misrecalled_tdms | Once upon a dream... (4th Wall Event/TDM Combo platter)

Once upon a dream... (4th Wall Event/TDM Combo platter)

[((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.

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Among those who suddenly found themselves in the bizarre dreamworld, there was one man whose outfit probably made him stand out a good bit more than the others. Though he was looking around in no less confused a fashion than anyone else. "Goodness," he said. "What sort of place is this?" He looked down at himself. "And how did I get back into my parade costume?"

Where Sylvando stood seemed to be some sort of campsite set amid mountains. A campfire crackled merrily in its center, and a few logs and the like provided enough seating for a small group around it. A statue of an angelic being with a serene expression on her face stood a bit off to one side, and three tents were pitched nearby. A few objects lay scattered about as if their owners had just set them down and stepped away for a moment. A leather-bound book. A small lap harp. A simple walking cane. A cooking pot meant to be hung over the fire and about half full of some sort of stew. A halberd leaning against a large rock. An odd contraption that upon examination would prove to be a sort of portable forge. Indeed the only thing missing from this rustic scene was the people. Aside from Sylv himself of course. A fact which made his usual bright smile fade into a softer one of fond remembrance.

Edited 2023-09-03 08:53 (UTC)

Mal was pretty sure this was a dream. After all she wasn't sure how she'd be moving, or alive, otherwise. Because she didn't match herself. It was as though she was split down the middle by a rather jagged line.

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.

"Remind me not to get an itch," she muttered to herself, seemingly unaware that her eye on that side was glowing green and her face was scaled. "Alright then. Clearly some sort of messed up dream, let's see where I am..."

But looking around din't give her much. Under the foot in the high heel the ground was dried mud and muck, littered with, well... litter. Trash. Rubbish. Her other foot was resting on plush carpeting so clean her boot against it seemed almost offensive. The rest of the setting was a mix of a nice Auradon office with hints of Isle - like that wall made of sodden cardboard - and well lit bedroom.

Like in Mal herself, the dreamscape - where she touched it - was a clash between Auradon and the Isle.

Though what Mal didn't see was the back of herself. From the back, the bottom was all frilly skirt, but the top was the back of the jacket, and it was decorated with a dragon made of a thorn vine wrapped around a heart with a crown on it and a camera on a strap, both of which trailed subtly into the dragon. Who was waring a beast headed ring as a crown itself.

Edited 2023-09-03 08:23 (UTC)

Ben looked around the old space, perplexed even as it filled in around him. If he had ever had to design a perfect room, this would be pretty close. It was an odd melding of a large library - larger and finer than the one in the school - his office in the castle and an opulent bedroom. A melding of three very real places, all in the same building.

He wasn't aware he was dreaming, not really. He wandered the shelves, found a book and pulled it down. A small frown formed as he opened it, and... could not read what was written.

For those who found him, he was easy to recognize as he looked almost the same as he did in the waking world, just with his crown askew on slightly shaggier hair.

Tucked away into a corner of golden slight and multihued draperies was a huge spectral shape. Amorphous. Blue and gold. But while the shape was hard to see, almost transparent, the red ribbons wrapped around it were clear and sharp, and seemed - almost - to be bleeding red. The ribbons bound the being, not just to itself but to the small figure of a teenaged girl who was sitting crosslegged on a pile of cushions. All around her was... computer equipment? And a desk full of video cameras and tripods.

She glanced up when someone approached, the area a mix of pale open palace, shining gold where the windows should show sky, and Auradon bedroom. "A little busy unless you got something juicy," she said, glancing down at her cellphone before focusing on on of the computers. She seemed utterly unaware of the spectral shape tethered to her back.

Edited 2023-09-03 09:06 (UTC)

Was this a dreamer? Or part of someone else's dream that had escaped? Hard to tell. Whatever it was, it didn't look much like a person. Not that it was easy to see. The creature was constantly on the move, diving into flower patches and bushes and the boles of trees that seem to come into existence just to give the creature a place to explore, and when they vanished the creature was gone as well.

