Pasts Shared, Questions Answered: Jasper's Second Biggest Oopsie [Memory/Dream Share]

[guardingtheveil]

He's made a new friend! How cool is that? But he hasn't entirely understood what Octavia had meant about dreams and emotions creating their own sort of magic. He couldn't deny the appeal of such things: There were schools of magic involving divination, delving through one's own palace of the mind, and the mood of the witch dictating the result of the spell.

So Jasper decided he'd try a little something. Maybe he could try, oh he didn't know, opening a door to dreams and see what could be found on the other side.

When he reached out, pulled open the curtain, the fabric shrieked as it tore. The power spilled, was like a torrent, rushing out to grab and cradle minds before drawing them under, deeper, deeper into the peace of sleep...




Many eyes opened, revealing an alien forest. Butterflies danced at the edges of one's vision. A whisper of a doe sprang by, the color of starlight before it vanished into the bushes. Dew glittered upon open nightblooms, the pale light of the moon pouring down in shafts in gaps of the overhead tree's boughs.

The sight is... familiar, to some of the dreamers. But even to them, there was something altogether alien about it. But the path before them, carpeted in soft moss, fireflies sailing lazily through the slightly damp and earthy air, seemed to invite you forward.

You feel eyes upon you. Something... malevolent. But, for now, whatever this presence was chooses simply to watch. Amused.

You hear voices in the distance. Perhaps a familiar scent, or a comforting taste touches the nose and tongue. Whatever the case, it brings a dreamer to pause. Pull aside the drooping branches of a weeping willow, its flowery curtain blocking your view, or gaze into a small pond, the water still as glass. What lies beyond is... something you've seen before. Somewhere you've been. Or, perhaps you're intruding upon the Something and Somewhere of another...

Strange... dreamotion seems to be active and alive here! But... why?


[ooc: HAPPY MARCH. Here's the memshare event. Memories and dreams can be interacted with if you wish, or can be passively viewed only. Just mark which you'd prefer. Jasper will eventually close the veil again, but alternative methods to 'wake up' again can happen if you wanna take things your own way.]

Comments

Consequences of Being a Wild Card || Worstboy Memshare || OTA

[herewardbound]

Doing something a little bit different, here. If you have an urge to interact with Goro's dreams and memories, either reply here with a particular setup or drop me a line on the Discord and we'll arrange one.

Enjoy.

Will Power || For Mako

[herewardbound]

Goro Akechi was good at what he did. He was an experienced Persona user, one with access to multiple powers and a broad, highly-offensive skillset. There were few things he couldn't handle, really, with careful strategy and enough raw force.

The full might of the Phantoms was among them. Against any one of them he would have excelled, succeeded even, possibly forcing even their leader into a draw if he fought seriously-

But eight on one?

They'd driven him back, forced him to his knees, had the absolute gall to lecture him, to pretend to know what was going through his head, spouting their stupid friendship bullshit. They were ruining everything. Ren was ruining everything, standing there as fucking. Unflappable as ever, daring to look at him like that, like he pitied him.

"Shut up. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" He dragged himself to his feet, staggering, snarling as sheer fury pushed him past the pain. "Team-mates?! Friends?! To Hell with that!" Did they realize how they sounded, how stupid, how naive- how fucking patronizing that sounded when they were all so stupidly fucking lucky?! "Why am I so inferior to you?!"

Joker's eyes narrowed. "You're fighting eight on one, Crow. Give up."

"Not them! You. I... was extremely particular about my life. My grades, my public image- so someone would want me around! I am an ace detective. A celebrity! But you- you're just some criminal trash living in an attic! So how?! How does someone like you have everything I don't?! How can such a worthless piece of trash be better than me?!"

Beneath the Mask || For Ruby

[herewardbound]

It was a chilly night in Tokyo.

Not freezing, temperatures that cold were rare- but certainly cold enough to warrant a jacket. It was well past eleven, now, and the public bath had since closed its doors, turned off its lights- but one child sat alone, on the bench outside.

A human child, with an untidy mop of sand-colored hair, dressed in an oversized jacket and kicking his legs as he waited.

