Waking Nightmares, (Requiae)

If she had known, she would not have gone. Ria had made the trip from her back door to Tikvih's hillside den in the dead of night plenty of times. How was she supposed to know that this time there would be a nest of Requiae waiting for her?

The Telmenai denied harboring the bladed young that had rushed out to meet her. Ria remembered squinting through heavy, sleepy eyes to find a jar of bitter green medicine, only to realize that every jar on the shelves had the same grainy black and white contents. Ria realized she was looking through the eyes of a Requia as several unfurling blades began to rasp together; it was too late to do anything but raise her hands in front of her face as thirteen young Requiae cut her arms to ribbons on their way out of the dens.

Ria distinctly remembered there being thirteen. Thirteen, because the Requia broadcasting in her mind helpfully slowed the scene to let her count every slicing wing. "No," Tikvih emphatically shook her head. "Not chicks here. Sleepwalking in, glass cut hand." There was a shattered potion glass on the floor--the ground smelled faintly of its spilled cinnamon draught even through the strong antiseptic the Telmenai had dabbed onto Ria's bleeding palms.

But Ria remembered black blood dripping in pools at her feet and the sensation of feeling nothing at all. Now she could feel the sting of antiseptic in shallow cuts: the Requia with the doomsday clock had returned the color to her sight and the feeling to her nerves. Tikvih shook her head and muttered in broken Common about nightmares and sleepwalking as she prepared a tea that would put her bonded into a restful and dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.


With the first victim drained, Hattan lifted his wings and drifted off after his ravenous brood.


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IMPORTANT
In this bonding your character will have nightmares and hallucinations. Entrance posts should be your character falling asleep or going about their nightly business and then I'll take it from there. Nightmares will be 2-4 posts long and when you're done with one you can start another! Just make another post where your character falls asleep to begin again.

I control these nightmares. I'll describe the setting and any NPCs you happen to come across. The nightmare ends when your character dies--how detailed the death is depends on your preferences and the nightmare itself. However the permanence of this harm is completely up to you. Your character can wake up with similar wounds, wake up with memories of their nightmare, not remember a thing...you can handle it however you'd like.

The Requiae will appear throughout. They'll appear in ones that interest them. They're hungry and attracted to emotion; hint: focus on your character's feelings in your reactions to these nightmares. They should be appropriate to the situation though. Your character probably won't be freaking out if they have to choose between taking a shortcut through the woods or staying on the path, but if they're halfway through the woods and notice that some of those shadows have teeth...?

Bonds will be made when all of the Requiae are revealed. There's no set timeline for this but it won't happen for at least a month, and that will only happen if everyone posts frequently. Bonds won't depend on how many/which Requiae you attract--you can still end up bonding your favorite even if none of them pay you a visit.

I'd like frequent posts. Short posts are just fine! This bonding will be you-post-I-post all the way through and I'll try to keep up with whatever pace you guys set. I'm not the fastest but I'll certainly try. Post whenever! Finish one nightmare in a week and another in a month if you need to. For best results you should probably finish at least two nightmares between now and the end.

Send me as much information as you'd like. In addition to rank, personality, and color (do you just love gray Requiae with red eyes? Let me know!) preferences for Requiae feel free to send me any other important information such as: What is your character afraid of? Is your character notably unafraid of anything? Is your character immune to certain types of injuries? Is there a particular situation that you'd like your character to experience? Do you not want to describe your character in great pain/dying? I will listen to anything and everything that you do or do not want to happen here. Optional: tell me your favorite monster from Greco-Roman mythology this is not a hint at all nope.

Wow that's a lot of rules. Don't let them scare you? D; Please message me with any questions, concerns, or juicy plots! I'd like for this bonding to be moody and atmospheric and fun so don't worry about breaking or stretching a few rules. I'm pretty lenient. Take liberties where you need to and don't stress too much! Leave that to your characters. ;D

((Descriptions are all up, send preferences before the 25th please!))

Ria's Five Minutes to Midnight Phantom Hattan x The Lamia

Thirteen.
The Lamia Grim Aay'han -- Tracyn
The Minotaur Remnant Michael -- Elouise
The Fate Phantom Atropos -- Professor
The Gorgon Allure -- WILD
The Maenad Allure Fawn -- Da'chetre
The Siren Allure Svana -- Ivan
The Chimaera Legacy Leon -- Da'chetre
The Harpy Legacy -- WILD
The Hydra Legacy -- WILD
The Oracle Legacy Pytho -- Professor
The Satyr Legacy Likho -- Ivan
The Titan Legacy -- WILD
The Undine Legacy Gabriel -- Elouise


The Lamia; It is unfortunate that the motherly Grim will inevitably hatch an albino chick into the ranks of a merciless clan of killers that she herself raised. For the Lamia, it is truly tragic. A mother's grief is endless and the Lamia will forever mourn the loss of her firstborn chick, that ill-fated albino. An older, colder Grim would be unaffected, but the Lamia was young and compassionate. She truly doted on her apparition, and they encouraged the slaughter of her firstborn. Consumed by her loss, she is now obsessed with her brood and her maternal instincts extend beyond her kin. She is devoted to the remaining members of her apparition and to a number of sad, mistreated souls that she seeks out and sees as kindred spirits. To them she is almost tender, and of them she is fiercely protective. She is a mournful creature but her fury is endless and the Lamia will devour whole any threats to those currently under her protection; her ability to pinpoint the emotions motivating the antagonizer is unerring and her appetite is insatiable.

Thin and gaunt, the Lamia is small for a Grim. Her skeletal frame appears underfed: she is often too withdrawn to properly feed herself, despite her ability to devour her prey whole. Each of her feathers is the dark red color of a bruised cherry, and the feathers on her head and neck are flecked liberally with black to give her the appearance of wearing a veil of black lace over her sad, pale red eyes.



The Minotaur; Such a classic monster: relentless force and crushing strength. There's no surprise that those who are unfortunate enough to be trapped with him are destined to lose. The Minotaur is not the most intelligent Requia but he doesn't need to be: he operates on instinct to seek out his prey, and his instincts are wicked sharp. He is a skilled hunter and a true warrior, for he silently and solemnly seeks out the largest and most challenging quarry to bring down. Determination and righteous anger are his preferred meals, plucked straight from the mind of a bold and furious foe who will fight against him to the last breath. Those who falter and show cowardice are not fit for consumption but neither will they be spared, for like many of his rank this Remnant will not suffer a coward in his presence. The Minotaur does not mind returning to the apparition with blood on his wings but an unsated appetite for he is excessively picky about what he feeds upon. He could easily fast for seven years while tracking suitable prey.

The Minotaur is quite hefty for a Requia, even for a lord. His body is a solid shade of unforgiving iron, dark and unyielding against the paler steel of his eyes. The long, cruel blades of his wings are the color of filthy yellow bones left to rot in a forgotten tomb, fading from old caked-on dirt where the blades meet the wing to a faint yellow at their sharp tips.



The Fate; There are few Requia more ominous than the Fate. He is in most cases a quiet, brooding observer, but that does not mean he is content to hide in the shadows. His single remaining eye is sharp and vigilant and it misses nothing...and neither do the keen blades of his ever-ready wings. While the Fate watches, he judges. He is constantly measuring the actions and emotions of those around him and when they do not align with the way things should be he is quick to pull the threads to make things right. It matters not whether he needs to drain the victims' fear to lead them further into danger or drive them there with beak and blade; all that matters is that order is upheld. Everything according to plan, and this plan is unknown to any but the Fate himself. Nobody will sway his opinion once it has been formed, once he decides to take action. He is judge, jury, and executioner. His will is immutable.

Cloaked in the faded black cloth of the reaper, the Fate has a very bleak appearance. He's of average size for a Phantom but his hunched shoulders make him appear smaller. Spurs of deep, dusky purple blades jut out from his wings, the faintest mottling of dark blue shading their edges. With one silver eye opposite an empty socket with black, jagged scars, the Fate's expression is always grim.



The Gorgon; There's a beautiful Allure here, if the Gorgon would show a little restraint. She is too enthusiastic, too boisterous, to pass for anything but a banshee. When she flies her movements are sharp and precise, when she cackles and shrieks she is the loudest in the apparition, and when she feeds she does so ravenously and overindulges. She is not picky about her meals; she lacks the ability of some of her siblings to cultivate the emotions she seeks in her prey for maximum drama. But that does not make her a passive hunter, for the Gorgon is prone to starting fights at the slightest provocation. Never meet her stony gaze, for even an accidental stare is grounds for retaliation. She is a vengeful creature, able to hold a grudge and repay it at unexpected times. In her quietest moments she can be strikingly beautiful, but she will strike with the terrifying quickness of a serpent's fangs if she catches anyone admiring her.

The Gorgon doesn't quite measure up to the classically beautiful Allure. Her figure didn't quite streamline entirely to a falcon's, leaving her looking a little too gangly when compared against other Allures. Not helping matters is her relatively flat body color, a dark granite-gray that clashes with the exaggerated too-red shade that coats the blades of her wings. There is something rather alluring about the fluid way she shifts and settles herself...at least until those piercing light gray eyes narrow at her admirer.



The Maenad; While other Requiae drain their prey into comatose husks this Allure often emboldens her victim. Bold people are lively. Bold people cause trouble and trouble makes for an ample feast. In social interactions she is ruthlessly predatory and just as scheming as any respectable Spectre, able to tell at a glance which individual is one little push away from unleashing their emotions. She'll notice the person who's one drink away from flipping a table or the Fisi that's eyeing his clanmate's portion of the kill and peck away at their feelings of restraint and inhibitions until the reasonable internal voice that says don't do it instead screams DO IT. Hunting so cleverly and so effectively makes her popular in the eyes of the apparition and she is rarely alone, for wherever she flies the emotions are sure to flow as freely as wine from a cask. But the Maenad cares not for this company. She is raving mad, loud and erratic, and none of the inhibitions she saps from her prey will sway her from turning on her followers with a screeching beak and sharp wings to turn them into beasts just as crazed and quarrelsome as she is.

In appearance she is slightly coarser than the average Allure, large for her rank and lacking its usual streamlined grace. She is too wild and unkempt in appearance to be called beautiful, with wide, bloodshot crimson eyes and dark gray feathers that lie along her body in frequent rumpled disarray. Dripping down her back, breast, and shoulders are uneven splotches of burgundy, the color of a rich red wine and there is an unsettling streak of bright scarlet smeared across the front of her chest. Her pinions are similarly two-toned: wine-dark in the center with bright red edges.



The Siren; Be careful around this one. She may not be as aggressive as some of her siblings but that does not make her less deadly: the Siren has a keen sense for misfortune and an even keener sense for leading others into it. People do have a tendency to follow her, despite their best judgment. For who could resist such a sweet-faced Allure, a Requia who chirps like a songbird and delicately preens blades that have never been bloodied? There's never an ounce of malice shown as she nudges her victims into harm's way, and once the damage is done she'll even appear to comfort her victim, all sympathetic eyes and soothing coos. Oh, but she is not a compassionate vulture. She does not linger to benefit the victim, she does it so she can drink in dashed hopes and regrets directly from the source. The Siren drains emotions lightly to mind her petite figure and keep her victim's guard down, for spooked prey is difficult to manipulate. All she wants to do is satisfy everyone's secret deadly desire for trouble, is that so bad?

