.
No, no. Alone.
But there was a window. There were no lights beyond it this time, but the crystalline panes were rimed with frost. Outside...outside, there was snow. Pretty, white snow, unmarred by a single footprint. The moon reflected off of the unbroken white, and made the night as bright as day.
Flandre was only standing; watching, in silent fascination.]
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. . . Not straight to the front door did they reach.
But rose up, did they, towards the window that beheld the true beauty of the night.]
[SURPRISE!]
( ... )
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Her posture was very like an agitated cat; her back arched and her hands raised, her fingers curled into claws. Now that the moment of surprise had passed...there was only suspicion. And anger, at having been startled--and somewhere, under all of this, curiosity. What was this? Who was this...?
The seven-colored prism shards were already detached from her iron wing bars--and glowing to match her eyes. Bristling like knives. Flandre made no movement to actually open the window.]
...of course I do. I've played with them before.
[Her wingtips flick upwards, a bit, in what would have made her wingspan seem larger, had she possessed ( ... )
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In his dream, Minamimoto is at the university he attended before he died. He seems to be in a panic, having studied all night, he took a power nap and slept through his alarm. If he doesn't hurry, he's going to miss his final exam.]
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Only to have a lovely obstacle in his way.
Slamming head first into Sho, papers flying and books scattering to the linoleum floor was a lithe splindly girl in a white senior's uniform.
( ... )
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He sighs, handing the books back.] Watch where you're going. [Just because he feels sort of bad doesn't mean he's going to show it, man.]
[ooc: It's fine! No rush~.]
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( ... )
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