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WHO: Carolina + open
WHERE: Red Wings + dreamscapes + ???
WHEN: IC March 15-31 or so (eta: and later!)
WHAT: dream sharing + catchall for the month
NOTES OR WARNINGS: mentioned alcohol in two of the starters + death and some psychological horror in the other two (see comment headers for more on that)

( prompts below! feel free to reach out to arrange something new or talk about just how traumatic you do or don't want the dream sharing to go:

eflat or streetsongs#5551 )

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[ carolina's been settling in as best she can, getting a job and trying to set a routine that doesn't end in too much stress. that means that sometimes, when she's off work before her roommate is, she goes to red wings to wait for him to finish rather than going back to their apartment alone. it fulfills whatever basic social interaction need she has and allows her to meet a few more of the displaced while she nurses a drink for an hour or so. she's most likely to strike up a real conversation with anybody else from the most recent arrival group, but she probably needs to practice her small talk anyway, so anyone might get at least a respectful nod.

she does get bored with talking, though, which means that when the dart board is free, the redhead is likely to be there. playing alone on quiet nights, she scores highly. if anyone challenges her, she scores a little higher - carolina is aggressively competitive, even when she's being friendly. ]

[ in the almost two years she's had this nightmare looping through her subconscious every few nights, it's never gone exactly the same way twice. it always starts with confidence and ends with her surrounded by bodies and she's always helpless to change the outcome. ]

A | It starts with a voice from somewhere, echoing through the dark space, about as ominous and menacing as any deep mystery voice could be:

"Who are you?"

Carolina's voice might be familiar, even if her armour is not, when she answers, "I'm your true warrior."

"Actually-" There's a woman's voice not far away and when Carolina's quick to bring her gun around to aim at her as she steps into view, gesturing a thumb at her chest. "- that would be me."

"Tex?" Turns out, Carolina's not aiming at the woman because she's an unknown enemy, but because she's a little too well known. Certainly an enemy, however and Carolina is expecting this to be the great test of her strength when there's another voice, a man's, playfully light from behind and above her.

"Hey there, Carolina."

She turns, ignoring the woman in black to look up at the soldiers on the platform above her. It's like looking at a lineup of ghosts. They're all dead and she knows this and knew this when the moment first happened, but the sight of them has Carolina stunned.

"I- But I don't understand..."

The woman in the brown armour takes advantage of Carolina's stammering to jump down from the platform, landing in a crouch before she seems to saunter over to their stunned former leader.

"You didn't actually think you were the best, did you, boss?" Connie asks and Carolina, for her part, seems ready to answer when an axe-like weapon comes spinning by her, lodging in Connie's armour with enough force to send her flying back. She doesn't move again but the scene explodes into action, with so much violence that it's difficult to keep track and most deaths change every night, details blurry and her memory trying to fill in the blanks.

Sometimes, the woman in black kills them all. Sometimes, they kill each other. When Carolina's lucky, it's vague enemies just on the edge of her vision that tear her family apart.

The last Freelancer standing is always the tallest, broadest one, the one wearing white with the bladed weapon in hand and standing too close to the edge of something when the last blow comes and he tumbles back into endless darkness before Carolina can ever hope to get to him. She shouts, sometimes, or else just freezes, staring at the spot where he had been until there's another voice.

"Carolina? Hey, what the fuck is happening?"

The man's armour is almost the exact same colour as hers and he has gun up as he leads the others in. It almost looks like a rescue, but it isn't and Carolina barely has time to shout a warning for them to get out before she has to watch the Reds and Blues die, too.

B | The dream might pick up when the violence has ended, when Carolina's on the ground with her helmet off, cradling lifeless, sandy gold armour in her lap, as if that will make her feel any better at all. Bodies litter the area, blood slicking the floor, sparks still coming from at least one robot teammate. (Most nights, the woman in black sparks like broken equipment, too. Sometimes, when Carolina's head really hates her, her helmet comes off and she's a blonde in a pool of blood.)

One might think this would be enough for one nightmare, but Carolina's subconscious draws on another very real loss to play over this scene sometimes, adding insult to injury.

