crossing_lostrp | Dream Weaver

purplerhino.livejournal.com posting in

Who: Oona
When: Day 28, near midnight
Where: Bunker
Invited: Methos
Status: Incomplete

Oona somehow knew she was dreaming. She faced an oval mirror rimmed in gold with intricate carvings of dragons embracing the glass. But the surface was not reflective. She moved to stare into the glass and faced not herself, but a man with nothing but blackness behind him.

He looked back at her. He, too, was albino. He was not so much handsome as beautiful, pretty even, but both sad and hardened all at once. His face was longer, more angular than hers, with high and prominent cheekbones and almond shaped eyes slanted up. The deep red of his eyes were haunted. His long white hair moved as if he were in a strong breeze. He was tall and almost painfully thin. He was not human, though he resembled one. She felt the kinship between them as if it were a physical link. This was her father. She somehow just knew it. At his hip was a huge, black sword that seemed alive with malevolence and she instantly both feared and loathed the thing. No, not a thing, it was a demon. A powerful one at that, bound to the form of a sword. The man held out his hand and pressed it to the glass. On his finger was the same ring she wore, the gem holding the shifting darkness within.

Oona mirrored the gesture.

His long, pale fingers grasped hers through the glass. She was not afraid. Even as he pulled her through, into the blackness. .

The hand holding hers was gone and she was alone in the black.

The darkness disappeared in a blaze of fire, the silence ripped apart by screams of fear and pain.

She was standing on a road in the middle of a city. A city in flames. Human men dressed in blood and armor coursed through the street, slaughtering as they went. The street was wet with blood.

Slender, elfin looking men with elegant armor and sweeping swords fought the humans, and fell. The human’s killed children, women, human slaves. They rarely seemed to care for anything other than killing, except to take jewels and gold, from homes and bodies.

She saw him then. His white hair stained with splatters of blood. That foul sword in his hand as he cut through any who came at him. Slender though he was he wielded the huge monstrosity with one hand, as if it weighed nothing. But he was not fighting the crudely armored humans. He was leading them. He was killing his own people.

“Blood and souls! Blood and souls for my lord Arioch!” He screamed above the fray, his red eyes taking an unholy joy in the slaughter.

And she could feel it, see it. His sword wasn’t just killing, it was devouring the souls of those it cut down, sucking them away, destroying them, and feeding some of the energy back into her father. Making him stronger, faster, a whirling flurry of death.

The city disappeared and she stood on top of a sand dune looking down on a small group of tents, people running and screaming as four men on horseback galloped through, cutting down the people, setting fire to the tents. There was the same fierce joy there as her father had shown. One of the four’s horse reared up and he turned. His long hair was wild and appeared either caked and dry from the sand and desert, or a really bad wig. Half of his face was covered with woad. But the desert was no place for a Pict or Celt. His green eyes met hers across the sand blasted distance.

He was suddenly replaced by a giant head of lettuce. It developed a face. “Ware the farmer. You prosper for his snares.” Oona stood hands on hips. “I didn’t know salad could talk.”

Part One... Part two in next post

Current Mood: sleepy

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From:

purplerhino.livejournal.com

He was suddenly replaced by a giant head of lettuce. It developed a face. “Ware the farmer. You prosper for his snares.” Oona stood hands on hips. “I didn’t know salad could talk.”

There was a crashing sound behind her, and she turned to see the jungle’s trees shaking and being ripped up. Out crashed a giant, monstrous… carrot.

It had legs, and a giant, gaping maw. “Revenge,” it roared.

Afraid for the first time, she ran. Ran through the jungle until she stumbled past a tree and stepped into a giant library. She smelled chemicals and herbs. A young man, her father as sixteen or so, was apparently studying a book and casting some sort of spell. A green glow appeared and he seemed to summon a rabbit. No, a white hare. The hare winked at her.

One library faded to another and a man of middle age sat making notes from a pile of tomes. The books all seemed to have eyes that watched her as she walked closer to this one.

“I’ve heard that the walls have ears, but not that the books have eyes.” The man looked up and the corner of his mouth quirked up a little.

He had the same eyes as the warrior in the dessert.

“Does this mean they read you?” She asked.

The library disappeared and a bonfire of books screamed and their eyes wept. Oona’s throat choked with anger, and her eyes stung with smoke and rage. The swastika fluttered on flags to either side and Nazi soldiers fed the books to the flames.

She looked up at the smoke, and looking down again it now came from two large smoke stacks. It didn’t smell of paper and ink. This smelled like cooked meat.

She heard a train whistle and she pulled the hood of her cloak, which had just appeared, over to hide her face. She had to get down there. In her hand was a sword. Not much against machine guns and hatred.

She noticed movement to the side, and her father stood there, but he faded, and the man with the green eyes stood in his stead. She recognized him now. He had a sword across his back somewhere else.

He looked at her and she gestured to the death camp. “They have a demon bound to a stone. I have to get it or they will use it to sweep over the world, and the man eating carrots will take over.”

