Beyond the Walls of Sleep

[cityship]

Slowly but surely, the nightmares have been chipping away at the mental defenses of the crew.

Even those who attempt to stay awake to avoid the nightmares find themselves too on-edge to completely concentrate their defenses.

And the Nightmare King has not been idle during all this, no. He has been slowly feeding off the crew, gathering his strength so that he may yet break free from his prison.

And he now uses that new found power, reaching out to affect the minds of the crew even in the waking world. Even those avoiding sleep will find themselves drifting in and out of their nightmares, bringing everyone a taste of despair.

After all, no one can escape the grasp of the King of Nightmares.

No one.

[ooc: OH NOEZ. As you can guess, the Nightmare King is getting stronger. As such, the crew will start experiencing waking dreams. These are much more subtle than the normal nightmares, however, and are more so depressing and surreal than actually brain-breaking. Mostly they would be miserable versions of the character's normal life, or perhaps even their life on the ship.]

Comments

[dis-courageous.livejournal.com]

Komali's life had never been particularly exciting, but since coming to Stacy's care, it had become so gray. Samus was gone, and the ship closed around him like a fist of damp, airless suffocation. He hated it here. Hated....hated the stillness. Komali couldn't sleep at night without the constant wave-sounds, the song of the wind through the rocks, or the call of birds.

Even then, the nightmares...

And so the bird-child wandered the halls with nothing to do but guard his treasure, head bowed and shoulders hunched. He'd never, ever learn to fly, not like this. Worthless waste of feathers, hardly a Rito at all. Hardly anything but dead weight.

[quark-assassin.livejournal.com]

Dustin couldn’t dream. Not normally, at least—sometimes his mind might run through a memory or two, work out some equations or formulas to write down in the morning—not to mention his mental defenses were extremely powerful, powerful enough to even deter a small-scale attack by a shipbound god, if you can believe it.

The waking world, on the other hand, was proving to be far more difficult a realm to defend. The Nightmare King no longer had to rely so much on getting inside Dustin’s head as he did projecting outside of it, thereby rendering the genius’s maelstrom of thoughts and memories as just a means of fodder. Still images would appear out of the corner of Dustin’s vision, trailing him like wispy Shades on the prowl, only to disappear as soon as he turned around.

Paranoia was nothing new to this man. But by this point it was just becoming ridiculous.

It didn’t help when, while pacing briskly through the halls, Dustin saw the strange bird-child from the gathering disappear through a wavering portal of some sort in front of his eyes. Convinced that something very wrong was going on here, the scruffy man followed him inside.

The walls were closing in…

“Hey!” Dustin called gruffly, his breathing suddenly constricted, “Kid!…”

[magictrkswwater.livejournal.com]

Why was she on this ship? Why was she chosen? This wasn't how life was supposed to be, was it? She didn't have anything useful before, and she didn't have anything useful now!

She wasn't like those magical girls who helped protect her best friend's grandmother awhile back. THEY should have been here, not her.

"...what can I do to help here...?" Irma muttered, wandering the ship aimlessly.

[toariversodeep.livejournal.com]

"You can help keep people from losing themselves," Roxie murmurs as she passes by, slipping through the half-dream like a passing ship in the night. "That's what we really need right now."

In her wake pieces of the waking nightmare crystallize and shatter, leaving Irma normal again, at least for the moment.

[playsin-traffic.livejournal.com]

His dream tonight is strange. And he can't even tell it's a dream. He's huddled under an overpass somewhere, tattered jacket wrapped tightly around him. The sound of traffic rolling by overhead fills his ears as she shivers. Its not just from the cold. He's alone and he seems stretched out and tired. Eyes gaunt, cheeks hollowed, he slowly rolls his sleeve up - the skin is pocked by scars and tracks. As he wraps a piece rubber tubing tightly around his forearm and pulls it taught with his teeth, he reflects on how he ended up like this.

What a miserable way to live.