What little glimpses people could get of it varied. Sometimes it looked like a rabbit in a deerstalker cap and a flowered pinafore. Sometimes it was more like a white powdery ghost that puffed out powder all over everything and had small squares of paper for eyes. Sometimes it looked like multihued liquid moving in clumps and trailing a slight floral scent.

The only reason one might think this all the same creature - maybe - was that every form of it had a single thing in common. It was always upside down and running on the air as if it were the ground.

Merlin was one of those who knew more or less who he was. And as such looked more or less as he looked norm....ah.... usual. Nothing normal about him. Not when awake, and not now. Though now... his usual robe and hat were in the same usual cut and size. But they were now both in loud floral patterns. Sadly, the hat and robe did not match each other, and the resultant clash of design and colour might be a bit hard to look at for sensitive viewers. Some discretion may be warranted. Then again he was sitting crosslegged four feet in the air, so maybe it wasn't even an issue?

The tall slender man was hard to see, as his edges blurred with darkness. It was like he wasn't fully here, and in fact one foot of his was completely obscured by a dark blur, though it trailed not just darkness but also dark rich loam as he walked.

His fingers were almost impossible to discern, given the blurring, but they moved swiftly and constantly, never still. Constantly shuffling cards or twisting things around, or manipulating something. Never still, never stopping, never calm. The foot that was more visible was always tapping, and his move speed was mostly a run. The top of his face was covered in what looked like the top half of a skull and his neck was extra long and flexible, and he constantly was looking behind himself constantly like a nervous twitch.

The area around him was a mix of the Isle - trash and filth everywhere under a stormy sky that refuse to just rain already - and a cemetery. Here and there, though were hints of some sort of room. A mask hanging on a wall here, a table with a fringed cloth there. Bits. But while his swiftly moving fingers might brush those things, he never stopped at them, didn't linger. Like he was searching for something. Running to something. Or, given the backwards glances, from something.

The woman could be found sitting on a throne like chair. Everything about her posture spoke of power, of confidence. Everything about her face spoke of cruelty, of malice.

It was hard to put one's finger on any specific way in which Lady Tremaine looked differently than she did on the Isle. All of it was impression with little cause that was obvious. The only clear differences really were that she looked slightly younger, her makeup was done with better cosmetics to accentuate her narrowed eyes and thinned lips, and that her clothing spoke of wealth. A fine gown, with a large jewel set into it and matching earrings. In her lap was a grey on grey cat that snarled at anyone who approached their throne. The shadows they threw seemed jagged and larger than life. The shadow should have shown the chair. Should not have shown the cat separately, and yet...

"Kneel," she said over the growling of the cat. Her voice was cold. Cruel. With an undertone that left no illusions, she enjoyed her cruelty.

She wasn't aware anyone else existed, not at the moment. Holding a mirror, Mother Gothel looked like a younger and idealized version of herself. She looked maybe twenty or so. Clearly an adult, but clearly young as well. And beautiful. She was surrounded by full length mirrors, turning this way and that, clearly overjoyed.

Some people knew exactly who they were, and their inner impressions of themselves had long since represented themselves externally. Yen Sid looked... much in dreams as he did in the waking. The few changes were dramatic, but cosmetic all the same.

He was taller for one. His hat shone but that could just be an artifact of his knowing what it would be absent the Isle. He also wore a pendant that glowed, but his beard muted most of its light. Small arcs of electricity danced over his clothes, and a small cloud of pure magic trailed from his fingers.

Where he stood was a mix of a chem lab, a wizard's tower, and a classroom. Somehow he made the permutations of the three seem almost natural. As though he was always meant to be exactly here.

"Ah yes," his voice boomed slightly more here, "Come in. Do have a seat," he aid, gesturing to a stool that created itself as he gestured to the space that had been empty a moment ago.

Xion was... confused, to say the least. She didn't know where she was, or why. The floor looked like the grey of her old room in the Castle That Never Was. The walls around only went to shoulder height and they were the walls of the school on the Isle - damaged, dirty, and covered in graffiti. But above that?

