Dreaming of an Imagination (Solo)

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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.

Dreaming of an Imagination (Solo)

Postby Stitch on February 9th, 2011, 8:19 am

A continuation of another thread, where Stitch was Dreaming of a Reality.



Stitch was sound asleep, warmly tucked into his Icewatch bed. He had originally had trouble sleeping in such a cold climate, but a few blankets and pillows later, with a bowl of heated water under his bed... well, he had managed to doze off. Now, he laid there, silently snoring away, his face peaceful and stoic. He was dreaming.



ImageDreaming. He knew it now. Ever since that one dream, he had become aware of his dreams. Aware of what they were, and aware of how he could manipulate them. Sometimes he could manipulate them. He had often heard stories from his children, stories of how they became superheroes in their dreams. Stories of how they simply willed powers into existence, and then suddenly those dreams allowed them to have those powers. It was an amazing and delightful concept, that his children could live out their creative fantasies while they slept. Fentya was the only one who said she couldn't manipulate her dreams. She was like him. Before that particular dream had occurred, when he was asleep and dreaming, he wasn't even aware he was dreaming. For him, the dreams were reality, for as long as he was sleeping and dreaming. He rarely remembered them, but when he did, he remembered how real they were. How unaware he had been that they were just dreams. He had sometimes wondered how the children managed to control and change their dreams so easily, when he was instead caught up in the dreamy web of fantasy.

Perhaps he had found the answer. It was Imagination. The children had the imagination to push the boundaries of this world. Even if he was dreaming, his brain was bound by logic. He couldn't fly. It was impossible to fly. To imagine himself having wings, and then expecting wings to appear... It was a crazy thought. For a brief moment, he had tried, but he had gotten nowhere. Trying to manipulate this place made his head feel murky. It was like he was trying to manipulate mud into stone. It just kept leaking through his fingers. It just wasn't possible.

Impossible. That wasn't a word that he should use here, was it? He was sitting on a wooden bench, out in the middle of never-ending wilderness. He wasn't blind, thank the Gods. He rarely had dreams where he was blind. All of his dreams existed in a reality that had occurred much before he had lost his vision. He was free to stare around this world, and study it for what it really was. It wasn't a mass of shifting Auras. It was actual grass, actual sky, actual trees. The wooden bench he was sitting on was old and gnarled, with stone feet that curled down into the ground, little vine patterns carved into the old and cracking legs. His booted feet rested on green grass, with patches of bare earth littered here and there. There were several trees around, and one of them was directly overhead. That was really the only odd thing about this dream landscape, besides the fact that the horizon never really ended. Those trees had clouds for leaves.

Cocking his head up, he stared, dark black eyes studying the great white masses above him. Perhaps he did have more of an imagination than he thought. For some reason, the pretty white clouds didn't really seem to bother him, or surprise him. He wasn't in that playful of a mood, apparently. All he could worry about was the fact that they could turn into rain clouds. Would they? He hoped not. He didn't know how normal clouds turned into rain clouds, but he didn't want the little piece of fluff to suddenly let loose a torrent upon his head. Chewing his lower lip, he glanced around, curious. Why was he here? What significance did this place hold? After the dream with the Witch, he had realized that his dreams held many dark secrets. They held many things about himself that even he didn't know, at least on a surface level. For what reason did this memory exist? Why was it here? What purpose did it have in his life?

His curiosity overcoming him, Stitch decided to experiment. Chewing on his lower lip even harder, a bad habit he turned to when he was concentrating, he focused. He drew upon his Djed, and focused, attempting to use Auristics in his dreams. It should be possible, right?

ImageDimly, the Auras of the world flickered into existence, and Stitch quickly glanced around. He wasn't so sure how it was working, or even if it was working right, but it was working. He took the opportunity he had been given, and hurriedly scanned the surroundings, not knowing how long his fortune would last. The landscape wasn't any different than anything he would see in the normal world. The clouds were an Aura he had never really noticed before, but they weren't all that exciting. The trees and ground were perfectly normal, as was the bench that he sat on. Sighing a bit in disappointment, Stitch glanced around again, and suddenly noticed something.