[fiercerhyena.livejournal.com]

Grim Eyes didn't like this ship, but that wasn't going to keep her from exploring. It was new territory, unfamiliar territory, and even though she smelled predators around every corner, there had to be a place she could stake out for herself.

She smelled a predator now.

He was male, that much her nose told her (too many males on the damn ship), but he wasn't hyena. He wasn't even related - he smelled more like wolf. No, not like wolf - like dog, like a mangy city dog. That also smelled like a wolf, bizarrely. She turned the corner and stopped.

That wasn't a dog. Wasn't a wolf either. That was a human man with a creepy ghostlight around him. In fact, the creepy ghostlight stretched out farther, and just as Grim Eyes was starting to decide that creepy ghostlights and people that smelled like mangy dogs but weren't shouldn't be approached, she was somewhere else.

"Hooves of the Antelope, what is this?!" she yelped, looking around her wildly, clutching her spear and jumping backward away from the traffic until she felt her back hit the stone wall of the overpass. A stream of growls and curses came from her throat and the strange wolf-dog-man was forgotten for now.

[vision-ya.livejournal.com]

Cassie did not love him. She probably never had. He was just a living -- ha! "living" -- echo of Nate to her. A consolation prize.

He should never have even tried.

[hexyeah]

Wanda was perhaps not the best person to wake Jonas from his dream but he didn't have a choice in the matter.

"Vision? Is something wrong?"

[notsaintkaiser.livejournal.com]

They couldn't take her. They were too much of a security risk for her to be with them. Even after Nanoha saved her from Jail's clutches, they couldn't be together. Vivio wasn't a Takamachi. She wasn't even ''a real girl''. Nanoha only saved her because she was told to.

Nanoha and Fate weren't her parents, never were, never will be. She was just a plain old child, trying to make it through life after what she was through.

And, in the waking world, as Vivio shivers and shakes in fear, her Device, Sacred Heart, watches on in worry and fear.

[earnmyplace.livejournal.com]

There is a child shivering against the wall, a small device hovering near by her. Tali’s head tilts in concern as she diverts from her path, making her way over to the shimmering form. She crouches down next to the girl, close enough to be felt but not quite touching.

“What is wrong, child? Are you injured?”

[bonnypiperlad]

There's a hole in the roof, where the rain comes in. Jamie's tried to patch it, but it never seems to stick. He's not very good at repairs - his hand lacks the dexterity it had when he was younger, due to the accident.

He survived Culloden. Lived through the aftermath, but for what? He has no wife, no children. He can barely support himself, let alone anyone else. It's only through the kindness of what's left of his family he has a roof over his head. It's pity, more than anything else.

He hasn't touched the bagpipes in years. He can't play them anymore. He just lives his life, day by day, and keeps trying to patch the roof.

[kaya-waterwave.livejournal.com]

But it wasn't likely that she was going to let her closest friend feel resigned to this fate. Katara herself was not looking at her best, considering what she'd seen in her dream, but she was still going to try and get people out of theirs. When she came upon Jamie patching his roof, she approached him, looking a little worse for wear, and a chain still on her left wrist.

She put a hand to his shoulder, looking concerned. "What are you doing, Jamie?"

[redeyes_andblue]

Link never wakes up. Ganondorf is never stopped. And Zelda remains in someone else's skin, watching her people suffer and die through someone else's eyes, helpless, unable to comfort them, a child who's never had to experience the darkness - just condemn her people to it.

Useless.

Sheik remains as a ghost, drifting through Kakariko and the halls of the meatship alike, unnoticed and overlooked. A half-forgotten memory, barely even real - no one even knows his name, lost to the shadows. Invisible until someone sees red eyes - and then, there's no help to be found anywhere.

Useless.

They drift. And they watch. And slowly, the world crumbles around them - and not once does someone offer them a friendly hand to pull them out of the shadows.

[toariversodeep.livejournal.com]

But there is a hand. A small one, to be sure, and it can't reach very far—

[lilyofthedrills.livejournal.com]

She just kept going.