Hell's Worst Dad || For Denji

[herewardbound]

Goro Akechi was fifteen, and he was sitting in a familiar office. A man in a suit stood at the window with his back turned to the room, head shaved and goatee neatly trimmed. The man was terminally mundane in appearance, but in the dream’s space he seemed to take up half the room, generating a gravity all his own that drew the eye and refused to let it go.

Akechi was nervous. A personal meeting with Shido wasn’t something that just happened. Everything he did was through proxies, through underworld contacts or personal aides, but almost never in person. If he met with you in person, you were either in the best of his good graces, or on the worst of his bad side.

He seemed to be in a good mood, but that could be incredibly bad news. Had Akechi been found out? Was the plan ruined? Before he could open his mouth to speak, however, Shido did it for him, closing the blinds and turning around.

“I have another job for you, Akechi. This one is top priority, and supersedes your Metaverse surveillance activities for the time being.”

The boy relaxed. Was that all? “Of course, Representative Shido. What’s the name?”

Desire || For Husk

[herewardbound]

The office was the very picture of understated luxury. A wide view of the Tokyo skyline, a collection of expensive wines and liquors on display in a glass case. A desk made of rich, dark wood, with comfortable chairs in leather seated across from it- though not nearly as comfortable as the one behind it. This was not the luxury of conspicuous consumption, but rather the luxury of serious money. The kind that didn't need to put on airs, because it knew what real quality was and didn't care what anyone else thought.

The man seated at the desk looked up, as the door opened. A boy of thirteen summers was escorted inside- wearing a white uniform shirt and black slacks, and looking, though he was clearly pretending not to be, terrified.

The door closed. Eyes studied him from behind amber glasses. And then the bald man smiled. "Hello, young man. I'm given to understand you wanted a private meeting with me, and you told my men some very interesting stories to get it. So. You have my attention. I am Masayoshi Shido, as you're already aware, but I think you have me at a disadvantage. What's your name, boy?"

The boy, all scrawny limbs and untidy sand-blonde hair, swallowed. "Goro Akechi, sir."

For the merest fraction of an instant, the man stilled. It was swift enough that a child, however observant, would miss it entirely. But a skilled gambler, and an overlord? It was a tell as clear as any other.

Renée || OTA

[butterflyaffect]

▶ MEMORIES OF YOU

If I ever lose you, I will find you

---

She raced through twisting corridors, azure stone blurring past as she raced to follow, ignored the shouts behind her, telling her to let it go-

The door to the Velvet Room crashed open and she emerged into night air, panting, her eyes fixated on the figure of a woman with features like hers, appearing slightly older. She'd been walking out of the alleyway they'd both emerged into, pausing and half-turning back to look. And yet... she smiled, softly, as Renée came to a stop.

"You're going to try to stop me. Yes?"

▶ FREEDOM AND SECURITY

An impostor and usurper

---

The strange, blue stone that was the floors and walls of this place was cracked and burned. This was impossible. The invader, the monster who chose, now, to wear her master's- her father's- face, faced off against the full might of the Velvet Room, against its Attendants unified- and it was winning. She was on her knees, cerulean blood pooling beneath her. Theo was already unconscious, Margaret standing but on her last legs- and only Lavenza was still in the fight, her tiny frame defiant but dwarfed by the presence of the invader before them.

MEMORIES OF YOU

[knight_in_sinful_armor]

"...No?"

Is what he tries to say. Why would he be trying to stop this random human person from... something?

But the words stick in his throat. And come to think of it, his entire body sticks in place, too. Light shifts, uncomfortable movements... it's like he's barely even here, a case of sleep paralysis where you know you're asleep, but can't do anything to wake yourself up or interact with anything that's happening, no matter how much you try to get your muscles to move. He doesn't even notice anybody else present.

[hadal_predator]

[Memory- Get Out (Viewable Only)]

Nephew was six, and his heart was racing. He'd finally stopped hyperventilating, his gills smoothing down. A wet washcloth was swept around his mouth and it was like a reflex, his teeth lengthening as he turned and snapped at the hand-

"Enough. I'm not letting you march through this house covered in blood," Ruby's voice had an edge, rattled as she continued checking the child over. His shirt dappled in flecks of black, some having run from the boy's mouth. The rest was from the struggle...

