Characters involved are: Midori (RED), Sigurd (ORANGE),
Logged by Midori
Citan's Dream: Carols Remembered
You reach the top of the hill, finding yourself... inside? All of a sudden, you hear struck wood as your feet fall upon planks... here and about the area is built from wood, and for a reason or another you could -swear- you were in the center and heart of a lodge of sorts. Skis lay scattered about but, for some reason, the effect is silly, as if such were things of lazy skiers, taking all of the equipment is painted in such pretty pastel colors that they all look rather, well, nice.
Two other specific things catch your interest here--the circular firepit that stands rather randomly up in the middle of this area and the huge couches surrounding it with tables interspersed. The tables hold a few sets of mugs and packages of marshmallows. There are stuffed animals occasionally among the sofa cushions. There is also a large, stuffed turtle on the table nearest to you. The turtle... is bright purple.
Exits: <D>own, drink a <cup> of hot chocolate, or try the back <room>.
Contents:
Sigurd
Nobody. Freezing, with eyes of sand that feel as if they are filled with cotton-wool, the stuff of grogginess in the mind of one so young. Still, the earthly coil is shaken off for just this few hours, replaced by something just a little less distressing. I know this place. The place that would pervade from across the house, just a while ago, when things were complete. The trickling as smoke of images through that house on the hill was like a nightly brainstorm between the three. That was gone now. All gone. This dream...is a memory. Let me dream one last time like I used to. Like we all used to.
Midori half-enters the lodge, hugging the doorframe, peering into the room. She had felt it up the hill. She had sensed it as the great wooden door creaked open. Like she had walked up that hill and pushed open that door a thousand times. As if somehow, this was being replayed from a distant memory. Let it lie, now, and stare blankly, like the firhgtened child you are, at the contents of the room.
Contents? Or occupants? Either way, it matters little to the Nomad who's stretched out on one of the couches in the lodge, cradling a cup of warm cider on his stomach as Sigurd stares broodingly at the ceiling. He'd given up looking for that pesky Water Element in favor of staying put at a point that linked three of the four Elements in this Dream world, in hopes to draw his old friend out of hiding. So he just rests, poking around the dream with his empathy, oblivious to other dreamers, one leg half falling off the couch to swing idly. Care to join him in his little search?
Slowly now. Slowly. Even if his thoughts were at best fuzzy and vague, here he is, if only she were to look. Look she does, and the memory of the man that was Sigurd comes back. The man that tried to take father away. The man that drove the big ship, and went away, with all the others. They all went away. She remembers their faces, and reagrds his now, that that is visible, as she quietly sidles to the centre of the room. He is the same, if a little more weary-looking. Still, I suppose the subconscoius does that, for those you have long missed. The dead do not age. But, this is not right. He was never here before. It was always father. But...father is gone? She startes down at Sigurd, and says nothing, hands loose at ther side, face a blank slate.
It is not the usual sensing of another's emotion that stirs Sigurd from his rest, but the distinct sense of being stared at. An odd sensation indeed for the one who could always sense a person nearing him before they even knew he was there, odd enough to make him blink and turn his head enough to search for the source. Probably another odd dream creatu-- Midori?! Startling, Sigurd sits up a bit, upsetting his cider enough to tip, but not to spill, carefully setting the cup down on the floor as he sits up properly, blinking. Wait, no... This had to be a trick of the dream. He could have sworn the child was lost at sea that one stormy night. Yes, he knew. He never would bring it up, but he'd heard the panic of per parents when they couldn't find her before he took them up to Shevat. Or... had -that- been a dream? There was so much still fuzzy from when he'd been under Solarian control. Yes, it had to be a dream, because she was here. The Dream didn't allow ghosts. Did it?
Midori stares at Sigurd. Surprise? Yes, surprise. About all she can glean from his consciousness right now. This dream is unlike any other. A mess of uncanny shapes and baubles are al that she can see, when that perception is pointed at anything. The screaming, babbling, shouting of a million souls trapped on torpor, speaking to her. And now Sigurd is Surprised to see her here. No. To see her at all? Of course. To Sigurd, she was also gone. To a lot of people. If Sigurd were dead, then, is she dead, too? Entirely possible. Perhaps the tide came in while she was sleeping, and washed her away. Oh well. At least she has someone to talk to, even if it is Sigurd. Perhaps father and mother were not dead? Perhaps they are just...not here? Still, bunny is here. Bunny was always a great conversationalist. What do you think, bunny? You want to talk to Sigurd? Here. Midori holds up a small bunny-shaped toy she had been holding, under each arm, its bruised countenance regarding Sigurd with a nonchalance befitting only the inanimate.
Sigurd blinks a little at the bunny and, for a moment, tilts his head in mild amusement. What was with people and plush bunnies? Just as long as this one wasn't as dangerous as Mr. Blunt Trauma. >.> That thing hurt. But, instinct kicks in when dealing with children, despite the fact that he had been striking out completely when trying to befriend a certain other little girl here in the dream... But regardless... "Hello, little bunny. Are you helping show this little girl around?" Okay so his conversational skills were probably worse than the bunny's, but give him a break, he's still in a state of shock here... Just... please don't try to eat me or anything. >.<
Bunny shakes visibly.