Sunset.

She rushed to the closest wall, to climb over it. But as she got closer she got smaller. And smaller. And smaller.

In the end she was no taller than a toddler. Those on the Isle only had a chance to recognize her by her outfit. It was the same in the dreaming. But her hood was pulled back, and instead of a head she had a round mirror with a crack running through it. Her neck and the little bit of skin that showed above her zipper showed her usual flesh tone, but riddled through with cracks. She held her Keyblade in one hand and an ice cream in her other hand.

The worst of it, perhaps, was that she was partially translucent.

That no one here could have predicted that this was going to demand an appearance of SUPER GREG only went to prove that no one here knew the redhead all that well yet. Well, to be fair, only people who knew him as a kid, or when he dealt with Snowsong would know about Super Greg. At some point between he had grown up and thought he'd never be able to walk, let alone fly.

Amazing what White Magic could do once unchained.

For now, Greg was happily flying around three skies that were at the moment each a different brilliant shade of blue. And he was playing heavy metal music on a guitar as he flitted about. Light as a feather, heavy as a metal, apparently.

Aqua, as she truly saw herself was... Aqua. Just Aqua. She looked exactly the same in the dreaming. She did pull out one of her Keyblades as she explored this odd space. It seemed to be a mix of the rooftop of Auradon Prep, the courtyard of a seemingly impossible castle and a fairly generic fantasy village looking scene that those from SMK might recognize.

She blinked and leaned against the raise of a crenelation from the Auradon roof that was now at waist height to hr as she looked up at the Castle that loomed.

"This... this can't be real... can it...?" she whispered.

Kyoko's image of who she was... was in a constant stat of flux. But when she started out in the dream she looked.... she had no curves. At all. Her face seemed to vanish whenever someone wasn't looking directly at it, and even when they were it was plain and forgettable. Unlike her outfit, which was still eye searingly pink. It was like a curse, a pink that bright, and it seemed to leak from the clothing into her skin where it touched. And from the knees up she was... see through. Like she was a glass that was mostly empty. A dark aura surrounded her as she moved, clinging to her like an ominous second skin.

She was puttering around an odd kitchen, seemingly unaware that anything was odd as she cooked. It was a restaurant kitchen from the size of everything - including the meal she was cooking - with tatami floors, oddly, and the coffee machine from Farbucks. Kyoko was humming to herself as she made a large serving portion of a fancy noodle dish.

Edited 2023-09-03 12:19 (UTC)

The twins sat, facing each other at a table surrounded by a ring of flowers. Under the table and on a path through the floors the ground was made of tatami mats and part of Auradon Prep loomed in the background, merged with another school. Nadeshiko was in a kimono, her hair up neatly. Floating near her head was what looked like a small doll.

Nagihiko was in an oversized hoodie, a basketball on his lap, and a blue egg in his hands.

He looked up, then jumped, the basket ball falling and vanishing as he stared at his sister as she poured tea from a delicate tea pot. He looked down at his hand, then back up at her. She set down the tea pot then leaned across the table to smack him upside the head lightly. She resumed her seat.

"I am not a reflection or a mirror," she said, flatly. "I'm your twin sister."

"But you're..." then he stopped. Stared at the floating doll thing. "Temari...." he whispered.

The doll thing curtsied.

"Temari is mine, dear brother," Nadeshiko said calmly as she sipped her tea. "That egg is never going to hatch until you accept that."

"You miss her too..." Nagihiko whispered.

Nadeshiko studied him a moment. "She's a part of me, just like..." she stopped and stood, looking towards the direction she had heard someone approach from.

He stood as well, shoving the egg into his hoodie pocket as he moved to stand between his sister and potential harm, his long hair lose behind him.

For a creature whose very existence depended on their sense of self, whose very being was based around the concept of cogito, ergo sum, to say it would be second nature to Mallia to appear however she very well pleased would be laughable; it wasn't second by any measure. Nor was her ability to impose her will on her immediate surroundings; it was how her powers worked, because it was how she herself operated.