"Drink," she instructed, and passed the shark a glass of water. The boy hiccuped, but gulped at the contents. It busied him enough that Ruby would remove his shirt, maneuver around the four arms, and set it aside for a spot treatment. She could clean off blood. It was easy enough to do.

As Nephew lowered the glass, sniffled, his face was dark and flushed. His hair was hopelessly ruffled, and the bruises were clear over his upper body and his face. The boy's face scrunched, trying to stop more tears from falling.

"I-I... I didn-n't- start it! Ol-Oliver did! You said- you said-"

"It's okay, baby. Take a breath. I ain't mad at you. Drink again, and let's take it from the top. I wanna know what happened. You didn't start it, you said?"

The boy drank again, but nodded. Hiccuped. He was relieved of the glass as he took another deep breath, made a show of it, and sighed.

"Oliver was... was pokin' my eyes again. He's always pokin' 'em. And pulls my hair and arms. And says I'm gross. Always says you're stupid for keepin' someone else's gross kid. ...So I bit him."

"I can see that," Ruby added.

"I bit him and... and he was screamin' and started punchin' me, but I couldn't let go. I don't know why. You said... you said 'don't start fights, but you can finish 'em'."

"Of course, baby. I think you more than finished that one." She moved a hand through his hair, and was relieved the snapping had stopped. She hadn't liked how much he'd been licking the blood off of his hands or from his own face...

"We're gonna keep you home for a few days and get this sorted out. You've got a few ouchies on you that I wanna keep an eye on, okay?"

"Can't I stay here forever? I hate school!"

"Now that's a lie! You told me you love school."

The boy looked down. The books were great, knowing stuff was cool, but- "...But nobody's nice to me..."


[Dreamscape- A Stranger (Interactive)]

The Lust Ring was raining again, the sound of it rushing over the rooftop of the venue he stood in.

His heart was in his throat, but he swallowed it down, adjusted the buttons on his costume, his stage outfit, shirt cut low and long boots suitably tight against his thighs. He needed to do this. He needed to ace this. As his tongue traced along his teeth, he raised his arms and sent off a pair of shimmering threads. Nephew pulled tight, built the tension, and waited.

When the curtains parted, the music started, he recognized the venue... Ozzie's. He was finally here.

Nephew's feet left the ground as he shot himself high, looped a palm around the shimmering silver pole, and twirled. Hooked a leg.

♫ You're begging
I can feel your knees sinking
When did this bed turn into water? ♫

Began a slow, spiral glide upside down, tail a-sway. It was as if he'd started swimming. Weightless.

♫ Is it that good?
My love, my flower
Is he that good?

Am I that good?
My hands are powers
They're just that good ♫

"What the fuck is all this? Who even are you?"

His looked out into the crowd but was having trouble. The lights were bright, made it hard to make anybody out. But that voice was familiar, male. He hadn't heard that voice since... when- when was it, again...?

♫ There's no need to ask, babe
I'll give it all to you
Anything you ask me
I'll give it all to you ♫

"Stop it! Stop making excuses!!" A female voice, thick, desperate. It made his heart feel like it'd gone in a vice.

It was enough to make him lose his grip, send him in an uncomfortable heap at the base of the pole. His shoulder hurt. His neck hurt. But he scrambled onto his hands and knees.

"Why didn't you tell me about any of this? You thought I'd just be -okay- with you risking your life like this?? You told me you were different... 'Nephew.' If that's even your real name."

He felt dizzy. Wait, what was going on? That was familiar too. Why would she even-

"Don't touch me! Don't even come NEAR me! You're... just like the rest of them. Liars. Crooks. Did you even choose to be with me because Daddy's got money...?"

Wait. No. This was his chance to explain! Nephew all but stumbled off the stage, out of the lights--

To empty tables. Empty seats. Silence. When he looked back on the stage, it had been cleaned and sanitized. Nobody was set to go up for hours, it seemed.

But adrenaline coursed through him, a sharp spike of anxiety.