Yuri, having never come to Stacy, finished her year in the Alien Party. Upon entering middle school, her experience with aliens got her noticed by the administration, who immediately placed her in that school's alien party.

The challenges kept slowly getting harder, the aliens more vicious. Not enough to kill her. No, an experienced alien fighter was much too valuable to harm. But enough that her life resolved before she knew it into a routine. Fighting, catching by day, facing down monsters that gave her a dull, constant, throbbing ache of terror. Bruised, scared, hot, freezing, clothes torn, hair limp and thin, skin scraped and dry. When she got home, to the new, closer apartment she shared with the other girls in the party (ones she didn't know and didn't know her, for Kumi had broken down and Kasumi had transferred away to be with her precious big brother) she would collapse onto her futon and catch as much sleep as possible.

Eventually borg fused with her. Once this would have terrified her, but now it was yet another indignity she accepted with something that was so grey and lifeless it went beyond silent resignation. She was moving like a car on autopilot.

Always going foward on a way lubricated with green blood. She walked and her borg speared things which chittered with three mouths, clacked together mandibles and claws, extended appendages that had no names in the tongues of humans. Just keep walking. There was no place to go. There was no escape, because where would she escape to? That implied there was someone to help her. That there was a Yuri Otani left to save. Nothing but a husk, a hollow thing made out of coiled tentacles under her skin.

[toariversodeep.livejournal.com]

"There are always other ways," Roxie says, and her presence forces the edge of the waking nightmare to peel back. "...and you'll always have a friend," she adds, tone beleaguered and annoyed by having to actually say it.

[asluciferfell.livejournal.com]

He never went beyond Toulon. Day after day, night after night, there was nothing but the guarding of the prisoners. He heard little of the world outside; he was never promoted. He walked the same path, back and forth, year after year. In his mind, his most vibrant years had passed. The war had ended. All news was now brought with each new or returning prisoner.

Still, in the back of his mind, something murmured Valjean.

[hatngartersnake.livejournal.com]

"Tell me about Valjean, Inspecteur."

The woman had very pale blond hair, and wore a blue dress with a pink shawl. There was something strange about her eyes, though. They were far too green.

After Dr. Brennan's reaction, Jeka had decided to ease her way in instead of simply trying to shock the dreamer out of the nightmare with her appearance.

[agyieus.livejournal.com]

On a team of reckless, ego-maniacal fascists, married to a murdering psychopath who'd rather kill in the Middle East than spend time with him, with a sociopathic daughter who'd rather age herself eight years than be raised alone by him, hated and feared by the people they want to protect.

The finer world they'd wanted to build is barely any finer than it was when they started, ten years ago.

And the Sun King, brightest of them all, floats alone in the darkness.

[doctorbadtouch.livejournal.com]

The Sun King isn't quite as alone as he thinks he is. The doctor is so white against the darkness he almost glows.

"It's peaceful here. How long do you plan to stay?"

[pocketloli.livejournal.com]

Rein pounded on the invisible wall, her voice never reaching the ones she loved. Was this it? Was this how it was like to be ignored?

Soundless words tumbled from the teary girl as she slammed her hands against the ever-present barrier as Hayate chatted with Signum and Vita. Even Signum's device Agito was there, and Shamal was there... but no one paid attention to Rein.

There wasn't anything she could do. No one would notice her. No one. She was invisible...

In her depression, Rein tried to return to the compressed form of the book and found she couldn't. A pitched wail of agony erupted from Rein's throat, and yet no one could hear it. She was effectively muted from the world.

Rein laid down on the desk and cried.

[twin-fans.livejournal.com]

Cyborgs. Biogenetic manipulations. V3's O Signal, working perfectly in the dream world, warns him of many, too many to fight off without proper planning. He's too tired for intelligence, after so much fighting. Besides, he can hear something crying in the building, somewhere. V3's hearing is many times better than a normal human's, after all.