From:

beccadg.livejournal.com

(OOC: Sorry for being so slow. I've been under the weather. The man eating carrots are definitely an obvious dream element. *g*)

Adam tossed restlessly in his sleep. It wasn't that he couldn't fall asleep. That would've been more peaceful. It was the dreams he was having. Adam road on a pale horse as if he was born to ride. He chased down men, women and children with equal joy listening to their screams of fear and pain. The feeling of dark joy sang in him and appalled him all at once. As the feeling of horror grew in Adam the horse beneath him seemed to feel it and reared. He clung to it glancing around wishing to escape. His eyes caught sight of a woman who had no place under the desert's hot sun. Her skin was the white of a true albino. Before Adam could wonder at the sight he was suddenly tossed from his horse, falling and falling to where?

The question had an answer when he landed with a thump in a library chair. Adam looked about. While the joy he'd felt in the desert had been dark and fierce the one that filled him slowly as he drew books from their shelves and built a pile of tomes near the chair was so light it made his steps light. Once Adam felt he had all he needed to research... something... he sat down to begin taking notes from the pile of tomes. Somehow he'd taken no notice of how the books all seemed to have eyes before they began to watch someone other than him. The albino, they watched her as she walked closer to Adam. He spoke before he looked directly at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up a little. If she responded he didn't hear it.

The roar of the bonfire and the screams of the burning books drowned out any words. Some of the passion Adam had felt riding down all before him stirred in him, but this time it had a focus. Before it had been an unfocused hungry thing. Now it wanted those who would burn the books. First his eyes found the flags with their swastikas, but then they saw the Nazi soldiers. In that moment it occurred to him he should have his sword in his hands. Between his glancing down to his sword and up again the bonfire of books had become a pair of large smoke belching stacks. Adam raised his sword defensively, recognizing the smell of cooked meat from the stacks. Movement to his side drew his attention. Adam found the albion standing there.

This time when she spoke he heard her. Somehow her mention of a demon bound to a stone and man eating carrots meant little to Adam. What mattered was that she needed to get into the death camp. He wanted to get into it and tear it down. Adam nodded to her, "We have to get in there. The question is how are we going to get in there and stop the man eating carrots?"

From:

purplerhino.livejournal.com

Oona nodded to the green eyed man. What was his name? She’d heard it at the meeting. Adam. Yes, that was it.

She heard strains of music fill the air. Carl Orff’s ‘O Fortuna’ from Carmina Burana started to play rather loudly as Oona drew back on her bow and took out one of the guards in a look out tower with an arrow through his throat.

She took out a second guard at the only other tower that could see them. There were few guards looking out. They seemed to be more interested in holding what was inside.

She and Adam ran down a slight incline to the metal chain link fence. She dropped a bag she had slung over her shoulder and drew out a pair of wire cutters making short work of the fence.

(No this was wrong. She had been much lower to the ground. No bow, no help, just… hopping through. The part of her that realized she was dreaming knew this.)

The music still played loudly, but no one inside seemed to notice. Pale figures in tattered clothing looked on as she ran through the camp. They were skeletal thin, empty eyed. Tears filled her eyes and made running hard. She couldn’t help them. They hadn’t the strength to run, and where would they go? All around them people would turn them in.

Guards finally noticed the two intruders and began to shoot at them. The bullets seemed to pass through Adam, and bounce off something around her that lit of with green light as they impacted. She dropped her bag and drew her sword, even as Adam drew his. They struck as one.

Blood splattered as they cut through the soldiers. She felt her blade sinking into flesh, hitting bone as she drew it through, freeing it to strike the next target. Blood soaked her clothing, her pants and shirt were already red, but now drew dark and wet.

The music in the background ceased.

“This way.” Oona shouted, as they dispatched the last of what was surely the first wave of soldiers. “I can feel it.”

She led them down a road between wooden buildings. They pulled up short when they faced an old man.

“Stop! Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, 'ere the other side he see.” He spoke with a creaky voice.

“This is not the time for bad poetry.” Oona felt her nose twitch. She hadn’t noticed she had somehow grown long ears atop her head and had a huge pocket watch on a chain at her waist. “We’re late for a very important date, don’t you know?”

“What is your name?” The old man pointed at her.

“Princess Oona Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third” She answered.

“What is your quest?” The old man squinted at her.

“To steal the stone that holds a demon Hitler will use to defeat the allies… and turn people into man eating carrots.” She tapped her foot and checked her giant pocket watch. “Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late! ”

“What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?” The old man grinned.

Oona’s jaw dropped and she looked to Adam, shrugging.

(Shall we play name the refrences? ::snicker:: Feel free to create any freaky, funny and insane Methos oriented stuff, and to build on the quest. ;) This is a dream on crack, after all.)

From:

starborn-scribe.livejournal.com

Shall we play name the refrences?

Love it! *bounces*

From:

purplerhino.livejournal.com

"African or European Swallow?" The green eyes man flickered, became two men in one space. The last Emperor and Adam. The dream was overlapping.

"I don't know." The old man answered. The non-human albino stepped forward and drew his sword, cutting the old man down in the same motion, claiming his soul. The huge black sword seemed to flicker with black flames. The runes on the blade glowed red.

