thanks clarke (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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meadowlarklogs2019-10-07 01:20 pm
strove) wrote in meadowlarklogs2019-10-07 01:20 pm
[open log] i don't care about the mess you made
WHO: Clarke Griffin, Riku, and Goro Akechi + anyone who wants to do some dreams or other stuff
WHERE: Dreams, New Amsterdam.
WHEN: Month of January IC!
WHAT: Dreams, memory shares, etc. General open log things.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation for Akechi and Clarke (respectively).
Of course, thematically they're different:]
riku: mistakes of the past, worries of the present
[These days, Riku is more or less at peace with himself. Once, his dreams were mercurial and lacked control. They showed his worry about strength. Power. And at times, Darkness—the Darkness that reigned over his life, that acted as a threat. These days, that Darkness is as much a part of him as anything: trapped in his heart, a constant in motion. A part of who he is.
But there are themes and motifs that reoccur. Friends fading away. The danger of thinking too much, even if the thoughts don't string together. A friend slipping, falling into a wave of Darkness. More recently: images of his home falling apart, of New Amsterdam falling to the same ruin, crashed into by a wave of dangerous Darkness.
And of friends dying. Of not being able to do enough. Of the struggle of having to accept that they will do as they do, even if he can't do nothing. His hands always tied, forced to be idle, passive. Accepting that, too.
There is always a push for logic against even the most irrational of thoughts. Always.]
clarke: guilt, the lives she's taken, a peaceful interlude
[Many of Clarke's dreams take place separate from what would be her mindscape. Her dreams are of green: sprawling trees with a beautiful, forested canopy. A bright sun overhead, though sometimes there are two. But in the horizon, there may or may not be ruin: ruins of a city that managed to come together in the aftermath of an apocalypse, or ruins of a world, covered in dirt and sand, and strange creatures that burrow into the ground and can dig into someone's skin. She doesn't dream of those creatures, not often.
When she can, Clarke dreams of what could be: a life in this area of rich, fertile environment. A time with her daughter, her mother, her friends. Bellamy is there when he can be, but during times of strife, it seems she has a hard time facing him. (This Bellamy is older, with facial hair and a calmer expression. Like he knows to keep what he can inside.)
When there are people present, there is always a pressure. Of being boxed in, of being the one to find the solutions. Clarke always feels as if her answers are the wrong answers, and they show here. But there is no resentment toward the many, many people in her life: angry, making demands. Just an acceptance. Clarke doesn't feel as if they're wrong to ask so much of her. Besides, she put herself in that position to ask to make those decisions.
After all, she is a mother. A leader. But also: a tumor. A cancer. These days, Clarke doesn't let those thoughts creep up, but in dreams, who can say?]
akechi: wasted potential, what could have been
[Akechi doesn't dream of exact moments or of exact places: he dreams of the settings he likes, with drawn out, complicated scenarios where he's called upon to solve a problem. Solve any problem. Because he is someone who came into his power at an age when he was already embittered by the world, embroiled in hatred for everything around him. His mother committed suicide when he was young, and he was forced to be passed from home to home, a blemish upon his family and upon the world. An illegitimate child and a problem. Rather than choosing to overcome these notions, Akechi internalized them, took them to heart.
His dreams reflect this: colored often in blacks and reds, with Akechi moving alone, carrying every purpose that he believes that only he can accomplish. His dreams are a sign of how he deluded himself: believing that his long term plans would become something at some point.
He is extremely intelligent, and his dreams show it: with him trying to make logic out of nothing, out of the world around him. He seems to be at odds with it, caught between a sense of justice (inherently emotional) and a world out of order, one that's inevitably going to be that way no matter what.
If Akechi's gambit had paid off—if he had been aware that he was a part of a game with a gambit in motion—his view of the world would've taken hold. It would've fallen into disarray, granting control to a single deity because people are inherently messed up. At the heart of his dreams, this is a singular, notable truth. It's just one that's at odds with what Akechi really wants: to be praised, loved, and seen as less than a blemish and more that someone who can accomplish things. He just hasn't admitted as much to himself.]
ooc notes
[The general overview here is to give people an idea of what my characters' dreams would contain. This is an open log, and you can request a starter hitting on one of the notes above! I'll also be posting closed requested starters below. I'm also open to memory sharing or characters just catching up, though the former may need to come along organically (as none of my three know it's on the table).