What were those veins in the ground? Moving from the bench, Stitch lowered himself to his knees, gently placing fingers to the dirt underneath him. Somehow, part of the earth actually had veins running through it. Three colorful veins, twisting and turning, glowing with an almost divine color. They were just colors, but somehow... they were the most beautiful thing Stitch had ever seen. They twisted and turned around each other, pulsing with a life that somehow brought a tear to his eye. He wasn't sad. He was simply awestruck. Unknowingly, caught up in their beauty, he began to flood a bit more Djed to his eyes. He wanted to see more. He wanted to get closer to them, and understand their incredible allure. They were seductive in their simplicity, elegant in their beauty.


Outside of the dream, Stitch slept, his body tossing in his bed, leaving him facing up toward the ceiling. His white bandage wraps had been removed from his eyes before he went to bed, leaving the damaged orbs a little unprotected than normal.

Suddenly, the eyelids snapped open, leaving Stitch's blind white eyes staring at the ceiling, their gaze distant and vacant.

Stitch was still sound asleep.
Last edited by Stitch on March 7th, 2011, 5:57 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Dreaming of an Imagination (Solo)

Postby Stitch on February 16th, 2011, 4:29 am

A spark of white energy ran across Stitch's left eye, and any wizard who was watching would easily notice it as Djed. The man was pouring an immense amount of energy to his eyes, so much so that it was actually manifesting in a physical way. Who knew if this was something that regularly occured within the workings of Auristics? Stitch was a unique case. He saw with blind eyes, and those blind eyes regularly used Auristics. His entire body was accustomed to flowing Djed to his eyes in order to help him see.

Perhaps it was a bit too natural now.



ImageThere are neural pathways that exist within the body, pathways that carry currents of Djed to where they need to go. With this Djed, the brain sends signals to the rest of the body, and with these signals, the body moves. The sleeping Stitch consisted of very stoic pathways of Djed flow. There weren't really any commands that a brain had to give a sleeping body, for the brain was in a resting state of it's own. Therefor, the Djed pathways sat still, only a minor amount of Djed resting inside of them. There was little to no flow when a person was sleeping.

Suddenly, the brain of the blind man sparked to life, several little bolts of Djed sizzling through it. It was an odd and sudden jumpstart of the once-sleeping core of the human, and it was the cause for the single jolt of energy that had also ran across his left eye. Somehow, while sleeping, Stitch had managed to tap into his inner-most reserves of Djed. In doing so, he had started the flow of Djed in his brain, which in turn had activated his Auristics. While sleeping, the man was using magic. He was actually focusing so hard on using his Auristics in his dream, that his dreaming brain had responded in a realistic way, and actually made it happen. It was like when a dog ran in a dream, and his legs kicked.

The brain sparked a few more times, the body extremely unused to having a Djed flow while in a sleeping state. Slowly though, it was seeping up the reserves of Djed that had been left in the brain when Stitch fell asleep. The body naturally reacted, afraid of what would happen if the brain drained the nearby Djed pathways of their energy. A Djed-starved brain wasn't a healthy brain. Not by a long shot. Slowly, all the other Djed pathways in Stitch's body started up, each of them slowly sending their small amounts of energy up to power the barely-awake brain. Stitch's body responded in kind, twitching and shivering, his rested muscles going through small spasms. The entire time, his eyes were held wide open, staring blindly up at the ceiling.

Through it all, the man slept.


It wasn't a simple thing to sleep. The world was crumbling around him. The earth cracked and shuddered, and entire sections of land simply dissolved into nothingness. Stitch whipped his head around, panicked, trying to understand what was happening. Why was all of this going on? Why was this happening? Had he done something that wasn't allowed? Squeezing his eyes shut, he focused, attempting to push the fracturing world back together. He needed this place whole, because he needed to study it more. Who knew if he would be able to find those mysterious strings in the ground once again? He could feel that they were something important, feel that they would lead him to where he wanted to go.

This dreams were made from his mind. If he could unravel their mysteries, he could unravel his mind. If he could fully comprehend what generated these dreams, and how to manipulating that thing... he could create his own dreams. He could dream whatever he wanted, like the children did.

It was a crazy idea, and it was a childish one. He couldn't let it go, though. He couldn't manage to forget it. If he was able to control his dreams, and able to shape his own reality within these unreal walls... If he was able to bring to life fantasies that could only exist in an unreal place...

He wanted to dream of her. He wanted to dream of his wife!

