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misrecalled_tdms[((OOC note: This fourth wall is open to any character who would be game legal. If a character who posted here reserves or apps in September, these threads can be considered game canon as long as all involved agree. If a character doesn't app, for those in game already... wow that was a weird dream. Wait, what did you dream about again?))]
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For Jordan, still comatose after the magical mishap that had resulted in the first Misrecalled being summoned, it began with a dream. A dream so strong, that it had her stirring fitfully even in her current state; and eventually caused her to release an uncontrolled burst of magic.
For everyone else, unaware of what was coming, it began with falling asleep. Whether or not someone was tired before hand, whether they even could sleep, they simply fell asleep - or a reasonable facsimile - wherever they happened to be. Maybe they remembered falling asleep, maybe they didn't. But either way they suddenly found themselves in... a very strange place.
First all there was that they could see was a vast featureless plain in shining gold and silken draperies. But that was only a glimpse, for just by existing in this space, each dreamer warps it. Changes it. Not all at once, but bits, constantly changing between them and whomever they encounter. Each person brings with them bits of three places... where they had been last, a familiar place from memory, and whatever place they call home. But this is constantly changing and shifting, more so the more dreamers are present in any space. Before long, Bits of different landscapes, different environments, even different weather conditions will cover the landscape like some crazy patchwork quilt. Here a bit of a sunny, idyllic garden, there a section of shadowy, graffiti covered slum. To one side, a chunk of charming cobblestone streets under sunset tinged skies, to the other, a forest of towering trees, some of which seem to be moving. And glimpsed through the gaps between some of the odd terrain sections, some remainder of the poorly defined golden space, hung with colorful draperies could still be seen.
And the ground itself was not immune to the changes. While the ground on which they stood might seem stable enough, if someone walked more than a few paces in any direction, that could change. Solid ground could become shifting sand. Or water. Or a wall might suddenly appear to block their path. Doors might lead to places they definitely shouldn't or open to the edge of a sheer cliff. And if the complete lack of logic to the landscape wasn't enough of an indication that this was some sort of dream, then the unreadable signs would clinch it. Because any signs - or indeed, anything with writing on it that they didn't have on their person when they arrived - was covered with nothing but unreadable gibberish.
And it got even more surreal when a dreamer spotted anyone else in the dreamspace, or even looked at their own reflection - for each person appears in the dream in whatever way they see themselves. So someone with low self confidence might be short, someone with a huge ego might tower. If someone sees themselves as a horrible criminal who needs to repent, they might be in prison togs. If the change is dramatic enough people who know each other well might still fail to recognize each other within the dreaming.
Now normally such a bizarre dream might have been put down to stress, a meal that disagreed with them, or maybe indulging in some sort of illicit substance, but this clearly was no ordinary dream, if for no other reason than that in this dream, they weren't alone. The other people they encounter are not just figments of their imagination, and they too change the shared dream space.
Those already either on the Isle or in the kingdom of Auradon proper would find themselves all thrown together in the bizarre dreamworld. And that would have been strange enough. But more than the current populations of Auradon and the Isle could be found in this place. Maybe the faces where familiar. Maybe they weren't. But they definitely hadn't turned up in the physical world that was home to Ben and Mal. Yet anyway.
Given the extremely variable geography, exploring the area might be dangerous. At least as dangerous as anything in a dream could be. But investigating might help them find a way back to the physical world faster, for those who realize they are dreaming. Or they could just stand around and talk or complain about the latest bit of magical weirdness to happen to them and hope they woke up soon. Or they could go with it and enjoy the weird. It was their dream, after all. They could pretty much do what they liked. Or at least try to. Either way, they seemed stuck there for the present, for better or worse.
*****************************************************
For Jordan, still comatose after the magical mishap that had resulted in the first Misrecalled being summoned, it began with a dream. A dream so strong, that it had her stirring fitfully even in her current state; and eventually caused her to release an uncontrolled burst of magic.
For everyone else, unaware of what was coming, it began with falling asleep. Whether or not someone was tired before hand, whether they even could sleep, they simply fell asleep - or a reasonable facsimile - wherever they happened to be. Maybe they remembered falling asleep, maybe they didn't. But either way they suddenly found themselves in... a very strange place.
First all there was that they could see was a vast featureless plain in shining gold and silken draperies. But that was only a glimpse, for just by existing in this space, each dreamer warps it. Changes it. Not all at once, but bits, constantly changing between them and whomever they encounter. Each person brings with them bits of three places... where they had been last, a familiar place from memory, and whatever place they call home. But this is constantly changing and shifting, more so the more dreamers are present in any space. Before long, Bits of different landscapes, different environments, even different weather conditions will cover the landscape like some crazy patchwork quilt. Here a bit of a sunny, idyllic garden, there a section of shadowy, graffiti covered slum. To one side, a chunk of charming cobblestone streets under sunset tinged skies, to the other, a forest of towering trees, some of which seem to be moving. And glimpsed through the gaps between some of the odd terrain sections, some remainder of the poorly defined golden space, hung with colorful draperies could still be seen.
