Characters involved are: Khiea (RED), Midori (ORANGE), Citan (GREEN),
Logged by Midori

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Khiea's Dream: Dreams Remembered
You reach the top of the hill, finding yourself... Inside? All of a sudden, you hear the small cry of struck metal as your feet fall upon it.. As here and about the area is carved of metal, and for a reason or another you could -swear- you were in the center and heart of a simple laboratory of sorts. Machines lay scattered about the hilltop but, for some reason, the effect is warm, loving, as if such were things of pleasantries, taking all of the metal is painted in such pretty pastel colors that they all look rather, well, nice.
Two other specific things catch your interest here- the small, circular table that stands rather randomly up in the middle of this area and the one-story house. The table holds a few sets of chairs and a full, pink-hued, well loved child's tea set upon it. The house.. Is bright purple.
Exits: <D>own, or <E>nter the House.
Contents:
Khiea
Citan
a Bright Purple House

For whatever matters are occupying those who find their forms on one version of the Yggdrasil or high up in the sky in the Ezekiel, they are still -somewhat- the same here. To say they are untouched would be a lie--are He and She not so very much singing along the same choir that to even come up with the pronouns is rather an amusement rather than a necessity? And it is in this summation of utter peace and ranged world of minds that Citan now sets the table for tea. He has all the time he needs to do the task and do it well--he does not need to worry about the things he -should- be doing or -should- be attending elsewhere. That is for someone else. That is for one of them out there, and for now, his entire soul is at its much-needed peace to simply tend to this little corner and smile the flowered meadows into bloomed delight. He straightens up from the table, pushing his hat brim back a notch and surveying the appearance. "Ah... and it is such a beautiful afternoon for this," he murmers aloud, awe without being awed, full-knowing that it is very easily made lovely. And always will be... whenever it is needed to.
Just because a day is doctored to be lovely does not mean it is any less something to enjoy, is it? Behold, the pastel hues that make up Khiea's dream--Or at least, the mind which can claim that title, taking how little other waking realities have gone to determine such. Somewhere, Khiea might not be Khiea--That was nothing to worry about. Here, Khiea is Khiea, as far as the name may matter, the young woman dressed in princess frills. Enough to be lovely, enough to be gawdy, it matters not to the young Princess. For anything looks a part appropriate in a dream which holds whim as its only fabric and reality. "It -is- a lovely day, isn't it!" But only because enough has gone neatly enough for Khiea to be able to wonder perfect, glass-pale skies and clouds a hue of pearl. Tea on a perfect afternoon? Why not? The realities of reality are a very far away thing, indeed, and nothing to smudge a wondered afternoon. Today is just a time to smile. And have tea. Which is enough to bring the princess to smile, while she adjusts the ribbon which binds back her hair for nothing else but the simplicity of doing something.
It is a peaceful transition, from dizziness, and a head full of a dark liquid, to this other side, the visions of the orphanage dormitory still spinning above her, as Midori falls from there, through the floor, into the land of...well. It is neither the lodge, nor Shevat this time. Nor...anything familiar. There is no sharp outline, no base for reference, just the swirl of transition, and...Midori is here. She lies, in the position she fell, hands instinctively raised. No. I do not want this. Wake up! Yet, it is the realisation that she is strangely lucid that fills her with dread now. It is as before. First Sigurd. Then Mama. Now...Midori buries her face in her hands, and lies still. Go away.
Leave? Go away? But why do such a thing? For it is true that there may be one mind here, or two, or many--or even the questionable one-and-one-half--but it is equally true that such distinctions are rather useless to dwell upon. There is the Young and the Adult, the Dream and the Nightmare... or, more appropriately, the Nightmare far away from here and yet close as a shadow, for it has no presence here in this land of the pleasant. Tying hair, making tea--it was all somehow so much -better- once it became an option to be tended to, rather than forced. In this world of fantasy, the greatest joys were strangely in the rememberance of mundane and simple actions. And Citan blinks, his rather placid presence stirred by something that might be familiar. Instinctively does he reach his mind out, but only through the currents of Khiea's own attention and presence and continuing to pour the tea. "Do we have a visitor, Khiea?" he inquires mildly, watching the cups carefully and politely waiting for the answer to trickle back to him through the range of the other's senses. "Should I set a third cup, do you think?"