He snapped open his eyes, and frantically glanced around. The world was still falling apart, and the destruction was quickly approaching him. He didn't understand! He needed this place to be whole! He had never been here before, and he needed to make sure he stayed! He needed to keep sleeping, he needed to keep dreaming!

Sleeping?

He was awakening.

The reality suddenly hit him in the face, and his eyes widened, panic overtaking him. "No!" He slammed his fists to the ground, pounding his strong hands into the dirt, unable to accept it. At the most crucial part of this dream, at the point where he had found a piece of his brain he had never explored before... he was going to wake up. Would he dream of this place again? Would all of his other dreams have the same colorful threads that this one did? He stared down at the pattern deep within the dirt, sadly gazing at the colorful lines. Keeping the Auristic flow alive, he once again tried to meld his mind with the Aura of the foreign objects, resigning himself to the fact that his dream was about to end. He was waking up, but why?

Suddenly, he noticed something. The strings continued on. If he followed them with his Auristics, they spiraled off into the distance, winding through the ground in a twisting and turning path. He slowly rose to his feet, and glanced upwards, staring in the direction that they were heading. If he focused, he could see more of the colorful strings pulsing within the ground in front of him. They continued on for an eternity, making up some important part of his mind. Were they supposed to be representations of his veins? No, that wouldn't make any sense. Dreams had nothing to do with veins. The brain generated dreams, didn't it?

The ground they existed in was still solid. It would be the last to go, he sensed. Those colorful strings made up the most core part of his dreams. Would they take him deeper into his dreams, and therefor deeper into his sleep?
Last edited by Stitch on February 23rd, 2011, 4:47 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Dreaming of an Imagination (Solo)

Postby Stitch on February 16th, 2011, 7:10 am

Veins bulged in the head of the blind man, the shivers that were attacking his sleeping body eventually settling to a halt. His body laid there lifelessly, the skin suddenly pale, looking as if it was simply a corpse waiting for the viewing. The only thing that looked alive was his face, with the eyes staring vacantly, and the head bulging painfully. The veins ran through his forehead like sickening spiderwebs, bulging and throbbing grossly. His eyeball sparked again, the silver vein of energy traveling down the length of his glossy white orb. Djed manifestation, especially when using such a gentle art as Auristics... it wasn't normal.

This entire thing wasn't normal.



ImageThe entire body was almost completely empty of Djed. Since Stitch wasn't awake, his body wasn't exactly working as normal. His brain was stuck in a coma-like state, somewhere between being asleep and awake, but not enough so that he could regain conscience-ness. Instead, his Djed-starved brain was just barely keeping active. He had really focused on using his Auristics in the dream, and now, his brain was actually powering his eyes enough to do it. He was expending the energy, but he wasn't actually awake enough to be focusing on anything. He was simply focusing in the dream, unaware of the real dangers that plagued his body.

What dangers, one might ask?

His entire lower body was void of energy. The brain had sent it's Djed to powr the Auristics, and then had begun to run dry. In order to avoid shutting down, it had begun to pull Djed from the other parts of his body, which in turn went to power his Auristics. He wasn't using his natural well of Djed, like he would be if he was awake and controlling it. He was using residue Djed in his body. He was slowly draining himself of all existing magic, until he was a sleeping husk.

He would suffer from a coma, brain damage, or death. Those were the only three options that were left for him if he continued to sleep.

His brain sparked again, Djed coursing around it like neural lightning bolts. Perhaps it was realizing the dangers. It was going to run out soon. It needed to wake up. Why was it begin forced to sleep?


Stitch pumped his legs and arms, running. His body felt oddly sluggish, but he ignored it. He couldn't stop moving. If he stopped moving, the world would catch up with him, and he would awaken. He forced every bit of Djed he had to spare to his eyes, and gazed upon the world like he had never gazed before, tracing those beautiful strings with his magical sight. They spiraled around and over each other, combining to create an amazing pattern that not even a master seamstress could dare to imitate. That were all that existed to him as he ran, his strong body flexing as it led him along the path.

The world could be heard and seen, crumbling into oblivion behind him. He ignored it, and simply kept running. He could feel his mind calming, and he knew that he was on the right track. The sounds of destruction were slowly fading behind him, and the landscape around him was changing. It was changing to something that he was familiar with.

Falling snow.