And the ground itself was not immune to the changes. While the ground on which they stood might seem stable enough, if someone walked more than a few paces in any direction, that could change. Solid ground could become shifting sand. Or water. Or a wall might suddenly appear to block their path. Doors might lead to places they definitely shouldn't or open to the edge of a sheer cliff. And if the complete lack of logic to the landscape wasn't enough of an indication that this was some sort of dream, then the unreadable signs would clinch it. Because any signs - or indeed, anything with writing on it that they didn't have on their person when they arrived - was covered with nothing but unreadable gibberish.
And it got even more surreal when a dreamer spotted anyone else in the dreamspace, or even looked at their own reflection - for each person appears in the dream in whatever way they see themselves. So someone with low self confidence might be short, someone with a huge ego might tower. If someone sees themselves as a horrible criminal who needs to repent, they might be in prison togs. If the change is dramatic enough people who know each other well might still fail to recognize each other within the dreaming.
Now normally such a bizarre dream might have been put down to stress, a meal that disagreed with them, or maybe indulging in some sort of illicit substance, but this clearly was no ordinary dream, if for no other reason than that in this dream, they weren't alone. The other people they encounter are not just figments of their imagination, and they too change the shared dream space.
Those already either on the Isle or in the kingdom of Auradon proper would find themselves all thrown together in the bizarre dreamworld. And that would have been strange enough. But more than the current populations of Auradon and the Isle could be found in this place. Maybe the faces where familiar. Maybe they weren't. But they definitely hadn't turned up in the physical world that was home to Ben and Mal. Yet anyway.
Given the extremely variable geography, exploring the area might be dangerous. At least as dangerous as anything in a dream could be. But investigating might help them find a way back to the physical world faster, for those who realize they are dreaming. Or they could just stand around and talk or complain about the latest bit of magical weirdness to happen to them and hope they woke up soon. Or they could go with it and enjoy the weird. It was their dream, after all. They could pretty much do what they liked. Or at least try to. Either way, they seemed stuck there for the present, for better or worse.
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 09:18 (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 09:22 (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 09:53 (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 09:55 (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 09:57 (UTC)Re: Mallia ~ Open to all! ~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ʚїɞ εїз ྅༏༊ 🦋
Date: 13 Sep 2023 11:34 (UTC)her companion - what looked like a cat sized dragon with translucent skin and opal eyes - made a hissing noise.
"If you are laughing, you are dead," the hawk snarled. The two were about the same size, which made the threat a little odd. "So... another ocean walled castle. Magic?"
The dragon made a squawking noise.
"Fine, stupid question...."
Re: Mallia ~ Open to all! ~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ʚїɞ εїз ྅༏༊ 🦋
Date: 13 Sep 2023 11:48 (UTC)Re: Foulques OTA
Date: 13 Sep 2023 12:23 (UTC)I have not played Ayesh in years. Here goesRe: Foulques OTA
Date: 13 Sep 2023 12:42 (UTC)Re: Harry Potter | Harry Potter (OTA)
Date: 13 Sep 2023 12:47 (UTC)She seemed to have heard him though, because she shrank back against a wall, as if trying to hide inside it.
Re: Skisan | Star Trek OC | OTA
Date: 13 Sep 2023 13:25 (UTC)The worst of it, perhaps, was that she was partially translucent.
Of course at the moment she was torn between terrified of disappearing and wishing she could be invisible. Her fear was so strong that it was almost an additional presence.
Re: Morgana McCawber | Fan-Designed DT17 | OTA
Date: 13 Sep 2023 13:34 (UTC)On one side she was in a long black and purple dress with lace and ruffles and small inset gem stones. That side of her wore her crown, though the blue stone at its center was missing, an empty half void in its place. But every gem, very bit of crown, the two gold rings she wore on that hand glowed faintly. Light. Her hair was long and lose, straight, pale purple with subtle strands of pink.
The other side of her wore a black leather jacket patched with material that looked like purple scales and decorated with green paint and dark green spikes like thorns that ran from her dark purple fingerless gloves to the collar of the coat. Her hair was dark purple and wound into tight curls. On this side she was in dark purple leather pants patched in black and green. So tight it looked hard to move in, zippers edging each patch. She had on a boot that looked like it had been jet black until it fell in a puddle of purple and green paint. Small chains went from the eyelets of the boot on one side to the top. On this side she seemed almost to... absorb light. And at her chest there was an... emptiness.
