|Bookman Junior (Lavi) (fortyninth) wrote in marinasylum,|
@ 2011-05-28 22:19:00
|Current location:||Day 116 / Sector 3, Apartment / Evening|
|Entry tags:||faith lehane, izaya orihara, kitty pryde (aoa), lavi, lenalee lee, road kamelot, sasuke uchiha, tyki mikk, yu kanda|
[ dream event | open ]
[ dream 1 - perfect memory - you might notice the smell first: rotting meat. it's faint, but you can't miss it. but when you see the source, you know it should be much worse.
you are knee-deep in corpses.
there must be thousands; some are nearly skeletons while some are fresh, and some are in between; flesh falling off the bones. there are a hundred different types of uniforms, every ethnicity you can think of. civillians, as well -- men, women, the elderly and infants. but you notice the strangest thing: the blood in their wounds is black. and, under closer scrutiny, it's not blood at all, but ink.
in the center of the vast battlefield, you can see a familiar shock of red hair. Lavi is sitting, undisturbed, combing through a newspaper. beside him stands an old man with unusual hair and black rings around his eyes.
if you decide to wade through the mass, you will hear sounds around you -- faint groans of the not-yet-dead, buried beneath their long-cold comrades. off in the distance, you might hear gunshots, cannon fire, screams of women or cries of children. they fade, only to start again moments later. scattered among the bodies, you might recognize a distinctive silver cross badge or filigree buttons on a black and white uniform. or the khaki and white outfit of a Finder. one General's uniform.
the corpses are fresher, the smell and sounds worse, the closer to the center you get. but Lavi seems not to notice. in fact, the old man notices you before he does. but he says nothing, his expression doesn't change. he just observes. ]
[ dream 2 - wide open spaces - you're in the middle of a field of tall grass, under a cloudless blue sky. wind tugs gently at your clothes and hair, and if you let it urge you along, you'll come apon a small campsite. the fire pit has been built, ready for the evening, the bedrolls sit neatly at the edge of the cleared space.
there is an old man with unusual hair and black rings around his eyes, and he is smoking a pipe. he notes your arrival but says nothing. however, you probably wouldn't have had time to converse with him before a small, redheaded boy -- probably seven or eight -- comes running at you, wearing a huge, excited smile. if the eyepatch he wears affects his balance or depth perception, you'd never know it. ]
((OOC: Both dreams are open! Dream 1 has some disturbing imagery.))