Exploration Event: Neverwere

[lifeaftr_mods]

EXPLORATION EVENT: NEVERWERE

Who: Everyone!
What: Your wildest dreams come true!
When: May 15th to May 18th
Where: Ziziphus, those still on Ensō...and Mu
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Then Know That My Life Was Just a Killer Dream
You can find most of the information you need in the OOC info post! In the meantime, feel free to use this log as a catch-all for your dream worlds, as well as detailing your efforts to free one another. Whether they're on Ziziphus or Ensō at the time of the dreams' capture, your character is free to access as many dreams as you like, as the interlocking mental landscape allows for that sort of crossing over apropos of nothing. And time, of course, is very fluid in dreams - many days, months, and years can transpire in a matter of mere minutes.

Will you fight your way free from Ziziphus's vines or Mu's thrall, or are you content to die in your sleep?

Remember to let us know if your character dies during this event!

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] May 15th: The vines make their move, ensnaring characters in ideal fantasy worlds
[ ♆ ] May 17th: The Storyteller will make contact with those they can, as well as issue information and a potential solution
[ ♆ ] May 18th: Those that have not freed themselves from the vines or from Mu will suffer a death

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LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[catpiper]

[The unfamiliar sting of rejection is something that-

Doesn't feel so unfamiliar. You aren't my Ren. You aren't my girl. You aren't suitable. You aren't useful.

Tears sting her eyes because she knows what it's like to have family and fully understands the terror of knowing it can, will be, ripped away once they realize she's-

Unsuitable and not worth it and a waste of time and money for a project that-

There's no project. Never was. She can't pinpoint where that thought came from and she rapidly blinks tears out of her eyes instead of dwelling on whatever that means. It doesn't matter. He's towering over her and she's trying to find ways to hide from him without turning her back because that's dangerous. He's dangerous. His words are continuously piercing her as she repeats them again and again and-]

You're supposed-you're an anchor. That's how-

[It comes out as a garble of nonsense, but he's supposed to be her anchor. That's what he said, one day, before he was her brother. Before being given the beautiful necklace that made her family, even if he never said the words. Her hand brushes against it, nervously rubbing her finger against the shiny shell, then pulling her hand back because she's not his girl and she's not family now.

It's too much. She can't do this. She can't face him, can't ask why, can't figure out what lines have been crossed. All she can do is run and disappear from it. In a few hours, a few days, it won't matter anymore. She can push it back, understand that's how things are and accept his words-deep down she knew this would happen, someday. Unwrapping the necklace in coconut leaves, feeling that ache in her soul at how badly she messed up-how could she have forgotten that day?

This was always going to happen.

Heart racing, fingers twisting into her shirt over and over and over, she suddenly turns on her heel and runs towards the dense jungle.

It was always going to happen, but she doesn't want to face it. Can't look at his face and see her prediction come to life. If she runs, she doesn't have to face it. If she hides for awhile, it'll be okay. She'll wake up tomorrow and-

She doesn't want to think about that either. A day where she's unable to hold his hand, cook in his shack, play with him or his pokemon. Tomorrow, he won't smile at her anymore. Tomorrow, he's going to pull his hand away from her. Tomorrow, he's going to ignore her words and her heart will not longer reach him. Tomorrow, he's going to stop ruffling her hair. He's not-

She can't think about it. Tries to wipe it from her thoughts as she hurries into the brush and disappears from sight.]

[yallstupid]

[All of a sudden, as the intense grief pierces the heart of this illusion - and more prominently his precious little sister - everything around them seems to just wither and fall away, like dead leaves. The facade of Bliss is broken, and Guzma too feels something seize his chest very suddenly. Realization first, then dread. He reaches out a hand to the girl as she runs off, the words dying in his throat as it becomes constricted with his own horrified grief. The pain that rakes its icy claws against his chest make him sick, and he feels like the life itself is bleeding from an open wound he caused. She's gone, she's running from him, she's scared of him... Not the usual fear, either. Ren was--he's...

He's hurt her.

He's hurt her and he said he never would. He said, he vowed to himself he wouldn't hurt her or Luna, and...and--

His hands reach up to the sides of his head, fingers curling into his hair as his knees buckle and he doubles over from the weight that bears down on his shoulder. Guzma feels a sour sting burn the back of his throat, keeping himself from either shouting or vomiting from sheer will alone. He caused all this, and he meant it. He meant it. He intended to hurt her, leave her scared and scarred. He thought it was a trick...an illusion, and while not wrong, the illusion was the world around them. Ren was always real - these were her desires, her wishes, her happiness. And Guzma took them away. He...

He stumbles backwards, dizzy as black spots dance before his eyes and his breath comes in desperate pants. There's nothing left anymore, he's broken it all, and with nothing to focus on, he can't...can't...function. Doesn't know how to feel or what to do to stabilize. So Guzma does the only thing he can - the one thing he hasn't done since that fateful night when he was so very, very young. When he raised a hand against his own father...

He makes and emergency exit, dashing blindly through the brush and jungle in the opposite direction, feeling, again, for the first time in many years, tears burning the corners of his eyes and searing hot trails down his cheeks.

He didn't mean to do this, he didn't mean to do this, he didn't mean to...]