Difference between revisions of "Log:Broken Dolls: Don't Forget"
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Latest revision as of 18:42, 1 August 2017
Broken Dolls: Don't Forget | |
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Participants | 1 August, 2017 Lulu leaves her bulwark, and sees things she doesn't want to forget. Part of Broken Dolls. |
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A harvest moon hangs in the sky, slowly rolling upon a float of silvery clouds that acts as a funnel for pure moonlight that flows down from the edge of the clouds and into a large body of water that eats up an entire horizon. The sky is freckled with stars that gleam and shine and occasionally catch the light on something that looks like fibers like spider silk, light rushing along them in fluttering communication. Floating around the strange ruin of a landscape, homes, and buildings reclaimed by mother nature, are shapes that seem to crumble away into particle dust before resolidifying in other areas only to dissipate into dust and smoke once more. Lulu hangs in the air, at an angle as if she were laying on an incline rather than air while her dark eyes trace the pattern of the light of the skies and she murmurs whispers that seem to be returned by the rush of the flowing moon.
So unlike those who have no safeguards on their dreams, or who are less practiced than Mina, there is no immediate impingement on her peace. Not directly. The feeling that travels through her dreamscape is more like... something shaking the branches between which a spider's web is woven. Something is outside her dream, or on the fringes. Hanging on. Trying to get in. Or maybe it's just a passing premonition trying to flutter past her subconscious, and not an active incursion. Whatever it is, it sends the water shivering and shimmering, but little more.
-> >> Lulu to Here << <-==============================================Rolled 4 Successes < 2 2 4 5 5 7 8 10 10 10 > ===============================-> >> Wits + Composure No Flags << <-It's impossible to tell if it's malicious or not, but it seems to be an active entity of some sort. It's not unlike when stray tomcats come wandering in the middle of the summer, yowling for love. The yowling -- metaphorical yowling, but yowling all the same -- shakes the edges of her dream, and something or somethings are moving out there, beyond the borders of her secure little mental fiefdom.
Off in the near distance, maybe ten yards away or ten light years away -- one can never tell in dreams -- some rough bent shape hunches along between the thorns, slouching toward Lulu. Scale is impossible to judge at this distance: it could be the size of a cat or a T-Rex.
It's only a few moments of hesitation before Lulu's damnably curious nature gets the better of her and she finds herself slipping free of the familiar awareness of her own fortifications and deeper out into the ether, drawn by the mystery but still semi-aware of her surroundings.
As she grows closer, the thing on the sand becomes a more recognizable shape: it's half a person, perhaps, from the hips up, half-made, hot-glued and sewn together out of spare parts. She's far enough away that it can't get hold of her -- yet -- but it pulls itself toward her, and its one great clockwork eye fixes on her in the dark. It bleats once more: "Mmmmaaaa?"
There are those who lean back when approached by horror. Cringe and curl into their seats. But Lulu had been Autumn for a time and so learned instead to lean in. Not too close, she wouldn't want to get snatched, but curling her fingers inward if she might have been tempted to touch the piecemeal beast.
The unseen moon's light casts silver over the bleeding edges where the metal has been stitched into the sexless creature's cheeks and forehead, where a jaw that doesn't match the face was glued into place. That jaw hangs half-open as it pleads again, staring up at her with that big clockwork eye. Its sunken chest rises and falls, slowly, stuttering. "Mmmmaa... " The breath hitches again. Mismatched fingers clutch the black sand.
Silence sometimes becomes so massive that it has a presence all its own. As whatever it is dies in front of her, leaving behind a husk no more animate than a discarded shoe, the silence itself takes on a shape and a form, filling in all of the cracks and crevices around Lulu. A wind kicks up out of nowhere, drifting sand over the half-corpse, tossing it into her face, catching it on her fluffy brows. Whatever that was, now she is alone out here with something dead.
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