Which is to say, her appearance didn't differ from its usual. Which didn't necessarily mean she appeared as an adult; she was in a mood over this all -- not a poor mood, but a mood nonetheless, a bit confused and a little frustrated that waking didn't seem to be working for her -- and in exasperation, somewhere between deciding that she wanted to investigate further, and declaring, toss it all, may as well enjoy it! it was anyone's guess whether she was going to appear as an adult or a teenager just then.

And her portion of the patchwork dreamscape was surely something to behold indeed, and rather remarkably stable, too, around her.

On first glance, the dark castle present surely belonged in a creepy nightmare: the castle itself was all dark gray stone, with inky blackness reaching up from below to engulf its surface, a good few stories tall, its peak atop a tower with a pointed roof and balconies that reached out around it, an imposing monument to power that cut across the sunset sky.

A second glance, however, would prove that not all was as it might seem: the dark stones that made up the large structure seemed to sparkle, and moss dotted the cracks between them with green. The black lace that reached up was the darkness of her rosebushes, somehow trained to climb like ivy, so dark green as to only shine where the sun hit it just right. Deep, dark, brilliant colors peeked out here and there, impossibly-colored blossoms with the gentlest, sweetest fragrances. Stained glass windows broke the silhouette, depicting those same strange blossoms, all the way from the ground level to the tower, the balcony's railing similarly claimed by the foliage's enthusiasm. It may have been imposing, but the intent of the architecture seemed less to loom and more to reach, a door seemingly open up there at the top, a light on in that uppermost room....

There were no castle walls here to ward off defenders, there was merely what amounted to a beautiful stone mansion, itself more a work of art than a work of military defense. There was no drawbridge, no moat; off behind the castle, through the lush garden of roses and other flowers, the forest began, its trees looking vaguely reminiscent of figs, but larger, more hardy, a bit on the wild side themselves, rather than groomed and manicured things. This was a fairy's place; for as artificial as hewn stone was, there was a rawness to it all, nature itself invited back in to thrive, which permeated everything.

And then there was a village... if one dared call it that. On the other side of the castle from the gardens and forest, crudely made, very short little mud huts were clumped together in loose groups against one another, leaving wide walkways between them, unpaved dirt roads made by the repeated stomping of many feet. Little firepits were nestled here and there throughout the area, some simply smoldering, others seemingly inert. A few chickens clucked, wandering about freely elsewhere just out of sight, unperturbed and unafraid, and somewhere, a goat was making sounds to itself as it went about its business. There was a sense of life in the place, but it wasn't quite present at a glance, perhaps hiding... and past the primitive little village that looked as though it could hold none bigger than very young children, the fields seemed to be a messy patchwork of farm crops and attempts at gardening, where they weren't full of weeds and grasses and random flowers growing wild, patchily mowed where they were trimmed at all. Beyond that... the forest from behind the castle reached around to encompass the bit of land entirely, a solid backdrop of trees to hush the outside world.

It was peaceful here. Quiet. Protected. The late sun was warm, the air still.

But there was something a little off about it... another version of it, if one looked at it from another angle, focused a little differently: the castle was bare of its wildly-grown rose gown, stones glittering nakedly, missing even the moss, as though it were all fresh and new. The rose bushes were small, around its base, but lively. The miniature primitive village was missing, the area and fields beyond all combed over with barely even a few weeds peeking through, the area a mix of gray ash and pale brown dirt, tilled and evened out again, all the way out to where the forest didn't stand. Smaller trees of more expected Western European varieties stood out there in the distance instead, sparse and young, revealing the jagged landscape outside the castle grounds, the whole place built into something like a crater, a pit among the tips of mountainous crags, a perhaps artificially leveled little haven within a natural pen. The castle hadn't needed built walls with battlements, as nature had done that for it.

The beginning, perhaps, warring to be seen, versus the lush results of centuries of encouragement?