Allures are already far more refined than other Requiae, and the Siren is one of the most elegant of all. Tiny and unassuming, she is non-threatening and even pleasant to look at. Her body is a deep, dark black in a matte finish from the tip of her beak down the length of her back with no other shades of gray to mar her feathers. Her eyes are similarly pitch dark but there's a definite and endearing sparkle to them, especially when she flutters the lipstick-red blades of her wings.



The Chimaera; Two-faced doesn't even begin to describe this beast. He is purposeful and conniving, dividing his time between being pleasant and disarming before unleashing his wicked streak. For six days he'll greet you with a cheery chirp but on the seventh he'll invite the apparition over to say hello in his place. But there's more to him than a coin flip between pleasantry and ill will: his third defining characteristic is complete and utter absurdity. The Chimaera can't control these spells...one moment he'll be deliberately sliding closer with his wings slowly raising and in the next he'll be assaulting his shadow and attempting to hang upside-down from a chandelier like a bat. It can be unsettling to watch him so effortlessly twitch and flail out of his perfect composure and then sink back into austerity, especially since his lapses in control always fail to fluster him...and he never forgets his original intentions no matter how long his spree lasts. Things are never certain when it comes to the Chimaera and he'll always be unpredictable. Even who, when, and which emotions he feeds upon are chosen at random...or...are they?

His feathers are an attractive blend of charcoal and pitch black. A smooth and even gray cloaks his body except for two sharp, clearly-defined markings. His left wing from tip to shoulder joint is black, as is the right side of his face. On either side of his split face are eyes of different colors and he's fond of turning his head to present a specific profile: a wide and wondrous silver eye for his black mask and a harsh, baleful crimson eye for the left side. At first glance his blades appear to be uniformly pale but no two of them are exactly the same shade of bleached off-white.



The Harpy; This Requia is truly a pest. He is a whining, hovering, blood-sucking mosquito and a constant annoyance. Not overtly dangerous, he is perhaps the best example of a vulture out of all of his kin: he circles above future victims and roosts where trouble is sure to come but he leaves the actual hunting to others. The Harpy is quiet and unassuming when well-fed and certainly won't cause trouble with the apparition or others when satiated. But when there's a feast around, he is relentless. Forgetting his place, the Legacy will feed greedily and zealously, squabbling amongst his peers for the choicest emotions. Any will do, but his preferred morsels are tantalizingly complex and layered emotions. It is difficult to chase him away from a meal that he has already started for he will fight until the last crumb has been consumed. Once the Harpy has had his fill he is content to roost quietly, but all too quickly the hunger pangs will return to make him into a pushy and irritable beast who is impatient for his next meal.

Quite well-fed, this Legacy is of average size but hefty weight. His plump body is covered with deep black feathers that have a plague rat's glossy sheen to them and his beady eyes are a similarly sparkling black. The bladed feathers of his wings have a faint green sheen to them, but unlike the neon luminescence of a Spectre's pinions the Harpy's wings are sickly and pale.



The Hydra; This Legacy will not be defeated. Many will try, for not only is he the lowest of rank in the apparition—and belligerent about it—but he also wears the pale feathers of a not-quite-albino Requia. He is not quite an outcast, but only barely, and when his siblings slew his albino sister they came for the Hydra as well. But he fought back and grew stronger; every time he is cut down his rage and reckless determination keep him alive to fight again tomorrow. The constant attacks have turned him into a relentless and paranoid creature who has learned to strike first to keep his opponents at bay. The Hydra aggressively defends himself against any perceived threats, which includes most strangers and any and all other Requiae. Albino Requiae are the only exception: the Hydra is quite protective of them, frequently flocking to their side to defend them against the apparition's disdain. Two (or more!) heads are better than one, after all.

He's large for a Legacy, but even the smallest lords still have an advantage in size over him. The Hydra's red eyes are fierce and his body is strong but it bears many black scars, the marks of his attackers. In places his hated, white-smoke feathers have almost been plucked bare to reveal black skin underneath but the apparition will never be able to rid him of the mocking, blinding white blades on his wings.



The Oracle; He knows all because he sees all, but the Oracle keeps everything to himself. Possessing an uncanny understanding of the emotional creatures that wander the Weyrd, this quiet Legacy always seems to know where trouble is about to boil over. He knows when the floorboard will break, he knows when someone is bound to trip over that nest of newly-hatched Serpens, and when someone is facing temptation he is sure to be watching from the shadows intently. The Oracle is a curious Requia, but he is a distant observer. He never willfully leads the apparition to the site of calamity; he prefers to be alone as he quietly watches. Those who see him would do well to take note of his presence, for the Oracle never settles for anything dull, not when he can sense danger or strife just around the corner. If he lingers then there is a chance that every choice and action will align to produce a suitable meal for him...so tread lightly and keep an eye out. The Oracle may be a nonviolent Requia but he is still eager to feed.

A fog of muted gray washes over his entire body, but the edge of every feather has brightened to brightly gleaming silver. Its an effect rather like looking into a cloudy crystal ball, especially when staring into the shining silver depths of his eyes. There is no gleaming sharpness at all in the unused blades of his wings, their dull coloring giving the appearance of yellowed, forgotten parchment.



The Satyr; Could a Requia ever be considered joyful? Terrifyingly enough, the Satyr is a joyful Requia, an exuberant reveler in all things fun. Of course, a Requia's idea of fun isn't always pleasant for everyone involved. He'd rather feast on a person sweating over a house fire than the clichéd pig roasting on a spit, but he'll attend events of every kind imaginable. His only requirement is that there is something exciting for him to gorge himself on at all hours of the day, and he'll dine on mortal peril or mere cocktail party banter all the same. For the Satyr can't be picky, since this Legacy is not as cleverly manipulative as some of his siblings. He'll nip and push at others in dull moments but he lacks the ability to force or entice others out into the world to provide for his entertainment, and he'll certainly back down when challenged. He's much more of a carefree follower, really, trailing in the wake of stronger members of the apparition and gleefully chasing anything that catches his attention.

Small and wiry, the Satyr appears rugged without looking intimidating. His slender frame has a mottling of ruddy red feathers over a black base, giving him the appearance being streaked with mud. Every feather appears to be in disarray, tousled in every direction to give him a wild, unkempt look. His eyes are especially fierce, with a gleeful glint in their black depths, while the blades of his wings are the appropriately revelrous shade of pale rosy foam over a glass of red wine.



The Titan; No one ever told this Legacy that he's supposed to be at the bottom of the pecking order...more accurately, the apparition reminds him of it every day but he's far too thick to take notice. He's large for his rank but despite being noticeably smaller than any lord of his species he still carries himself like one, bold and self-assured despite the scorn it earns him. In the Titan's mind he is mythic, a creature of thundering power and mountainous determination who deserves adequate fear and worship from all lesser beings; to those lesser beings, he is a nuisance. He is petty and loud, always making his presence known with raucous caws and grating wings, though most will learn to pay him no more mind than a whining mosquito. His bite, however, is worse than a mosquito's, his appetite deeper and more difficult to satiate. He seeks those that will offer up equal parts fear and awe to drain away and while the Titan lacks the skill and intelligence necessary to manipulate a victim's emotions into the feast he desires his feeding habits are rather clever...after all, those he drinks deeply from are sure to grow ever more frightful and respectful of him when they recover.

Simply put, the Titan is not an interesting beast to behold. His bulky body is a flat, boring shade of black all over, from his dull black eyes to his scrabbly black talons. It does contrast rather strikingly with his bladed wings and their rough-textured appearance of ancient weathered marble, but despite his bulk and hefty size he lacks an immediately ominous presence.



The Undine; This Requia is drawn to open water, glassy surfaces over crushing depths. He is content to distance himself from the apparition and roost over his reflection and watch the world, for he feels no kinship with the circling vultures who prey on hapless souls. When other Requiae feast, or when someone is struck down before him, the Undine watches with sad, blank eyes. Some might see empathy in his sad eyes, but he has none to give. For he, despite all of his differences, is just as soulless as every other Requia. He doesn't feed like the rest of his species, he is never aggressive or manipulative, but still waters run deep and the Undine is not as placid as he appears. He does feed but there are never witnesses: he feeds only on those too far gone to save. He craves their humanity, and what could be truer than one's final, mortal moments? The Undine desires a soul, and he will steal every last breath to gain one.

Somber grays color this Legacy. The majority of his body is a dark, moody shade of stormy gray that is lightened and rippled with paler splashes of color. There is a faint metallic silver sheen that spills down the back of his neck and over his shoulders, giving him a soft glow when light reflects off of the water he so often perches above. The movements of his wings and their faint blue blades are fluid and gentle, and this softness is reflected in the dull, watery silver of the Undine's eyes.

((For archive/record purposes: the holiday markings potion was used on Phantom Hattan; his New Year's Eve markings have been approved))

It had almost become a ritual for the small band of shinies and their prim and proper mistress; getting ready for bed. The putting away of the embroidery was the signal that it had begun. Of course by that time, Raymond was already asleep in front of the fire and was left where he lay as Elouise stood from her heavily padded chair and pulled on a braided cord by the door. Somewhere else in the large manor that the young woman shared with Cassanova, a bell tinkled and Glinda, the girl’s maid finished whatever it was she was doing and made her way to the suite of rooms that her Lady occupied. Meanwhile, Elouise slipped into the hall and down the stairs, following a corridor lit by softly glowing lights that she still did not understand and to a large covered chamber off the side of the house. Within were several large and very deep pools as well as a few shallower pools. Various shinies were stirred at her arrival and one in particular dipped beneath the surface of one of the deeper pools only to resurface in one of the shallower pools closer to the door.

Waiting patiently, Dog-fish placed his paws on the edge of the pool and his mouth parted in a happy canine grin. Smiling, Elouise crossed the gap and settled herself at the edge of the water, her skirts pooling around her even as she reached out and began to rub the Beorfin behind one of his large ears. Despite the fact that she still found his strange appearance somewhat unsettling, Elouise did adore the little Den’risu and felt bad that because of her own fear of water and inability to swim, she could not spend as much time with him as she did the rest of her strange companions. As usual, he was merciful and forgiving and though he couldn’t speak she felt he understood, at least basically, why she couldn’t spend more time with him, especially when Raymond got it into his head to chase her about the pastures shouting orders at her.

She lingered for several minutes before leaning over to press a kiss to the Beorfin’s nose. Dog-fish made a strange chuffling sound and licked her fingers before El finally pushed to her feet and smiled. “Goodnight Dog-fish. May the angels safeguard your dreams if you have them.” She wasn’t entirely sure if Beorfin—for that was what she had been told he was—had dreams but if they did she hoped they were good ones. Dog-fish let out a little bark before slipping back into the pool of water and disappearing. Shaking out the skirts of her gown which were helplessly rumpled from being curled in a chair while embroidering, Elouise quickly made her way to a small door that led to the outside world and a path that would bring her down the hill towards a large and rather fancy building that served as the stables for Cassanova’s equine creatures and El’s two Blazemount friends.

Though she still didn’t quite understand it, she’d been told they were both of the same rank though they couldn’t possibly be more different. Merrylegs was small—especially for a Blazemount she’d been told—and mild mannered with a sweet disposition while William, whom was often called Hingham by El and many of the other shinies was far bigger than any draft horse she’d ever seen and rather pushy when it came to his opinion of how she should act. He still hadn’t spoken since that day when she’d met him, but he was able to make himself understood well enough that she made sure to steer clear of his redirecting nips when she was feeling particularly meek or down.

