solstice rpg

Who: Neta and Mikael
When: Mid-morning
Where: Near the church

The sun was going to come out again any minute, Neta was sure of it. But she was sick and tired of being shut in at that horrible, falling-apart house with all those damn ghosts, and even after being out all night-- which she had been, when she wasn't distracted by a nearby dream that sucked her in-- the thought of going back just made her want to hit something. So here she was, standing in the middle of an empty street as the last of the fog began to lift, hands on her hips, shadow-dragon coiled up small and meek beside her, glaring up at the sky. Daring it to burn her, or drain her energy, or whatever the fuck it was the sun did to her.

It could take her desire to do anything but grumble and hide under an overhang, but it couldn't take her anger. Nothing did that, especially not after her latest "adventure", when the light-bearer had up and vanished on her. Only the dragon and the occasional ghost even brought her a little reprieve. So there was the sun, and it was a convenient thing to glare at, at the moment, so she did.

( Though not the pleasant ones, unfortunately. )

Who: Jesse and Neta
Where: the Victorian in the woods
When: mid-morning

After Jesse had finished his dreamwalking in the wee hours of the morning, he remained disturbed by what had happened in the dream that had started so innocuously with treetop-walking and ended with the dark woman, violence on a bridge and the complete disappearance of the dreamer. He'd sat on the seventh level, not far from the doorway, for hours as the night faded into a rainy dawn, worrying over this other dreamwalker. He hadn't imagined meeting another dreamwalker in somebody's dream, but he had, and he didn't like it at all. Mainly because she'd been horrible, mean and aggressive. He was also concerned about the woman he'd discussed with Tayne, the one like him who was living out in the woods. He'd determined to check the situation out as soon as he could, and he decided that now was as good a time as any.

He left the lighthouse in the rain, freshly dressed in a black long-sleeved t-shirt and one of his many pairs of jeans with a battered rain slicker he'd found in one of the lockers in his quarters over the top of it. At least he wouldn't get completely drenched. As he walked along, he realized that he felt tired and slightly draggy already; he was getting the idea that he would feel like this on days when there was no sun or even reasonably bright light in the sky. It couldn't be helped, he guessed. The light overhead only became dimmer as he reached the woods and began picking his way through the overgrown paths, stepping over fallen limbs and other detritus. He kept a wary eye on his surroundings, not wanting any sudden surprises as he approached the decrepit, falling-down Victorian house.

( I think I'm gonna call that my lucky knife, from now on. )

Who: Jesse and Neta
When: the wee hours
Where: the dreamworld

There was a network of trees so far off the ground that Jesse wasn't sure how far down they would have had to climb to reach the base of it. Not that it mattered, because he and a young man who was dressed only in a pair of pants that looked as if they were made from some kind of animal skin were making their way across the interconnected tops of them, reaching from branch to branch as they went. He fancied that there were clouds ringing their heads, but that couldn't be right. Or could it, here in the dreamworld? The wind whipped around them, and he clung to the nearest branch as the entire structure shuddered under the impact of that cold breeze.

"Be careful!" he called out to the dreamer. He didn't know if someone could die in a dream-- he was inclined to think not-- but it didn't hurt to give a little bit of positive encouragement.

"We're almost there," the young man called back to him. "Keep going!"

Almost where? Jesse thought but didn't ask.

( Watch the sparks fly. )

Who: Jessalyn and Neta
When: Late afternoon
Where: Eldritch/woods

Jessalyn had finished her lunch shift and soon after found herself on the ferry heading to the island. She wasn't quite sure how the decision came to her to make the trek to Eldritch, but Jessalyn often just found herself breezing along with whatever random thought came into her mind, and after work, she felt like running about the island for awhile, and maybe even stopping in to say hi to Tayne before dark if she stayed that long.

The ride found Jessalyn wandering around the ferry for the most part, seeing as how she didn't really have the patient to sit by herself for the entire duration. She even managed to snag one of the ferry workers for a long winded conversation about the weather and cloud patterns before the ferry finally docked on Eldritch. With her bag clutched against her side, Jessalyn started off toward the shops, spending a bit of time browsing through them. She managed to snatch a couple cute lip glosses from one of the stores, but was proud of herself that she'd talked herself out of taking anything else. Jessalyn was constantly berating herself for stealing, but it was a very hard habit to break. Baby steps, she figured.

( What the hell are you doing here? )

Who: Mikael & Neta
Where: Dreamspace
When: The small hours of the morning!