He opens a door and finds himself in some kind of office. A group of people chatted around, but he could hear crying from... Somewhere. He puts his hand up, feeling the barrier there and tilts his head.

He knocks.

And then Kamen Rider V3 does what he does best whenever he finds something in his way that he can't quite figure out. He draws back a fist and punches the hell out of the barrier.

[bears-omnitrix.livejournal.com]

Ben was purposeless.

Without the Omnitrix, he was nothing. He slogged from day to day, watching as his cousin Gwen wore it, being the big damn hero. There was no Ben 10, there was Gwen 10 and how he loathed being the one without the capacity to wield it.

And even worse, five years later she put it back on again. Ben was sinking into a depressive cycle, trying his best to fight aliens but inevitably getting in the way. It seemed hopeless for Ben, and he hid his anger and frustration well.

[lackofdarkwings.livejournal.com]

If I never knew you...

Those were words that Matt had feared for all of his life, as he staggered day to day, trying to find the courage to speak to Will. The perky girl that made him smile. But he couldn't. He was an outcast, a loner in a world that even his music didn't reach anyone.

There was no such thing as happily ever after. Not tonight.

[magictrkswwater.livejournal.com]

May not be a thing as happily ever after. But there is a "working to get there". Especially when a very confused and angry Irma found Matt.

"Hey, Mopey! Wake up!" Irma said, approaching Matt. "You look like Will just dumped you!"

[twin-fans.livejournal.com]

There was no justice but what the strong write.

Kamen Rider V3 wanders the world, killing monster after monster, leaving nothing but destruction and bodies in his wake. The people are used to the fear of living under the Great Leader's boot, they're used to the horrors leading them.

A Kamen Rider is a legend. A thing of nightmares. Monsters know that to face one means death. Humans know that to meet one is to be left unprotected for anything that might come after it.

And so justice is feared by all, but Kazami Shiro keeps fighting. Because that's all he can do in a world where the strong write the way of things.

[is-the-ultimate.livejournal.com]

(http://s79.photobucket.com/albums/j138/SoaringHeadache/Cape%20and%20Cowl/Shadow%20The%20Hedgehog/?action=view&current=thShadow046.png)

"...wandering. Lost and with no purpose." A voice calls out. "Is that all you have? I think not."

Approaching Kazami is another figure. It isn't a monster - way too small to be one - yet not a human. The figure stops and crosses his arms. "We're both alike. Created for one purpose, yet doing something else. In the end, we all have the same goal."

The figure sneered. "You've just lost your way."

[is-the-ultimate.livejournal.com]

(http://s79.photobucket.com/albums/j138/SoaringHeadache/Cape%20and%20Cowl/Shadow%20The%20Hedgehog/?action=view&current=thShadow061.png)

Ultimate Lifeform. What a joke. He did his job. He helped save Maria's life.

And that was it. Professor Gerald was herald a hero and Maria would go on to live a happy life. Gerald's grandson Ivo would go evil and the hedgehog Sonic would go on to stop him. And when the Black Arms arrived? It was Sonic who stopped him, not Shadow.

He was the Ultimate Lifeform. But, what use is an Ultimate Lifeform when you have no purpose?

[demon-alessa.livejournal.com]

She was not a demon of hope: that was not her gift to give, and she knew it. Alessa was far from a thing of beauty, and darkness and death encircled her and was a constant reminder of how separate she was from everything and everyone. But she would not allow a being that was not like herself to suffer in the throws of a being that searched for the fears in one and use it to make itself stronger. She understood now that the Nightmare King and she were somehow tied, that they both grew strong from the flesh of humans in one way or another.

"Your purpose is not to simply save a life," he heard whispered. "Your purpose is to live, and living includes finding a definition of what makes you happy in this world. Purpose is not something one find overnight. It is formed, made in bonds in this world. Wake up from your stupor, Ultimate Life Form. The dream of this life must end...as must the maker of it. Truth will emerge, and it will start wherever we make our stand."

