Dreamspace - RP Topic

Community Role Playing
35

Eve lets one of her claw-nails scrape against the concrete, stopping when she hears the loud noise. She turns her head slowly to look there, a flat, lifeless frown moving across her face as she does.

A few of the other…people in here had started gathering at one point of the room. Eve takes another step closer to the wall, frown deepening as she peruses the other people now standing in front of it. There’s a person with a giant eye, a strange looking one covered in a blanket, another resembling a normal person and-

-and a fish. That’s talking. It also appears to be levitating.
Somehow the fish unsettles Eve more than the eyeball, and she takes a deep breath to make sure the air hasn’t suddenly turned into water.
Her left index finger twitches.

“Hollow,” she says, as much a snarl as a declaration. Eve’s feet click loudly over the concrete floor as she stops about a foot from the assembled figures and draws herself to her full height.
Her hair’s noticeably damp from the mold and clinging rather unattractively to the back of her head, although she doesn’t seem to notice. Her eyes are a vibrant and quite inhuman looking blue.

“Move,” she grates out in a tone similar to concrete scraping together.

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36

Oh, so it’s not a dead body, well that’s a relief.

“I noticed.” the technopath responded as she searched for the screw she had lost sight of. Maybe using it to scrape mold off the wall wasn’t such a good idea.

Alexis paused her pacing momentarily, “That might buy me some time.” she mumbled as she retrieved the mold coated screw and returned it to her pocket. Each second I waste here, it’s getting closer.

“Gladly.” Alexis shoved her hands into her pockets once more as she moved behind Eve, “So what’s exactly the plan here? Are you going to attempt to punch it really hard?”
she asked now resuming her pacing, each step landing with quiet squelches accompanied by the muffled jangling echoing out from her pockets as she riffled through them.

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37

Basil stared at Eve as she crossed the room and made for the peculiar wall. He hadn’t found the courage to move himself from his sitting position before, and now that the woman with very blue eyes was giving commands, he felt even less motivation.

But now that his duty had been done, it was time to consider far more important topics that outvalued whether or not a particular portion of the wall in front of him was susamoguspicious. Why was he and a handful of other individuals trapped deep underground in a concrete box? Was this still a dream, or was it reality? Were any of them real or were they the conjurings of a weary and woefully unaware conscious drifting across the plains of dreams? Was all of this still the byproduct of that pill?

Was there any way to wake up?

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39

Miles seemed very confused at the apparent floating fish demanding his breakfast.
“Wait, do you think that you’re in a fish tank?”
He said as he uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to the center of the room.

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40

“I…don’t know. I don’t even know who you are, much less how you can speak.”

Jung regarded the fish curiously. What could have happened to him? Was somebody’s consciousness swapped with the fish and conditioned to think they were always a fish? Surely not, that is too far fetched of a theory.

But then again…

Jung was interrupted by a tall, metallic woman who stood in the center of the room. She seemed to be asking him to move away from the wall he was currently on.

If only he could.

“Listen, I’d like to but I’m currently paralyzed from the neck down. I’m not sure what really to do to be completely honest.”

Jung turned his head to his leg, wondering what was going on. Was he being healed by the woman with an eyeball or was something else causing the odd sensations?

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41

Your nerves are shot. Your leg does not move, and neither does your arm or your fingers or your foot or you-

Something moves on your leg. A horrifying, prickling, ever so slightly painful sensation.

Like there’s something alive in your pant.

In the dim light, you see it. Something long - two thirds the length of your entire leg - that quivers and slithers and moves and crawls, up the side of your leg, it’s on your hip, wrapping around to your back.

This section of wall is even more heavily coated in mold than any of the others, making it look just like any of the other walls. But after a moment, you start to recognize it for what it is - a larger lump of mold? A handle. The lip of fungi? A jamb.

A door.

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42

Basil felt an uncontrollable shiver work up his spine. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but something was making a horrible clicking sound, like fingernails tapping together in rapid succession. It was an incredibly subtle sound, but it gave him chills all the same, and… Now that he had paid attention to it, he suspected it was coming from Jung…

But that didn’t make sense. he was completely immobile. How was he producing any kind of noise? Did he have a bug in his mouth or something?