If you'd like to discuss further, hit me up on plurk @ medieval or on discord at alison#8996.]
WHERE: Dreams, New Amsterdam.
WHEN: Month of January IC!
WHAT: Dreams, memory shares, etc. General open log things.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation for Akechi and Clarke (respectively).
Of course, thematically they're different:]
riku: mistakes of the past, worries of the present
[These days, Riku is more or less at peace with himself. Once, his dreams were mercurial and lacked control. They showed his worry about strength. Power. And at times, Darkness—the Darkness that reigned over his life, that acted as a threat. These days, that Darkness is as much a part of him as anything: trapped in his heart, a constant in motion. A part of who he is.
But there are themes and motifs that reoccur. Friends fading away. The danger of thinking too much, even if the thoughts don't string together. A friend slipping, falling into a wave of Darkness. More recently: images of his home falling apart, of New Amsterdam falling to the same ruin, crashed into by a wave of dangerous Darkness.
And of friends dying. Of not being able to do enough. Of the struggle of having to accept that they will do as they do, even if he can't do nothing. His hands always tied, forced to be idle, passive. Accepting that, too.
There is always a push for logic against even the most irrational of thoughts. Always.]
clarke: guilt, the lives she's taken, a peaceful interlude
[Many of Clarke's dreams take place separate from what would be her mindscape. Her dreams are of green: sprawling trees with a beautiful, forested canopy. A bright sun overhead, though sometimes there are two. But in the horizon, there may or may not be ruin: ruins of a city that managed to come together in the aftermath of an apocalypse, or ruins of a world, covered in dirt and sand, and strange creatures that burrow into the ground and can dig into someone's skin. She doesn't dream of those creatures, not often.
When she can, Clarke dreams of what could be: a life in this area of rich, fertile environment. A time with her daughter, her mother, her friends. Bellamy is there when he can be, but during times of strife, it seems she has a hard time facing him. (This Bellamy is older, with facial hair and a calmer expression. Like he knows to keep what he can inside.)
When there are people present, there is always a pressure. Of being boxed in, of being the one to find the solutions. Clarke always feels as if her answers are the wrong answers, and they show here. But there is no resentment toward the many, many people in her life: angry, making demands. Just an acceptance. Clarke doesn't feel as if they're wrong to ask so much of her. Besides, she put herself in that position to ask to make those decisions.
After all, she is a mother. A leader. But also: a tumor. A cancer. These days, Clarke doesn't let those thoughts creep up, but in dreams, who can say?]
akechi: wasted potential, what could have been
[Akechi doesn't dream of exact moments or of exact places: he dreams of the settings he likes, with drawn out, complicated scenarios where he's called upon to solve a problem. Solve any problem. Because he is someone who came into his power at an age when he was already embittered by the world, embroiled in hatred for everything around him. His mother committed suicide when he was young, and he was forced to be passed from home to home, a blemish upon his family and upon the world. An illegitimate child and a problem. Rather than choosing to overcome these notions, Akechi internalized them, took them to heart.
His dreams reflect this: colored often in blacks and reds, with Akechi moving alone, carrying every purpose that he believes that only he can accomplish. His dreams are a sign of how he deluded himself: believing that his long term plans would become something at some point.
He is extremely intelligent, and his dreams show it: with him trying to make logic out of nothing, out of the world around him. He seems to be at odds with it, caught between a sense of justice (inherently emotional) and a world out of order, one that's inevitably going to be that way no matter what.
If Akechi's gambit had paid off—if he had been aware that he was a part of a game with a gambit in motion—his view of the world would've taken hold. It would've fallen into disarray, granting control to a single deity because people are inherently messed up. At the heart of his dreams, this is a singular, notable truth. It's just one that's at odds with what Akechi really wants: to be praised, loved, and seen as less than a blemish and more that someone who can accomplish things. He just hasn't admitted as much to himself.]
ooc notes
[The general overview here is to give people an idea of what my characters' dreams would contain. This is an open log, and you can request a starter hitting on one of the notes above! I'll also be posting closed requested starters below. I'm also open to memory sharing or characters just catching up, though the former may need to come along organically (as none of my three know it's on the table).
If you'd like to discuss further, hit me up on plurk @ medieval or on discord at alison#8996.]
but I forgot we were fragile [ closed to Nill ]
But if they're here, can they be helped?
Riku's footsteps are steady and plodding. One after another, foot hitting the ground as he focuses on the distance in front of him. There is a body of water to his left, splashing up against the shore, but he pays it no mind.