Before she reached the stables, however, Elouise paused on the path and looked up; the star speckled sky was spotted with clouds though they didn’t seem to be the threatening sort so she smiled and sought out the moon. It was barely half full and waning but it was more than enough to light her way. Smiling at the cool breeze she closed her eyes briefly and drew in a deep breath. It was such a beautiful place, this Planet, despite all the terrifying creatures and people that inhabited it. And within the bounds of the manor grounds, she felt reasonably safe. Alliae would not allow any of Cassanova’s more sinister shinies to bring harm to the young woman and her own shinies provided her with something that had been in short supply back in Britain; friendship.

Opening her eyes, she continued on her way down the path, stifling a yawn as she went. It was later than she’d thought it was, well into the night. She would have to keep her goodnights short with the Glades and quickly return to her room where Glinda no doubt at her nightgown laid out and her bed turned down, ready for her to crawl under the covers and drift off into her own dream world. Lifting her skirts slightly, she picked up the pace and slipped into the stables through one of the still open larger doors, startling a young boy who helped out for a few coins a week. With a smile, she raised a hand in greeting before slipping past him and into the expansive stable complex. There were various sizes of paddocks, some of them merely three sided stalls and others that were more closed off; large and small.

After some navigating her way down to one of the slightly more normal wings of the stables, El paused to stroke a few of the more friendly equine noses that poked out of their stalls until she reached the two side by side stalls where Merrylegs and Hingham bedded down for the night. Merry was the first to greet her, barely managed to throw his head over the Blazemount height half-door to the stall and whickering softly. Smiling, Elouise let her skirts fall on the dusty, hay strewn floor of the stables and crossed to the stall that housed Merrylegs. There was a plaque on the half-door that she had been told was carved with the Glade’s name, though she could not read it. It was a pretty thing and she brushed her fingertips over it before stroking the velvety nose of the small Glade. In truth he was the size of a normal horse which made him infinitely easier to ride than any of the other Blazemounts. “Did you have a wonderful day today, dear Merrylegs? Was the grass sweet and green?”

The Glade lifted his grassy green head and snuffled against the side of El’s face, making the girl giggle. He truly was such a wonderful horse and she was grateful that he had appeared a month ago—had it already been a month—from wherever it was that he came. Wrapping her arms around his heavy head, she hugged it close, heedless to the bits of green fur that jumped off and clung to her gown and no longer wary of dancing blue and white flames that made up his forelock and mane as she reached up and scratched him under the jaw. Yes, he was a good little Glade and she was very grateful for his seemingly endless patience and willingness to bear a side-saddle. “Sleep well, dear one. Perhaps we will go for a ride in the morning.”

Kissing Merrylegs on the forehead, she started momentarily when his forelock flickered towards her face then giggled at her own nervousness as she felt the cool tickle on her forehead. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to the tickle of the fire but at least she was no longer scared of it—though deep inside she harbored a secret fear; what if it suddenly burned her without warning? As Merry disappeared into his stall El moved to the next stall where a plaque read William and underneath that Lord Hingham. Of course she couldn’t read it but that was what she’d been told it said and as she positioned herself in front of the half-door, a large lime green head with a vibrant yellow-green blaze arched over the door with very little effort. A pair of deep blue eyes, so strange to see in a horse—though El supposed it was equally strange to see a green horse several hands taller than any draft horse she’d ever seen that had dancing blue flames in place of his mane and tale—looked at her and El dipped in a brief curtsy.

William’s blue eyes sparkled with what El would swear was laughter as the Glade made a soft chuckling sound and bowed his head. The skittish little slip of a girl that had caused so much trouble after his fellow herd mates had come so far was very slowly blossoming into a surprisingly silly young woman, even as the spring bloomed in this new place. El was slightly more hesitant as she approached William, watching him carefully as she did so which made the Glade toss his head in impatience, his pale blue and white flames flaring and showing hints of a light yellow. How the girl went from sassy to skittish in the span of a few seconds, he doubted he would ever understand, much as he doubted he would ever understand her intense fear of almost everything around her that was unknown while she trusted those who perhaps did not deserve it. She was an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a silk gown with ribbons.

Finally El reached out and stroked the warm green neck and when William didn’t twist his head around to nip at her for being nervous—which only made her more nervous—she smiled and began to scratch along his neck, her fingers creeping up towards his short fiery mane where she scratched with a vengeance as far as she could reach (which wasn’t far) until finally his blue eyes drifted shut and his head drooped. Still smiling, El wrapped her arms about the massive head and kissed the Blazemount on the jaw, hesitating before finally letting him go. “Sweet dreams my friend, perhaps we can visit some of your friends tomorrow with Merrylegs if you’d like.”

Hingham snorted and pulled his head away before turning to disappear into the shadow of his stall. It truly was almost comical how very different the two were; Hingham and Merrylegs. Peeking into the stall beside Hingham, El smiled at another Blazemount who ignored her in favor of getting some water then turned to leave the stables, the sounds of various animals readying themselves for slumber surrounding her. She was halfway to the door when suddenly her feet caught beneath her and she went sprawling with a squawk that startled the nearby occupants of the stables. Then came the tell tale snickering from the shadows as El rolled over and untangled the bit of hay bale twine from her ankles; it had been strung up in her path.

“Jester!” She frowned as she finally managed to pull the string free and before she was even on her feet the soft snickering turned into a louder giggle as the mostly silver Cat slipped from the shadows of one of the stalls used to store hay. The Sapphire danced and pranced a merry little jig around El as she shook the dust from her skirts then threatened to trip her again as he darted beneath them and between her legs. Finally he leapt up onto a vacant saddle bench and balanced precariously on his black paws, his three black tails twitching for balance as he peered at El with his big blue eyes.

“You are going to kill me one of these days, you naughty creature.” She admonished as she moved forward and scooped up the half-grown Lordling and flipped him onto his back in her arms. He batted at the golden cross she wore about her neck before giggling again, his gem and his coat shining in the faint electric lights. Silly lady, I woulds not do that! Jester insisted before twisting in her arms and jumping back down to the ground. He would soon be too large for El to hold him thus, of that the woman was certain, but until then he was usually more than content to let El hold him from time to time. But it was bedtime! He’d watched the woman perform her evening ritual for the past week and had plotted to ambush her in the stables. Rather pleased with his success he pranced and very nearly strutted along in front of El, his tails held high as they twitched, leading the way out of the stables and up along the path towards the house. Next they would find the tiny, brightly colored dragon who was likely already asleep, and Jester knew just where to find her!

Follows me silly lady. I knows where the Sunshine is hidden! And with that he off with the fleetness of a fox, leaving El to gather her skirts and hurry after him. She finally caught up to him at one of the side doors to the manor—not the one she had left through—and only because he kept doubling back to make sure she was still following. It took El several minutes to realize that Jester was leading her on a merry chase around the manor and several more to convince him to just take her to the slumbering firelizard. Surprisingly enough, Sunshine was curled up on a chaise lounge in one of the parlors, a golden splotch standing out against the rich red fabric.

Smiling, she walked over to the plump little lizard and scooped her up with very little protest. In fact, the Noon made a little sleepy peep then allowed herself to be carried back to El’s rooms where the rest of her shinies were waiting. Ribbons, abandoning his nest of ribbons in her bed canopy, swooped into the sitting room and landed on the girl’s shoulder as Jester began to stalk the large russet lump in front of the fireplace—if it weren’t for the double doors and wider hallways, Raymond wouldn’t have fit through the door; as it was he couldn’t follow into the sleeping chamber with the smaller shinies.

“Jester, leave him be, he’s asleep.” El called out softly as she reached out to place a hand on Suliss’urn’s nose as the Kal’daka approached from her nest-like pile of blankets in the corner. Like Raymond she’d been relegated to the sitting room as now that she was full grown, she could not fit comfortably in the smaller sleeping chamber; at least not with three Shadowguards, an Ailoa and a Celeste Cat to contend with.

I’m awake enough to maul irritating pests. Raymond grumbled as he shifted in front of the dying fire, sending Jester scrambling for the open door to the next room. El giggled and waved a hand at the gryphette who was pulling at her hair and nipping her ear but he refused to budge. Walking over to the chair near Raymond, she set Sunshine down—another peep—and placed a hand on the bears back; his fur was thick and looked disconcertingly the color of clotting blood in the dim light. Go to bed, cub. Leave me be.

“Good night, Raymond.” El said softly before retrieving the near comatose firelizard from the chair; honestly El thought the thing could sleep through anything. And yet she always seemed to show up after some grand disaster or another, chirping away happily. Shaking her head she slipped into the sleeping chamber and sure enough her bed was turned down, the decorative pillows moved to a chair in the corner and her nightgown was laid out at the end of the bed. Old Man was already asleep on the padded bench at the foot of the bed and Pounce and Belle had already claimed their half of the bed, sprawled out to take up nearly the entire far side of the bed, lifting their heads as she entered, their glowing eyes following her as she moved to the head of the bed.

Reaching across the bed, she put the sleepy Noon on one of the down pillow and smiled as she watched the firelizard stir just enough to turn in several tight circles before curling into a ball, the tip of her tail draped over her snout as her pudgy sides expanded then deflated with a sigh. In seconds she was asleep and Ribbons was demanding attention. It was his turn for a goodnight kiss and more importantly he wanted to steal the ribbon in El’s hair when she took it out to brush it. Puffing up he readied himself to screech at her only to have it cut short when she pinched his little beak shut. The Fantasy deflated like a leaky balloon then pulled his head free, spreading his wings as he launched himself from El’s shoulder. He didn’t go far, however, choosing to perch at the head of the bed while El’s maid Glinda bustled into the room and began to help the young woman out of her jewelry then her gown.

The older woman was both silent and efficient and within an matter of minutes was pulling the nightgown down over El’s head and gathering up the soiled dress to put it with the others that needed to be washed. Once the woman was gone, El moved over to the small vanity on the other side of the room and sat on the cushioned stool before the mirror. Untying the ribbon in her hair, she quickly unbraided her long red hair and picked up the brush, well aware that Sir Tailor was about to launch an attack on the ribbon she’d set aside. She’d barely done ten strokes through her hair when the Fantasy launched himself, snatched the ribbon and promptly disappeared above the bed’s canopy. El smiled and called over her shoulder. “Goodnight Ribbons.”

It was one hundred strokes to each of three sections of her head—left, right and back—before she finally set the bristle brush down and turned to find Edmund waiting for her with a brush of his own in his mouth. As she settled herself more comfortably on the cushioned stool, Jester wriggled out from under the bed and eyed the bed’s canopy speculatively before deciding that an assault on the ribbon fortress above the bed would require a detailed plan. Now that his “ambush Elouise in the stables” plan was a success he would have the time to plan such a feat, but for now, the young Celeste Cat was sleepy and so jumped up onto the bed, nimbly avoiding the two sprawled hounds and wriggled his way under the covers so that he was wedged between the pillows on which Sunshine slept and Pounce who was on top of the covers and promptly used the Cat lump as a pillow, the only bit of him that protruded being the tip of a black tail.

As the others in the room settled, Edmund prepared for his own brushing, more than content to have his plush coat brushed by the Lady Elouise before he retired to bed with her. Somehow he’d managed to snag a most coveted spot beneath the covers, stretched along the length of her side. A better place to defend her he could not think of. As El applied the brush to his coat, he surveyed the sleeping chamber, looking for anything out of the ordinary and spotting Suliss’urn watching them from the doorway, he winked at the Kal’daka; she snorted in response and turned away to go find her own bed. El would come to say goodnight to her shortly, she knew, and then she could finally go to bed.