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44

Eve’s eyes widen a fraction. Her teeth bare although her voice remains at roughly the same volume. “How did you even get in the wall? You’re more detailed than the other dream-people I saw earlier.”

She reaches out, metal talons stretching half the length of her fingers inching painfully close to Jung’s face. “Much more detailed,” Eve murmurs. “You don’t look like anyone I would dream up. Which…”

No, there can’t be others here. Could there? This is supposed to be my dream, my world, my…
One of her talons twitches and her face turns dark. She steps over the prone man, thoughts already drifting from him as she focuses on the “wall” in front of her, the odd sound coming from his leg immediately forgotten.
There’s just enough detail for her to make out the handle in the faint electric light. Experimentally she reaches with one hand, face scrunching up as she tries to angle her talons down as she tries to grab the handle and turn it. If the door opens normally, that’d at least be less exertion than kicking it down. And would let her out faster.

And if not, there’s always the other option.

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46

“Uh, no. They did not make me aware of that.” Jung replied hesitantly. Perhaps the fish new of someone who could help. “Who are they exactly?” Jung asked. It was odd, but maybe the creature could provide help. Before he could listen for a response…

“I wish I could tell you, last thing I saw was, well-” Jung paused. Was it really worth it telling these strangers about what he had just gone through? They surely wouldn’t care, so he decided not to burden them with his sob story and dropped the response.

Not that the metallic woman doing that helped things out.

"Oh goodness that sharp." Jung squealed shakily, “What do you mean by ‘more detailed’?”

Jung was starting to get overwhelmed by all this. He was stuck on the ground, unable to move or seek medical attention. A talking bat child, a seemingly hostile metallic cyborg, an aloof intangible attorney, and a woman with profound vision capabilities surrounded him, seemingly uncaring to his plight. The only other denizen of the small room was a seemingly normal person like himself, but based on the way things were going, she probably was just as bizarre as them.

To add to that, the horrid odor coming from his proximity to the molded walls was beginning to make Jung nauseas. To vomit was one thing, but to vomit in public? Mortifying. The cold, wet fingers of fear began to crawl in Jung’s throat, moving both directions as they settled, forming a nest of raw fear in his stomach and nasal cavity. He wanted to run, to flee this nightmare of a nasty, ever-shrinking space into freedom, back into reality. He tried to command his legs to stop their slumber and go and take him to safety.

But nothing happened. Then he saw it…

The fear in his body flash froze as Jung locked eyes with the newfound entity. Something terrifying was crawling up onto his back. His breath accelerated dramatically. Normally, most people would flee and hit the vile intruder. But both Jung’s physical and mental state prevented Jung from doing that.

This was too much. The strange creature’s arrival culminated in Jung losing the final shred of control he had over his emotions and caused him to shout, something he only ever did when in mortal danger:

“SOMEONE HELP ME!!! THERE’S SOMETHING ON MY BACK!!!”

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47

The delicate examination performed by Eve was almost perfectly seem by Basil - in fact, it was when the lightbulb flashed that it was most difficult for him to see. He didn’t spend any time pondering why that was, however, since more pressing matters were at hand, like-

Like that.

The sentence began with the surprise and volume enough to make Basil jump in response. But as it continued, growing more pressing and causing adrenaline to pump through Basil’s arteries, something happened. Something, because Basil really wasn’t sure what occurred or why his fingers were hurting or why he was now on the ceiling.

For the rest of the group, there was a violent blur at Basil’s corner of the room, and the next moment the bundle of cloth was on the ceiling, the hidden fingers and toes of its inhabitant piercing through both the blanket and the mold to grip into the worn lines of the concrete. The glowing yellow eyes were still visible, if a little obscured.

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48

The mold on the handle seems to have solidified it in position. It looks like it’s been growing for years, decades. In fact, the whole room feels … ancient. Undisturbed.

But the handle does turn, sheets of oozing mold sloughing off of it. You pull, then push, but the door doesn’t budge. There’s a slight, wet, shlooping noise, of mold being disturbed by you trying to open the door, but the resistance is too much for your first attempt.

Pain, excruciating.

Terror, all-encompassing.

You aren’t being bitten. The pain is deeper, more horrific, more inescapable. Whatever it is, the thing, it’s burning, burrowing-

It stops.