And she appeared as nothing more than the demon that she was, staring hard into the abyss where the Nightmare King lurked.

"Awaken, Shadow."

[not_the_philistine]

So this is his life now. A castle all his, with no one to protect. A long-sought peace between gargoyle and human that only he is awake to enjoy.

What he evaded once already, fate has thrust upon him again, and now his life is a nightmare, made tolerable only because he knows he is not the only one suffering this loneliness.

He finds himself longing for the Earth he remembers, imperfections and all. His clan was always in danger, but at least they lived. He could see them, speak to them, rescue them if they were in trouble. Not like here, where the unknowing is almost worse than that he has nothing. No family. No love. Just a living nightmare that he avoided once.

Could avoid again.

There are magicians on the ship. One of them could cast a spell. He could sleep again, as stone, free of this lonely misery. It is not his responsibility to protect this crew. If he cannot find his clan, perhaps they are not here to find at all. Were he stone, none of this would matter. Were he stone, this nightmare that is his life could not touch him.

In the early hours of the night, in the late hours before morning, just after and just before sleep, he has more and more trouble thinking of reasons why he should not do this.

[on_errantry]

Something was not right.

The air smelled wrong, the breezes that sometimes gusted from Stacy's air ducts scented with a stale must that didn't belong there. Rhiow didn't like it - it reminded her of the stifling air in the caves in Old Downside, before Ith had led his people up into the sun. There was a thread of despair in that scent, of hopelessness and - perhaps even worse - stagnation.

And then, as she turned a corner, she caught a shimmer out of the corner of her eye. She stopped cold in her tracks, her ears laying back, and she eyed it skeptically. It looked like a nonpatent gate locus, but extended, more like a rip in the fabric of spacetime than anything as purposeful as a gate. She stalked forward, watching the way the hyperstrings bent around it.

This is not right, the Whisperer said. There is someone there. Rhiow hissed softly to herself and stepped through the rip without a second thought. If this was affecting her crewmates, she should do something about it.

The creature she saw looked like Kang, at first, but she was sure it wasn't him - for one thing, Kang was green. "Dai," she said in greeting. A general wish of wellness. "Are you alright?"

[madeofwyn.livejournal.com]

"Hello, this is IT. ... sir, have you tried turning it off and on again? ... sir, it's the button on the side. It should be glowing. ... no, sir, I cannot transfer you to my supervisor. ... I'm sorry, sir, but you cannot demand to speak to my supervisor, because I am the IT supervisor. ... yes, sir, as a matter of fact I am a woman. ... I assure you, sir, I am more than qualified to hold this position. ... sir, if we could please get back to the problem at hand-- no, sir, the problem at hand is not whether or not I am qualified to hold this job. If you believe that this is some sort of issue, I would recommend you take it up with Human Resources. ... sir, in order to register a formal complaint with Human Resources you have to fill out a form. Which is done via email. Feel free to do so after I've fixed your computer. Now, sir, is your computer turning on after you've pressed the button?"



Wyn's never been entirely sure what the company she works for actually does, but she does know that Human Resources seems to make a point of hiring the least tech-savvy people possible. It's becoming harder and harder for her to plaster a fake smile to her face and cheerfully answer inane questions about how to use Microsoft Office for nine hours a day, six days a week. Her cubicle has started to feel more and more oppressive, like a cage with gray plywood walls, and she's begun withdrawing from even the most basic conversations with her coworkers because she's positive it will turn into someone asking her to fix their computer. She's not much better outside of work, sitting alone in her apartment obsessively drawing plans and fragments of gadgetry on any spare surface. She's disconnected her landline and stopped answering her cell, and her need for sleep and food is practically ignored. The few friends she has left are worried, but she doesn't care. As long as she can just finish this design...

[smartnass.livejournal.com]

Suddenly, the headset is snatched off of Wyn's head and a strange man is talking into it instead.

"I'm sorry about that, sir. The problem is simple: your computer is full of dust. Just throw it in the sink to soak for a couple hours, let it dry, and it'll be good as new."