There are as many or as few minds here as one would care to wonder at. Does it matter? Khiea can't see why in the least! What a silly question that would be, after all, when everything had proven so entirely that it didn't matter! And so it is no harm to be one or both or anyone here. And certainly no harm for Citan to resume pouring tea while wondering, with a blink through what Khiea's glance may see, who has come to visit. Someone familiar? How odd. Khiea glances over to the newcomer with those brilliant eyes of tarnished blue, curious for all the world about who this person is. And come in such a mood, too! Go away? Why, whatever for? Its a lovely day for tea. And somewhere, this person -is- very familiar. Although Kheia herself does not know in the least, herself. "Hello there!" High and bright and enthusiastic. Why not? "Would you like some tea too, while you're here?"
Everyone reserves the right to be wrong sometimes. And Midori begins to wonder how she ever came up with the idea that father would be next. Such a pitiful jump to the worst conclusion possible. No, this was not father's voice. Not this time. But..who?... Midori removes her face from her hands, and looks up at the table. Then she is sitting up. Then...then she reserves the same right afforded to her not a second before. It is...father, and yet, not. And this is...? Well, this is too confusing. Not-father, and a strange girl. The sheer ridiculousness of it all is not lost on her, and before she can be shocked at this, she stifles a smile. But, this is still father. The follower of duty. Of a duty more important than her. Of a duty that seperated them forever. Midori sits, and stares, the blank look returning. This is as Erine says, a dream. Nothing more.
For yes! Yes, this is a dream! And reality too, but never mind that. For it -was- Citan's voice, as certain as if he stood here and yet... yet it is somehow so calm. It lacks the same laughing pain that hides behind the waking man's eyes, held silent and sweet even occasionally around family. As Khiea's impressions filter through to Citan, he sets the teapot down carefully and conjures a third cup out of afterthought. "Mi..." Brown eyes touched with creation's colors look up to the girl slowly, fixing upon her in a sort of eerie composure rather than being startled or disbelieving. Ah, is his first thought. "I see..." And for lack of a better pronoun, he uses a combination of images, flashing them quickly past Khiea for reference. A man with a paper crown, and far sharper in the gaze than the one who stands here now. "...has managed to find the dreams of ghosts." And how his heart may wish against it, but still does it accept here for there is no reason any longer to cringe in pain. Mourning is there in his face--and so is tea. "Midori... I am so sorry we happened to wake you up from wherever you were." And just as neutral, just as restful in tone, "Would you like a cup?"
Ohhh... Do.. Ghosts dream? Khiea was unaware. And of course words are not very useful things to depend upon now and then. And yet.. the images are not pleasant things. The thought is not something Khiea's younger mind is terribly bright to. But.. Ah, no matter. Khiea's smile dims for only a moment before she whims it back to brightness. For perhaps having tea with a ghost shall be fun? So Khiea clasps her hands, folding them and perching her chin upon them, giving as smile as bright as expected of any child.. Despite how she looks nothing of that part, "Its very nice to meet you! My name's Khiea. Would you like to join us, then?" There is distress, somewhere, to the fact that this child exists. But Khiea.. Does not quite know what to make of this peculiar little girl. So smile. Smile and wonder. Because there is tea. Doesn't that just make everything right in the world?
Well, tea can only go so far in righting wrongs. Like most methods of conciliation, it is an acquired taste. Midori slowly gets to her feet, and remains where she is. Like any normal child now, more then ever. Seeing your oft-dignified father as such is a little of a shock. Such things are only what he would think, not do. Still, we are all just thinking here, not being here? And that is a reassurance in itself. If this is real, then there is cause for concern. But, as it is not, well, when in rome... She closes her eyes. > ...father...?... <
Oh, there is certainly room for distress and beyond. For if the fact is quite driven home to this man here that his daughter -is- alive and there is at all a chance for healing their poorly splintered family, then that would mean... that Khiea would no longer be the center of Citan's world, would it not? Surely his sense of duty to his -family- could be raised above that of his nation. If only, if only... but such things are what drove the man to pain and beyond earlier this season, and they are things he is thankfully isolated from by simple default for now. Protect the Guardian's heart. Protect him, lest he destroy himself. Citan idly pushes a chair out for Midori to take, sitting himself after also moving one for Khiea. But of course--that would be the logic! "I am your father, Midori. How have you been?" Routine questions. For -naturally- Citan would see the ghost of his child, being a man who should never have existed to begin with. Perhaps that is why. Life itself was debateable here, really. See, Khiea? These are all but interesting things to see... and to relax with over conversation. The Doctor reaches for his cup and sips. "Would you prefer to speak aloud, Midori? We do not mind either way, but it is up to you."