They need to keep moving. Pass the time. Wait for the way out.]
I guess this is where we'll be now. This place can't hurt me. [Riku doesn't seem to be aware of how he's saying it, though he hesitates, looking toward Nill. When he does, she starts to fade.]
Nill! [He lunges for her to try to keep her there.]
no subject
Tonight, she isn't sure which category what she's dreaming will fall into. Riku is walking beside her, which is new in itself, and she thinks should be comforting--the only people who ever really appear in her dreams are people she doesn't want to see. But he definitely isn't one of those, and while the landscape around them is certainly bleak, it doesn't really scare her. No, what she feels is a kind of despondence that fits right in with the view around them, and the longer they walk, the more she comes to believe that even if it all fits together, something is wrong. They shouldn't be here. But when she looks to find anything different, any potential landmark, all she sees is more of the same rocky outcroppings, some floating plates of land she can't identify. Even the ocean beside them seems barren, and she can't feel much of anything even when she sees the darkness start to take form, ocher eyes shining in the gloom. But she knows, somehow, none of this is right.
Now the cold sweat starts, sending goosbumps up her arms and making her wings flutter with disquiet.
She's jolted out of her anxiety when he speaks, but his words make it kick right back up again. It sounds like he's just... giving in to being stuck in this monochrome place. This place can't hurt me. But that doesn't mean it can't hurt her.
Nill's breathing picks up, and her wings tremble against her back. No, they can't just stay here. She won't let them. Somehow, she's going to find a way out.
It isn't until she lifts a hand in surprise at his lunge that she realizes she can see through her own fingers. Panic slices through her, and in an instant she's grounded once more, solid and somehow aware of the fact that she may have given up her only chance of getting out of here. But no--she isn't going to leave him. She tries to reach for that feeling again, the certainty that they need to leave, but can't quite grasp it.
Wide, frightened eyes shift to meet his. Nill rarely shows fear; where she's from, a weakness like that is like a trail of blood for ravenous wolves. But she can't help it.
Even though this is a dream, and she could probably give herself a voice if she wanted to, she defaults to using the implant to try sending a text she doesn't know if he can even receive.]
What is this place?
no subject
That maybe it's better if she fades away. In a dream, that's good. In a dream, that means she won't need to experience the World of Darkness. Being here is terrifying. Being here is difficult. The only good thing is that she doesn't need to experience it alone. And if she fades away, she'll be safe—but what if she isn't? How can he keep someone he knows from fading away?
His jaw sets, and he reaches out quickly, and in his dreams—by the logic of this dream—he's able to hold on to her fading hand and hold it in place. Keep it from fading. Because if she fades and slips and experiences the Darkness trapped in his heart, he'll never be able to forgive himself. He feels at ease with that which lies there, always turning over and impacting him in one way or another. But he also knows that it could harm someone else.
Riku likes the world where he protects Nill from another horror like this. Like this world could be.
The problem is, he doesn't see her words. So, he doesn't respond to them. After he seemingly forces her to stay in one piece, he lets go of her hand, and his own falls to his side.]
I never wanted you ... or any of my friends to have to see this place. Or know what I did. I'm sorry.
no subject
He doesn't answer her question, and it sinks in that she can't talk to him. It's been over two years since Nill was last cut off from easy communication, and it makes her trust this place even less. Her brows draw together, and she focuses on her face, her hands--they're her only tools once again, and she's going to have to rely on them like she hasn't in a long time. She tries to force the fear from her expression, attempting to look calm. Freaking out isn't going to solve anything. Letting him see it is just going to make things worse.
Nill shakes her head when he apologizes, raising a hand with her palm out to try and make him stop. What's in his dreams isn't his fault. Everyone has thoughts that bubble up in their subconscious, and controlling those seems impossible to her.
She turns her hand, palm towards the gray sky as she sweeps it in a short arc around them, the question she can't say in her eyes. Where are they? What did he do?]
no subject
Did she even know what was off in the distance? That that's his home? Yes, Riku's spoken about the Islands countless times before, but he also knows it's hard to picture something that someone has never seen before. They're nowhere close, nowhere easy to reach. To her, they might just be a fixture that's always been here. After all, it's alongside a shore. Why wouldn't there be something like that?
