Sinking

Rohka//Open

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Herein lies the realm of dreams, where dreamers who are scattered all over the world in the physical can come together in the mysterious world of dreams. Remember, unless one is a Dreamwalker, there is no control over dreams. Ever. Anything can happen, and by threading a dream, you are subject to whomever can walk dreams and the whims of Storytellers.

Sinking

Postby Yomila on November 10th, 2020, 1:16 am

2nd of Fall 520 AV

Falling.

She felt it again. The intensity of it, the terrifying weightlessness. It was happening again.

The agony hit her at once. The violence with which she was ripped away from her beloved home, torn and flung through the severed sky.

Falling.

Falling.

It felt like it was unending.

Then the world flipped. She was upside-down. Submerged.

She had never stopped falling. Never hit the water like she always had in these dreams. Like she had in reality. Here she kept sinking - rising? - as the water pressed hard against her, the depth and pressure immense.

The Ethaefal wanted to scream but she couldn't work her lungs, her mouth.

The water spun, all consuming, pulling at her. She was helpless. Caught in its grip, completely at the water's mercy.

The dark was powerful, impenetrable at the depths she found herself in. Gone was the moonlight. Gone was Leth. All that remained was this cold, nightmarish black. It pressed. It crushed. It consumed.

She shot her hands out and clawed uselessly at the water. Her mouth opened. It filled at once.

Sand.

It filled with sand.

The blackness shifted savagely and light pierced her, brilliant, burning, and overwhelmingly bright. She spasmed involuntarily at the dramatic change. The inability to breath. Her body suspended in limbo before it lurched and found itself upon a beach. Her outstretched hands flexed through coarse grains of sand and still failed to find purchase.

She let out a muffled, pitiful sound.

Then, like the sea drawing off the beach, the sand pulled away. The roughness spilled over her, pouring away, slipping.. slipping.. spilling off her like a blanket. The dry, cottony feeling in her mouth vanished and the sand disappeared.

She curled up where she lay, too emotionally shattered to even begin to take stock of where she was, what she was feeling. Her body trembled. She clutched herself out of instinct, desperate and terrified, trying to protect herself from whatever might come next. Everything felt wrong. The weight of this place. The light. The way the ground felt beneath her shuddering body.

She willed it away with clenched teeth, white knuckles and a knotted brow.

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Sinking

Postby Rohka on November 22nd, 2020, 3:04 am

Rohka stirred in sleep. Markham watched over the doctor soaking up remnants of a treatment while a nurse was cleaning up vomit.

“We shouldn’t be seeing much more, now that she’s managed to go down. The herbal concoction is strong enough to have her stay deep in dreamland for the night. Feel free to stay and watch over if you want, but our staff will check on her periodically.”

Markham nodded, trusting the professional’s advice. He took another glance at the Seeker, catching a twitch in her brow. A low groan coupled with her shifting body as a nurse readjusted the sheets surrounding her cold and mostly bare, pale skin. Harder than ever to watch, the Captain decided to leave, hoping that the removal of his own presence would let her sleep more peacefully. He thanked the doctor and made his way out of the room, leaving the Healing Centre to take care of his own crew.

Meanwhile, Rohka found herself in between vivid lucidity and murky memories. Flashes of her sister’s face when they were young, a bright marigold from their garden on the Lakeshore, a pair of fish caught to eat for dinner, it’s freshness so close to her being that she could almost reach out and taste it. The pictures faded almost as fast as they showed up, replacing themselves with long periods of dark and empty, deep sleep.

When the nurses left, Rohka silently slept in the room meant for her recovery. Though, in her mind, a slow burning light of a flame glowed brighter. She felt herself walking closer to it. Was she walking? No, it felt more like floating. She found herself wanting to submerge herself in it: the brightness of the warm, golden light that grew ever brighter, the nearer she drew. Like an intoxicating drink, she felt herself absorbing it all, wishing she could just see it clearer. Ever clearer.

It’s true. It’s here. It has to be here.

It frustrated her to still feel cold, knowing that the warmth of this light existed and she couldn’t make herself consume it all. She quickly decided to sink into its brightest depth, in hopes that she could finally get close to that true source.

Gods! The truth! It has to be here! Where have I gone wrong?

The attempt immediately pushed her through into a shifting vision of colour, the forms slowly creeping into view. There, laying crumpled on the ground was a woman she couldn’t recognize. Her hands tightly clenched, it looked like she too was trying to hold onto something. Something that used to be so close.