...That.. is not a thought Khiea had thought of. Nor one she particularly wished to think of. Certainly, it was one that dawned within one mind or another, an eternal posibility.. But.. But.. It wasn't supposed to happen. Right? Khiea wasn't supposed to honestly give it any thought whatsoever, because it wasn't supposed to happen because... Citan was part of the dream. He was always part of the dream. To have someone else take that spot, and no longer have that comforting mind just at the back of hers, to help when she's sad and point out what was reasonable when she could not... Her smile blinks entirely off her expressions at that, as Khiea sits down, with a sort of distracted 'Thank you'. It is not anything but.. Bafflement that finds itself upon her expressions. That was a very bad thought. A very, very bad thought. And not one Khiea is glad to humor. With so much focus, come to think of it, that she entirely forgets to take her tea. That's not good at all. Almost in distraction to this thought, she finds herself glancing rather oddly at Midori. That's.. Not very fair, is it?
Through the stinging fuzziness, there is only the barest of emotion surfacing. Shocked, but businesslike. Suspicious and uncertain. Which is which. One would usually apply the former to father, but...well, he's not looking himself today. Which emotion is which? Oh well, at least one of them is less then suspicous. Still, like these dreams before, it is not as she would have it. It does not belong here, this whole scene. Yet, this is father. The unmistakable manner, and his correcting of her. Yes, speking out loud in company. That was never one of her strongest points. Or even speaing privately for that matter. She moves to the table, and makes to sit. > ...Thank...you... <
A very good thing that both of them can understand Midori regardless in this place of ringing thoughts, for there is no need to ask for clarification or other such stuff. No. It's not fair, is it--but hark, there are those darker thoughts again and just as quickly are they beckoned to their place of rest. Worry not. Worry not, Princess of Dream and her companion, for all that is done with dirtied hands is in the trust of another. Have tea for now, and muse upon how interesting it is to find companions that you never expected. Nightmare stirs as its sleeping heart begins to pick up on the faint troublings on this side... but it is still resting for now, and needs not worry either. "Are you planning to stay for a while?" Citan asks kindly, filling Midori's teacup and setting it before her. "It is quite nice here, is it not? There is a beach further down which you must visit if you have a chance to it. And I believe there may even be a few rainbows on the schedule for later..." Yes, that rambling is definately her father as well. Even quiet. Even so sweetly mournful.
Of course, of course, there is no reason to humor such thoughts right now. Is a little worrisome jealousy befitting of a princess? Of course not. And yet it is very hard to dismiss some thoughts once they grab hold of the mind, isn't it? Loneliness, especially. But.. Ah, that's not going to happen, right? It will never happen. So smile, little princess, and pretend that nothing could possibly go wrong. This is a girl you've never met before, and.. Wouldn't you rather be polite? So, with some slight difficulty, Khiea attempts to keep her mind at rest. No, no, the nightmare would not be welcome at this tea party. The reminders of unpleasant moments and unpleasant emotions would do nothing but spoil that perfectly blue sky or those simple clouds. Simply quiet, Khiea, as the conversation does not allow much for you to burst into. There is simply no reason to worry like that, right? Especially of someone you just met. Besides, there is tea!
Midori just...stares, in her distinctly Midori-like way. Stay for a while? Well... being quite flustered. This is not like meeting mama. Being seated and given tea? It's all..well...a little unnerving. But, nonetheless, there is tea. This seems to be the overwhelming understanding here. You're having a strange lucid dream about meeting the father you have lost, but..there is tea! Tea, and rainbows and beaches, and all things that might appease a slightly lost little girl. And the bad feelings have gone. All is quiet and non-hostile again. Yes, er, there is most definitely tea.