After one hundred strokes to each section of Edmund’s fur, he finally stepped away and the Ailoa’s brush was set beside the one El had used for her own hair. Moving to the near side of the bed, he sat and waited as El moved back out into the sitting room and over to the Kal’daka in the corner who was very nearly bigger than Raymond though she was a great deal lither than the lumbering bear shiny. The Rahwenress lifted her head and her lip curled in a smile as El practically collapsed on her, arms going around the massive wolf’s neck even as the girl yawned. Catchy thing, yawns…Su couldn’t help but yawn herself. Sleep well, Mistress. What is it you say? May your dreams be sweet.

“Sweet dreams to you too, Suliss’urn. I hope Raymond’s snoring doesn’t bother you too much; we could always try and fit you through the door again.” The Kal’daka shook her head and by the fire, the Scholar grunted, clearly not quite asleep enough to miss the comment about him. El smiled and pushed to her feet once more then leaned in and kissed the Rahwenress on the nose, glad that she had gone to that festive party shortly after arriving. When the wolf lowered her head and closed her eyes with a sigh, El returned to her sleeping chamber and crossed to the end of the bed where Old Man was watching her with a half-opened eye. Smiling she reached down and stroked his head, her hand coming away with a few pale hairs clinging.

“Goodnight Old Man.” Bending down she kissed the peak of his ear and the old Platinum grunted and closed his eye, his long legs stretching out before him and pushing her away. She smiled and crossed to the far side of the bed to where Belle lay sprawled near the foot of the bed and gave her a good rub behind the ears before kissing her nose. It was perhaps the only time during the day that the Shadow was out of acerbic remarks to make and she simply accepted the gentle nature of her bond. “Goodnight Belle.”

Sweet dreaming, Lady. Belle said as she licked El’s fingers before letting her head drop to the bed in a rather dramatic fashion. Pounce had half pushed himself up by the time El reached him and before she could bid him goodnight and give him a goodnight kiss, he attacked her face, giving her an enthusiastic goodnight kiss before plopping down onto the bed again, nearly squishing Jester whose exposed tail tip twitched furiously. Giving Pounce a good belly rub, El wiped her face on her sleeve and crossed back to the other side of the bed where Edmund was waiting and finally, after what proved to be a two hour long process, or more, climbed into the bed, the Laekenois jumping up behind her so that she was comfortably surrounded on all side by warm bodies. Pulling the covers up under her arms she turned towards Edmund who had stretched out alongside her and gave him a one armed hug before rolling onto her back once more. “Goodnight Edmund, sweet dreams Jester.”

Glinda, who was still in the small side room, reappeared momentarily to turn off all of the electric lights and smiled at the sight of so many shinies piled around her mistress. She really was a good girl, if a bit skittish. Disappearing into the small side room where she was brushing the dust off the gown El had worn that day, she shut the door, but not before she heard a sleepy farewell from Lady Elouise.

“Goodnight Glinda.”

The day had been long and exhausting, he had spent the day putting new rooms together in his home and fixing the chameleon switch in the TARDIS. It no longer stuck out like a sore thumb among the trees, instead it looked looked like one of the boys so to speak. But this work left him covered in grease, fibers, and dirt. He was also cranky from lack of sleep. All he wanted to do all day was sleep but something always came up and ruined that. Now though, now he could sleep! He did his best to scrub the remnants of the day off of him in his quick shower but the evidence was still smeared across his cheek when he was dry except for hair. In his state he grumbled and shrugged it off before shuffling into his bedroom to finish getting ready for bed.

The second he stepped through the bedroom door he stumbled, a string of curses fell through as he looked around for whatever he had tripped on. When he spotted the tail he raised his eyebrow and looked at the foot of his bed quickly. There sat Temani or rather he was sprawled out like a cat in the sun, obviously he was tired too, his wise eyes gave that much away. Apparently if the Professor had hurt his tail the Imp hadn't noticed because he simply took his massive nose and pressed against the Time Lords calve, shooing him toward the closet. Brown eyes blinked back in a moment of confusion before he stroked his fingers through the Imps lush mane. That had become a comfort mechanism for him recently, he probably wouldn't ever shake it.

The change between towel and pj pants had happened faster than it usually did, eager he was. His body relaxed into the plush bed almost the moment they touched, a pillow was grabbed and pulled up under his chest and head. He mushed his cheek against the soft fluffy object and purred in a satisfied manner. The arm that wasn't hugging the pillow any longer fell off the side when his feet rustled under the sheets to untangle themselves. His eyes blinked lazily and before he knew it he was in that half sleep stage, almost there, so close, all he had to do was will it. Something brushed against his hand and made his arm twitch weakly, fingers grasping to find out what exactly had intruded on his sleep.

The tips of his fingers brushed against silken short fur, but that wasn't what tipped him off, the tip came from the vibrations and rather loud purrish sound that followed. Temani had moved over towards the side of the bed that the Professor was laying on, his paws crossed in the front and his massive head resting on them. The skin of the lions back twitched from the light touch of his bonds fingers, he twisted his neck and lapped his large tongue over the forearm dangling down. "Eww, I was clean why ruin it?" He mumbled, he wasn't long for the waking world now. Instead of words the lion gave an amused snort and did it again before settling down in his original position. His tail flicked one time before he settled and allowed bond to get the sleep he knew that the Time Lord deserved.

"Good night to you too, big guy." Came before a yawn, and within seconds he was asleep.

Elouise

Elouise, how could you leave the ritual unfinished?

She should have wished herself a good night.

Within a dream she'd imagine herself waking, rousing herself to begin her morning. None of her shinies would wake with her quite yet--they were still sleeping too deeply and peacefully to disturb--but Elouise's nightmare would truly begin once she found a mirror. Maybe she'd be using one to tidy her hair, maybe she'd merely be passing by a vanity on her way to the hall, but suddenly her reflection would demand the girl's attention.

Her reflection moved of its own accord, eyes wide and frantic, her lips moving in soundless, pleading screams. The reflection had one hand balled into a fist that she pounded against the mirror repeatedly; her other hand fluttered and gestured at her throat wildly, as though her reflected self could no longer breathe. After a few silent, choking gasps, the reflection disappeared entirely.

When it did, Elouise would find that she could no longer speak, no matter how hard she tried to scream. No one, neither shinies nor humans, could hear her. She'd find that they couldn't even see her.

Elouise, who doesn't notice you and how does it feel?

Professor

The Professor would begin his nightmare a little more abruptly than Elouise, in the middle of the woods. No groggy waking up for him, just suddenly standing in dark woods. Nothing scary about that. Look, there's even a bonfire nearby where some normal, ordinary, boring humans are having a nice cookout.

Normal, ordinary, boring humans in the midst of a little frenzy.

It was easy to see how their party had started with a pig roasting on a spit and plenty of coolers packed with ice and bottles of beer. But how they'd managed to go from rowdy fun to this could not be easily explained. The trees were full of their howling screams and cackling glee as they hurled themselves around the campsite, colliding into each other with crazed eyes, smacking fists, and tearing hands. They had picked the roast boar clean and scattered his skeleton among the upturned coolers and destroyed tents; they stepped on shattered glass bottles in bare feet with the same careless abandon that they tore each other's clothes to shreds.

They had not yet noticed The Professor. The Maenad, however, had. From a branch directly overhead the Allure peered down at him with a curious head tilt, pleased to have another reveler for her riotous amusement and--hm. This one wasn't exactly human now was he? He might not be so easy to turn to her whims and succumb to frenzy. He might even try to save these poor fools.

Already his presence had quieted the raving humans. Those that could turned to face him with torn clothes and wild hair, hunched over the bodies of the fallen. Slowly they began to tilt their heads. Was it simple innocent curiosity and dawning humanity? Or would The Professor notice that their heads were tilted to the same side and to the same degree as the Allure who now glared at him furiously from her branch?

Maybe you should leave them to their fate, Professor. The Maenad does not tolerate party crashers.

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((Lines in italics are observations or suggestions but feel free to respond to your situations in any way that you please! As always if you have questions, comments, or feel stuck/don't know what to do then message me~))

Chet lay in his usual sleeping place, his breathing slowing already as he watched the moonlight filter through the glassless windows in the front room. He lounged amid shinies—firelizards, pongbat, ailoa as well as a few others—as he usually did every night, listening to them breathe as they rested. The house around them was silent except for the occasional thump from the attic or the stir in the kitchen just beyond the open threshold not far from the bedding area. The pillows atop the rug he used as a sleeping space were rife with the scent of his shinies, but he found it a comfort. Some might have washed them by now, but he let the odors linger.

It was a pretty night and he had spent the day in the fields, weeding and seeding the late-season plants. It had been a fulfilling day that left him sufficiently tired, but not exhausted. He was bound to sleep soundly tonight, or so he supposed. He snorted a laugh to himself as a steel-hued wing flopped over his face, Parjii shifting in his sleep. Silly Demonhound had been out like a light before Chet had even come to bed, despite having done nothing today except having a dozen staring contests with Tionas and an eating contest with Hetikleyc. All of which he’d won, of course.

Still, he didn’t mind having a wing in his face—it provided some extra comfort for sleep, continually reminding Chet that he was loved. He still missed nights curled with his mother in a room not dissimilar to this one, but he did not think he would trade his new circumstances with old ones. If anything, he would love to have his mother here, because he didn’t think he could ever leave.

It was on that thought that golden eyes fluttered closed.

Elouise stretched, pointing her toes beneath the covers, the feel of the silk blend sheets so real that she didn’t even consider herself still asleep, curled into Edmund’s equally as soft side. No, instead she smiled as she looked to either side of her; Pounce was twitching in his sleep and the pale lavender nose of her Ailoa protector peeked out from beneath the covers. Careful not to disturb the sleeping shinies, El carefully climbed out of the bed and slipped on her fur-lined slippers and grabbed her robe from a hook on one of the bedposts.

As she belted it around her waist, she crossed the room to a door that led into the toilet, though really it was far more than a watercloset. The floor was made of inexplicably warm slate tiles and there was a large roman style tub that El utilized as often as she dared. There was also a strange porcelain contraption that one sat upon to do their business and a little lever to wash it away. It was much preferable to chamber pots, El thought as she crossed in front of the mirror towards the toilet.

She was nearly there when she caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye and paused, turning to face the long wall of mirror in front of a counter that held a sink. Blinking, El drew closer and for a fraction of a second she thought that all was well until her reflection moved when she did not. The sight of herself panicked, clearly screaming as she pounded on the glass was enough to elicit a mirroring response within El and her heart began to race as she watched, horrified as her reflection seemed to suffocate before her very eyes.

El’s hand crept up to her throat, frozen to the spot as tears welled in her eyes. This was madness! Almost before her reflection disappeared she burst into action, fleeing the bathroom and shouting for Edmund and Glinda. At least she was certain she was shouting. Eyes wide and frantic, she became an echo of her reflection, her eyes wide as panic gripped her and she tried to scream; aside from tightness in her throat nothing happened. Tears spilled over and a silent sob shook her as she tripped over her own feet running to her bed. She reached out to shake Edmund awake but he didn’t budge, didn’t even shift in his sleep.

She tried to shout again, but none of the shinies on the bed stirred. Cold terror washed over her as she burst into the sitting room and ran to the curled ball of black fur and tried to shout for Suliss’urn. She would know what to do! She had to! El reached out to shake her and when the Kal’daka didn’t so much as grunt in her sleep…Dear God in heaven what was happening? She stood in the middle of the sitting room, a Kos slumbering on one side and a Kal’daka on the other and screamed with all her might before sinking to the ground and wrapping her arms around her. She wasn’t equipped to handle this sort of madness.