A smile? Something so simple from any other child, looks almost out-of-place, as the blank look cracks for a split second. Scared of a toy? Bunny wouldn't hurt a fly. Unless that fly were to antagonise Bunny's owner. Still, Sigurd is far from that, as Midori resumes the blank stare. As a normal 5-year-old would, Midori has forgotten old wounds, and would sooner hug Sigurd as let Bunny have his way with him. Still, it was probably not the most tactful of touches to suddenly make his ears stand up. And stand up they do. The previously-floppy ears of Bunny now stand on end, and his button eyes gain a new sparkle. "Hello, Sigurd." it intones, on an altogether stereotypical bunny voice, half-squeaked as air being released. No sonner ha it uttered this, as its ears droop again, as if the massive pump powering its speech had been cut off. Even Midori looks surprised now. That never worked before. Perhaps your wishes _do_ come true when you die. Midori smiles.
Sigurd doesn't seem too surprised by the suddenly animate bunny. He'd been expecting it actually. After all, with teddybears suddenly being the size of buildings and trying to squish him, tiny talking bunnies were a nice change. And, smiling a bit himself, the First Mate slowly starts to relax from his initial shock, leaning back in the couch and crossing his legs at the ankle. Indeed, like father, like daughter, both manipulating plush animals... Even if Midori seemed unaware of being able to. Yes, Hyuga would be happy to see her, that thought in itself brightened Sigurd's outlook on life for the moment. Maybe the depression would lift off his friend. "Would either of you like some hot cocoa?" With marshmallows!
Again, the ears stand on end, as the usual blank stare formality os forgone. "Don't be silly. Bunnies can't drink. I'd like some, though.". A smile, is all. Such a distasteful and inefficient way of communication, talking. Talking via proxy was even less so. Talking via stuffed lupine proxy is more fun, though. The ears droop again, and Midori approaches Sigurd. Far be it from a small child to refuse THIS offer.
Sigurd nods once as he indicates for her to have a seat on the couch while he himself stands and goes to the nearest table for the cocoa, returning, cocoa and a bag of mini marshmallows in hand, to settle on the edge of the couch and present the offered drink, marshmallows and all, as promised. See? We can get along. I'm not a bad man like that uniform had implied.
A mark, an insignia. A uniform. It's just another adornment. It doesn't matter now. The people behind the unform can't hurt me now I'm gone. And Sigurd is nice, is he not? He tried to save all those people. And now he's being nice to me again. For the prurpose of....the purpose of...being nice? Midori's blank look never falters, but a deep confusion is there. Perhaps the uniform meant little. Her bare association between it and bad things removed, she moves on. To the coca, and the most tentative of sips. And of course, a marshmallow for Bunny, which is gratefully taken and popped into his mouth, much to her chagrin. Yes, I think we can get along, for now.
Must there be a purpose other than being nice? Really, a child's mind of all things should be able to comprehend just simple acts of kindness for no reason other than to simply be kind. Sigurd loved children anyway, what need would he have to any motives behind his actions other than the desire to make a child smile? Leaning down to retake his own mug of cider, he chuckles to himself as the bunny munches on the marshmallow before silencing enough to take a sip of his cider. Without the sugary puffs of goodness, thank you. c.c That would taste odd. Tho, after a moment of silence between the pair, and bunny, he questions politely, "Is it good?"
Ah, one of the advantages of being a telepath. You don't get scolded for talking with your mouth full. If you are a bunny arbiter, though, it may not be the same. Bunny swallows down hard on the marshmallow, and almost chokes, as he coughs. "Why, yes. It's very nice, thenk you.". Midori glances puzzledly at Bunny. How strange. The tangible is becoming...less so, as Bunny loses the lower part of his legs, fading out as somewhere in corporeal space, something is encroaching on the sleeping form of them both. With an almost silent exclamation, she discovers the same is apparent of her. Midori grabs Bunny, and holds him tight, a look of frightened confusion in her eyes, as she drops the mug on the floor.
You page, "...scared..." to Sigurd.
Sigurd blinks, then sets the mug he'd been holding down, reaching to gently touch her hair with an almost fatherly touch. Certainly like a big brother or something. His empathy reaches out, so much stronger here in the dream, comforting, soothing away her fear with a sense of security. "It's alright, you're just waking up. Don't be afraid." Waking up? Maybe. How did he know she wasn't a ghost? .... Maybe ghosts sleep? Unlikely. He'd never seen anyone dead here in this place, so he could only assume that she was, indeed, waking. "Just close your eyes, little one. It will all be fine when you open them once more." The easiest way to leave the dream. Eyes closed to avoid the oddness of seing yourself fade away.
Taken.
Midori shakes, the fear still evident, still that nagging in the back of her mind. She gains comfort from the sincerity of Sigurd, but it is not an easy passing. She eventually closes her eyes, and shivers, as a tear runs down her cheek, and she fades. Yes, it will all be fine. It will all be fine. The last whispers of her form reach out to Sigurd, and leave him..."...thank...you...".