Mikael Jöns Lundvall was dreaming. He lay in his futon bed in his bachelor apartment, the sheets tangled around his legs, the tattooed skin above his waist exposed to the vague light coming through the crinkled blinds. He had no awareness of his apartment, though. He was walking through the winter woods in Aspen, Colorado, where he'd lived until after high school. The snow was deep, the sun was high overhead, the trees were tall and strong and his breath puffed in front of him like smoke. He was seventeen again, not twenty-six, and his older siblings - all four of them - weren't with him this time. The place was peaceful and unblemished. His footprints were the first to explore since the last storm. Dressed in proper winter gear, Mikael reached down with one gloved hand and scooped it into the snow.

Just how she had gone from humid island to snowy woods, Neta Hillman couldn't even guess. She didn't really even think about it much, except to know she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, she didn't know where this place-she-wasn't-supposed-to-be was, and she was cold. Very cold. All she wore was a long, old-fashioned jacket made from leather, over her man's shirt and canvas breeches, and there was snow everywhere.

She crunched through the trees, scowling at everything around her, and rubbing her arms, trying to keep them warm-- at the expense of her fingers, since she didn't have any gloves.

"This is bullshit," she growled to herself, looking around for any sign of life.

( Don't Shoot! )

Who: Neta and Dax
Where: The graveyard on the island
When: Around sunset

While Neta had felt no real urge to sleep-- which was nothing particularly new; that refuge had been denied her for what felt like an eternity-- her anger had simmered down to mere frustration and lethargic discomfort as the sun came up that morning. She'd gotten her private exploration of the island in the night before, all night, without any need to rest or eat or even find a bathroom.

And then the sun had come up, hot and bright, and had chased her indoors, back to the house she felt somehow tied to. The further she went from it, the more stretched she felt, and with the sun beating down on her and prickling sweat all over her skin, she hadn't the will to resist it. Her shadow-dragon hadn't been as tied to darkness and location as she was, and had been gone most of the day. Another reason to feel down.

( And a live 'n! )

Who: Cian and Neta
Where: the beach just past his house
When: late afternoon

Cian was sincerely bummed out, and it was probably a good thing that he was by himself on this windy, chilly afternoon. Ava'd had to make an appearance with her parents, and she'd said something about a job interview on the mainland after that, and the rest of the people who'd been crashing at his house had left by noon. He'd spent most of the midday and afternoon hours cleaning up, knowing that his parents were going to be displeased enough by the very fact he'd had a party-- not to mention the burned-up car-- without seeing any evidence of said party. He was in a bad mood anyway, might as well tackle the cleaning now, he'd thought.

Once late afternoon arrived, he'd decided to take a break, and he'd pulled a warm-up jacket over his t-shirt and shorts to go walk on the beach just beyond the fence that separated his house and grounds from more public areas. It was even windier now, but he didn't mind. It felt nice after hours of sweeping, vacuuming, dragging things back into their places. Cian walked toward the water, hands held loosely in his pockets, mind more or less a blank. He'd even left his phone in the house, and that almost never happened.

( he didn't think they were going to be besties )

Who: Ava and Neta
When: Late Afternoon
Where: The beach

The storm the night before had been really, really bad. The lightening, and the wind... Ava had slept over at Cian's, which was probably safer, since she knew her mom wouldn't have wanted her to drive home in that kind of weather. But Cian's house was right on the beach, so she'd been able to watch some of the storm out at sea, which had been kind of cool, since she was protected inside. The next morning she'd roused herself up, kissed Cian and left to go home and make an appearance. After a shower, breakfast and a change of clothes, she'd gotten a call for an interview at the deli in Darkwater. The possibility of having to commute by ferry for a part time job didn't really appeal to her, but Ava was getting desperate, so she agreed to the interview which was to take place later in the day. Something was better than nothing, right?

( I suppose you wouldn't know what it's like to die )

Who: Neta and Sorcha
Where: An abandoned Victorian house in the woods
When: 5:45AM

Hell was subjective. What was hell for one person, could be nothing of import to another. One person's heaven could be hell for someone else. Everyone's hell was different, and sometimes more than one thing could be hell.

This was hell. Hell was curled in a tight ball, listening to the voices of everyone you'd failed. Reliving your failure. Wallowing in your hate and anger and despair. Eaten by grief and guilt. Hearing the whispers to try again, to take that gun and shoot again and again and again, to ignore the pain and make them pay. Make them all pay. Even though she was helpless and useless, they still urged her onwards, making her helplessness part of hell. And hell lasted forever, because how would you ever know when it ended or began?

I deserve this.

This was hell, too. Hell was lying, still curled into a tight ball, on the hard wooden floors of a cold, dusty, cobweb-filled building that creaked and shuddered with the sound of rain on the sagging roof and broken windows. Shivering and naked. Alone and with a howling wind in your ears. It was just a different hell, that was all.

Neta opened her eyes, shifted on the floor, winced, and pushed herself up to sit. Wherever this new hell was, she was sure she deserved this, too.

( Abomination. )