Across the room, a life sized hologram flickers into view, almost lost to static for a second before he solidifies and starts to talk:

"Hey sis, don't be mad." There's a pause. "I mean, okay, you're definitely going to be mad, but don't get so mad that it breaks you, because if you snap and do some murder-suicide thing over this, I'll have gone through all of the trouble of saving these assholes for nothing and we're all going to have a real awkward afterlife..."

Carolina knows every word of her brother's personalized goodbye message but she still listens every time her subconscious forces her to revisit it. She misses him.

C | It's just the bodies, like before. She might still be holding York's body, Epsilon's message might still be playing. But the one person that's been conspicuously absent from the dream so far finally wanders in through a far doorway, moving like he's a little dazed.

"David, you can't-!"

And Wash turns to look at her, just starting to greet her when a single gunshot rings out, from somewhere else, she never really knows where. The bullet passes through his neck before he drops to the floor and Carolina shouts again:

"No!"

[ anyone joining this dream, no matter when, is unlikely to catch carolina's attention right away. it's... kind of a lot and she's going to be so, so sorry you had to see it. ]

[ there's a room. twelve advanced suits of armour, all of them sporting some kind of obvious customization by their previous owners, distinguishing them, are positioned around the room. most of the suits are arranged in such a way that it looks like they're ready to fight - weapons up, posture defensive.

it's a twisted sort of trophy room and, at first, anyone slipping into this dream might think it's static, just a blank, looping memory given dream form. except- ]

Oh, no... Wash?

[ surprise, carolina's definitely dreaming about that time she and her best friend almost died because their armour had been intentionally locked down by a revenge-hungry psychopath. she's in the middle of the room, fists up, trying to get the attention of the suit of armour beside her. he's not answering. ]

No, this is wrong. We were out, I swear...

[ this would be a great time for someone to inform carolina she's dreaming and can, in fact, probably move if she wants to. break that spell, save the night, never speak to her about this again, thanks. ]

[ this dream is about a club. aesthetically, it's not far off something one might find somewhere on the earth of 2512 that the displaced have found themselves in. but it's not 2512 and it's not earth. it's a colony world that wasn't too far away, in some other version of the universe.

it's loud and full of people, but a redhead in a white sleeveless shirt and blue skirt still manages to turn a few heads as she makes her way through the club. for anyone who knows carolina in new amsterdam, she looks a lot younger - not more than twenty - and although she's still built like a soldier, she's less scarred, less perpetually exhausted looking in this dream. there's a lightness to her step and a sway to her hips that she's all but lost. her hair is long, pulled back with wisps framing her face, a deliberate style choice. but that bright red is hard to miss.

eventually, carolina winds her way towards a bar, stopping shy of actually stepping up to it, just leaning against a nearby railing as her expression softens. for all the other patrons in the club have been vague, blurry in that way the details of dreams can be, the man who's caught her attention is in clear focus. it's years before the incident that'll scar his face and damage his vision - he's young, too. he's got the roguishly handsome look going on, but he doesn't look thrilled about being here, alone and abandoned by his friends, working his way through a drink while he toys with a novelty lighter.

from her vantage point, carolina can see the way the flame reflects off his glass and the surface of the bar every few seconds.

when this happened for real, she hadn't hesitated, just came up behind the then-stranger and snatched the lighter from his hand, flirting with him until he kissed her and offered the promise of a lot more than kissing. it was years before she actually gave that lighter back to him and she wishes she never had.

sheltered by dream logic, though, carolina doesn't move, doesn't rush the memory of the first time she saw him. she just watches indefinitely with a stupid little smile on her face. it's not until she actually realizes that someone out of place is there that she straightens up and pulls herself back together. ]

Sorry. Hi.

[ in the weird glow of the club's lighting, it almost looks like she's blushing. ]

[There's a funny thing about clubs and that's they're all the same down in the core. The crowds change, the music, the decor, but there's a core in all of them. It's a place people go to when they're looking to have fun. Getting lost in the music, getting lost in drinks, getting lost in the crowd or with someone specific; it's a constant.