You know those days where all you do is eat and sleep? Kaylan was having one of those days. She’d sleep for a while then get up and shove something edible down her throat and sleep more. At the present moment she was spread out in a big overstuffed chair. Her black sweatshirt hood pulled up over her ears, her legs were dangling over the side of her chair and her mouth was open with a spot of drool dripping out. She muttered a bit and rolled over.

Myishath, being the bum she is, decided it would be the perfect time to wake her. Placing her large body outside the nearest window she peered around till Kaylan was sighted. Opening her large jaws into some sort of a smile, <<KAAYYYYLLLAAAN! WAKE UP! Your house is on fire.>> she screamed in the girl’s mind.

Hearing the message, Kaylan jumped and fell out of her chair and did a ‘fish out of water’ move. “Myishath! What the heck dude?!? I was sleeping.”

<<Yeah annddd...your point>>

“Yeah your right.” Kaylan sighed and rubbed her eyes before curling up on the ground. <<I usually am stupid creature. Now sleep so I can scare you again.>> Kaylan stuck her tongue out at her and fell back asleep. Schmidt came and curled up next to her, tucking his beak under his beak under his wing.

Sleep came easy but what was expected to be a dreamless sleep, because of how exhausted he was the blackness of dead sleep was all he expected. However what he got was not that at all. He woke up in the middle of the woods, feeling like he hadn't even been to sleep at all. A look at his body said otherwise since he was in the pj pants he put on and no shirt at all. There was something wrong with this. He didn't feel like he was sleeping. The woods were not dark as expected at this hour, there was a red-orange glow, not to mention the heat he could feel on his chest, cast over everything. The source was the bonfire in the middle of the what was probably some kind of cookout, though the chaos of the site now didn't actually confirm that in his mind, it was the bones scattered all over and the coolers that were upturned that told him.

That wasn't even the most disturbing part. No, that medal for that went to the behavior of all of the people present. They were everywhere, all of them worse then the next, all rowdy and looking completely savage. In trees and screaming, stepping on glass with bare feet. They were running into each other and beating on each other and there was not an ounce of sanity or humanity in their irises. They looked possessed and that in itself terrified him, his eyes went dark and wide and forgot how to breathe for a moment. What the hell was he doing here!? The look horror on his face went unnoticed by the savage frolicking folk. They continued on with their chaos ripping at each others clothes and perhaps getting even more insane as seconds went.

But even with all the horror rushing through his veins there was no way in hell he could get his limbs to move. He needed to help them, he had to be able to do something. A frantic look around gave him no answers, there was nothing around for him to grab to defend himself either, his stupid screwdriver was on the night table by his bed. He was helpless and he hated that feeling more then the feeling of being alone. Which only made sense seeing as how he wasn't alone here. There were the frenzied people and he had the unnerving feeling the something was looking at him, the feeling ran from his head to his toes and felt like the dull pulse of fire in his veins.

The feeling intensified and the air around him went stale and started to feel like it was pressing down on him. His eyes were closed, though he didn't remember closing them, and right now he actually refused to open them. That fire that was in his veins now felt like ice. He peeked open one eye and his breath hitched, he damn near hiccuped. They were all looking at him! But wait, it gets worse, they all had the exact same expression on there face and when his eyes went wide again and he looked up, like he was about to give a short prayer he saw the Allure in the tree. The Allure holding the exact same expression as the humans, only she looked furious.

What was he supposed to do, they probably saw him as a threat. "I'm not!" His mouth snapped shut and he shook his head quickly, taking a step forward and pointing to himself. "I mean I'm not here to do anything to any of you, you can carry on about your business. I won't interrupt. Unless you need help, if any of you want to stop at anytime I can help." The words tumbled out quickly a tremble in his voice every so often and really ran together in one sentence, but one thing was clear he was regretting actually speaking at all. He should have just run when his pulse raced to begin with.

He shifted on his feet and took another step, attempting to look like he was unphased by everything, a false sense of glee was even forced onto his face. He could fake it right?

It was quiet and still in the jungle, warm and peaceful too. It was the perfect night to sleep out under the stars. Kythen and Kira had been hunting with the smaller of Kythen's two Ikal'daka packs. Ra'ri, Zhas and Mirshann had taken their catch home to share with the others, leaving Ky and Kira to enjoy a bit of alone time. They'd spent a bit of time running and playing tag, just generally enjoying one another's company until they'd tired themselves out and found a nice spot to curl up and rest.

They'd sat and talked for hours until the moon was high in the sky, just like they'd used to do when they was younger, and Kira had drifted to sleep with her head on his shoulder. Unwilling to wake his friend, Kythen had been all too happy to settle in and let her sleep. It was late and he knew Orion was being taken care of by his shinies, he knew when they'd sent him to bed and how long he had played in his room before actually going to sleep. One by one, he felt the minds of his shinies drift away from his own, claimed by sleep. Only a few of them began to stir as night fell and he felt them too. And eventually he felt sleep tugging at him as well. Snuggling closer to Kira and placing and arm around her, he let himself be claimed by sleep.

'You really should get to sleep, it's been dark out for many hours, and I'm sure that you'll feel awful if stay awake all through the night. You pulled an all night last night, and even the strongest person needs to rest ... I'm sure the new additions to the clan will be happy to share a room with someone else for a few days'

The soft voice of the frost made it's way to Tracyn's ear, carrying with it the promise of sleep. She'd been working on digging out the new rooms ever since she'd brought Phry'lyn home, and she certainly couldn't rest now! Tracyn had promised a home to her new clan members, and she had set a standard upon herself that every one of her shinies deserved a room of her home. Phry'lyn had arrived in her life at the very moment that every room in the bastion had been filled, and she'd instantly grabbed a pick and set about digging out a new room. She hadn't even stopped to eat, and the pangs of hunger within her stomach had long since become part of her existence. The only things she had stopped to do was drink and visit the restroom, and if they where not necessities of every day life then she wouldn't have stopped for those either.

Leaning wearily over her pick the woman surveyed her work, a low nod of approval being issued as she looked around the sizable room she'd dug out thus far. The next stage of the building would have been to shore up the walls of the room, and start the process of furnishing the area. However she could barely lift her shovel, let alone start the process of the walling, it seemed that Ka'tra was right - she needed to get some rest before continuing on with the room. It would still be here in the morning, and any minor slippage of the walls could always be cleared out on the morrow. Letting out a low groan the feline woman carefully slipped from the cave like room, leaned heavily on the blazemount, and allowed the frost to lead her along the corridor. She trusted Ka'tra to help lead her to her bedroom, and was rather surprised when they turned in the direction of the kitchens. She was surprised, but the only sign of that surprise was a low 'what' that issued from her lips in a weary whine.

'Yes, yes, I know you're tired, but I don't want you to go to sleep without getting some food in you first. You've spent a lot of energy, and you look horribly weak right now'

Ka'tra's worried tone was enough to make Tracyn obediently keep to her side, she didn't want any of her shinies to worry about her, and it was quite clear that Ka'tra was rather unsettled by her weakness. To be honest Tracyn wasn't enjoying it so much herself either, she hadn't worked for so long in awhile, and her body was now voicing it's dissent at the work that it had performed. She really was out of shape, and knew that she had a lot of work to get herself back to the level of endurance she'd had before coming to Whazzit.

A low groan left her as she was lowered into one of the chairs, and found a bowl of porridge under her nose within moments of sitting down. She didn't even stop to ask how Ka'tra had prepared the food so fast, and simply shoveled the food down her throat with all the speed of a starving person. Tracyn didn't even notice that it was Tracysk that had brought over the food, she certainly didn't notice that she'd fallen asleep in her bowl halfway through eating, and she certainly didn't notice the two shinies carefully pulling her into her bedroom where they laid her upon the bed. All she knew was that she'd fallen into the most wonderful sleep, wrapped up in the warmth of content fullness and drifting away into dreams that she assumed would be most pleasant after working herself haggard for the last two days.

If only she knew of the horrors that where to come ....

Today had been amazing. Growing up she didn't really know a whole lot of other wolf-shifters. So hunting in a pack with Kythen and the Ikal'dakas was a great experience. She had a great time. Especially after they had finished hunting and she got the chance to play tag and chase him around. But the day must always end, and this one ended just as well. She and Kythen had found a great place to relax, just the two of them. They talked, enjoyed each other's company, and just did all the same things that they used to do as a kid.

Slowly, talk tapered off as Kira's head drifted to Kythen's shoulder, cuddling up to him. Her eyelids fell heavy, and soon she drifted off to sleep, breathing in his familiar scent. A peaceful smile was on her face as her breathing deepened and evened out, showing that she had fallen asleep.

Ivan was physically incapable of achieving a relaxed state. It had been that way ever since he could remember, ever since he had been brought under the wing of the Vor v zakone. He had been trained to be always on the alert, and had even learned how to keep a clear head under the influence. They were, after all, Russians, not monks. For the most part, Ivan saw this as an advantage. The only way anyone had ever been able to get the jump on him without also ending up in the hospital was with a tranquilizer dart from several meters away. However, his life on Whazzit had become much simpler. His only foray into organized crime had been rigging Foofi races. So, the light sleeping patterns of a thief no longer suited Ivan's lifestyle. He found the only way for him to achieve deep sleep was through physical exhaustion.

Thankfully, shinies like Taerynn, Adela and Darya were only too happy to oblige. The warrior had been Ivan's greatest asset. Both of them had found their relationship to be mutually advantageous as they both took a very serious pride in their training, and had developed a strict bear-fighting regimen. Day after day, the assassin and his warrior would meet in the dark of some field like old knights at a duel. As Taerynn grew up Ivan was having a harder and harder time pushing her around, but she let him get a few decent holds in before roughing him up. She would wrap her jaws lightly around his arm and send him sprawling, but he always came back, throwing his weight against her knees, trying to knock her down. They went on for as long as they could, fighting and kicking, until steam rose from their bodies. Finally, whoever was judge that day would call the end of the battle, and the pair, smiling and sore would nod respectfully to each other. That night had been particularly rousing. Taerynn had clocked Ivan with a heavy Kosaire paw across the side of his head, leaving him dizzy. He clung to her fur as they stumbled back home, punch drunk and almost giddy. Crossing the threshold, both collapsed into a heap on the couch, asleep almost instantly. They weren't cuddling though. Nope. It was a very intense, post battle ritual. No cuddling.

Da'chetre

Oh dear, Chet. Since when do you sleep upside down?

Upside down in a dank and miserable cave, no less?

Da'chetre would awaken groggily with cold seeped into every hair on his body, hanging upside down with his feet encased in the ice of the fetid cave's ceiling. Before his eyes could adjust to the low, dim lighting the scent of this place would assault him: the smell of festering rot and something altogether sharper, the coppery tang of spilled blood. Smears of it coated the pale walls and formed pools on the ground with blackened lumps of entrails at their center. Most of them were from kills months old...some of them were fresh.

But not too fresh. In a chamber nearby and just out of sight, something awakened with a rumble, a sound not unlike the internal, guttural rumbling of an empty stomach. The beast had traveled far to drag the Mandalorian back to his cave in this barren, frozen wasteland, and judging from the way he'd left Chet hanging like a side of beef in a meat locker his intentions were not friendly.

Da'chetre, what do you know of the wampa?

Elouise

For Elouise there would be no monster to put a face to her fears. The Requiae wanted her alone in her mind. They wanted her trapped and they wanted her vulnerable. None of them would would drift past her windows or roost in the eaves above her despite the decadent spread of emotions she offered. But neither would they leave her to simmer and suffer through the rest of her silent day—they had other people, other dreams to cast shadows on, and quite soon Hattan would shove the remaining hatchlings into conjuring nightmares of their own.