Lyle takes off the headset and chucks it under the desk.

"Was he Victorian? I hope so."

Lyle appears to fit the environment--he's wearing a bland white and black office outfit with a yellow tie. But he's a lot less reserved in his dreams, and it's fighting the ennui that's already beginning to tug at him.

holy jesus this is long I'm so sorry

[thunder-ace.livejournal.com]

Fate was happy. Really, she was.

After all, aren't you supposed to be happy when your best friend is getting married? They had been together for so long after all... since high school. It's about time, really.

When Nanoha had shown her the ring, it was during one of their irregular calls, during a break in Fate's current mission. She rarely saw her best friend face-to-face anymore, being too busy with her job as an Enforcer. She smiled and congratulated her friend, offering her best wishes... but that dull ache in her chest that always bothered her when she spoke to Nanoha flared up into an almost unbearable pain, as if a white-hot knife was stabbing her over and over.

Nanoha went on to tell her what finally spurred her new fiancee to propose. They had been out on a standard mission a couple of weeks ago, out to collect a Lost Logia... nothing they haven't done before. So imagine their surprise when they found an unconscious little girl attached to said Lost Logia. The girl was taken into custody of the TSAB, and she bonded with the two who rescued her instantly, which eventually led them to declare themselves her legal guardians. She called them "mama" and "papa" now.

Her best friend had a family now.

... Fate didn't mean for them to drift apart... really. Back before they were together, she had been so close to admitting her feelings so many times. But she was afraid. Afraid she would be shot down, afraid that her confession would somehow ruin her friendship... so she stopped herself. Besides, there was always tomorrow, right?

When Fate finally managed to gather her courage, she called Nanoha out to the bridge... that bridge where they first became friends... you had to do this kind of thing somewhere special, right? So they chatted for a bit. About school, about their friends...

... And that's when Nanoha told her. About her and him. About how he asked her out only three days ago. About how she tearfully said yes.

Fate smiled and congratulated her. That's what best friends are supposed to do in this situation, right? It didn't matter if it felt like her heart was being shredded into tiny bits. Nanoha was happy, and that was all that mattered. Her happiness mattered more than Fate's own happiness, so Fate would continue to smile and support her friend.

The years went on, the distance grew... did Nanoha even notice how far apart they've grown? Or was she too busy with her new family to notice?

But she was happy. So Fate would smile and support her any way she could, ignoring the loneliness threatening to overwhelm her.

She was happy. Really, she was.

Re: holy jesus this is long I'm so sorry

[starlightace]

[THIS COMMENT DOESNT EXIST BUT OW MY HEART]

[nothawkingbird.livejournal.com]

The team was scattered, distant. Little point to go out on patrols now. They were superfluous. Unwanted.

She was superfluous, trying to focus on her music and the charities while she returned home to an empty house filled with lovely things, but so cold. A museum, not a home. Filled with statues and pictures of people who are far away or gone.

She sighed, and tried to filled the silence with her cello. Even though the bow pulling across the strings only echoed lonely cries.

[vision-ya.livejournal.com]

Jonas could feel the pull of the dream, how it wanted him to conform to what was already present. He could feel himself becoming slower, turning into one of the statues in Kate's mind. Someone gone or lost.

Kate wanted music to fill the silence. Unfortunately for the nightmare, Jonas did not know anything that could easily be sung to the accompaniment of a lonely cello.

"[Help! I need somebody
Help! Not just anybody
Help! You know I need someone
Help!]"

Appropriate enough that the nightmare could not easily stop him, but strange enough that it might shake Kate out of its clutches.

[thexanwhosees.livejournal.com]

Sunnydale was long since dust, but now the whole world's gone away. Did it matter how many Slayers might have been spared? Why was he? He didn't have powers, or magic. Hell, he barely had five senses anymore. Much as he wished for the Daredevil deal after he lost his eye.