Ginia has a fond view of clubs, having lived in and out of them for three years. Her blood sings to the beat as she walks through it, boots clicking on the floor. She's in tight skinny jeans and an off the shoulder crop top, showing off her abs and arms to the world. But nice as the club is, she knows there's a floaty lucidity that means this is a dream. Which means it's a matter of finding the dreamer and either backing out or seeing if they're amiable for company.

She sees Carolina from a distance. The woman is definitely younger, but her hair stands out as much as her frame. She looks happier, maybe. Ginia wouldn't really know, they've only met the few times. But it's a different look. Ginia traces Carolina's look over to the guy playing with the lighter, finding herself smiling a bit. She doesn't really know the situation, but there's some part of it that's clear. So, taking her time, she makes it over to Carolina, leaning back on the railing. Hi. Hello. Closer now, Ginia can tell the other woman isn't as tired looking.

She smiles and tilts her head over at the man.]

Going to say hi to him?

[ carolina shrugs, half turning so she's looking more at ginia than the man at the bar - she can still turn her head to catch sight of him again, but it's a deliberate effort. so, too, is the conscious attempt of trying to make her smile a little less dopey looking and more about friendly familiarity. she's not entirely sure that she can call ginia a friend, no, but carolina certainly respects her. ]

Nah, he can wait.

[ in her dreams, in this dream, when her subconscious is nice enough to show it to her, she knows york'll be there, knows just what he'll say. it was a perfect encounter, but she's in no rush to get to it right now. ]

So... Welcome to my probably spotty dream memory of Errera.

[It seems pretty good as far as dreams go. At least, Ginia can only speak for usual set of dreams and the one of Ephemera's she stumbled into. The ones she can remember are usually a loop of nightmares, though she's had a few rare good ones. Ginia gives Errera another appraising look.]

I've been dreaming a lot about a club lately. One I work at back in my world.

[Something about this world and dreams clubs, maybe. Or a strange coincidence.]

I like the look of this one.

[She pauses and looks at Carolina's outfit. Ginia is pretty sure Carolina is older than her, but with how much younger she looks now and the looks she was giving that guy, she decides to hold back any light flirting. Instead, sincerity.]

Nice outfit. Blue looks good on you.

I know. [ it's a little cheeky, a little easier to be light in here where things only feel half real. a good show of carolina's personality at its best, though. ] But thank you.

[ now she turns a little more fully, leaning on the railing that separates them from a dance floor below. her back's to york, but it's easier to look at ginia like this. raising a hand, carolina gives a gesture that's clearly meant to encapsulate the club. ]

I only ever visited a few times. I never lived on Reach and it's a big galaxy and god forbid we consistently got shoreleave anywhere fun... But I liked it here.

I'm still getting used to the fact there are people used to traveling through galaxies and going planet to planet like it's nothing.

[Ginia shakes her head a bit at that. Light, amused more than anything. Her wrists rest on the railing as she takes in the club. Constants across universes and worlds. The things that never change because humans never really change much.]

Did you enlist or were you drafted? [Ginia sighs a bit, not really wanting to think about Ephemera, but...] Ephemera told me some things about where you two are from. The Covenant. Glassing.

[ carolina makes a curious little noise at the first reveal as it makes her realize just how little she knows about this woman (and she's been bad for assuming that everyone is as frustrated at being earth-bound as she is) but it mostly just queues up questions for later. she has to answer, first. ]

I enlisted. It wasn't ever a real question for me. My mom was a soldier and the Covenant took her from me, so I was still young when I decided I needed to do my part. [ she lets out a little huff, shaking her head at herself. ] I was never the type to shy away from a fight.

My condolences for your loss.

[For the loss of her mother. It says a lot about the kind of person Carolina is that she made a choice like that. It's not an unfamiliar story to her. She's heard it from soldiers she's met in bars and clubs. Sometimes it's honorable, sometimes there's a layer of sadism and racism. With Carolina, she's inclined to skew toward the former.

She agrees with the last sentence too. It was obvious she didn't want to fight Ephemera again, but she wasn't going to take the situation passively.]

UNSC? [Ginia pauses, mouth curving upward at a realization.] I have a guess, but I never did find out what the acronym stands for.