Careful! For there will be bunnies! And many butterflies, and all such things. For Citan and Khiea both have the wings of Nightmare spread past them and taking on the burdens of dark thoughts away. Two sides of the coin, after all--and even if Midori's father is smiling to the idea that they are both as good as dead and so meeting, why else fear? Citan at this point is not one to stir up troubles. Give it time, perhaps, and the rest of the drowsy awareness that is the darker side of the sky may wake fully and draw its sharp attention to this focus. Give it time later, and think of pleasant things now. "Ah, perhaps you two may enjoy a bit of hopscotch later? Midori, this is Khiea," such introductions he has forgotten as necessary, really, forgive him, "Khiea, this is Midori." Another placid beam. "We could even add some chickens here. Would that not be nice?" A little realm in this strange world of happinesses and joy... what fun.
Other dreams most likely make a great deal more sense than this one, don't they? Other dreams include meetings and emotion and all means of connections to a more waking world. This scene, perhaps to Midori's distress, is nothing of the sort. Is it odd to meet those who could exist just as carelessly in the dream as they could in waking? Who have no need, really, to adhere to the rational common sense that the waking world would demand. No, Khiea draws up a smile again at that, her little worries crammed aside into their proper place in Dream. Lock them up in a box and toss them aside--They can be curiosity for later, and wonder for later, but for now... Yes. It is quite utterly and universally accepted, now. There is tea. And that, together, is what allows Khiea to chime a more characteristically brilliant smile to Midori and ring, in a voice ever childishly high, "It's nice to meet you, Miss Midori." Even if you're the daughter of Uncle Citan, you get a polite title, too. Consider it Khiea's offer of a little peace, in a roundabout way. And then another thought draws enthusiasm to Khiea's expressions, "Oh! Do you play hopscotch? Oh, that'd be so lovely if you did! I adore it! Why, there's a place I play it at not far from here at all, too!"
Hopscotch? Well, there's a pastime she's never been one to practise, and...looking at Khiea, it strikes her as being a ploy by the older girl to humour her. Well, It is less then effective in Midori's mind, anyway. > ...no... < . Well, if we are bing monosyllabic, why not afford the other the same pleasure? She still had not guessed the bearer of bad will earlier, and so, Midori hedges her bets. She turns to Citan. > ...no... <.
Strange, how a child knows not such a game... that thought is one which crosses Citan's mind now, likely from Khiea's side of the fence--which sprawled all over the place, actually--for her father did know how much Midori was not quite traditional. Such was why he had always been somewhat distant from her... and her from him. A terribly gifted daughter and a father who expected none of it and had his own plots to tread through. "She cannot help it," he explains soothingly, whether to Khiea or to Midori herself or even to himself, he knows not, "she is dead now, as I must be too." Somewhat. Or however he existed, which was fine and lovely and was it not a good day for flocks of birds again? Dead was only a word, like awake or asleep or real. "Do not worry, Midori," he offers to his daughter with a smile. "You can learn quickly if you would like. And would you like to play with Khiea here with me?" Cross those last two words back and forth and back again, and get a better idea of who was who was who. Or not.
..What? Khiea blinks, more than a little startled, at the rather abrupt answer she's given. No? But whyever not? Hopscotch is a lovely game! And Midori looks very young, too.. Don't.. All children play hopscotch? The combination of Midori's blunt response and the sheer horrific realization that some people -don't- play hopscotch renders Khiea's smile quite away for a moment. And she stares, blinking a bit in confusion. "But..." But its wrong! All little girls should play hopscotch. Is there something wrong with her? "Well.. all right..." But that's.. not fair. Even though Khiea knows very entirely well that most things aren't. The dead can't help it. But Khiea still wonders. Citan is dead, but dreams because he is the lie of someone else. If Midori is dead, whose dream is she? With a small sigh, Khiea leans her chin against one hand, a rather frustrated little gesture. But she is determined to be polite. Even if Midori is -not- seeming like a possibility for new best friend of the year. "Well.. I guess that's okay. If you want to learn, though, I could teach you, Miss Midori. I'm very good at hopscotch."
Well, this is a complication? So I _am_ dead. Hm. What was it convinced me I wasn't? The nice lady who brought me to the Orphathing. But, wasn't that a dream, rather then this? In that case, am I simply switching between two equally real dreams? It's all so confusing. Perhaps I _am_ dead. Who knows? I certainly don't. The darkness of this world brings me to the dawn of the other, and I am at eternal rest. Then what purpose does it serve? One to be loved, one to be mantally tortured. It seems likely. As likely as chickens appearing from the ether, and a strange usurper taking her place. Once again, Midori files herself under 'dead', and carries on. She turns to Khiea, and decides to at leat make something of what seems to be the inevitable. She slides off her chair. > ...Sorry..I...want to play... <.