First, he just needed to be rid of this girl.

The walls of the sitting room began to shift, subtly. The walls were slowly compressing in on Elouise, nudging forwards in fractions of inches when she was not looking. Stare too long, however, and the walls would boldly and visibly shove forwards. Furniture and shinies did not impede their movements—both would phase harmlessly through the advancing walls—but did Elouise really want to risk being crushed? Already every exit had disappeared from the sitting room, all but one that the walls were steadily pushing her towards.

This door lead into a dark and endless hallway. It matched the manor's decor but it was surely not of the manor itself: it seemed to stretch for miles. The hall lacked doors—even the one she had entered through—but there were plenty of wall sconces at regular intervals. From the far end, one by one they began to flicker off. The darkness at the end of the hall approached rapidly with a whooshing roar that would fill her ears. Above the roar she might just hear the sound of bladed wings being sharpened against each other.

They wanted her to stand there, they wanted her to wait. Her end would be here soon.

Elouise: wait.


Kaylan

This time there would be no Dragon to warn Kaylan of the very real fire that crackled and roared through her house. It began as a little twist of flame that fed and grew until it crawled across the floor and up the walls, sapping the house's strength until the structure began to groan uneasily; it wouldn't hold for long. Kaylan would only awaken within the nightmare when the ceiling began to peel away and fall in heavy pieces all around her, she'd awaken to smoke already thickening the air. She could still escape but she'd have to hurry. Scream and run, if you must.

Hmm. This nightmare felt a little uninspired. The Titan was not a creature known for his subtlety or grasp of symbolism, but even the blunt Legacy felt a little unimpressed by the inferno he'd started. From his safe vantage point he flexed his meager creativity, shaping the strange forces that allowed the Requiae to stalk tonight through nightmare dreams until he added to Kaylan's ordeal.

Behind her, the flames on the wall began to lurch towards her. Strange shapes began to form and push away from the surface: gaping muzzles with flickering teeth and long, straining legs. For a brief second they disappeared before four canine shapes burst forth made entirely of flame, red-eyed, with open jaws. It took only a moment for the pack to flex their molten haunches and lunge after Kaylan.

Kaylan, get out of the house!

The Professor

The mad souls were too far gone to understand the Professor's words, but his affected expression of glee seemed to deflect their curiosity. A few of them were already turning away and they began to hunch and sway and size up their neighbors, ready to begin the frenzy anew.

The Maenad was not appeased. This man had disrupted her debauchery, and not even the temptation of his palpable fear could distract her from the fact that he wanted to help her victims. They weren't the idle concerns of a weak-willed human—the Allure could feel his convictions and she could not warp them into curiosity or savagery. Frustrated, she screamed at the Professor, temper rising. With a flap of wings she dove out of her tree and hurled her blades at one of her wild gang. When he went down the madmen turned their heads to watch her carve into him, and then one by one they tilted their faces back to the Professor. The Maenad needed only to prod a few into giving in to their instinct to chase: once they leapt forwards the rest followed with howls of glee.

Suddenly exuberant, the Allure would wheel around to follow her hunters, eager to see how long the Professor could avoid them. The woods were dark and her madmen were dim, but there were many of them bouncing their way through the trees. The Professor would be lucky indeed to find that noisy TARDIS of his before they surrounded him...

Perhaps you shouldn't have fixed the chameleon switch before parking in the forest, Professor.

Kythen

Kythen's dream could not be called a nightmare, not yet. One moment he'd be in the peaceful limbo of a dreamless sleep beside Kira and in the next he'd be standing before the only hill in a vast, flat plain. He needed to do nothing more than climb the hill; after all nothing else had grown out of the six-inch carpet of muted yellow grasses that stretched for miles in all directions and a storm began to blow at his back. Strong winds pushed him forwards towards the first step on the path to the house on the hill—looking up he'd see an austere stony manor with an expanse of stormy skies behind it. Dark gray clouds and silver mist whipped in shreds in the background, conjuring gusts and threatening downpours. All he needed to do was follow the winding path to the mahogany door. Not a living thing would stop him.

Don't worry, the statues won't stop you either. They were artfully placed beside the stairs at regular intervals, close enough to touch. Each statue appeared to have been hewn from a single block of the same material that had built the manor, with unreal craftsmanship...well, perhaps real might be a more accurate description. Each statue was breathlessly realistic and posed in a classically Greek manner, though the subjects were all Weyrdfolk. He'd recognize not a one of them, but the collection of strange characters—from a woman with an arched back and the features of a panther to a man with a lizard's face and rough scales who sat with his feet on the stairs—were unmistakably Whazzitian. There were empty pedestals near the thick dark door and its heavy ornate knocker...evidently the owner's collection was not quite finished. Pay that no mind and knock already. The first drops of a heavy storm began to fall, and surely no one with such exquisite taste in statuary would be so cruel as to leave someone out in the rain.

What are you waiting for, Kythen?

Tracyn

Like Kythen, Tracyn would find nothing overtly dangerous about her situation. Unsettling, yes, but nothing would snarl or startle here. That would disturb the dead quiet of this place. That could not be allowed.

Tracyn sat in a tree stripped of all of its leaves whose branches stretched down to a dark and uncertain sky and whose bare roots reached up to a threadbare stretch of dusty ground and bone-white patches of grass. Though stale winds drifted through the branches they would not sway, and not even the narrowest of twigs would snap beneath her weight. She might find it unsettling to be perpetually upside-down while gravity refused to swallow her, with blood continually rushing to her head and the disorientation of vertigo pulsing in her senses every few minutes.

In this nightmare there would be no external force to guide the ocelot, for this ancient tree had twisted its gnarled trunk around a sliver of sorrow. Its focus was inward and Tracyn could do as she pleased, whether she wished to sit and watch the somber sky below or attempt to scale her way up and backwards to the ground. All the while a lifeless breeze would push sluggishly past the dead branches and dead grass, oppressive and heavy. Beyond the faint scent of graveyard dirt and a lingering sense of cold there was nothing but endless silence.

No, there was no danger here...but something wasn't right.

What is bothering your keen senses, Tracyn?

Kira

Enough boring nightmares. How about a good old-fashioned jump scare?

Despite falling asleep beside Kythen, she'd awaken in her own room, in her own bed. Perhaps the pleasant evening spent with the fellow wolfshifter had been the dream along, for she'd be abruptly woken from that peaceful scene by a loud crash and a hollow scream as a crow, wings eight feet wide and dark as sin, burst through her window. With baleful eyes he glared and time slowed as the fragments of glass began to shatter and fling themselves aside in the moonlight, sharp blades to cut the night. But the crow's talons were sharper still; with another dull roar the massive bird threw his black feet forwards, their piercing ends reaching for Kira, stretching—

But she'd awake from that too, just in time. Unfortunately for her, this was still part of the nightmare.

She would jolt awake from the crow's attack in her own bed again, with no Kythen but no monstrous corvid either. Just her own room in a quiet house in the middle of the night. Nothing but a bad dream. Back to sleep now, Kira...

Mere moments before she could sink into sleep completely she'd hear three knocks at the front door, three clear, deliberate knocks. Every twenty seconds, exactly twenty seconds later, the series would begin again, a triplet of perfectly-spaced knocks. No one else in the house appeared to be awake enough to answer the door and send the knocker away, and sleep would be impossible for Kira with those distracting knuckles sending faint vibrations across the floors and through the walls. The stranger at the door suddenly broke the steady rhythm and pounded twice, hard enough to rattle the hinges, clearly impatient with Kira.

Kira: KNOCK. KNOCK.

Ivan

Ivan's nightmare would last for all of fifteen seconds. Every one of them would be steeped in chaos.

He would become aware of himself while in the driver's seat of a slick silver sports car, aggressively and angularly styled on the exterior with a decadent interior of black leather. This might have been a pleasant dream indeed had he not started this nightmare having already partially wrecked the car, with a complete wreck mere moments away.

It was madness on the highway. Not one car remained completely intact. While others had finally come to a stop after lethal side-swiping spinouts and grisly head-on collisions, others were still careening and sliding, tires squealing as they'd suddenly turn hard right or left until they dashed themselves against another car. Despite one flat tire and a crumpled hood that breathed dark smoke Ivan's car still seemed to be holding up, faring far better than the unlucky souls who had flipped their own vehicles in an attempt to avoid the erratic cars.

After narrowly avoided catastrophes he'd see shocked drivers, stunned drivers, and people who desperately tried to climb out of the windows of cars that they had completely lost control over. Moments later, he'd feel the steering wheel in his hands begin to resist him, begin to slowly shudder and turn itself towards a stretch of torn-away guardrail separating the road from a steep drop.

Ivan would not be able to stop it from from drifting into open air and down towards the hopelessly mangled cars that had suffered this fall already. No one had survived it yet. He would be no different.

Ivan's nightmare is over.

-----
((Everyone

I wasn't expecting a nightmare to last just one round but there you are. When one nightmare ends you may start another. Just respond as usual and leave me a note at the end of your post if you'd like to start another one. Feel free to have your character sleep straight through it or wake up in a cold sweat or whatever else. c:

Feel free to ask any questions you have. I tried to find a balance between making things open-ended enough to give you some freedom while not making them too frustratingly vague but if something's not clear let me know.

I also wanted to note that I avoided dragging your shinies into this if they might get hurt. So if you're in a dangerous situation (like Kaylan in her burning house) feel free to assume that it's just your character there with no shinies to worry about.

I apologize for taking so long with this, I underestimated how long it would take to write these. But now that I have a good idea of how many I can write in one sitting I should be able to keep up even if I get busy or sick again. <3))

The warmth of curled shinies and soft pillows disappeared in a cold snap and it was with a shiver and groggy grumble that Da’chetre awoke. Disoriented, he tried to shift—something didn’t seem right…--but found it strangely difficult, something holding his legs fast. Something cold… wait, was he upside down? He only realized this in the way his tail hung awkwardly and the way the ceiling pulled at his feet.

A soft pull of air through his nose was an act of surprise as his eyes dragged open, only to find himself soured by the heavy smell of bad meat on the frigid air. More pleasant to the Mando’s nose—but no less disconcerting, given the circumstances—was the coppery tang of blood. Not his own? Or… maybe it was. It was hard to tell, everything was so cold, he could barely think. Still, his eyes roved the room from his inverted position, trying to figure out what was going on. Had someone caught him? He couldn’t move from here, and that was all he knew. A pang of irritation, easily morphed into anxiousness, lanced through him.

The he heard the rumble and his rounded ears shifted forwards, trying to find the source but found that it was beyond his line of sight. His own growl mixed on the air—daring whatever creature lay beyond to show itself. He knew nothing of the wampa, but he did know the similar (if completely unrelated) Tatooine Howler quite well… he would stand to be the prisoner of neither.

Alone. Trapped. Vulnerable. Check, check and check! Elouise remained curled, her arms hugging her knees to her chest as she sobbed silently. Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve this? It was after the twenty-seventh time of asking herself these questions that she noticed that the room was getting smaller; that Suliss’urn and Raymond were no longer present and that there was now only one door.

At first she doubted that the walls were moving until a chair seemed to disappear into the wall itself. Getting to her feet, Elouise moved quickly towards the door and out into the hall. She looked first one way and then the other though it was impossible to see. When she turned back towards the door, it was gone. Looking back down the hallway she tried to decide on a direction but just as she was about to take a step to the right, the faint, flickering lights further down the hall began to go out, slowly at first then faster as they drew near.

