thisavrou_log | [semi-closed] All that you are is the end of a nightmare.

Who: Lara and Friends and friends of friends
When: March 6-7th
Where: All around ~~town~~ the ship
What: A bad dream gets entierly out of hand.
Warnings: Needless dramatics, flashbacks of violence, possibly actual violence.

It goes like this: a desperate struggle to stop the transference of a thousand year old soul into the body of the person she loves most. A screaming corpse bursting into flames as the winds finally dissipate and sun breaks through heavy clouds. A long nightmare finally over.

Except now there's new nightmares. On Emiri, they're nudged awake. A little flutter, a terrified "What if it didn't work, what if I didn't save her." A delicate hand curling into a fist around the bloody memories of Yamatai. Keeping them in place, keeping them present. Know fear, know terror. Suffer for what you took from me. More memory then ghost until an opportunity presents itself: raw heart wrenching grief mixed with exhaustion. Memory turned ghost, a grinning skeleton, dripping blood and throwing carefully aimed barbs, always one step behind in the halls and corridors of the ship. Gently picking at the exposed wound, gently stripping away armor and defenses. Wither, waste away.

And then a set back: two men, equally powerful, equally talented. They give her armor and a path to follow out of the darkness. Away from the clutching hands and grinning skeletons. Never far, but it's a beginning, it's something. A fight as opposed to a massacre. And Lara fights every night, ceaselessly. It's difficult to say whether she's getting rest, but she's sleeping. Some days are better than others, but every night she follows the path built in her mind. And now, that she can hear Sans' voice again, that she can see him and know he isn't a hallucination is... It's something. Lara is very experienced in losing people, but no one has ever really come back before. The war doesn't end, but the balance has shifted and it's Roth's voice echoing in the dream: Just keep moving.

The scream that tears her out of sleep is hauntingly familiar. Not one from the other people who might be asleep in the room with her, but one that had belonged to a woman, long past dead, screaming her rage to a clouded sky. The room is illuminated, briefly blazing in blue-white light, the woman standing resplendent and terrifyingly beautiful, before the light curls itself into an orb and flies out of the room. Without thinking, Lara jumps up and tears out into the hall after it, running helter skelter even when it's vanished from view and all that's left is a vapor trail till that too vanishes.

Lara stands in the hall, breathing heavily, eyes wild. "Shit.

[ ooc: this is a little bitty plot that is mostly for Lara's established CR, but really "established" is "have you had a conversation with Lara at literally any point and want in on some free drama", there are basically no requirements to who is and is not involved. A supernaturally powered hallucination turned over powered ghost is going to be tearing around causing chaos for people, in the form of bad nightmares and brief hallucinations and taking on the characteristics (good or bad) of the people in those nightmares. I'm leaving it entierly up to players what those are and how effective they are-- if at all. Feel free to do closed threads for CR that is not Lara. Lara is mostly going to be tearing around the ship looking for her. The only rule is don't blow up anything. Plot is backdated to end on the 7th, when Sans and Lara fight Himiko. hmu @ thatoneblonde on plurk for questions/concerns. ]

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Miles freezes at Lara's voice behind him, trying to tear his eyes away from Murka's head. You have to hide the body is the first thought that springs to mind. What? There's no body there, it's just his... But he can see the blood leaking from the severed stem of Murka's neck in front of him -- and from the body, too, when he jerks around. Belatedly, he stumbles his way around the body toward Lara, as if to block it from view. Too late.

"Lara," he breathes, face pale, and not just from exhaustion. "What are you, um... Isn't it late?"

His voice creaks despite himself, his chest going tight. "If you're gonna keep standing there," Murka pipes up from behind him, "will you at least pick me up off the floor? I'm getting tired of having to crane my neck -- so to speak..."

Without thinking, Miles snaps over his shoulder, "Well, now you know what it feels like."

Edited 2016-03-23 01:55 (UTC)

That's not good. That seems like quite a lot of not good. But on the bright side, it seemed that Miles' nightmares or whatever this was weren't the sort that came with attacks, so. That's good.

Lara reaches out to steady Miles as he stumbles towards her, hands firm on his shoulders. "I was looking for something. I think I may have found it." She glances past him to the head on the floor, finds it grinning at her with a ghoulish little twist. "You aren't real."

This never especially worked when the thing was living in her own head, but that doesn't stop her from saying it.

Miles stares up at Lara in wild confusion, heart thudding in his chest. Her hands on his shoulders should be an anchor -- he wants her to ground him, wants something to ground him, desperately. He feels cold all over.

"Wh-- " The breath whooshes from him before he can get the word out. Miles chokes determinedly on. "You can see him? You can see -- this?" His breath catches in his chest, quickens. His voice melts into a groan. "Oh, God."