That would be simplest, would it not? That all this is... is simply switching between -two- dreams, one in which you are dead and the other in which it is easier to be thought that you are alive. A shame that chickens are only too easy to conjure. "I hope you enjoy it," Citan murmers as he watches his daughter, some part of him--which is drawn away as soon as it appears--awakening to conscious sorrow. Could this not mean that she is alive? But where had she -been-, that her mind had been so closed and how else... how else could she have lived? Young children do not easily make their way through wilderness, certainly. The Doctor stands easily, adjusting his top hat and then pacing to a somewhat cleared section of the grass where chalk lines have been drawn across the packed soil. "I..." he finds himself beginning to say, and then halts, confused as to what he might have begun to speak about. "I hope you are happy here," he finally finishes, quietly but no less capable of being sensed. "You would deserve it after all you have been through, Midori..."
Alive, dead.. The words never meant much to Khiea, come to think of it, who was, herself, quite nearly proclaimed dead, back in the days when she refused to leave this dream for anything. Skipping between dreams? Then is Midori only the memory that so many people dream? It is always possible--For there was more than one who mourned her passing. And yet.. It would be much -easier- to like Midori if she were dead. Much, much easier. For then, at least, she is not someone that Khiea seriously has to worry about. That way, Khiea shall never have to worry about loneliness or losing Citan or anything... Which is a great deal more pleasant of a thought. But let that all be forgotten! Midori wants to play. To such a thought, Khiea giggles happilly, clapping her hands once. Ah, then there is some hope for this bizarre dead girl! She will learn to play hopscotch now, then, and everything will be fine. Khiea hops to her feet, skipping over to the hopscotch squares with a smile bright enough to light a sunset, "How wonderful, then! I'm so glad!" Perhaps salvation -is- possible for Midori. For she can learn hopscotch, then!
Midori stares puzzledly. For these can't be just simple hopscotch squares, can they? Is that..paranoia? None of the genuine emotions around her betray that the squares will turn to polyhedra on contact? Will swallow her whole? No, these two genuinely want to play hopscotch. And this is what scares her more then anything. This is what makes her apprehensive as she follows Khiea and Citan over to the hopscotch squares, lagging behind. No, they are just squares. I hope.
But they are! For, even if Midori's fears run rampant, this is the softer side of Dream... if this scene were enacted by the shores of Nightmare, those fears would transform themselves into dangers on the spot. Or, even better--right out of the corner of one's eye... perhaps. But here? Here, they are simple squares of joy, for Khiea will let nothing else in this half of the world. And for Midori to be so quiet, or to not run into Citan's arms... well. I have never been able to be loved by my daughter, is a soft whisper of thought which rises from the Doctor's mind, coupled with a, I do not deserve such. Those fly like birds into the wind and the nets of shadow, and they are forgotten on the spot. Citan himself is not participating, choosing rather to sit down nearby in a lawn chair that had been kind enough to provide itself for the purpose. One hand idly scoops up a white rabbit by his feet and he begins to pet the soft fur. "You did not have many games you liked," he muses in reflection, attempting to remember happier times. "Perhaps... it is a time now to start trying all these things that never appealed to you before. Perhaps..."
There is nothing but joy in this part of the dream, nothing but rabbits and butterflies and skies of pastels. This is a place of perpetual cheer. This is the mind, the colors, the joy, of a child of seven years old, who never wanted to grow up, even though she was forced to physically. But her mind..? Her mind is here, intact in youthful perfection as it ever was. And it is full of joy. There is no reason to fear hopscotch here! For there is nothing threatening in this part of the dream. Unless, perhaps, you do not like being outdone by those who are more skilled at a game? Because Khiea is the Hopscotch Queen! With a giggle, she skips down the single squares on a foot, before landing on the doubles with a little catch of dramatics, spinning full about to face Midori as she lands, "Its really easy! I promise. And really fun! I hope you enjoy it.. Especially if you never enjoyed it before. What better time to enjoy it than when you're dead?" The child who never played games when she was young, and the woman who played games through her so-called teenage years. Polar opposites. But Khiea is at least -trying- to be pleasant to this creepy not-girl. "We'll start out easy with no squares to avoid. Okay?" Khiea doesn't explain very well, does she? But she at least displays it well enough, as she skips down the rest of the squares.