"...What the Hell is going on...?" He patted himself, only felt his usual coat and sweater. No guns. No knives. How did he leave everything at home...!?

A malevolent aura was building. Fed until fat from negative emotions, the shadows stretched long from the tables and chairs. Nephew was wholly unfamiliar with the malice of noctaeres, shadow folk from Reverein...

[Dreamscape- A Stranger (Interactive)]

[knight_in_sinful_armor]

Sten was asleep. As far as he's aware, that's about the extent of it. But as the hours roll on, he finds himself in a club, branded with Asmodeus' iconography, down in Lust. Which is highly surprising since, last he checked, he wasn't actually capable of being there? The storm above muffles sound from outside the venue, while music and singing emanate from the stage, a vaguely spidery shark boy spiraling along a pole. The pangolin demon sits at a table, dressed in the party attire he was wearing the last time he was at a social event like this up in Pride. Asmodeus was running that one, too. He just watches the stage as the song is cut with a woman shouting at intermittent times.

Is this part of the performance?

No, wait, of course it isn't. There is no performance. Nobody's going to perform for ages. The stage is dark, he's here past operating hours. Sten stands up, holding his head as the shark slams against the floor and starts scrabbling off the stage, panic in all four eyes as he pats himself down. Cognition took a bit to get there, but it's here now. He hesitantly steps closer, looking down at the demon.

"Hey. Hey, kid, are you alright?"

He's got a bad feeling about this as he glances behind him. Normally, he wouldn't take his eyes off someone starting to panic like that, but somewhere in his paranoia-addled mind his hands grip into fists.

What is this?

A stranger

[grointothebust]

A snap of fingers rang out, and the tables surrounding the stage were proudly adorned with candelabras. The candles burned a cozy purple, unfamiliar to the dark forces threatening to invade cozy dream. Asmodeus didn't fully know what any of this was; he sensed something positive from a familiar face and found a familiar place along the way.

"Sorry for interrupting, Nephew." Ozzie called, strutting out onto the floor looking calm and collected. "I don't tolerate anyone heckling performers at Ozzie's. Especially not when you're having this much fun."

He's only felt something like this once before. The flower he conjured for Alastor months ago had a similar energy about it. Something warm and comfortable...could Nephew somehow be involved? He can't say. There's one thing he knows for sure: the surrounding darkness had a foul vibe to it, something malicious and harmful. And they're not about to harm one of his favorites.

"We might need to put on a special show for them. What do you think?"

[mansbestend]

[Memory 1. A First, Lost (Viewable only)]

Denji could remember the smell of coffee. He never liked the taste, but he did like the smell, as it always mingled with so many baked goods, so many buttery layers and fresh bread. But he didn't have an appetite today.

The cellophane crinkled in his arms, bearing countless flowers of all shapes and colors. His face warmed. His heart raced. He'd never felt like this before... the wait was unbearable.

Today was the day. Today... he'd see her. Instead of a dingy old daisy, he would give her this bouquet, tell her everything. They would run off together, stop being used by everyone. They would live their own lives.

Denji watched the clock as the hands moved. Early. On-Time. Late. ...Later...

An elderly man, the owner of the café, had had enough. "...Denji-kun. We're closing now."

But he kept staring at that clock.

"Look... that girl really was cute, and the world was so much brighter with her around. But I'm sure a girl who's just perfect for you will appear eventually."

He didn't want to listen. His nose scrunched. Maybe the trains were late. Maybe she was playing a game...? Or maybe she had the shits and was stuck in the bathroom or something.

But his heart lifted, flew when he heard the café door opened, the bell jingling. Denji turned his head, jaw agape-

"POWEEEEERR!" Strawberry blonde. Red and yellow eyes. Red horns. So many fangs.

Denji's face fell. Oh. It was just Powy. Damn it...

"I have returned!!" Power crowed as she strolled in. "And upon chasing Denji's scent, I ended up in this tiny, tiny shop!!"

Denji sighed. His stomach hurt a little. He hadn't noticed that Power came to sit next to him, her eyes bright.

"What are those flowers!? I think they suit me. GIMME!" Denji snapped to attention as the fiend reached for the blooms.

He needed to think fast!