United Nations Space Command. [ carolina's lips twitch into an amused smirk. ] No points for creativity there, I know, but it got the point across. Colonizing outside of the home system required a navy presence and with a navy usually comes marines, so that was most of the UNSC's history. But humanity doesn't stop making trouble for itself just because it's not on Earth anymore, so before first contact, the UNSC policed when they felt they had to, quieted rebellions, tried to make things a little safer for everyone.

[ there's carefully not an opinion there, concerning what side in any of those conflicts had the moral upper hand. history is written by the victors, after all, and she's proud of the years she served with the unsc. knows full well, too, that she got enough of her history education on earth to put a bias on anything that might have happened in the decades before out in the colonies. ]

Of course, aliens kind of put a damper on anything.

[It's about what she expected. And though Carolina's opinion is neutral, Ginia knows enough about war and conflict and who gets to write the history books to know the situation is anything but simple. It's easy to compare to the things Ephemera has said too. He enlisted, found his family through training. Became a Helljumper, and at some point got 'redemption' tattooed across his chest like a reminder or a brand. It's not hard to guess things got complicated along the way.]

My world hasn't hit a first contact situation yet. Still humans fighting each other for the most selfish and stupid reasons and every army thinking they're in the right.

[Her signs are a bit harder, venom seeping in. Ginia sees no reason to hold back on her opinion on things.]

2133, in case you were wondering. And no, my world isn't a predecessor to yours.

[ This is new one. Ephemera stays in the shadows, wary and hating that he's out of armor even though no one in the club seems to have noticed him. He's dressed in his civilian clothes, a hood up to hide his scars. Already he's tried to leave and found that he can't, just like none of the people he approaches seem to hear him.

He gives Carolina a suspicious look. She's—

Younger, here. ]

Where is there?

[Why does Hawke keep ending up in other people's dreams? That's a question she finds herself asking yet again when she comes to consciousness again in a place that's clearly not her world or the one she's gotten used to. Hawke swears to herself, turning a few times to try and make sense of it. This one isn't a fun bar though, which is a real sodding shame. This time she appears in her full look, nothing like the body-armor that super soldiers have. She feels better with the weight of some armor and knives on her back though.

She hears someone speak further in the room and she wrinkles her nose; these body suits look odd and creepy and a bit soulless. She vaguely understands what they are, but they don't look very useful if you have to actually see what you're doing. Hawke taps one of the heads and it's empty inside, so she keeps going. The voice sounds slightly more panicked, so she moves a bit faster, dodging around to where she thinks it came from.]

Hello? Someone in there? [Since this woman who looks straight out of a medieval battle definitely does not fit in with the modern suits of armor, it might be jarring or at least clue in to what's happening. Plus, Carolina's met her once already.] I think I caught something about out? It's fine, you're in a dream. This isn't real.

[ cassian wouldn't say he frequents red wings, but he tries to swing by now and then, mostly to scope out the place, see who does frequent it. he'll nurse a single drink, if that, but mostly he just people watches at the bar. ]

[ occasionally, however, he also plays darts. he's not at it tonight because someone beat him to it, but even from a distance he can see she's very good. maybe it'll be a fun challenge, rather than playing it solo all the time. ]

I don't suppose you would care to share the board. [ by "share" he definitely means that challenge. ]

That saves me the question, then.

[ carolina lets out a slow exhale, her shoulders dropping a little bit as she leans more heavily on the railing separating them from the floor below. ]

Humans do a lot of terrible things because they're afraid or hurt or too damn selfish to know better. Thousands of years and we've never really changed. But you seem like the sort of person who's seen that first hand.

[ it's not really a question, not trying to pry, but an offer of an open floor if ginia feels like sharing anything. ]

[Ginia laughs. It's a low, sound, more a rustle of air, a faint rasp. It's an offer, though Ginia isn't sure if it's a kind one. There are a lot of locked doors in her lives, memories kept at bay. And sometimes it's tempting to throw the doors open, one by one, let all the rot flow out and see what kind of a mess it makes.