His running feet slowly pulled to a stop as he found himself in snow. It was a warm day, but magically, snow was managing to fall from the sky. He remembered this place. He remembered it so well. The sun shining down on him, the snow touching to his happy face, the scent of her perfume in the air. Feeling his eyes welling with tears, he glanced up, knowing who would be waiting for him. A single woman, one who he had walked with in this very scene. A beautiful woman whom he had loved so much, enough to give birth to a child with, enough to wed. They had walked her various times, and this was the one memory that always stayed with him. A day in Syliras where beautiful snow had fallen from a crystal clear sky, which was nearly impossible in the warm realm of Syliria.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?"

He blinked, looking up. It was him. Him, as in himself. A perfect mirror image of his very being, except with one minor difference. He was smiling, but there was something off about that smile. Stitch instinctively could tell. He knew his own smile well, and knew that was a grin that he had never let leak from his face. It was filled with malice and amusement, and was overflowing with hatred. Hatred at everything. Stitch barely had to flick on his Auristics to see how much hate poured from the man. Was that really him? Some in-dream representation of himself? He was sure he had never been that filled with such a negative emotion before. He paused for a moment, hesitantly, slowly opening his mouth to address the specter. The other Stitch interrupted, shaking his head, chuckling. "Don't worry. You aren't here to see me. Not yet. You want to see her, don't you?"

The Other Stitch vanished, leaving a woman standing in his stead.

Stitch blinked, and focused, gazing upon the woman he searched for every single night. His wife. His beautiful-

Image


She stood before him, skin pale and hair white. Colored the blue of tropical ocean waters, her eyes had a distant, penetrating quality. Like all of Konti women, the scaled patterning on her body is intricate and fine. She was nude, but her naked beauty only held horror for Stitch. She was a sickly pale, with taunt skin stretched tightly over dancer's muscles. She smiled sickly at him, blood red lips stretching over white teeth. She held out painted nails to him, clawing and clenching at the air, as if to grab him and drag him to her. "Come, my love. Come to me." She cooed, her eyes flickering with a demented love.

Her! Not her!

Stitch screamed, and his entire world shattered into shards of broken dream.

Stitch's body was slowly running out of Djed, and therefor, the brain reacted as if encountering an emergency. This, combined with the magic that Stitch was using, along with the mental trauma he had just encountered... All at once, his brain forced him awake, and Stitch shocked himself awake. Naturally, with his brain awakening to full capacity, it desperately tugged on his well of Djed, dipping deep within his soul. It was like a floodgate opening, and suddenly, just like that, Stitch's brain and eyes would be flooded with a massive amount of Djed flow. A cap had been on it, and when he had awakened, that cap had been taken off.


The veins in his forehead throbbed wildly as the blind man awoke, his head flashing back and forth, his eyes opening wilder than before. A sudden flow of Djed racked his deadened body, and sparks ran rampant all over him, his entire being trembling with the sudden rush of Djed. His eyes sparked once, twice, then lit with a blinding glow of Djed, making his dreaming use of Djed a reality. In the dream, he would have overgiven a long time ago. Now, in real life, the man was convulsing and shuddering.

His eyes soon began to smoke tendrils of pure Djed.
Last edited by Stitch on March 7th, 2011, 5:56 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Dreaming of an Imagination (Solo)

Postby Stitch on February 22nd, 2011, 6:38 am

Image


A scream fled from his lips, the blind man bound to his bed by his own drained body. His Djed was rushing to his skull, frantically trying to make up for his magic-starved mind, as well as to feed his Auristic-using eyes. The rest of his body was currently void of Djed, meaning that the brain wasn't sending signals to his different functions. He was a prisoner in a dead body, while his head literally smoked with all the magic inside of it. His cry bellowed out throughout the Barracks, but it would take them at least a minute to come to his aid. For now, he was helpless, stuck within himself, about to face a full sixty seconds worth of Overgiving.

For the blind man, it would seem like an eternity.

The world was awash in color, blazing brightly with different veins of Aura. He could see everything, and he could see it all so clearly. He could see the dull brown Aura of the wood that made up the frame of his room. He could see the pale white Aura of the cotton blanket that covered his shuddering body. He could see every single detail in the small little room that he slept in, everything down to the single ant hurriedly crawling toward a miniscule hole in the corner. He could even see beyond the brown of the walls, into the rooms that lined down the Barracks hallway. He could see a variety of bright Auras springing to life, awakened by his pained scream. They were the Auras of his students, of the Icewatch members he had taught day in and day out. He couldn't let them see him like this! He was unstable, he knew that much, but he didn't want anyone else to see it! He had just gotten a job here, and it wasn't something he could screw up!

