I can feel the madness slowly creeping in...

[cityship]

It is that time again, meatship.

Once again, the King of Nightmares has deigned to spread his touch to all of your dreams.

This time, however, he has decided to give them a much more personal touch, sending his very own children to visit each and every one of you, slowly sowing the seeds of madness within all of you.

Such a kind and loving king he is, isn't he?

[ooc: Alright folks, Nightmare King is ramping things up a bit. These nightmares are a good bit more dangerous now, and he's sending in his minions to make things a little more real. The nightmares will be of a much more serious nature this time, designed to start driving the crew slowly insane. Characters are more likely to run into nightmare minions in the guise of someone or something that will tug at the edges of their sanity. Also, this time, the characters can have joint dreams, as these nightmares are of a more mystical nature this time. Once again, tagging in isn't mandatory, but if you want to, go crazy (literally)!]

[Additional Note: Any injuries won't be carrying over to real life at this point in the plot but don't worry, we'll get there eventually!]

Comments

[snapsforyou.livejournal.com]

Roy blinks at finding himself with company, vaguely recognizing the short blonde a few feet away, eyes narrowing at her tense posture. It strikes him as odd, and more than a bit out of character for her, if he remembers correctly.

Guess that means something's up, doesn't it? Maes murmurs, and Roy nods vaguely, returning his gaze to the angels, flinching when he realizes that the stone crowd gathered around him had been much more sparsely distributed several moments before.

Breath puffs from his mouth as he steps back, dark eyes blown wide, hand raised reflexively, fingers poised to snap, when he notices the distinct lack of glove on his hand.

"Shit," he hisses, staring at his bare skin with horror for a long moment (almost too long) before wrenching his gaze back to the angels, taking another step back, then two, then three, bumping into Wyn rather firmly.

"You seem to know what's going on. Care to enlighten me?" His voice is flat, schooled into emotionlessness, as is his face now that he has a hold on his initial shock. Still, there is an odd, unfamiliar ocean of terror lingering just below his façade, reminding him every few seconds that there is something very, very dire about the situation - something more dire than his experiences in Ishval, more dire than Maes' death and the threat of the military's vulnerability.

[forthewyn.livejournal.com]

Wyn staggers backwards as Roy runs into her, inadvertently closing her eyes as she tries to recover. At least Roy was looking at the statues, right? ... right?

"Um. Those are the Weeping Angels, they like to kill people by sending them back in time and they're sort of impossibly fast except if you're looking at them because they're quantum-locked as a weird kind of evolutionary defense mechanism and oh God I hated this episode, I couldn't sleep for weeks after." Wyn says, her words running together in sheer panic.

[snapsforyoutoo.livejournal.com]

"If you're... looking at them?" He blinks, glancing at the blonde behind him, realizing several seconds after the fact that this is probably a very bad idea. He jumps when he looks back up and finds an angel reaching for him, hands not covering its face for once. That face... was most definitely not exquisite.

"Fucking shit!" He tries very, very hard not to blink, his heart pounding feverishly in his chest. "Are they supposed to do that?" Not able to help the reflex, his hand is already raised in front of his face, fingers pressed together pre-snap, and he points with his free index finger at the contorted, grasping hand two inches from his face.

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

"That's why you keep looking at them!" Wyn snaps, fighting the urge to give Roy a glare that could probably have peeled paint. Unfortunately, the momentary satisfaction of flailing at someone being stupid would have been immediately canceled out by the fact that she would be dead right after doing so.

"If you just keep watching them, they can't hurt you. ... I think." And with that reassuring comment, Wyn starts backing up towards the house.

[snapsforyoutoo.livejournal.com]

"Well, aren't you helpful," he mutters, eyelids coming disturbingly close to closing as he fights back a blink that ought to have happened about a minute and a half ago. His heart is pounding like some horrible drum, and he's rather ashamed of himself - the terror coursing through him isn't anything he's particularly felt before, though that hour it took him to find Maes after the phone line went dead came quite close. He had fought in the front lines at Ishval - surely he oughtn't to be scared by a few ominous sculptures?

Remember that blink that he was fighting? It happens, black eyelashes meshing for an infinitesimal second, a few tears slipping from his tear ducts, rejoicing at the closing of lids after so many unbearable seconds. They lift slowly, pupils blown wide, eyes returning to their saucer-sized set as he takes several hurried steps backwards, away from the four sets of hands now frozen in front of his face.

Yeah, he's following Wyn now. And not blinking.