'Are you a soldier?'
'I'm a comfortador.'
'You're neither. You're a whipping boy. Raised by mongrels and set on a sacrificial stone.'

Snyder was snake food, and even the remains of that would be space dust scattered across the cosmos now. So why was his voice still loud and clear?

Stop the Ohm? How could he? People barely trusted him still, some still hated him. And those who get close to him? Tend to end up evil or gone. Often dead.

Why did he get survive anyway?

[kaya-waterwave.livejournal.com]

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Katara said. "A whipping boy wouldn't have done what we did, despite how unpopular it was. I mean, you took a stab at attacking CAROL, Ms. Marvel. You have the strength to help people even if it means you might get hurt. And if you think about it, you don't believe it either."

She gave him a hug. "This is a dream Xander. Please wake up."

[thekohakuriver.livejournal.com]

It would be so easy to just lay down and die.

And it was tempting, the thought of it, of the slow relax and tug, that last gasp of surface-tension before the bursting flow, the way his waters would soak into the ground and fade. The death of a river-spirit; only gods can choose the time of their own death so completely as this.

He remembered a time of rushing and freedom. He was useful, then. But that place was gone, filled in and paved over, raped until it bled out and died by the humans who now called what had been his banks home. He remembered the way the fog would rise...

Why couldn't he die?

Why couldn't he find home? What was home anymore? Haku was forgetting, was spending more and more time in human guise. What was the feel of rubbing your rapids over the rocks, what was the sound of the moon on a windless night? Where would the deer drink? He used to know these things with the same surety that he knew, without looking, where his ears were. Now they were just a vestigial pain, the ghost of feeling in a limb violently amputated. Where was Chihiro, who'd given him hope?


It was harder every day, to remember not to die.

[ladyofthesands.livejournal.com]

[Courtesy of M83 (http://www.box.net/shared/k5ztz6r0aj)]

She had been walking, her fingertips trailing against the wall, but the wall was cold and dry and lifeless.  Everywhere she looked was rotting, falling apart, burnt, diseased, and withering.  Ash swirled around her ankles as she paused and looked up at the great window that usually pulsed with a thousand different colors.  It was a huge gaping hole.  There was nothing left of Stacy but this now, this and silence.

Arha blinked as she stared down at her lightsaber, turning the battered and worn piece around and around.

She has other lightsabers and they make soft sounds against her fraying belt.  Luke's.  Mara's.  Anakin's.  Jaina's.  Jacen's.  Her fingers pause briefly over each one until they stop over the last one.

Obi-Wan's.

There is no death...

Arha did not cry, but she stared up at the observation deck's window, and felt the cold wind of an alien world drift past.  They were all gone, now.  All of her family, all of those who had been her crewmates.  Sheeana's laughter was bright, ghosting across her mind before the echo was finished and silence remained.  Somewhere, the muted crow of victory sounded, loud and insistent, Asuka was hollering about something, somewhere, while Wedge's voice murmured patiently back.  But these were memories that came to her as she moved past the Sensoriums. 

She was always moving, her fingertips streaking Stacy's decaying walls black.

Remembering.

[worm-dancer.livejournal.com]

After freeing Katara, Sheeana had searched frantically for her other companions. She weaved amid the sleepers, barely avoiding the auras of sickness that seemed to radiate from them, thick, radiant stuff that sorrounded the sleepwalkers like wombs. From inside, the sleepers would move, call out to those who weren't there, engage in imaginary battles.

From within hers, Arha seemed rather depressed. Her head drooped, feet shuffled, long fingertips listlessly brushed the walls.

Katara had been an Acolyte. Arha was both Reverend Mother and Je'dai Pahduan. She had more resources to draw on.

She could take the abrupt intrusion of Voice.

"That is not reality."

[morphitudinous]

Billy walks alone down the path of Angel Grove Park, where all is silent. There are no playing children, no families on picnics, and no Putties waiting to be kicked in the chest. This is unusual: the weather is ideal for outdoor activities.