Though, her assumptions could be wrong. Rohka’s curiosity led her forward, though it was perhaps her desire to be near another mind that also pulled herself towards one who may know the ways of the area she found herself in. The seeker glided over the ground, crouching low to see the woman’s face. Rohka’s own deep orbs peered closer to notice her features. She was immediately in awe of a beauty, a smile gently growing on her own lips without her knowledge.

“Are you okay?” she asked, curiously. “Can you stand? Do you know where you are?”

A drop of water landed on Rohka’s nose. She looked up, noting the dark sky, yet something held the area lit with enough light to see their forms. She could see something akin to clouds, and something glittering suddenly, as if there were stars above that decided to turn on out of the deep blue-greys up above.

Again, a droplet, on her cheek.

“I think it might rain,” she said, reaching out a hand. “We should find shelter. Don’t want to catch a cold out here.”

Rohka waited, hoping the invitation would allow them to find a place to figure it all out.
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Sinking

Postby Rohka on March 22nd, 2021, 2:36 am

OOCDoes dream time equate to Miz time? Continuing this thread because my brain is soupy lol

The invitation did nothing.

In fact, it was as if the utterance of the very words brought on an icy blast of cold wind. Nature picked up on her fear and maximized it so dramatically that the entire field of vision blurred in the face of change, the sudden downpour drenching her mind with a grief she couldn't bear. It brought her down to her knees, and she looked up into the dark sky, her body fully accepting the storm that chose to come down on her right then and there.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, to no one in particular.

"I hate this, I hate all of this. Give me back my truth, give it back or let me die. Why won't you let me go?" she asked, her voice shaking. Yelling feverishly into the open space held no real impact and she knew it, and yet, something about the ability to express made her feel freer than if she'd said nothing at all.

The rain continued to pour, and this time, a spark of light flashed all around her, illuminating what looked to be a mountains in the distance. Large, looming, steep mountains surrounded a scene. She wasn't sure if it was real. That... house. It got dark, and the booming, crackling, body-filling grumble of thunder shook her core, its strength bringing her awareness down to her feet on the ground.

With the rain continuing to pour, and a renewed passion for forward movement, Rohka stood. She forgot about the woman, forgot about all else, and focused on the vision she'd caught a glimpse of, just a moment ago. The sybil walked forward. She walked, feeling the drenched, soggy earth beneath her feet that felt as if they were bare. She felt more wind, searing its tendrils of frigid swirls across her head, her chest, her arms and legs. Somehow, in the dream state that she could barely recognize, there were tall weeds, reeds, cattails, and sticky leaves, all of which she continued to push and pull away, making her path forward towards that structure she was longing to glimpse once more.

A fear crept in. The stickiness. Was it poison?

She began to itch. It all itched, all over, and she scratched. She scratched herself more and more, trying to relieve the annoyance, feeling the pleasure of the action and hating the repetition, despising the lack of foresight, wishing that there could be another way.

Was there another way?

Her mind shifted to her waist. There, in the sheath, was that dagger. .

No point, she thought. Can't cut through. Not enough.

Rohka carried forward.

----

Out in the waking world, a doctor came in to find the young Calico itching herself in her sleep, removing the ointments and oils that they'd tried to put over her wounds. They quickly shifted, grabbing her arms and tying them down to the bed.

The woman couldn't heal if she wouldn't let the medicine work.

----

Another strike of lightening, and there it was.

That house.

The one she was looking for.

Tears welled up in her eyes, the shock of the image overwhelming all of her senses and causing her to shake. All she needed to do was go up to the door and open it. She could finally find it. It had to be possible now.

But her hands couldn't move.

Rohka struggled. In front of the wooden door, she broke down, screaming at it, her rain-drenched body trying to slam itself against it, kicking it, running around it, finding any other way to get inside... but she couldn't. It was all so difficult to see. She wondered if there were windows she could kick and break. In another flash, she saw a few.

Too high.

Rohka felt defeated. Without a way to enter, she was lost. Abandoned. Victim to the elements.

She wondered, then, if any of this struggle was worth the fight. Death would allow her to reach a state that would be easier, surely. Her ghost could enter, couldn't it? It was a morbid thought, and it was almost as if the thought itself was enough to allow her to feel like she was floating. Rohka picked up on the feeling, unable to feel the rain, nor the wind, nor the weeds, and certainly not the wooden door.

But she could pass through.

----

Rohka fell into a deeper sleep, dreamlessly.
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