Your mental convulsions suddenly become physical, as you arm flies up and out to your neck and back.

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49

Alexis stopped her pacing momentarily and glared at the man, more out of concern then anger, who was currently sprawled out on the floor writhing in agony, “Are you okay? Do you need help?” She stepped closer to Jung, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him down.

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50

Jung was in heck.

Whatever had decided to crawl near him was now making a meal out of him, doing things far too horrible to be described here. The pain was not so much as Jung felt pain before. It was searing hot, almost as if it was burning away the area where the creature now was.

Jung’s mind was far more out of control, however. Hey lay there, screaming in agony as the creature did it’s dirty work. Why would someone stoop so low as to leave him where he would suffer without any form of ending the predator that currently was attacking him. Who, he thought, would be that sick

“No” Jung thought to himself. “I will not succumb to this”. “I am stronger than you, whoever you are, you will not break me MENDAX!!”

As his screams filled the room, Jung attempted to regain control over his mind. He tried to logic the pain away, stating it was all in his head. He tried to focus on the nasty mold-lined light. He tried to focus on someone, anyone who would give him at least a glance of pity.

Seemingly, no relief came. But then,

Jung briefly made eye contact with the woman concerned about “it”. Considering the circumstances, Jung was expecting to burn through this alone. While the gesture did nothing to alleviate the pain, it did help ease his mind a bit. Perhaps there was good still left after all.

As Jung’s voice began to wear and as his will was about to run dry, the nearly infinitely long, excruciating pain suddenly ceased. He heard a slap of something hitting the back of his hand behind him. He sat up straight in an instant, turning his head and torso to see what was going on. Jung turned to see an arm that when followed, linked to his own shoulder. As well as the arm belonging to the woman. He stretched his legs, wondering if he was-

“Wait”, Jung realized.

His arm had moved, He had moved it. Jung was no longer paralyzed. A small smile of relief began to break out on his tear stained face.

Jung didn’t know whether to laugh at his regained control or cry at the trauma that just befell him.

”What on earth was that?!” Jung exclaimed as he tried to turn and see what had just bitten into him

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51

They say being blind makes your other senses more adept, like hearing. They say blind people are really great with voices, committing them to memory, picking voices out of a crowd, knowing who’s around by their voice…

Of course, this might not necessarily apply when you’re in a bizarre new situation full of sensory overload. The eye-headed girl had already heard the voices of the other two girls – she wasn’t familiar enough with how people looked to realize they weren’t usually silver – the paralytic, the business man, and the quiet voice of the blanket thing. But when a new voice spoke up, it didn’t register to her that that was odd – at first.

She frowned, disappointed. At least, she thought about frowning…

Underground?

For a moment, she panicked. Were they buried? Were they going to slowly run out of air and suffocate, if they couldn’t find a way out? What if there was no way out? What if–

Calm down. Underground doesn’t mean buried. Probably an underground bunker or something. Lawmaster here probably just tried to exit the wrong direction, but surely there’s a door somewhere…

The words register, though not the fact that it’s a new voice speaking. But then…

She turned back to the rest of the room, and this time saw the fish talk. She stared, dumbfounded, as the fish proceeded to hold a conversation with the others.

Okay, talking fish. I guess that’s probably not the weirdest thing I’ve seen all day.

Her first instinct was to leap to his aid, help him up, help him figure out what was attacking him. But instead of doing that, instead of being the hero she wanted to be… she froze. A part of her was crying out to help, but another part felt anxious, that she wouldn’t know what to do, that she would make things worse.

And then, she saw the shorter girl step in to help. She wasn’t sure whether she should feel relief that someone had come to her aid, or anger, at herself, for hesitating.

Okay, well, you want to be helpful now? Maybe you can help the child. Wait, why is he on the ceiling?

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52

Well, that was fun.

And the definition of fun in this instance was ‘not fun at all and extremely traumatic to witness and hear’, especially for Basil.

Jung had suddenly began screaming with such ferocity that all the hairs on Basil’s body lifted up in horror. And he was only getting started. Pang after pang of torture shot through his body, and Jung responded with increasingly violent screaming which had the extremely negative side effect of making Basil back an impossible amount into the corner of the ceiling, trying to get away from the noise.