The armored man turned to look at both Oona and Adam. The horror of the concentration camp around them was gone, turned to the blackness.

"You're Elric." Oona met the ruby eyes with her pink ones. "My father. Mother told me about you." She seemed to suddenly realize she remembered. Remembered his mother, who and what she was.

Her appearance had returned to normal. No rabbit ears, no pocket watch.

"I'm what remains of him." The sword flickered and disappeared. "In a dream, or memory, or a spell cast before my fate claimed me." A great wound seemed to appear in his chest, open right through his heart, and out the back. "Stormbringer always claims what it demands." The wound faded.

Oona licked her lips and looked nervously at Adam.

So did the man who brought down his own people out of vengeance.

"You cannot ever take back the past, the wrongs done. It's worthless to try. You can only do your best and be true to yourself, whoever you may be." If Elric spoke of himself or to Adam was unclear.

His eyes returned to Oona. "You should have been a princess, wrapped in the finest silks, learning magic from the most gifted arcane scholars. I never knew you had been conceived. Your mother wished it that way. She taught you her own magic. How she came by the Ring of Kings I know not. She must have taken it from my body. The sign of royalty is yours. You are capable of much if you were not weakened by this state we share. You can draw strength from other sources."

He turned his eyes back to Adam. "I see so much of me in you. We are much the same, you and I. My child can protect you from vengeance of old. She has the power when she can find it. You must keep her from the sword. It seeks her. It wants all that was mine. It's temptation is hard to resist. Only one with their own darkness can face it though resisting the power will be hard. If it cannot make her wield it, it will tempt another to do so, and take her soul. I do not know if you have the strength, but you do have the dark."

Old eyes, full of pain and regret returned to Oona. "You must be willing to help him. You can keep vengeance at bay, and hide that which identifies him to his own. But the choice is to each of you. Fate is double edged. And there are few accidents where our blood is concerned."

Elric stepped back then tossed something to Adam. It was a platinum charm on a necklace of the same metal. It was a set of scales in balance. Libra?

"Now, both of you... Wake up."

From:

beccadg.livejournal.com

(Started this after all my apologizing and got sidetracked by RL. *Facepalm.* Originally my brain locked up at the Monty Python. Here goes...)

Adam heard the old man's question, but it felt out of sync. He couldn't say for certain if it felt out of sync with him, or the world. When the non-human albino stepped forward out of the space they'd stood in together, Adam had his answer. He stumbled back, watching the other cut down the old man with a huge black sword that seemed to flicker with black flames.

As the armored man turned to look at them Adam's eyes were caught by the ruby red of the other man's eyes. He took no notice of how the camp around them turned to blackness. It didn't matter next to the odd feeling of kinship he had meeting those alien eyes. Adam couldn't say where the feeling came from, but he knew it ran deeper than armor or swords.

Oona spoke a name, "Elric," and for all the feeling of kinship it struck no cord in Adam. He watched how she returned to normal speaking to the man she called father -- watched too how the huge black sword disappeared. Adam didn't follow Elric's explanation of what he was, his attention on the great wound that seemed to appear right through the man's heart then fade.

Elric's words once he and Oona were looking at him -- the words, "You cannot ever take back the past, the wrongs done," those struck a cord. They rang through Adam and he found a name he'd lost, his own "Methos." Somewhere in the weight of the words as they struck him was the link, the connection he felt with Elric. There was something very similar in their pasts.

Methos listened passively while the man he shared a common tragedy with spoke to his daughter of how she should've been a princess. He didn't flinch when Elric's eyes returned to him, hearing out his words. Methos smiled thinly as the other spoke of their similarities. He nodded with Elric's insistence he must keep Oona from the sword, not even sure why.

The smile on Methos face widened at the mention of the temptation being hard to resist a response to the words resting on his tongue. Quietly he heard out the rest of Elric's words before he told him with a grin, "I'm tougher than I look." While Methos said it easily enough, there was a trace of uncertainty in him. What would the sword feel like in his hands?

He watched Elric turn eyes full of pain and regret to his daughter, listening to him speak to her about him -- about something she could do for him if she chose to. Methos frowned slightly, the words "fate is double edge" stabbing at him. He reflexively reached out to catch the item Elric tossed to him. Methos didn't truly see it until he was holding it.

The platinum charm on it's necklace of the same metal felt good in his hand. Methos looked at it curiously, not certain what to make of it being a set of balanced scales. His head came up from his examination of the charm at Elric's words. Methos opened his mouth to protest, and found himself waking up before the words could pass his lips. Or he seemed to be awake.

Methos felt the very solid presence of the charm still in his hand. He looked down at it not sure what to do next. Find Oona? Hide the charm somewhere? Oddest to him was a feeling he should put it on. It had come to Methos by magic -- likely was some manner of magic itself, Methos couldn't know what would happen if he put it on yet the feeling he should remained.

Uncertain about the charm he decided he should find Oona. Methos slid the charm into a pocket, resisting the urge to put on, and went in search of her.