It shouldn't have worked, one foot in a high heel, one in a flat boot. One side weighed down with lace and frills, the other in leather - top and bottom - so tightly fitted she shouldn’t be able move at all. And then there were her nails on the dark side. Sharp. Long. More claws than nails.
She saw the chained woman on the stage with the guitar. Her first thought was villain. Her second was to think of Fenton. It was her third voice she vocalized. "You able to play that thing like that?" she asked, finding and nabbing a microphone.
Re: Morgana McCawber | Fan-Designed DT17 | OTA
Date: 13 Sep 2023 13:39 (UTC)he dropped onto the stage as a fringed jacket appeared over his spandex looking suit. he brushed some red hair out of his eyes and grinned. That grin looked innocent, but his brother would know to prepare for a headache. And maybe a face palm.
But this was someone who didn't yet know his tells. didn't know to consider herself warned.
"I never understood why metal was called hard-wear till now," he said, inclining his head to indicate the chains. "But i can guess what you play from them. Heavy metal?" Another grin. "You are welcome to laugh if I am quacking you up." and then he pulled a guitar from its resting place across his back... It hadn't been there a moment ago. "You're not the only one with an axe to grind. Wanna make like thick jelly and jam?"
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 13:42 (UTC)"Huh." Æn'kae considered it for a moment and then rubbed at the back of his neck. "I uh... always got the impression cities always had some level of activity. I... admit I avoided them though, being around too many people gives me a headache."
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 13:52 (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 14:00 (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 14:28 (UTC)He grinned and nodded when the Dreamer spoke. "It sure is." When he wasn't looking up it was easy to pretend he hadn't brought the shadow of the empire with him.
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 15:22 (UTC)(OOC: Look I know it's just me back and forth, but I had these two in one place and they had some issues to resolve. Cut for length.)
The more Æn'kae explored, the more the memories milled about. He still did not know where he was, or why. This place pulled from his memories, certainly, the same three familiar places, the old warbird, Mol'Rihan, and the ballroom with the Epohhir. But it also existed on its own, as most of his time was spent in a featureless plain except for silken draperies. And, sometimes he caught glimpses of places he didn't recognize, entered briefly into spaces created from someone else's memories.
But then he saw signs of a grimy city with neon lights and paused mid-step, staring at the writing on the sign to one side of him. Those. Those were properly shaped Rihan characters, not the strange Standard ones he'd gotten used to. "Jolan'tru?!" he called out. Looking for signs of an actual person, of the source of this place. He had no memories of Ch'Rihan, but this had to be a city from there. It had to be. He started running, picking up speed as he looked around each corner. The whole place was laid out like a maze. And had he run down this alley already?
Skisan had almost ventured forth when he heard the voice call out in Rihan. This was hardly out of place in two of the places he'd brought with him, and would not have been cause to turn on its own. Even if he had not yet encountered a person from memory, it was entirely possible that he had brought someone. People often entered the shared mindscapes in a mind-meld for instance, manifested out of one subconscious or another. That the voice was all too familiar only made sense with that in mind.
But there was more to this voice, layers of emotions stronger than he should have felt from his ward, even if the young man were actually present, so he changed direction, to seek him out. "Stay where you are. I will find you, Æn'kae."
Æn'kae skidded to a halt, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. What? "Skisan?"
The buildings between them dissipated, leaving a field from Mol'Rihan, a memory easy for Skisan to change to since both parties contributed to it. He raised an eyebrow as he took in his ward's appearance, concern adding to the lines around his eyes, but not otherwise impacting his features. The young man's image of himself wasn't so different from what Skisan knew, but the subtle changes were concerning. He was younger, perhaps a bit shorter, coming to about Skisan's height rather than taller, but neither of those were any reason for surprise. The lack of the one feature that made it clear he was Rihan at a glance caused concern, but the Tal Shiar uniform very clearly manifested from fear? That part deeply unsettled Skisan.
Æn'kae stared blankly at his old teacher. He had never, ever seen the man with anything but a traditional Vulcan haircut. He hadn't even realized the older Vulcan's hair was curly before this. And on top of that, there were lines he hadn't seen before and, since when would he have a beard shadow? Skisan would never. He stiffened up and took a step back, eyes narrowed. This had to be a trick. Right?
Skisan took in all of that, he hardly could avoid it, the young man was practically screaming his emotions for any telepath to hear. He wouldn't even be surprised if he leaked to non-telepaths on occasion. Which was a level of power Æn'kae had never demonstrated before. All of these things told Skisan that this both was and was not his ward. "This is no trick. I am Skisan, but I am, perhaps, not the Skisan you knew."
... ... Not the Skisan he knew? Æn'kae groaned. Not more alternate reality nonsense. "O-oh." That disappointed him. He'd been so hurt by a realization about Skisan so recently, so why was not getting to see him so disappointing?