He opened wide and started shoveling the blossoms into his mouth.

"THOSE ARE MINE, YOU THIEF! Don't eat them!!" Power roared, but her cry went unanswered. Denji was wholly in his goat moment, chewing away upon pretty flowers and stems.

Perhaps this stomach upset will help him forget.


[Memory 2. Don't Open It (Viewable only)]

Denji snapped awake in the apartment. The doorbell was ringing incessantly. Ding-dong, ding-dong, dingdongdingdongdingdong-

"Rrgh... I'm tryin'a sleep..." He pushed himself upright, shuffled his way to the door, scratching his back.

His head turned, and registered the phone had started to ring too.

"Oh. Phone. Lemme answer it..."

"The doorbell's ringing!" Power called, frowning from her spot in the living room.

"Aren't you going to answer it??"

"Yeah, yeah, just... gimme a minute. Don't open the door."

"Why not?" Power griped, yet made zero move to get out of her seat. Denji picked up the phone.

"Well, who is it...??"

"Denji-kun." Makima's voice. "Have you seen the news?"

"No... I just woke up."

"I'll give you the brief version: The Gun Devil appeared without warning. We failed to defeat it. It took over a dead body and got away.

That Gun Fiend is now ringing your doorbell."

Denji's face scrunched in confusion, then smiled. "Har har. That's not funny. Why would the stupid gun show up at my front door?"

"Denji-kun... this time, don't think of anything while you fight."

The doorbell still incessantly ringing, the call disconnected. Denji hung up.

"HelLO? You didn't answer me! Why can't we open the door?" Power stomped a foot.

"Makima says... it's a gun fiend at our door, I guess...?"

"What!? You're talking nonsense!"

"No, really, Makima said so-"

"You fool! Topknot still hasn't come home, remember? He's the one ringing the doorbell!" Power moved toward the door.

"Heeeey! That's you, right, Aki??"

Denji froze, eyes on the door. The doorbell was still going. Someone really wanted in.

His stomach was ice.

"...Power. Take Meowy and leave from the balcony."

"What? Why?"

"Power!"

The blood fiend paused, frowned. Then she huffed and moved to scoop up her cat. "...Alright, alright. Come on, Meowy. We're going outside for a walk. From the balcony!"

She hopped over and off the balcony, her precious furry friend in tow. Denji turned back to the door and approached.

"It's... just in case, that's all," he assured himself.

"There's no way some stupid gun guy would bother to come greet me, right? Ms. Makima is playing a prank."

He grasped the doorknob, twisted.

"...Right, Aki?" He pushed the door open, and...

...and...

"D e n j i..." His visitor said, voice thick with congealed blood.

Denji said something in response, but he couldn't remember what. The sight would forever be burned in his memory...

...As would the blinding pain as the creature wearing his friend's skin attacked with an immense, explosive force. He felt himself tear into two.

[guardingtheveil]

[Memory 1- Under the Wrathful Sky (Interactive)]

The volcanoes bubbled, each adding a miniature sun like molten golden glass to illuminate the angry sky. Families all over would start heading home about this time to wash up, get clean before supper. An early dinner meant an early bedtime, be up bright and early again for more work. No imp down here had clean claws... but if it wasn't dirt underneath, it was blood.

Turf wars in Pride were one thing. But fights in Wrath were just for sport. They were to make a statement sometimes, but mostly the folk here liked to have a scrap rather than have a handshake.

But that wasn't the case for a hellhound that took a seat beneath a tree, perched in the dry grass in the middle of the yard. The freshly repainted sign at the end of the property read 'Wildfire Ridge Ranch'.

Jasper eased back and idly strummed at his acoustic guitar. He'd left those robes in the ranch house, dressed in torn jeans, bit of dirt-flecked flannel, and an undershirt marked with a bit of dusty paw prints. He'd needed clean hands to play, after all.

♫ I used to spend my nights out in a bar room
Liquor was the only love I've known
But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom
And brought me back from bein' too far gone ♫

Work was done for the day. But it was too early yet to retire. He needed to spend a little time for himself doing something he enjoyed. His mama and his dad weren't really singers... they were fighters, through n' through.

