Dreamshare- open to all

Apr 14, 2011 19:09

"You aren't fighting," The way Inara spoke was a simple statement, but it carried the weight of a concerned mother, setting a small cup of tea in front of him. He wasn't particularly sure why she was serving him tea, or why the table was so bizarre, but that wasn't very important right now. He picked up the tea, before looking back to her-but the woman had turned her back to him to light what looked to be incense, speaking over her shoulder. "I was almost used to you brawling every night,"

--Oh, fighting with Pollux. He brought the tea to his lips, but it was tasteless, almost as if simply going through the motions. Before he could respond, though, Boy crashed into the room noisily, looking directly at him.

"Hey! Hey, come on!"

That was right, he was supposed to be following her-Her being the massive, wiry, grey-haired dog bounding in front of him, speaking distinctly (And with a slight accent he couldn't quite place,) despite the large knife held between her teeth. He stood up, and the small ceramic cup was gone, replaced with a cold, metal gun in his hand. Boy dashed across the bizarre landscape, nails clattering on the crystal surface, though greenery and trees sprouted everywhere, obstructing his view-But that was alright. He ran after the large dog as she continued to call back.

"This way!"

The foliage was thick, but not enough to obstruct movement-though there were no markers, he seemed to know exactly where he was going for a purpose not yet clear. It didn't take him long to catch up (though it was impossible to tell how far he had traveled, as he had somehow stepped directly from the half-crystal, half-real jungle and into a twisted tower of architecture, rickety and wooden, though the floor was a dark green marble. He didn't notice.). He found Boy stopped in front of three viscous, blob-like creatures. The monsters barely raised from the floor and clawed at her with misshapen arms. Still, she lunged with the knife in her mouth to slice one apart.

From beside him, a young man called out: "Good dog!" He wasn't sure how long Pollux had been in the fight, but he encouraged the dog, adjusting the worn leather gloves on his hands. He looked over to the dreamer, lips quirking in a smirk. "Did you see that, Shinji?"

Another voice spoke: Again, female, thought definitively detached-more like a voice over a PA than anything else. She sounded young, and exclaimed out: "There's only one enemy left!" Despite the fact that there were two of the gooey monstrosities, masks gleaming in the lack of light. Maybe she couldn't count, whatever. A heavy axe in hand (though he had hardly noticed the fact that it hadn't been there previously, replacing the firearm, ) he quickly sliced the second, the creature splitting and dissolving into that same black fluid and seeping into the ground until it was gone.

"There's only one enemy left!"

At least she was right this time. There was a saying about the sun and a dog's ass he couldn't quite remember, and the thought was disregarded.

He moved forward again, swinging the axe-but his armament was deflected as metal met metal, the resounding vibration shaking up his arm and causing him to drop the gun he had been swinging. (If his weapon would stop changing, he felt, he wouldn't have been caught so off-guard.) It clattered to the ground uselessly as he grabbed his arm, as though that would quell the ringing pain stabbing through his bones. He looked up at the monster-but of course it was gone, as was his dog, his friend, and the sound of narrator-girl. Instead the dark marble of the floor had become tatami mat, more reminiscent of the dojo.

"Be wary of your enemies movements," Paladin moved his sword up to a ready position again, "Don't stop, even when parried,"

And all he had was a damn gun in a sword fight, awesome. Briefly, he wondered where the axe had gone, but the thoughts were cut short as the broadsword was swinging at him again. He meant to step and dodge backwards, but his feet didn't seem to want to obey his brain. He stumbled and fell onto his back, staring up at the hollow chest-cavity of an all-too-familiar ghastly knight, the rider staring down at him in wordless disapproval. The beast snorted, shaking its head and rattling with the sound of iron clashing.

He opened his mouth as though to apologize to the creature, but his opponent was upon him- cold steel rested at his throat, his own weapon still feet away. An aggravated noise escaped him as he let his head fall back against the mat, eyes closed. He hated such obvious defeat. His instructor repeated:

"Don't stop."

And that blade at his throat was so warm and soft, almost more like lips that easily moved down to his navel and hips. His back arched and fingers grasped long hair and entwined in the soft, pale locks. Breath escaped him in a gasp as lips encompassed him, though when his eyes finally opened the mechanical Persona above him was gone. Instead he stared up at a grotesque arachnid, pincers clacking ominously. Tendrils hung from the beast like seaweed as its gilded stinger raised and, with a crack like a gunshot, struck, killed, and woke him.

weird dreams, tree hating

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