But he couldn’t. The agony of the man repeatedly tore through the air, beating down hard on Basil’s sensitive ears. Soon he was sharing a portion of the pain as well, pressing his head against the ceiling as his hands were currently unavailable to impossibly cover his oversized ears. But the noise didn’t stop.

Basil’s mind had already raced up to this point, but now it was out of control. The sensory overload from the surrounding occurrences was far too much for him to handle, with no experience controlling his abilities, and his internal organs were overclocking, churning, and throbbing with each successive wail.

Then it suddenly ceased. Basil’s fingers suddenly slipped out of exhaustion, and the muscles in his legs locked his knees as all his energy redirected into holding his toes in place. However, he was now upside-down, and…

“HgrrUHK”

An accumulation of foaming bile dropped out of the gap in Basil’s blanket, hitting the floor with a plop as the owner of said pile began to moan incoherently, his hands vaguely traveling up and down, unsure whether to clutch his stomach or his head. Or, perhaps, to reach for the arms of someone who wasn’t there.

Half-words escaped Basil’s mouth as he began to sway. It would be impossible to see them now, what with him hanging upside-down, but his eyes had the tiniest orange tint to them.

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53

Eve’s face grows even darker and she braces to kick the entire door down. Metal, concrete, even if this thing is made of steel she doesn’t care. It’s in her way, daring to impede her, daring to stop her progress in her own dream.

What if this isn’t your dream-

Her next train of destructive thought is thoroughly derailed when the paralytic starts screaming. She half-turns to look at him and ponders whether to ask if he’s ok…and then in a moment he starts moving.

Eve stares mutely at the “paralytic” who seems to have regained at least part of his mobility. “What just happened,” she deadpans. “And why are you moving now? I thought your limbs were shattered or something.”

She glances around the room, turning in a little circle and looking with narrowed eyes for anything moving that shouldn’t be, any small monstrous things trying to hide in with the mold. “Are there more of whatever those were?”

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55

Miles was about to lay out the cold, hard facts so that the literal floating fish would realize the gravity of their situation until Jung started screaming. He jumped back with a start, thoughts racing through his head about what could be attacking the paralyctic man. Miles didn’t have much time to overthink, however, because the bat-blanket bundle was suddenly on the ceiling and being incredibly threatening. Miles stumbled back farther until he ran into one of the room’s walls, electing to stay there until things died down.

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56

Okay, so the man on the floor is screaming, and now he stopped? I guess maybe that girl helped… hmm, I don’t know anyone’s names. Or… my name? I don’t remember my own name. Does everyone have amnesia like this? Wait, someone mentioned going to sleep somewhere else.

What am I going to say if someone asks my name? I don’t know? I shouldn’t tell them that I don’t remember. I should act like I know my own name. I shouldn’t even question it. I should confidently say something like

“My name is Sue.”

Wait, I just said that aloud. Did anyone hear? Screw it, that’s my name now. Okay, now what was I doing? I guess the girl who I hope is not also named Sue is helping the guy who is probably not named Sue, so I was gonna… right, the kid.

The girl who was apparently now named Sue walked over to the blanketed thing hanging from the ceiling, careful to avoid the pile of bile, and reached up to attempt to pluck him from the ceiling.

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57

The blanketed thing had some resistance to being plucked from the ceiling, but with some effort disengages from the concrete, his toes sliding out of the grooves in the structure. He’s abnormally light, but then again he is a child.

The odd triangles coming off his head offer a cumbersome aspect to maneuvering him, but not as much as his legs, which remain locked in position despite being off the wall. What are presumably his hands continue gripping at random areas across his body, and his slurred words mumble out in saddened moans as his fingers occasionally poke the blanket’s surface in an attempt to grasp something not there.

He’s pretty helpless in this state.

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58

Okay, I got him, now what do I do? Uh, I didn’t think this through, did I? Maybe I should just put him down… No, I committed to doing this, I’m gonna do it. I guess I should see about getting him out of the blanket.

Maybe it was altruism, or maybe it was just curiosity, but she did want to see this kid thing. Sue turned the child over to what she assumed was right-side up – at least, the pointy things that were probably ears were on top – and attempted to unwrap the blanket to see what exactly was hidden inside.

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