The fact that she's resolved to using her hands to communicate worries him a lot. It means she can't speak. If anything, they need to get out of here. It might be a dream, but he knows about the dangers that rest here. If she's already begun to fade once, what happens if she does it again?
His thoughts are complicated and distant, so he nearly misses her motions. That would be bad. Way to make her feel even more like she can't speak.]
It's called the World of Darkness. It's obviously just my dreams, so it's not as bad as it could be. [She can't get hurt. That's the significant part.] I've been here a couple times. It's ... it's not the easiest place to be. [Though he felt more resolved recently back home, he'd never want to bring his New Amsterdam friends into a mess like this. Never.]
no subject
But she tries to shake the feeling off. Being frightened of a dream isn't going to help either of them. But she can't keep that feeling of uneasiness completely at bay.
Nill takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself. They're in a dream, which is good, right? It means they're both just sleeping, and they could both wake up at any moment. She just hopes he doesn't wake before her--she's struck by the sudden fear that she could be stranded here, somehow, if he does. Nill once more fights the fear down, looking for anything else to focus on.
A pair of gleaming sulfur eyes meet hers in the gloom.
She does her best not to shudder again, instead raising one hand to point at the creature as it scuttles from the cover of one rock to another. She cocks her head, brows drawn together. What is it?]
no subject
Riku's hand drifts closer to his side.]
It's a Heartless. I don't think they can hurt you. Not really. [Not if it's a dream. He moves backward, stepping up alongside her again.] They're figments of Darkness. These ones aren't the remains of anyone's hearts, but they can cause problems.
[Compared to what she's seen in her lifetime and what she's fought before, this likely doesn't compare.]
We just have to hope they don't team up. That's when they get really bad.
no subject
Figments of Darkness? That... does not sound good. She shies away from the creature, angling her body towards Riku without thinking about what she's doing. He clearly knows what these things can do, and her instinct is to trust that he'll be able to handle it if things come to a head.
No. The thought spears through her mind, and she straightens again, trying to square her slight shoulders. They'll handle it together if they have to. The appearance of Naoto's knife in Zerzura hadn't been a fluke. She's worked hard to be who she is, and she isn't going to go back to who she was at fourteen, terrified of every little thing.
Still, that doesn't mean she wants to stick around. Maybe it's her imagination, but she feels like there are more of the Heartless than there were a second ago. She gently taps his shoulder to get his attention, then mimes walking with her fingers before pointing off into the distance, in the direction of the islands. They should keep moving. Standing still isn't going to help them.]
no subject
Riku notices the shifts. He may be without his powers—all of them, including the ones giving him mastery over dreams—but he can notice these things. Even the Heartless are beginning to form, rallying together as if he all but asked them to do that.
Maybe he did.
That could be a problem.]
Let's go. But you should know. What's up ahead is my home. It shouldn't ... be here.
no subject
Her attention is drawn once more by the Heartless, which seem to be coalescing into something bigger--and she absolutely does not want to finish that thought. Even if this isn't her dream, she doesn't know that every little thing that pops into her head won't alter things.
So her eyes snap back to the islands in the distance, and she gives a jerky nod. Yeah, they should get moving. As they start walking, she tries to pick out more details of the islands; even though he says it shouldn't be here, she's sort of excited to see where he and Sora are from. She's never been to the homeworld of anyone she's met, and tries to piece together what it'll be like from what she knows about the two of them. Mostly, she's just trying to keep her mind off the shadows slipping in and out of her periphery. Maybe once they get to the islands, they'll go away.]
no subject
But also ... he needs to keep going. He has to keep going.]
Nill ... you should know that—I think you might be here because we talked about worlds ending. About worlds dying. About what might happen to them, and how they can be resilient. Some worlds aren't. Some worlds can slip into Darkness quickly because a stupid boy thought he'd end up more powerful.
no subject
At first, she has no idea why Riku is bringing this up now of all times. She doesn't really think it matters why she's here; she's a curious person, always has been, but when it comes to the strange dream-walking they seem to be able to do here, she's decided that maybe it's best to just accept it without asking too many questions. They've all been changed in some way, had things given to and taken away from them, and this ability just seems like a latent part of that.
But as he keeps speaking, a sort of cold realization forms in the back of her skull, one she doesn't want to acknowledge. But he's not really leaving her a choice is he? There's no way he isn't talking about himself, and while she doesn't know the extent of what he means when he talks about dying worlds and darkness, she can infer enough to know that this is something deeply personal to him. Something he might not want to share, but feels she needs to know. The ever-present question of why threatens to rear its unknowable head once more, but she squashes it down. Now isn't the time. Lately, there hasn't really seemed to be a time for anything except whatever this particular world chooses to throw at them, but maybe things will start to calm down. Maybe.