This must be a nightmare. There's no other explanation. A dream within a dream... God dammit. This is what he gets for trying to sleep again. He ought to have learned by now...

"You really do have a thing for brunettes, don't you, Admiral?" Murka pipes up from behind him. Miles jerks his head over his shoulder to stare at the lieutenant's severed head in abject panic. "But I don't think she'd make as good of a bodyguard as Commander Quinn. At least that's her original face, though -- it is, isn't it?"

Not the right thing to say, perhaps. Lara keeps one hand on his shoulder but reaches with the other to cup his cheek, gently turn his face back to look at her if he'll let her. She won't force him, force seems like the least helpful option right at the moment.

"Miles, look at me." Even if he doesn't she'll carry on, "He isn't real. There's something--" God, she doesn't know what will settle him. "Do you remember that day in your office? When I saw something?"

The dream-within-a-dream notion wavers when Lara touches his face, although Miles's gaze stays fixed on Murka's head until she keeps on talking. Delayed, he finally dares to tear his eyes away from the morbid sight, unfortunately familiar by now, but Lara's face and voice both help ground him, or at least start to. He latches onto it, gaze just a little too fixed.

"I know. I know." Miles's voice is just a shallow breath, his pupils a little too dilated. "But you can't usually see other people's hallucinations. I don't think this is a hallucination. I think this is a really, really bad dream."

It's a relief when he finally looks at her, even if his expression makes her chest feel tight.

"It's not a usual hallucination," is the best she can offer for that. Hard to describe what she herself doesn't fully understand. "I'm real, I'm here, just keep looking at me, okay?" The hand on his shoulder slides down his arm to his hand, curling around to squeeze.

"Admiral," comes Murka's head from behind him, plaintive and needling. Miles is certain Murka was never this whiny before he died. Death must not have done him many favors. "You're not going to just leave me behind, are you? After I covered your ass back on Jackson's Whole?"

Miles freezes, eyes wide, and his breath quickens, but he holds Lara's gaze, managing not to turn his head to look. His hand, shaking slightly, grips hers back tightly. "Alright," he breathes, feeling a cold sweat break out over his forehead. He licks at dry lips and tries to keep his voice from shaking. Inject just a pinch of false bravado, that's it. "I couldn't stay asleep. I didn't think the frigging nightmares were going to follow me."

She doesn't look away, doesn't let go of his hand. The bulk of Lara's focus is on Miles, but she's paying close attention to the body on the floor, ready for an attack if it happens.

"It is a bit surprising when they do that," she says, quietly, gently squeezing his hand back, "I've got you." Lara takes a step back, tugging on his hand for Miles to follow. At the very least, she needs to get him the hell away from that thing on the floor.

Miles's hand is clamped like a vise around hers, although he's not really conscious of it. His chest feels tight, it hurts. This is worse than the nightmares. He wishes desperately that he were asleep, if only so he could wake up.

He stumbles on the first step, but he doesn't let go of her hand, letting her lead him down the corridor. Where, he doesn't know. "You don't seem surprised," he says, and his voice comes out as a shaky breath to his own surprise. Pull yourself together, boy... "What's going on, Lara? Why can you -- you can see him. How?"

"Admiral, come on." Murka's voice sounds determinedly behind them, not as far away as Miles would like. It makes his stomach churn with curdling guilt. "You left me in the mud on Dagoola IV, are you gonna leave me to rot some more here? I think I deserve a commendation!"

How even to begin to explain tonight. This strange mad dash after an illusion that wasn't really an illusion. His grip on her hand is almost a relief, a minor tangible pain.

"I think he came from me," she said, drawing him further down the corridor. She doesn't turn around, doesn't turn away from Miles and the headless body that doesn't seem to get any further away. "When I was on Yamatai, the cult that was there attempted to preform an ancient ceremony to transfer the soul of Yamatai's queen into the body of another. I stopped it, but. I think something came with me. I think that's what Sans-- When he died, something stared to follow me."

It's a mad, mindless theory, but it's something, something to go on, something to drown out the voice of the dead thing behind him. She can see the guilt on his face, see the pain, but it's nothing she has the power to absolve.

Miles damn near trips over his feet to quicken his pace, Murka's voice echoing behind him with increasing fervor, sending awful chills through him. His face is paper white, still, his face beaded with sweat, but he's present, at least, and grounded by Lara's hand in his.

"What did?" Miles's breath catches painfully in his chest. "A -- piece of that soul, or something?" It sounds like absolute nonsense -- or at least it would've to him several months ago, but half a year on the Moira does some funny things to your sense of normalcy. "What's that got to do with M-- with me?"

[semi-closed] All that you are is the end of a nightmare.

IM SO SORRY

shh never be sorry.

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