Hm. Well, this is less then intuitive. Some squares, and Khiea, apparently skipping randomly in them. Still, Midori will get the hang of it, as she watches Citan sit, then turns her attention to the squares again. More aimless skipping. How quaint. Well, best to make some sort of sense of the pattenr that...Well, Khiea is quite good at this, isn't she? Midori eventually loses interest in the pattern, and just watches idly. Yeeees. I see.
Such a simple game must be easy for Midori, mustn't it? In fact, that was entirely part of why... it was just so -unnerving- of her in the first place. When you offered candy or sweets, and your child stared at you with the high opinion that they were already too old for it--well, that was the past now. He could regret all he wished of how incompentant he was of a father another day. These are thoughts which are drawn from him as surely as heat from his fingers as Citan strokes the fur of the albino rabbit, which sprawls rather inconsiderately across his lap and stares at the pair of children. Such... aware eyes the creature has. But such is all that Hyuga will casually intrude upon this space, lest the peace of Dream be turned on its edge. "Have you seen Yui about, Midori?" Citan queries next in but curiosity. "I think she would like to see you. Perhaps... yes, that must be it. We are both dreaming of you, or perhaps she is for both of us." He thinks about this a moment, hand running across the white strands. "Much as I was trying to do with Raquel for Jesiah..."
Random jumping? Honestly! Hopscotch was a game of so much more -grace- than that. You hop on one foot across the single squares, put both down for the doubles.. It was just a matter of having both feet land at the same time. Or, on the singles, keeping on one foot for those. See? One-one-one-two-one-two-one-one. Its painfully simple. What matters is -grace-. And Khiea breaks into giggles as she finishes the squares, spinning about as she finishes to glance back to the start at Midori. Who is looking blank and puzzled. Silly child. How could you be too old for hopscotch then when you are only five or six or whatever now? All children should love hopscotch. Because it is so aimless, so meaningless, so simple that it fills ones world with joy. There is no evil smirk hidden behind the squares, no horrible bittersweet truth within the rules. No one will turn around and hate you because you played it, no one will hide truths you can not bear to hear within the turns. See? It is innocence. All children need that. "Why don't you try now, Miss Midori?"
Midori regards the squares, and the expectant gaze of Khiea from the other end. Is it possible for a five-year-old to look...undignified? Or for a five-year-old to not want to look as such? Well, at first glance, it might seem like that is the case, but...something else has her attention now. SLowly, she turns, and walks over to her father, sitting beside him. She stares at her feet for what seems like an age, and does not move. > ...father, I met mama here a few days ago...Not here, but in the same way... < she looks up at him, remembering the altogether different reunion that was. Why was this not the same? Well, it has always been this way. Midori slips her hand under Citan's elbow. > ...I miss you... <. That...cannot be denied even between the most distant, as they are.
So that was not a game she liked... she did not like many things, did she? But that was his strange little daughter, and it was fine too. Still, Citan finds himself sighing as he feels again a pull between Khiea and Midori, the vague clash of loyalties which the rabbit tenses at but which only blanks his mind further. "Your mother is very determined these days. I wish she would go back home where it is safe," he admits, somewhat with a bit of frustration. And at the touch... how Citan automatically gives in, reaching out a hand to first brush down Midori's hair--a gesture he has used on Khiea more than once, emotionally and physically--and then draws her into his lap. The bunny is forced to bid a hasty retreat as it is utterly ignored, hopping in a rather undignified manner to perch between Khiea and Citan and rather... glower at the Doctor. Citan, however, only holds Midori to him and tucks his nose to the top of her head, murmering reassurances that he has only rarely been able to do while awake. There had always been that distance between them... and, much as he was able to open up to Sigrd earlier while in here, so too does he find his own reactions somewhat closer to the skin in this world. "I am so sorry, Midori... you know that I miss you as well."