Skisan's lips twitched, just slightly, but he kept his expression. "I believe we should speak." He took a moment to focus a little more, low seating from the room where he'd been staying on Vulcan materializing around him.
Æn'kae blinked, taking a seat on the cushion on the floor, almost on autopilot. "You can control this?"
"It is a shared mindscape, my control is limited and someone else's subconscious could easily interfere, but within my own memories, it is simple enough." He raised an eyebrow at Æn'kae. "It is something you could achieve also, with the right training."
While Skisan hadn't intended it as criticism, Æn'kae took it as such, lowering his head and flushing. "Ie. Sorry, sir."
He took a seat, silent for a moment. "As you do not yet have this training, you have no reason to feel remorse that you did not do so. Even with training, if there was no need, would there be any logic behind making changes?"
Æn'kae didn't look up, but he did shake his head no, fidgeting with his hands. "I uh. I would like to get rid of this." He tugged at the harness, aware of the hated uniform suddenly.
"I can assist, but to do so I would require knowledge of why you picture it as part of you." When the boy only flushed, remaining quiet, Skisan continued. "I imagine that it is some part of where our paths diverged. I would ask if I was arrested by the secret police in your reality?"
Æn'kae's head jerked up. "They captured you too?" Concern, fear, pain flooded out and if Skisan had not regained some emotional control that flood would have overwhelmed him.
He still had to pause a moment to collect himself before nodding. "Major Lhihath decided I would be an ideal target to use in propaganda."
Æn'kae chewed his lip. "I uh... I've never heard of him. I was captured by Colonel Hakeev."
Now that was, by the terran phrase, a bomb shell. Neither he nor his ward had even received any note from that particular menace. If he was perhaps a bit more pale, a bit more stiff when he replied, he suspected his ward was too rattled to notice. "You do not need to share more. If he was involved, I understand enough." He offered a hand to Æn'kae who looked surprised for a moment, but then took it.
Skisan was certain not only that he picked up more than his ward intended, but also that his ward picked up thoughts and emotions from him. All of that could wait. What he really focused on was how he saw his ward, sharing that image with his ward, not forcing it, but holding it out in ready reach so that Æn'kae could correct his own mental image using it.
The harness disappeared first, and then the rest of the outfit shifted to the sort of neutral clothes the boy normally wore, and Æn'kae closed his eyes, losing a great deal of tension, just focusing on breathing for a moment.
"You have not told the Skisan of your reality what happened to you." It was a statement, not a question, the two had swapped enough mutual memories to make that clear.
"No, I uh. I haven't spoken with him in years, he went back to Ah'rak after sending me away." He hadn't taken him in as a ward. Hadn't helped him find a home where he could follow his dreams. Hadn't even been honest. And yet. And yet. Staying in Rihan colonies had gotten this Skisan arrested, had done irreparable harm that the older Vuhlkansu hid on the surface but was all too obvious when their minds brushed. Why would he wish that on his own teacher?
Skisan made a choice in that moment. This Æn'kae was so much more lost than the one he knew. And so much of that came down to choices from his double, choices he'd honestly considered himself. He took Æn'kae in a firm hug and held on. Hugs were awkward for Vulcans in the best of circumstances and this was no exception, but that did not change the fact that Æn'kae needed one.
Æn'kae tensed up in surprise and then returned the hug, fingers curling into Skisan's robe as he latched on tightly, desperately.
There was more Skisan wished to say, warnings he wished to give, and perhaps apologies, but those would wait to see if they had time.
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 17:09 (UTC)Ah, but no. Not the time! She shook her head, trying to concentrate.
"Believe me, if I could, I'd be jamming out right now. I can't stand silence." She held up her wrists showcasing that no matter how hard she tugged, those chains weren't coming off. "I can still carry a tune, but without my strings, it's nowhere near as strong."
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 17:12 (UTC)"Well, at least I can confirm I'm actually in a nightmare now." Time to bring on the snark with no end in sight.
"I don't play second fiddle to anybody. Unless your way of sharing the stage helps sets me free, this is a one-woman show."
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 17:59 (UTC)Time to strut and walk. If this place keeps insisting on making things about her, she may as well play her scene.
"This is my favorite time of the day... of the night, to be precise. Nobody up to bother you or get in your way."
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 18:00 (UTC)"Peace, I intend no harm," he said, tone soft. It was certainly flat, not precisely soothing, but rather even. But that very lack of tone may just be of aid.
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 18:20 (UTC)He declined to mention that his last actual home had been a spaceship, so time of day was a construct. Though frankly, who knew whether or not said ship would make an appearance. Then it wouldn't matter if he mentioned it or not. Ah well, he could deal with explaining it if and only if it came up.
no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 19:57 (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 Sep 2023 19:57 (UTC)"Rren? How did you come here, poppet? I didn't know you could share notions like this as well!" She certainly seemed pleased with this, at least?