She lift her arm, briefly touching her fingers to his shoulder in a comforting gesture, gone as quickly as it came. He doesn't have to explain himself to her; overanalyzing the past has never done anyone she's ever known any good. Everybody gets to where they are somehow, and in her opinion, how that happens is their own business. He can tell her some other time if he wants, and she'll gladly listen, but she doesn't want him to do it just because he feels obligated to.]
no subject
None of this dream is real. Even the tower forming behind them, threatening to take them on. It isn't real. The closest they've come to it is the dreamscape, but even then—it proved to be more influential. A reflection. Bringing some things to life. Riku knows it didn't follow the logic of what he knew then.]
Sora helped get them back, and I haven't done anything stupid like that again. [That's why he had wanted to angle it toward talking about their time in Zerzura. It was awkward.]
Everyone back home knows what I did. The mistakes I made. They accept me, so it makes it easier. But that doesn't mean I want people here to know.
[He pauses, thinking of a recent conversation with Rey.]
But sometimes my mistakes help, too. Other people can feel better knowing that I messed up.
no subject
She chances a glance behind them, and wishes she hadn't; a great shadow rises towards the sky, and she snaps her face forward again. The old if I can't see it, it can't see me mentality is easy to fall into right now. It's the only thing that keeps her walking and not sprinting.
At least she does get a little insight into why he's telling her this, and what it means. She knows that he and Sora have been to a lot of different worlds, but she hadn't been able to grasp the extent of it until now. Destroying worlds, saving them--it leaves her with a feeling of awe, but also pride in her friends. Understanding that there were worlds beyond her own had been a hard enough idea to grasp at first, but the scope of that seems to just keep expanding.
Nill gives a short nod at that; she knows Riku is only human too, but sometimes it's hard to imagine him, well, messing up. He always seems too in control for that.]
no subject
He glances back, lips twisting down in a grimace.]
Nill, can you try to wake up? I don't think we're getting away the way I thought we could.
[And that's a real problem.]
no subject
Nill doesn't stop walking, but she does swivel her head to look at him, and there's no mistaking the question on her face: How? She thought she'd been waking up earlier, but he'd pulled her back. And when she'd tried to find that feeling again, fear had kept her from getting a hold of it. Even if she's with Riku right now, which usually serves as a great deterrent to being afraid, the growing pillar of darkness behind them makes her more afraid than just his presence alone can help.
Still, she's got to try, doesn't she? So she gives a jerky nod, facing forward again.
Even if she doesn't want to leave him, this is his dream, and she has to trust his judgement. So while she doesn't close her eyes, afraid of tripping, she does try to let the edges of her vision blur. She can see him on her peripheral, but it's easier to ignore what's around them this way. Wake up. She repeats it in her head, a mantra against the thing looming in their footsteps. Wake up.]
no subject
Now she gets to see the ugly parts of him, the places that he can also call home. The Dark. It's not necessarily a place that's met with insecurity. He wouldn't even mind bringing her here if he knew he could protect her and show her the truth of who he is. He didn't mind telling her, knowing that she should know him. Knowing that there are scarier things than being forced to think you're someone's boyfriend for a short time.
He grips more tightly, and he says firmly:] Wake up. I'm not here. I'm not really holding on to you right now. Shake loose. Maybe that'll help. I don't know.
[The tower comes closer. He holds on more firmly—not to the point that he might hurt her, but to the point that she has something to stir out of.
Riku hopes this works.]
lmk if this is ok!
Her breathing speeds up, her fingers flex by her sides. She has to wake up--she has to.
Instead of grasping that thread of calm she was searching for earlier, Nill snatches at the shard of fear that cuts through her, lets herself feel it instead of pushing it away like she usually would. It's a different kind of fear than what she'd felt for the mounting Heartless behind them; this is more immediate, a deep, visceral feeling that makes her stomach lurch and her face pale. She hates feeling like this.
But it's enough.
Her eyes snap open, and there's panic plain as day on her face, as if she's seeing someone else in front of her. But the moment is short-lived, because the next second she's gone, simply vanishing from the dreamscape as if she'd never been there in the first place.]