Rooms

Locked against Adrian I


[As Sydney I]
What are the best ways to deal with nightmares?

[Public]

So get-out-of-jail-free cards. Are they a thing?

['Robin']

A Wayne?

[Steph/Eddie N]

So that Ra's guy talking about welcomes home? Is this usual bad-guy stuff here?

[ETA: Bruce Banner]

Doc, you still work with Gotham shelters?

Where should payment be delivered?

The lost girl has been found. I gather there will be a funeral procession on the morrow.

Who: Arizona Robbins & Henry de Foix (The Beast)
What: Shared Dreaming
Where: Arizona’s Nightmare
When: June 27
Warnings/Rating: Beware of blood and plane crashes!

( The noise was indescribable, metal rending itself apart, the scrape of branches and the brushing of leaves, fire burning, fast and hot, smoke curling up through the trees, thick and dark. )

[The Beast's letters are in Gothic letter print, transcribed onto paper.]

One of the kitchen servants is missing.

[Written in a flowing, careful script]

I dare not trust this magic that has brought about this journal, nor do I trust the fact that others may read what is exchanged upon these pages.

However, I must beseech you all. Please tell me, what do we know of these strange journals?

I can inform you of my identity, if it may aide in your response. I am the Lady Mary, the eldest daughter of the King of England, King Henry VIII. The last date that I recall is 1534, though the Mistress Anne Boleyn recalls a date in the future, 1536. How is this possible, pray tell?

Who: Belle and the Beast
What: Introductions
Where: The Beast's Castle
When: Now?
Warnings/Rating: Safe, I have no doubt.

Curled in a patch of spring sunlight in the silent garden just inside the tall walls of his castle, the Beast was dreaming. The chill of winter remained in the air as it came down the slopes of the mountains, and the lingering cold twisted and condensed into tendrils of fog that curtained the crumbling castle at their foot, but that day sunlight managed to filter through the low-hanging gray clouds and linger on the frozen ground and dormant roses.

The Beast had found the patch of sunlight after a temper had uprooted him from his tower and sent him prowling about his small territory, looking for something to tear. He had not changed from his horrible amalgamation form in months, and he was beginning to realize that the phase of unpredictable changing was finished. Torn between relief that he would not suddenly come to himself again with his mouth full of feathers or his feet dangling from the rafters, and rage that his temporary human form was again lost to him, the Beast destroyed everything his claws could reach and then went looking for more.

Fortunately, the invisible servants knew when to make themselves scarce, and eventually he spent his rage, and found himself again lonely and tired in the old garden. His various mismatched parts ached, and the wolf's muzzle couldn't reach the striped horse's haunches, so he lay down and set the massive set of grubby gray wings over the bear's concave chest.

In his dream, the Beast was remembering when he was not the Beast at all. He was talking to his older brother, responsible golden bastard that he was, muttering in his sleep and twitching like a barn cat.

I don't even know what is going on. I'm at home, out of all that snow and ice. I have my freedom back.

[Locked to Snow and Beast]
Have either of you seen Rose?

[Locked to Harry]
Are you still here? Everything has gone quiet. I'm not sure I trust it.

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