But not their boy.

♫ You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey
You're as sweet as strawberry wine
You're as warm as a glass of brandy
And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time ♫

One of the mares, a stocky and lovely creature bearing soft blue and green flames, cantered over to settle in. The way Jasper smiled over at her, kept playing, spoke volumes on how often this seemed to happen.

♫ I've looked for love in all the same old places
Found the bottom of a bottle always dry
But when you poured out your heart I didn't waste it
'Cause there's nothin' like your love to get me high

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey
You're as sweet as strawberry wine
You're as warm as a glass of brandy
And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time... ♫

He wouldn't notice anyone approaching. The mare didn't, either. But there was the distinct feeling of eyes on whoever might be visiting that didn't quite belong.


[Memory 2. The Mistake (Viewable Only)]

Jasper was coughing, grasping at his own throat and chest as he stumbled back from some small portal that was just closing. A sharp twist of wind had extinguished the candles he'd lit, scattered some of the items he'd aligned just so.

The big guy fell, choking and frothing at the mouth, footclaws dragging against the hard floor and leaving marks. His eyes bore a ever-brightening glow, a natural response whenever a hellborn demon is in distress.

"Jasper...? Jas, honey, what's goin' on down there??" A female voice called, deep like smoke.

Jasper offered no response, rolling onto his stomach. He crawled, gasping for breath, hacking up blood. But one claw was pulling him toward the steps leading up and out of the dark basement. The other was still as stone, digging in deep.

Keeping him from advancing.

His teeth gnashed, snapped at nothing as his eyes rolled back. His gums and teeth were stained black, thin tendrils of fluid dribbling to the floor.

Heavy footsteps paused at the door at the top of the stairs. When it opened light poured in. Made his rolling eyes stop. Turn. Sharpen. His neck twisted to see better, and he hissed.

"Jasper, what on this EARTH are you doin' makin' so much noi-"

"Let me work, you miserable fucking CUNT!" His mouth curled, snarled, moved and formed those horrible words. He watched as his mother, a mountain of a hellhound woman, began her advance down the stairs, eyes narrowed.

"WHAT did you just say to me? I KNOW you ain't fixin' to challenge your mama! I am NOT in the mood!" She reached down, somehow dwarfing this already-large hellhound of a son, and raised him by his scruff.

What she saw, mouth covered with blood, gnashing and snarling like a creature suffering from hellbies, was enough to snatch the fury and smooth it down into wariness.

"...What the Hell's gotten into you??" She pushed him back, and was swift from her training as a bodyguard: She wrapped him up in a nelson hold, fully grappled, and hissed.

Her hold was unerring as Jasper fought to claw, snapping the air again, and screamed. His entire body writhed as terrible obscenities rolled off his tongue, eyes rolling back again.

It lasted a full minute that felt like hours. But the struggles soon stopped. The snapping soon stopped. Gradually, Jasper went a little limp, panting, and as his eyelids fluttered, the glow of his eyes mellowed.

"...M...Mama...?"

"...Jasper? You done?"

"Mama... Y-you're hurtin' me a bit..."

The woman paused, waited for another round of whatever that was. When nothing further occurred, she released him.

"Well! Seventeen years! Better late than never for you to get your first Wrath!"

"...What...?"

"Oh, my boy, your father and I have been waiting for SO long for this...! How did it feel? What set you off?"

Jasper just stared at his own mother, weary and wary. "...I don't know. But I felt awful, Mama-"

"Oh, don't you worry about that! Y'get used to it! ...Oh SATAN, I gotta call your daddy and share the good news!" She reached for her son, pulled him in, kissed him on the cheek and sped back up the stairs, all but buzzing with newfound pride and joy.

Jasper slowly lowered into a seat on the floor. Looked over his ritual circle.

"...But... none of that was me," he plead to nobody, his voice hollow.

[poppypapillon]

What was this? Poppy had laid her head down for the evening and suddenly, this dream that... wasn't hers, and was far too real, was playing out. Though she'd braced for the possessed teen to attack her, it was as if she was invisible.