Oh, you promised to be polite, Khiea. You promised to be sweet. You promised that you would be kind to this little girl, because she was dead, and could not help being odd or strange. And yet, what is -this-? Not only does Midori not -like- hopscotch--Even when Khiea was nice enough to show this most wonderful game in the world to her, but now she's.. Now she's... That smile and cheer is gone from her expressions in a moment so swift that not a breath could have passed. And rather, she -stares-, wide blue eyes held in horror as those thousand paranoid little worries, little thoughts, snap back with such a fury that its almost painful. You can watch the clouds go dark at that. No, no, no. You are a dead little girl, and you're not allowed to steal Uncle Citan. Because he's not yours anymore, do you understand this? You went away, and by default, you're no longer his daughter. I need him more than you ever did anyway. Because you never liked him as much as your mother--You can -have- your mother. But why are you threatening, even though your dead, to take Mister Citan -away-? Khiea does not want to be alone, does not want to be alone ever again and you.. And you.. You -dare-... Khiea finds herself clenching her fists, her cheerful gaze settled into a neat little glare upon Midori. Be a nice little dead girl and -stop- it. Now.
The silent seething wreck across from the pair is invisible to Midori now. No words are spoken or thought. It is as it was with mama. It is not something that has happened before, or might again, but Midori sits, clinging desperately to her father, deep choking sobs escaping, and the tears come. Tears that never came when she was alive, tears lost in the nothingness of what might have been. Tears wept for the dead. Tears wept for missed oppportunities, so many days in silent ignorance of each other. Now that the well had run dry, the water is finally needed. And Midori simply sits, and silently weeps for everything she has lost. It is a familiar sight this past while, but it needs doing, to heal. It needs to be done so she can move on.
But how can he turn away from this? How can he decide? This is precisely the same fight which Citan has gone through before, and had tried to avoid entirely by such a cruel treatment of his own soul. How can he choose between one or the other--for he will be blamed regardless, oh how he knows full well. But this Citan is one that has its pain taken--nay, yanked out wholesale by force now, drawn as mercilessly as if the Doctor is a reel of thread that will be unspooled to feed a hungry needle. And so he but holds Midori, trying to close out the sensations around him and forget, think -not- on the pounding force of the powers around him, as if the world could be contained within the circle of his arms and by the force of his desperate need to hold his child could he erase all hurt from reality. Oh if. But if. And how that rabbit glowers still, waking into a fullness that declares this to be not at -all- a help to the Duty which the Guardian should set higher. So the rabbit crouches, red eyes bright. And the Doctor? "I am so sorry, Midori... I never should have been so terrible as to bring you into this world at all. I have been capable of doing nothing but harming you... I am so very sorry..."
Either way, its a painful choice, either way it hurts.. Khiea is sorry beyond words that any such thing has to happen to Mister Citan. She does not want to hurt Citan.. But she does not want to -lose- him, either. No, no, no! She could not -bear- to lose Mister Citan, don't you see? He's been in her dream for so very, very long... And he's always been there for her, and always been there to comfort her.. And this.. This is a -dead- girl. This is a little obnoxious unpleasant daughter who died and didn't have the sense to stay dead and away from Mister Citan. Watch those eyes -narrow-, less silver than they are the hue of tarnished metal, chill in all their simple, simple fury. Crying, now? What on earth for? You're dead. You've had your tears, and go away. While Khiea is desperately, desperately tempted to blow something up all of a sudden. And those glaring eyes seal shut, finally, as she finally turns her gaze away from this sight, snarling a simple, soft, "-Stop- it!" Why can't you at least have the decency to do -that- Midori?