He was still screaming though!

The sound of rattling beds filled the hallways as people leapt up from their slumber, shocked out of sleep by the hellish screams. Stitch knew he was the source of them all, but he could stop it. There was so much pain, so much agony, so much misery. His brain was on fire, as if it was being prodded with sharp rods made of molten lava. And his eyes, Priskil, his eyes! He could feel them melting! He could see the Djed pouring from them, bright waves of Aura that nearly blinded him!

Flux.

He desperately pushed at flow of Djed within his veins, attempting to focus as much as possible even in the amount of pain he was currently experiencing. The Flux required finesse in order to keep one from damaging himself, and finesse required focus. Right.

Two seconds in, and he stopped trying to be subtle with his Flux. Something had gone horribly wrong, and he wasn't sure what the end result would be... but whatever it was, he didn't want to see what the Djed within his skull would do if it ran rampant. He just used the Flux to take a hold of all that energy within his head, and push it down into the rest of his body. The more that flooded into his skull, the more that he simply forced to flow elsewhere. He could still the see the world so clearly, but the bright lights were dimming. It was all taking only a few seconds, but Priskil, it hurt! He could tell one thing, though. As long as he kept pushing the flow of energy to the rest of his body, the pain lessened.

More seconds went by, and finally the agony lessened to that of a sharp headache. Veins still bulged in his head, the world still danced with bright colors, but the agony was finally over. His body felt normal again, and he could only think it was luck, or the fact that the Flux had helped save him. He didn't care what it was. He was just thankful he was still alive. He had heard and seen Overgiving, and had been told that Auristics was a fairly safe discipline... with fairly minor Overgiving. He would hate to see what major Overgiving was like. Even medium Overgiving. He took a deep breath, raising a shaky hand to his eyes, checking to see if they were still there. Right as he did, members of the Icewatch smashed into his room, worry emitting from them like light from a torch. "Stitch! Are you okay?! We heard screaming!" Stitch rolled over in his bed, facing away, feeling his fingertips touch to his eyes. The blind orbs were still there. They hadn't been melting like he had thought. They were just... bleeding.

"This one is fine... but thank you for your concern." He voiced the words, but he wasn't sure how. He quickly cleaned his eyes with his blankets as he heard the Icewatch approach, a hand clapping on his shoulder to gently tug him over. He just managed to get the dirtied blanket under an arm before they stared upon his blind eyes, a bit of shock and surprise flooding their Auras. This was the first time they would have seen his blind eyes, with their white milky color, their three perfect scratches across each one... and their bloodstained rims. "Gods, Stitch... Is that... are they okay?" Stitch echoed out a ragged laugh, nodding, a sudden little sob hiccuping through his words. "Yes, yes, they are fine. Thank you for your concern... This one... This one just had a bad dream." The Icewatch members glanced from each other uncertainly, their gazes each telling of suspicion and disbelieve. Those screams had been screams of agony. "Well... okay. Sleep well, Stitch. Tell us if you... need anything. Alright?" Stitch nodded quickly, rolling over to face the wall. The Icewatch members paused a bit longer, then turned to leave the room.

Stitch's voice suddenly stopped them, echoing out in a hollow tone.

"...Tell me. Do you know anything about the workings of dreams?"
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Dreaming of an Imagination (Solo)

Postby Cheshire on March 7th, 2011, 11:21 pm

.
Image


Character: Stitch
Experience: Auristics +5, Flux +1, Observation +3
Lore: Sight Through Dreams, Lucid Dreams, Using Magic While Asleep, Meeting One's Alternate Self, Extreme Auristics Overgiving

Additional Note: I loved this thread! It was really well written and I really enjoyed seeing a more hostile side of Stitch. I never knew he had a wife! I really hope to read more of your dream threads, especially if they are in Avanthal. Let me know if anything is off. I am a bit new to grading dream threads. Happy Dreamin'!
Image
Avanthal Lore | Vantha | Avanthal | Morwen
~-----------------------------------------------~
When I was just a kitten,
They said I'd be a gem.
But now that I'm a Cheshire Cat,
It's odd how odd I am...
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