Her heart racing, El turned to the left and took a step in that direction only to have the lights go out one by one, coming closer and closer. It wasn’t just the lights that had her heart going, however; it was also the sound that accompanied it. Like the sound of a roaring wind only the air in the hallway was completely still. And above it all—the roaring and her silent, terrified sobs—was the sound of metal clashing with metal, like a sword fight. Backing up into the wall where seconds before there had been a door, she wrapped her arms around herself and tried once more to scream as the sound crescendo. If someone could just hear her, anyone, she was sure they’d save her!

Things had calmed slightly, the ravaging humans had gone back to there ravaging and he had the opportunity to take the steps he had taken forward, back again. His half clothed body continued to backtrack and he was just about to pivot on his feet and run like hell when the thing in the trees was screaming at him. Apparently it was unhappy with him, for speaking perhaps or maybe it was just because he offered help the ravaging fools. It could have been something else completely seeing as he had no intention to do any of the things that the others were doing and that was probably wrong. He knew that he should probably be feeling the effects of whatever was going, but the Time Lord blood running through his veins was probably hindering that greatly. Either way she was angry and leaving her perch in the tree, against better judgement he froze in his place and his breathing hitched. The attack he was expecting never came instead the Allure attacked one of her wild fiends.

The Professor looked on with horror, the adrenaline and fear preventing him from moving his eyes or his body. He was beginning to get lightheaded on top of everything because he had been involuntarily holding his breath and the realization of that is what made him hack violently to get air back into his lungs. The attention of the savages had previously been on the disembodiment of the poor fool on the ground but now it was back on him. In the only place he didn't truly want it. There was little time to focus on this however, because they were leaping and coming towards him quickly.

A very unmanly squawk left his throat as he turned on his heels and sprinted forward. It was dark but that wasn't important, the Time Lord was now doing something he was familiar with, running, he could maneuver well enough in the dark, bob and weave through the trees and come through with very few scratches, the ones he did get hurt like bloody hell though and the warm trickle of blood did nothing for his state of mind. The howling wasn't helping either, he knew there was some distance between the mob and him yet, but they felt so close and he was becoming short of breath. They were so close with their howling. So close.

His feet hurt and he was sure they were caked with mud from the blood seeping from the cracks in his souls. The breath coming from his was ragged and hitching and he would occasionally forget completely that he needed air to keep this stunt up. But he kept going, stumping, sliding and slipping through those woods, racking his brain for anything he could do to save himself from the body ripping he was sure to get if they got him. They would probably eat him, and it was doubtful that he would be dead when they started ripping into his flesh with their teeth. Those poor humans.

Then a thought hit him, through the burning of his lungs and the screaming of his body and brain he realized how foolish he was. The TARIDS was out here, because the TARDIS was everywhere he went and if it wasn't it was near by. His safety blanket! His insane paranoia made sure of it, finally there really was a method to his madness. He was a madman with a box after all! But no, he groaned throatily, it wasn't a damn box anymore! He had fixed it! F-CK! He stumbled again and actually hit ground before pulling himself up and making a sharp right. He would find the damn thing even if it killed him.

There was an irritation on his chest that had been there since he started running, his hand reached up to absently swipe it out of the way as he ran and his fingers hit metal. The key to the TARDIS! He never took it off which is why it would be around his neck even as he slept but what could would it do him if he couldn't find the bloody thing! Lets call the next events pure and stupid luck because the next time that the Time Lord hit the ground his palm fell against something cold that hummed to life under his fingers. And only one thing in existence ever did that for him. He scrambled up again, the dirt covering him and getting under his nails.

He was safe!

Okay, no he wasn't they were still howling and he could damn near feel their breath on his throat and neck as he fumbled with the key around his neck to open the thing that would save him, had always saved him. His baby, his sexy sexy TARDIS. Oh he could just kiss her right now. He got the door open and he pushed with as much of his might, stumbling in and falling on his ass as he kicked the door closed and pushed his body against it to keep it closed. His hearts exploding in his chest with their rapid beating.

Kaylan’s nose twitched slightly and her ears perked up when the fire started. The smoke made her sit straight up and she blinked her blurry eyes. “Hello?” she called, “Anyone?” peering around she noticed none of her shinies. She stood up then jumped back as a large rock fell. Staring at the ceiling Kaylan noticed small crack turning into gaping gashes as her house started to crumble around her. Her mouth fell open into a wide O and the fire flared and danced in her eyes.

The usual fire that haunted Kayaln in her dreams wasn’t as real as this. The heat seared and the fire roared in her ears as she stood there, paralyzed with fear screaming at the top of her lungs. Her ears were laid flat and her eyes were wide as her house fell apart. When one peice of ceiling fell next to her she lurched to the side and scrambled away, breathing heavy. Her brain finally clicked, get out or die.

Kaylan, still screaming, ran. With no set direction in mind she ran in small circles flailing her arms. As she ran she took in the four canine shapes that burst through the raging inferno. She paused, jaw slack and eyes wide before letting out a blood curdling screech and sprinting towards the door. She wrenched it open and dashed out, not looking behind her to see if they were following her. She ran and ran and screamed then stopped. She took up a fetal position in the sand, sobbed and screamed with eyes squeezed shut.

From the start Kythen could tell something was a little off. But he couldn't quite put a finger on it. There was just something not quite right and he didn't like it. He sniffed the air, trying to catch some scent of another person or anything familiar at all. All he smelled was grass and earth; wind and rain. The winds started a second after that and they almost seemed to be pushing him toward the hill. Though something inside told him it wasn't a good idea, he really had nowhere else to go did he? So he went, at first walking and then speeding up a bit to outrun the impending storm. And then he knew why everything seemed so eerie and there was a sense of....something in the air. There was a mansion. A big, seemingly empty mansion with storm clouds as a backdrop was not what he wanted to see upon reaching the crest of the hill. No sir. Mansions often meant Very Bad Things were about to happen. You know, like being chase around and killed by soul-sucking death-birds. Or strange monsters that trapped people in dungeons and made them go insane. Or...ghosts. Not that he'd had much of a problem with ghosts before but still....

But really, given the choice he'd brave the mansion over standing 'round outside in this sort of storm with no jungle to take cover in. So he followed the steps and the winding path toward the mansion while his instincts screamed at him to run as fast as he could in the other direction. He paused long enough to inspect one of the statues, tapping curiously on the lizard-man's knee and making a face at it when it revealed itself to be nothing more than stone. The realistic detail was strange in it's own right and he suspected some manner of magic had helped to shape the stone into such a lifelike statue. The empty pedestals gave him pause as well and he wondered what might go there but the rain was coming and he did not want to be stuck outside getting rained on for longer than was necessary so he moved to the door and, hesitating only until a drop of rain spattered onto his head before knocking.

Hopefully someone was home and hopefully they weren't a crazy psycho who was going to unleash a bunch of Requiae on him. >.>;

Kira's eyes snapped open at the crash. She flailed wildly, practically falling out of her bed, eyes wide with fear at the bird that was crashing into her room. Time slowed down and she screamed, watching the glass flying at her... those sharp talons, reaching for her. The girl closed her eyes, waiting to feel the bird tearing into her, to feel the glass slicing into her skin...

... and opened them to find herself in her room, breathing heavily and panting. But no sign of the terrifying bird. No sign of a broken window. Sighing, she leaned back against her pillow, trying to slow her frantically beating heart and catch her breath. That's when the first knock came. She sat bolt upright, staring at the door. The knock repeated itself and she reached out with her mind to find any of her shinies... to no avail. Which scared her even more. She couldn't even touch them. It was like they didn't exist. The knock came again and she frowned, ears flat against her skull as she slowly slid out of bed. "Kythen?" she called softly. "Is that you?" Then the two sharp raps, much louder and more forceful than the other knocks. She practically jumped out of her skin, shivering slightly. Slowly she reached out, turning the knob to swing the door open.

The world around her was calm, and silent.

It was something that would highly bother her if she where awake, in her asleep state however there was nothing worrying about the situation. It was the kind of dream she always seemed to have when she dropped down due to exhaustion, one with little sound bar the thrumming of her own heartbeat in her ears. That inner harmony had seen her through many a struggle, through many heartbreaks, and through times of great joy. Yet as relaxed as she was there was something about the air that just didn't feel right, she couldn't decide if it was the staleness, or if it was the heaviness that tried to collapse the branch below her.

Even her body seemed heavy, as if it would be her own weight that finally broke the branch she lounged upon. The very weight of the world tugged at her, as if the gravity of the dream was much different to the world where her body laid within the comforting embrace of the warm bed. That body seemed so far away from her at that moment, leaving her feeling distinctly disorientated ... even her head was starting to throb with a growing pressure that made her feel as if she where hanging upside down despite the fact that she was right side up already.

The dream made no sense, and nothing she did changed it. She knew she was dreaming, and usually she could dictate the direction of the dream once she realized what was going on - today however was different as her body refused to move from it's perch. A sluggish breeze drifted through her fur, sending a chill through her, and the peculiar scent of graves lingered within her nose - yet she could not see the graves to which that scent belonged.

It was an unsettling scent, one that carried foreboding with it, but not enough for her to figure out what it was that was bothering her. She'd never figure it out, her mind had already drifted off as she allowed her dreams to carry her where they desired.

Ivan's heart pumped and his eyes gleamed with adrenaline as he darted through the chaos. He loved this car. Even in the worst of situations she handled like a dream, sneaking around the mangled mess of the highwaySure, he had lost both his mirrors and the driver's side door was dented in, but those were the things that happened during a chase. Wasn't he in a chase? He couldn't remember. It didn't really matter. The only important thing was that he stayed in control. The smoke from the hood threatened to obscure his vision, but he was still able to avoid a car that careened by in the oppisite direction, spinning out of control. Ivan frowned as he watched drivers scramble from burning wreckages. This couldn't have been just a chase. What was happening? He pulled a hard right turn, brakes screeching in protest as he swerved to avoid a girl in the road, confused and covered in blood. He pulled the steering wheel to correct his manuever but it just would not go.

Ivan's instincts screamed in his head as he yanked pointlessly on the steering wheel. Time slowed to a standstill as the mercedes made a sickening lurch for the guardrail. This was it, he thought as the nose of the car slid over the edge. This was what it felt like to be completely out of control. He couldn't give up, he had to be able to do something. He jammed the car into reverse and stomped on the gas, hoping that he could pull himself back into the roadway, but the car had long since run out of pavement. The rock face was far beneath him and he was falling, falling down. As time had slowed down, it sped up twice as fast to catch up so that Ivan didn't even have time to pray as he watched the deadly embrace of the earth rise to meet him. CRUNCH.

Ivan sat up in a cold sweat, gasping desperately for air. But he couldn't move. Something was holding him tightly against his chest, like the seatbelt in the car he had just crashed. Ivan made a grab for it and his hands found...fur. He let his mind slowly take in all that was around him. There was warmth behind him and the slow rising and falling of Taerynn's breath. He could feel the low heartbeat rumbling against his back. He couldn't move, because when his young warrior Kos played teddybear, she played to win, but he was alive. The Russian's own heartbeat slowed to it's normal pace as he let the furry warmth envelop him. He was still so tired, if he could just drift...back...off...

((Hey guys, sorry for the delay. My post isn't quite ready yet but I just wanted to make a note that I am aware of the April 13th deadline and a post will be up by then. <3

Things at Casa del Swampy are just a little ridiculous right now, and likely will continue to be, but it will at least be quieter soon.