Midori ...stops it. Such massive buildup of an overwhelming emotion screams in her mind so that it is unignorable. She lets go of Citan, gradually, and wipes her eyes. Turning her head to Khiea, she is calm once again. "I'm not going to take him away. I don't even think I can". She...thinks she understands. Khiea is the daughter father never had, the one that was more important than duty. For what reason, Midori does not know, and is too tired to care, any more. Far too tired. Midori yawns, and slips down off Citan's lap, standing on the ground between him and Khiea. She looks Khiea in the eyes. "I'm...sorry if I upset you. I...think I just needed to say goodbye". And perhaps that is, and these dreams will stop now. Perhaps she will awaken on the big house, and not dream like this again. Perhaps a great tragedy is being put to rest, by letting her do this. Midori is glad for what has happened. Glad that this chance came along. She turns to Citan again. "Father, it was not your fault. You had important things to do". she says. And in a simple way, that is correct. She turns away from Citan, and slowly makes her way down the hill. As she walks, she begins to fade, to a shimmering cloud of mist, which floats away gently on the breeze. > ...good...bye... <
"No..." Citan whispers weakly. "No, you and Yui are the most important things to me, Midori. I have never wanted to put you both away--you were the ones who gave me... gave me my -heart- again." For his daughter is his daughter... his family is his -family.- In so very many ways is this a struggle which has gone on for so very long until the Guardian had been forced to even split himself into bits of pain and compassion in order to come to some sort of conclusion over it. Yet that healing has not come yet--and this struggle, too soon. Khiea's emotions--or is it Hyuga's thoughts, expressed here by that sliver of consciousness which has found itself drawn to fuller awareness than it should normally be--reach directly into that which is dark, distasteful, rage-filled and touched with pain. This is not Khiea's Realm. This is that of the Nightmare King. With a shudder of air around the rabbit, the small creature rears up on its hind legs and stretches well past the height that a normal rabbit should. From out of the glow that ripples about the beast, Hyuga warps his shape and steps fully onto the grass. Around his feet where his Solarian boots sink in, the grass withers. The air is cold, even as it carries the last mist of Midori's leaving. This is not the loving father--no, this is the Guardian Angel, hair trimmed back and neatly shaped and full regimental coat in place. But the ice in his eyes is not directed towards the place where Midori has left from. It is to Citan, who shifts back in his chair and still reaches weakly for his daughter--who still whispers that it is not all right, that he has done some unutterable sin. "Have you had enough yet, -Doctor-?" the Guardian hisses. "Look at what you have done to upset Khiea? Look?" And the man snaps his hand out to the child which is closer to them than anyone now. To him. To something. It is less walking than folding space that Hyuga uses to close the distance, and then he is gripping Citan's collar in his hands and lifting him physically from the chair. "You can't even take care of Khiea... what made you think you deserved to see your daughter again?"
...What? Just as simple as that? Khiea blinks up, rather in surprise of those.. Words aloud? She is stunned out of her sheer anger by sheer surprise, really. What? That is all? I just wanted to say goodbye? Ah, is that.. All the dead child wanted? To have five minutes to remember her father and cry and.. Goodness high, that doesn't settle well with Khiea's concious. Much less does it help her control. For already she has bidden the Nightmare here--This newfound discovery of guilt, so strong it bites the heart, it gnaws within, it wears like acid from the inside out--only helps to wear this pleasant dream so thinner, thinner, thinner... No, the clouds are slate gray, if not black. The skies are dull and reddening. And Khiea, guilt upon pain upon paranoia, lets loose a little, smothered whimper into the palm of her hand as she slides to her knees in realization of this. And she blinks, weak tears drawing at her eyes, sniffling to this all. Guilt, guilt -guilt-... Towards a child she could not possibly adore if she -tried-. Khiea chokes more than a little at that. How wrong of her, how wrong to.. She shudders. Very, very much does she want to leave this. To drop this dream like a thing on fire, and flee to the darkest holes of her nightmares and -hide-, and never come out. I want to leave this all and never see this again, because what I did was wrong, I know, and it hurts and I don't want to see it...
No. You did nothing wrong, Khiea. Such thoughts are what are projected rather than spoken, laced through and through with the chill touches of the Nightmare King. Hyuga drops the far more fragile Citan, tugging on his gloves as if to straighten them from the touch of the flawed creature. "This was all his fault. If he had not needed his dreams of his family..." And the clouds toss and turn as self-hatred is summoned, drawn back and forth, and then they calm once more as Hyuga drops his soul back into the rigid control he is so prone to these days. "If he had known to keep Midori away rather than let her see him, then none of this would have happened. Blame Citan." The lie. The man who never should have existed. The false father and duplicitous husband. "I will discover the truth of what that was," Hyuga declares casually, turning away from the spectre on the lawnchair who buries his face into his hand and is steeped in regret. "Do not worry yourself, Khiea. I'll figure it out." So Nightmare crosses the field once more, feet crinkling through the dying grasses to kneel by her side and offer a hand. So they do not often actually come this close when in each other's realms... but she is so full of sorrow. "I will take this all with me. Forget about it... you do not need to worry. Forget about it..."