Mallia herself might not have been far from her castle's doors, wide open as they were, crouched to chat with someone just out of sight among the little huts. Or perhaps she was inside, her voice coming from that uppermost chamber in the tower as she sang something to herself....? She was rather good at singing, at least...

(TLDR under this cut)

Fairy lady's castle is tall, dark, subtly sparkly, covered in dark roses, and is more an artistic stone mansion than any kind of military fortress.

Said castle is surrounded by a very-small-child-height village of primitive mud huts and a wild garden. Past the crude little village, haphazard little crops and gardening happened in an otherwise wild meadow.

Outside all that, encircling the area, is a big thick forest of large fig-related-looking trees.

Past the surrounding forest, there's mountaintops. The place is isolated by the landscape. It's cozy and peaceful here. ♥

...And there's another, alternate version of this place, if you look carefully: the castle is new-looking, its rosebushes are small... the overgrown garden, village, farming patches, and the forest around everything are all missing, and the land inside the crater-like area is freshly tilled and leveled, like it's ready to be planted in or built on.

Mallia still looks like her usual self, but may or may not be a teenager here just because. She's probably either somewhere nearish the castle's front doors or up in that high tower. She's not hard to find. She may or may not even be singing. Go pester her? Explore her home?

Edited (minor details/rephrasing, forgot the tldr (oops! sorry....)) 2023-09-08 10:24 (UTC)

For the first time since his arrival on the Isle, Foulques stood amid the dappled light of the forest. Towering trees rivaling the largest of giant sequoias formed the canopy overhead, and interspersed among them were a multitude of smaller trees, shrubs, and assorted forest plant life. The sound of a flowing stream could be heard in the near distance. All in all, it was a rugged, but idyllic scene. Or at least it would have been had it not been for the tree creatures and monstrous birds that could be seen wandering amid the undergrowth. They seem content to leave most people alone, but it would likely be unwise to approach them.

Foulques meanwhile, is not dressed in his usual armor, or even the normal clothing he wore beneath it. Instead he wore a rough woven, undyed hempen tunic and slops above simple sandals. The clothes were a bit frayed at the edges, stained in places and smudged with grime. Not the sort of thing one wanted to be trekking through an apparently primaeval forest in, though Foulques was looking around with a mix of confusion and consternation rather than fear. "What in the name of Nophica's great, heaving tots is going on?", he demanded. "Is this another of this places' thrice-cursed visions?"

"When a girl says she wants an hourglass figure next time, this isn't what she generally means," she commented to no one in particular. She wasn't particular about who. Because this was probably a dream. And a weird one a that. Because she was an hourglass. A very ornate hourglass to be certain, but an hourglass.

She also knew that it was a dream because absent any mirrors - or, you know, eyes - she could see herself. She could also see where she was, not that it made much sense. The chaos of the Tardis interwoven with the thorn wall of the Isle. If that were not enough, here and there she caught glimpsed of part of a jail cell block.

She supposed she'd had odder dreams, but at the moment she couldn't quite recall what they had been....

Not that long ago, how Ian saw themself and how Ian looked to others would have differed wildly. But more recently, stability with friends and feeling very needed at work helped stabilize them in their own skin some.

So Ian largely looked like Ian. Not exactly like, a bit more androgynous and there was a bit of an.... almost a glow around their head. Look, they had quite the ego about their intelligence. Earned, but still...

As for where they were... an odd mix of the Auradon Prep library and a bank of computers - that they would quickly blank the screens of as soon as anyone approached. And... people. Not moving or talking, not even really there. But... people. A small group of holograms.

Each of the people looked like they were paused in the middle of something, but that something changed when someone looked away from them then back again.

Nearly two years of being in another world can change someone’s outlook in life slowly, and how Harry sees himself nowadays than what saw himself before at home are like night and day. He still looks like himself, even without the need for glasses, but now there is a glow around him and his clothes look like more sharp but still casual enough. But he doesn’t have the time to admire this inner self for he is, um, trying to understand and learn about the dreamscape he is in.