But Ginia is afraid of herself, or afraid of what people would think if they knew her. Still, she's heard Carolina's words about Project Freelancer, whatever that is, known the outcome and seen the effects.]

Someone once told me I could be a hero. Do good in the world, save lives.

[It's a good thing this isn't her dream. That she can't exert her influence on this nice club. Ginia's hands shake for a moment and she steadies them.]

I guess you can imagine how that went.

[ she's hallucinated in this room before. when this really happened and previous times that's she's dreamed about it, people have been here that shouldn't be before. but they've never sounded like this, never had much to say outside of assuring her she deserved this fate. a nice hallucination is much more suspect than medieval style armour.

the familiarity of the voice might just be a trick, too, but then the woman circles close enough for carolina to see her and- ] Hawke?

[ this isn't real, hawke had said. a dream. relatively safe, asleep on earth, connected to the other displaced in a way she hasn't felt so exposed by before. this isn't real, carolina tells herself, fighting against the memory dictating the dream to try to move. her fingers uncurl first, just the motion of her hands, and then the spell seems to snap all at once and she's stumbling forward, one knee hitting the ground before she manages to catch herself, cyan armour hunched over, hands bracing herself on the metal floor. it's hard to tell, so padded with layers and with her head still hidden in her helmet, but it looks like carolina's shaking a little. ]

Damn it... [ she sounds shaky, too. this is as embarrassing as it is distressing, at this point. ] I'm sorry, I- I never wanted anyone to see this.

[ she's aware of ephemera before he gets to her, but doesn't acknowledge him right away, waits for him to speak. if he's too uncomfortable and just wants to wake himself up, that isn't something carolina could hold against him, after all. but he approaches and he talks and carolina folds her arms loosely across her chest, leaning against the railing to her side as she glances at him. her posture is deceptively at ease, as if she isn't afraid of how this might go. ]

Welcome to my favourite place to visit in New Alexandria. Before the Covenant got to Reach, obviously. [ it's a little bit of context, some timeline, before she softly adds- ] It's probably still closed.

[ This is early days, then. Ephemera rocks back on his heels. He never fought on Reach, but he knows the score. ]

You were stationed here?

[ He's not sure what else he's supposed to do but ask stupid, easy questions. The music is loud, but not so much that he can't hear himself think. That might be a bad thing in this dream. He'd rather fade entirely than stand here, trying to figure out how the fuck he's supposed to react. ]

[ Drake hasn't been able to interact with Carolina for all of this. He's been trapped outside some kind of light barrier, so even though he knew what was happening, that this was a dream again, he couldn't reach her and she couldn't hear him... until now. When Washington crumples to the floor Drake is suddenly able to pass through the barrier. Carolina is screaming, abandoning the gold-armored body and rushing to the grey and yellow, and the sound is so raw and pained that Drake aches for her even knowing this isn't real. None of this happened, right? It's just her nightmare. ]

Carolina! Carolina, it's not real.

[ He's trying to get to her quickly, but there are bodies everywhere. Seriously, this is corpse central, and he has to slow down to not trip over them. ]

[ that gets one shoulder raising in a shrug, more of carolina trying to be casual. maybe this will help in the long run. ]

Only for a few months, before the Project. I lucked out getting back here on shore leave a few times, though. [ a glance at ephemera. ] You ever see Reach?

I think I can be talked into it.

[ carolina flashes him a wry smile before she throws the last dart in her hand - it's the third hit she's scored on the outer bullseye - before she steps forward, moving to collect the darts from the board, planning a reset for them. ]

What's your name? I'll start us a scorecard.

[ do good, save lives. carolina knows how painful that wishful thinking can be, understands where that bitter laugh comes from. she knows what that feels like in herself, a feeling she doesn't think she'll ever shake. ]

About as well as it does for any of us when we think we can be heroes, I'm guessing. [ she pauses, watching ginia's face. ] But you tried. That counts for something.

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ota | obligatory displaced hanging out at red wings option

dream | Thanks, Santa (cw: violence, blood, death)

dream | Lockdown (cw: death, psychological torture by isolation/deprivation)

dream | Errera

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c; all the way at the end

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