Finally, he sees a sign of life! Some brave teenagers are playing kickball in the field. He turns to look at them, and suddenly---their faces twist. They're full of fear. They flee, as though they were looking into the eyes of the devil himself.

Eventually, he reaches the Youth Center and finds it boarded off. Wondering why, he touches the glass, when something finally appears next to him.

It's a Putty. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder and---is that happy chittering? Startled, he strikes at its chest, and it flashes him a look of Putty-betrayal before it disappears. He's alone again.

[crusades]

"Alfred, do you ever...?"

Bruce sits in the back of the limo and attempts to peruse his case files. A mass poisoning ought to be more compelling. He ought to care more. His father always said as much. But they had money, property, reputation; he had no need to work, no desire for it. He had already won. Why should he give a damn about the wellbeing of some ingrates that were stupid enough to live in a place like the Narrows? They were asking for some grinning loon to pull something like this.

And yet, he still felt invalid. For all his wealth, was he worthless?

"Do I ever what, master Bruce?" Alfred replies impassively from the driver's seat.

"Do you ever dream you're someone else?" Only moments ago it had felt... he was someone else. Was he? A knight with a life of derring do and adventure. A man of courage in a world of evil. He fought tyrants and monsters. Grizzled and harrowed Men feared him. Strong, beautiful women threw themselves at him. Children grew up wanting to be him.

It had felt so real...

"Of course, master Bruce. I should think everyone dreams of being something they are not, from time to time" Alfred's eyes flick up into the rear-view mirror, staring him down, boring into his soul, "Might I ask something of you, sir? Who are you in your dreams?"

Bruce drops his chin into his palm and puffs with resignation, "Oh, I don't know. Someone exciting..."

[standaloneshell.livejournal.com]

The dreams had taken Motoko while she was connected to Stacy's brain. Unable to wake on her own, she nevertheless snarled and broke free. This was neither the time nor the place to be dreaming of death and the puppeteer's desperate black spiral. She was herself, and she was alive.

Honestly? This was getting to be a nuisance.

Divested from her own waking nightmare, the Major found herself on the streets of a soot-clogged dark city. Faceless people blurred past, unimportant and gray. So, this was....someone's nightmare? It had the subtly incorrect feeling of an implanted memory. Perception briefly sharpened around one car in the bland mix, and a face...Bruce Wayne. Batman.

Right.

Let no one accuse Motoko of beating around the bush: the leapt and with a smooth hum of servos leaped, coming down onto the engine block of the dream-limo like a ton and a half of pure steel.

[magetrouble.livejournal.com]

[Because more M83 (http://www.box.net/shared/eg2fcmc7uo) is love.]

Kala had been traveling for a very, very long time down the center of a very long road.  All along it, were the telltale signs of goo-bugs and the sound of something large rustling in the landscape beyond.  Actually, there were lots of very large things out there.  Kala was dragging a bag behind her and it was very heavy, so much so that she had to stop every once and awhile just to not fall over.  The goo-bugs were going to eat everything if she didn't hurry.

And she had so many miles to go.

Kala kept walking.  And walking.  And walking.

And walking.

[billy-blin.livejournal.com]

Will saw her walking through a hall as he was on his way back from W&P with new guitar strings. She walked right past him. Unusual in itself, but more troublesome was her emotional state. Anxiety, depression... none of the hope and happiness he'd spent so much time cultivating. So, he did what he does best, and began to play a song. That'd grab her attention. Something silly, really jar her out of it.

"When I was a young boy I'd follow the path
Down past the dunes to the sea
And there on the warm sandy beaches we'd lie
The furry old lobsters and me
They'd whistle and squeal as they ran through the waves
So sleek, so furry and fair
But now when I go down to see my old friends
The beaches are empty and bare

Sing hey hidey ho, where'd the old lobster go?
And his body so furry and brown?
Sing ho hidey hey, have they all gone away?
For we haven't seen many around..."

That ought to do it.