Feel free to join if you were thinking about it!))

((I apologize for this post being rough and uneven in places...))

Da'chetre

Da'chetre's growl would be met with, of all things, a whimper. With a shuffling of feet, the creature would reveal itself, poking a shaggy white head around from a pile of rock. The wampa leaned further out tentatively to reveal a Requia perched comfortably on his bulky shoulder; they both tilted their heads to extreme angles, the wampa attempting to mimic the severe twisting of The Chimaera's neck that nearly turned his head upside down. Rather, the Legacy had just turned Da'chetre right side up!

The Mando was still hanging by his ankles—that hadn't changed—but the Chimaera rather enjoyed this new perspective. Closer, wampa! The filthy beast shuffled closer and plopped himself heavily on the ground before the jaguar...for a wampa, he was disconcertingly placid, despite the gore that matted his coat and fouled the breath he wheezed carelessly towards the strung-up Chet. The Chimaera flipped his head back up and ran a bladed wing fondly through the wampa's fur before giving him an insistent nudge. With a sound akin to a purr, the wampa foraged around the remains of an ancient kill until he found a bone with shreds of meat still clinging to it. Clumsily the wampa offered it to Chet—he was to eat it, he was a guest in this cave, guests were to be treated well...right?—but his coordination seemed to be severely affected. He manged only to poke Chet in the throat and chest a few times before the Chimaera took offense. With no warning the Legacy flipped his head, turning his mirthful silver eye away in favor of fixing the wampa in the glare of his other eye, the red eye. Shrieking, the Chimaera struck his blades against the neck of the cave beast with swift and sudden violence.

The wampa responded in kind. Specifically, he improved his grip on the bone and used it to smack Da'chetre roughly across the face. The Chimaera cackled, surprised but pleased, and the wampa sat back on his haunches and grinned toothily before preparing another upsmack to the jaguar's head.

...You gonna sit there and take that, Chet?

Elouise

Despite her best efforts, Elouise's screams would not be heart. Despite her best efforts, Elouise's screams would not save her. In fact...they might just end her.

The more she screamed her silent screams...the worse her situation became. Each scream pulled the end of the fathomless corridor ever closer, it shattered lamps on the walls, it rumbled the very floors of the manor. The intensity surged out of control—what began as simple cracks in the light fixtures soon became deafening shatters of glass and the roar thundered steadily louder. The walls shook, the entire hallway began to rattle.

Half of the few remaining lights had already burst, but in the glow of those that still flickered Elouise would see glinting steel and twisted beaks. The Requiae that hadn't yet touched on nightmares of their own drifted ever closer; they brought with them discordant, clashing sounds and harsh screeches. They were very close now. They were almost upon her.

The hallway began to tear apart at its seams. Bright light and bottomless dark poured through the cracks...any moment now this nightmare would simply cease to be and they would all be free to hunt. As the Requiae began to burst through the tears the final span of untouched floor beneath Elouise began to shift. It fell apart in a grainy swirl and twisted into a funnel...from the very depth of it came one of Elouise's own screams, heard at last, and then she would be forcibly dragged down into it, falling far and fast until this nightmare of hers would end.

Elouise's nightmare is over.

The Professor

Out in the dark, the Maenad's revelers were rather ineffective at actually tracking the Professor. Not a one of them could be bothered to follow his tracks through the mud or sniff at spilled blood to memorize his scent, and the painted Maenad might have flayed the skin from their backsides for their mindless fervor if they weren't so...terrifying because of it. While the Maenad coasted overhead with her mind on the pulse of the time lord's emotions, she watched her wild men sweep the forest. Through cycles of shambling and sprinting they carried out their search, they dragged their feet and tilted their head towards an errant sound before they blindly tore off in its direction. Several times they came within feet and seconds of stumbling across the Professor through pure chance.

They were not as lucky as he, it would seem, but the Professor was not as well off as he believed. He had his TARDIS, yes, the mad man had his box again...but so did the Maenad. The Professor might breathe a sigh of relief once he had the door closed, but soon enough he'd have to turn around and there he'd see the Maenad, sitting on his console with a curious tilt to her head as she observed the different lights and levers. With a chirp, she hopped onto a panel and pushed at buttons with her toes and—did she just turn off the emergency brake? Maybe. She definitely opened those doors though. After all, what good is Pandora's box if it remains closed for all of eternity?

It wouldn't take long for the frenzied masses to gather at the doors of the TARDIS. They would grab him before he could run and their ragged hands would drag him back into the realm of humans and their catastrophic problems. The Professor's end would be swift—he might even wake up before they tore his two hearts into shreds—but the Maenad had an entire relative dimension to explore and so few mad men to dismantle it...poor, poor, sexy TARDIS...

The Professor's nightmare is over.

Kaylan

Oh, what fun! The hounds could scarcely keep up. They crowded the door and tripped down the stairs and one by one they disappeared in a splash of molten rock. One fell to his fellow's jaws. Another fell through the crumbling stairs, his final howls twisting into the roaring flames that licked the foundation of the house. The third was struck by a smoldering timber carved by the Titan himself and the final canine would make it to the sands before the Titan would strike him down. With a joyful crow the dark Requia winged his way through the smoke and fire, reducing wall paper to dust and supporting beams to flaking embers. His normally pale blades scorched red-hot; they practically glowed through a haze of acrid smoke trailing over the dark sky.

The last hellhound lunged for Kaylan, lips drawn back, muzzle twisted—and leapt clear over her. She would feel the heat radiating from his body, she alone would hear a tiny whimper before his molten paws could hit the sand again. The Titan closed in very quickly and the blades of one wing cleaved through the burning rock of the hound's torso; instantly it would evaporate in a thousand spinning embers that would char into dust to cover Kaylan's prone form.

The Titan cackled as he circled around, his dull eyes reflecting fire as he stared down the frightened girl. Heavily he settled upon the sands, the tips of his wings sending up little sparks of flame wherever they brushed the grains. He was feeling quite powerful now, quite confident in his ability to conjure destructive forces and destroy them just as easily. Kaylan's very real fear certainly aided things, and he took one long draught of her terror with a deep inhale. Now. How could...he just needed to...replenish that fear.

With one little gesture of his wing towards Kaylan he conjured a jet of flame that roared along the ground, close enough to singe her hair. Whoops! Maybe if he—The Titan raised both wings and then swept them forwards, creating a crackling wall of fire that rapidly advanced towards Kaylan. Either she'd come to her senses and flee, kickstarting her emotions, or she'd watch the flames hiss closer and provide the Titan with one final, tantalizing meal in her last moments.

I don't envy your choice, Kaylan.

Kira

Kira might be surprised by what stood on the other side of the door. Those final knocks had been booming, ominous. But the girl who stood blinking out in the dark was small and slight and couldn't have been older than Kira. She smiled an empty smile as the door swung open and tilted her chin thoughtfully. “Ky—then. I—no, that's not right. That's not it at all.” She frowned at this realization and slid her head back upright, eyes blank and sullen before they brightened suddenly. The smile returned, slow and wide. “May I come in...?”

She made no move to wedge her way in, this thin little slip of a girl. She merely stood there with that curious glint in her eyes floating above a lopsided smile. “It's dark out here. I've—been traveling,” she explained before trailing off. The smile twitched and faded slightly. “You have to...say it.” She sounded a little exasperated. Her hair was tousled, her cloak was rumpled and falling off of one shoulder, she stood with her weight shifted oddly to the side and an empty lantern held awkwardly in her hand, as though she didn't know what to do with it. “Say I can come inside.” Perhaps she had been traveling a very long time and needed a few minutes to rest her weary feet. “Say it.” Maybe she had gone half-mad.

“Say I can come in.”

Well, Kira?

Tracyn

The silence shifted. It was not peaceful here. Tracyn should not be finding serenity in the branches of this dying tree.

Maybe it was her fault. Not the fault of the ocelot, but the fault of the spirit that had sealed herself away in the heart of this weeping oak. Maybe she wasn't making herself clear. This was a place of tragedy.

With little rustles that sounded like gasps, the bark on the branches began to wither and darken; the old tree creaked and groaned with the effort of keeping its roots planted against gravity. Wind no longer stirred its branches and as the breezes slipped away the sky began to move. Little twists of clouds and fog drifted away from each other: the lighter mists leapt to the fringes while the darker clouds were drawn towards the tree. They formed a dark halo beneath the reaching fingers of its branches as though they had been summoned, waiting.

The knot at the heart of the tree began to untwist. Two sad red eyes peered out at Tracyn before they blinked and hardened into a glare. Tracyn did not belong in this tree. She did not belong here and this was not her nightmare. After a moment of dead silence those red eyes would watch Tracyn fall into the sky. The tree simply stopped holding her; it let the endless sky reach out to her with empty hands as she fell through the void. With no ground to stop her she could fall forever with nothing but fear and the twin sensations of sickening speed and suffocating tightness...but after several agonizing minutes she'd be thrown back into her physical body with sudden yet painless force.

Tracyn's nightmare is over.

Ivan

((I wish I didn't have to, but I'll be continuing Kythen's nightmare with Ivan as there's a Requia in there that needs revealing...))

The woman in the house upon the hill did not like to be kept waiting and liked being ignored even less. When she realized the guest in her statuary had vanished, she set her wine glass down upon the table and glared at it. She traced a finger along the crack that formed in the glass and followed a rivulet of wine down to the mahogany table, and as she dragged a fingernail through the flawless varnish of the tabletop she sought out a new victim and dragged him to these stormy plains.

This time around she would not ease her victim into this dreamscape. Ivan would feel his body hit the ground without the sensation of falling beforehand and he would awaken in the shadow of the very first step up to the house on the hill. The storms in the sky were darker now and crept lower—they sat ominously on the horizon as the wind suddenly died and the grasses went silently still. With a ripple, the parched plain suddenly began to swirl in the grips of a wind that hadn't reached it yet and the sky behind him began to move. Clouds fled to the far horizon, rushing overhead in disorienting billows at impossible speeds...the winds that pushed them would not be far behind.

The manor waited at the top of the hill, the only shelter for miles around. A warm glow filtered through its windows and cast a gentle light on the cold stone steps that wound their way around masterpiece statues with their lively poses and lifelike expressions...but now was not the time for admiring fine artwork, unless Ivan wanted to take a moment to appreciate the heavy and intricately wrought iron knocker on the solid front doors.

Don't keep her waiting, Ivan.

Kaylan’s legs had been curled underneath her for too long. All she could do was kneel there watching the hellhound grow closer, I hope this doesn’t hurt she thought and closed her eyes. But the hellhound soared right over her, what a stroke of luck! Her ears picked up the tiny whimper and she turned towards the split in half hound. She reached out to pat it but as she reached it exploded covering her with dust.

Using the front of her shirt she wiped the dust out of her eyes and peered around to find her helper. She spotted the powerful requiae as he advanced, sending up sparks with his wings. “Thank you for the help. Is there-” her words were cut short when the Titan inhaled her fear, “That works.” she muttered, doubled over in the sand. She didn’t feel as frightened anymore, never mind. More fire, yay fear!

“Dude! Careful, you singed my hair!” she spat at him, standing up straight. “You should be more careful.” with a nod she brushed off her shirt front and opened her mouth in a wide O shape. The fire wall hissing towards her kickstarted her legs and she stumbled backwards in the sand falling on her butt. She tried crawling but she just fell again. So she curled on the sand and hoped it would be over soon.