As to where he and whoever is stuck with him are in, well, this is supposed to be downtown New Camelot with its distinct modern eco fantasy architecture, but it has been fused with the rustic environment of Hogsmeade. He is currently walking around the area, wondering if there are any familiar places to see and go to in spite of the current state of this place.

“Huh, that’s weird. This has to be a dream, hasn’t it? Somebody please tell me that I’m not imagining things right now.”

Now he didn’t mean to stumble upon Merlin in his floating time when he crosses paths with him and he is too pretty stunned by the floral mismatch in his hat and robe. He could try to fly up to get up close but now is not the right time to do so immediately. If Merlin looks closely, there is a man in his 20’s in still his usual clothes trying to get his attention today.

“Um hello, are you Merlin?” he asks him, “I just arrived here and want to say hi to you. Is it okay if I want to have a moment with you for the time being?”

"Eh? What what? Yes, yes, lad, I'm Merlin. Now what can I for you do... ah, do you for that is?"

“Well, I would like to know where exactly we are at right now because I don’t seem to recognize anything in here,” Harry admits to Merlin before deciding to admit to him one more thing, “Um, I think that I must have met you before. I mean, I met another version of you in another world. Sorry the multiverse can be very confusing at times.”

In the place where Lea stood, everything was pristine and white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, the decorations, everything. In a way, it was beautiful. But it was also empty, cold, and foreboding. It gave the distinct impression of a place where visitors weren't welcome, and not just because they might smudge the white floors.

Amid all the stark white, Lea stood out sharply, just by virtue of being the only thing with any color. He looked like himself for the most part, and was dressed in his Organization uniform... for the most part. But the primarily black leather outfit was paired with his favorite yellow scarf and red and white high tops that he'd often worn as a kid, just scaled up to fit an adult.

"What in the...?", he said looking first at his surroundings then down at himself. "OK, either somebody slipped something weird into my tea this morning or there's some kind of magical shenanigans going on here, because this is even weirder than a lot of the crap Chaos came up with."

Seeing no point in staying there, his first instinct was to head for the door. When he opened it, however, he found the doorway blocked by a wall of ice. A wall of ice in which were frozen a second wall of pink rosebushes. "Great..." He supposed he could try an melt it, but upon looking around again he saw there was a place where the room just.... ended. Not in a wall, but in a completely different environment. "Well, might as well try my luck..." he muttered, and headed for that border.

"Ah yes, yes, I'd imagine you have young lad. I do tend to get around, eh what? Mayhaps you've met the version of me young Mal has spoken with at length." He pulled a wand and used it to scratch his chin. "I have hope yet for that lass, I do..." he trailed off as his beard tangled around his wand. "Confound it! This is exactly the sort of less ideal nonsense one expects, of course."

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Page 1 of 41

Once upon a dream... (4th Wall Event/TDM Combo platter)

NPC Sylvando OTA

NPC Meet And Greet: Mal edition

NPC Meet And Greet: Ben edition

NPC Meet And Greet: Jordan edition

NPC Meet And Greet

NPC Meet And Greet: Merlin edition

NPC Meet And Greet: Doctor Facilier edition

NPC Meet And Greet: Lady Tremaine edition

NPC Meet And Greet: Mother Gothel edition

NPC Meet And Greet: Yen Sid edition

Xion | Kingdom Hearts | OTA | CW: angst, trauma, possible suicidal elements

Gregory Deegan | Dominic Deegan | OTA | CW: Bad... puns?

Aqua | Kingdom Hearts | OTA

Kyoko Mogami | Skip Beat | OTA | CW: angst, self image issues, trauma

Nadeshiko and Nagihiko Fujisaki | Shugo Chara | OTA | All the gender/identity issues ever

Mallia ~ Open to all! ~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ʚїɞ εїз ྅༏༊ 🦋

Foulques OTA

River Song | Doctor Who | OTA | Spoilers!

Ian Wright | Quantum Leap | OTA | CW: Spoilers, angst

Harry Potter | Harry Potter (OTA)

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