What in the fuck did this 'Jasper' summon? And 'first Wrath', what in the world--

"Are you okay?" Poppy asked, though she wasn't sure he'd hear her. If not, she'd at least follow, try and see where this even went.

[queercore]

Dream magic didn't usually get like this. Dio's only dabbling has been learning to lucid dream, and actualize material things from that dream world - so far, they've only pulled off a single daisy petal.

This, on the other hand, is wild. And the fact that it's Jasper that's at the center of this little event?

Why, that just makes sense. Jasper must've bungled something big time. Oh well - a little teasing and an offer to help would get shelved for just a moment in favor of sauntering up, making sure they matched - well, close enough. Skinny jeans, tall leather boots, a crop top - that works, right? They join in the song.

♫ You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey
You're as sweet as strawberry wine
You're as warm as a glass of brandy
And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time... ♫

[systemofadowny]

First Wrath? Was that a thing? Jasper, as Octavia knows him, is a soft spoken boy who didn't even like swearing, but that whole thing she just witnessed? That goes a little beyond getting angry. She's seen Wrathians get angry and yeah, they can be terrifying (aunt Millie is great and Via loves her), but did they just...snap like that?

More importantly, she was dreamwalking. She knew this was dreamwalking. Shit.

"Jasper?" She called out. "I think it's safe to say we both have questions now."

[strawberryredgrave]

Memory - A New Beginning (Viewable only)

Smoke. Searing heat. A loving home falling apart with every detail burned into memory. A nightmare revisited so many times, it was almost routine. A moment in time captured in panicked, vivid detail.

Boom. Something went off and dazed an eight year old Dante, knocking him to the floor as he tried to blink through the bleariness. An adult woman, blonde with a red shawl draped over her, hurriedly helped the boy up. Urgency guided them to a nearby closet, with the woman scanning the area for anyone who could notice them. Dante was guided inside, with the woman's hands on the doors.

"You need to hide, Dante. No matter what happens, you mustn't leave!" Eva urged. Something collapsed on the far side of the room, drawing the attention of both of them. Fire steadily consumed the house, yet she still returned her attention to her son. A much greater threat prompted this decision.

"I need to find Vergil. I promise I'll be back." Her words, reassuring as she hoped they'll be, have young Dante holding himself in fear and looking down at the floor. Gentle hands return his gaze back up to meet hers. "I know this is hard. You must listen to me. Be a big boy...a man, huh?" Eva's smile was pained. She didn't want to leave her son behind in a dangerous situation, but Dante's brother was still missing. The young boy nodded, looking frightened, with his mother's words all that he had to cling to.

The gravity of the situation made Eva's smile fall, and dire thoughts sink in. She thought to herself for a moment, and found the words she didn't want to speak. "If I don't return, you must run. By yourself. Alone. You must change your name. Forget your past and start a new life as someone else."

Eva gestured for Dante to tuck himself into the closet as she finally began to close them.

"A new beginning."

One last smile before the doors closed. The shutters allowed him to watch his mother run off, desperately calling for Vergil. She charged through the hallway and out of Dante's view, the boy trembling in terror as he was left to wait on his own. Wait for mom to come back. Wait for news about his brother. Wait for someone to come looking for him...

Dante didn't have to wait long. An explosion, the sound of something collapsing, and a scream that haunts him to this day...

The memory ends there, jolting Dante awake and forcing a perspective shift outside of the burning lavish home. The man stood there, solemn and trying his damnedest not to look too closely at his childhood home.

"Fucking reruns..." He spat, trying and failing to lighten the mood for himself.

Guilt (Interactive)

Welcome to Hell. It's otherworldly at the best of times and HR Geiger-esque at all other times. An open clearing among the strange white plants has two men staring each other down. Dante is familiar to most by now. Opposite of him is a man in blue with a face exactly like Dante's. He wore his with a disapproving scowl.

"Vergil..."

"You left me, Dante." The cold, wounded voice of Vergil replied. "You didn't think twice about it either, did you?"

"It's not--"

"Did you?!"

Vergil rushed forward with blinding speed, a drawn katana clashing with Dante's sword. The intensity of the blow sent a shockwave that had the plants wave. Vergil grew angrier and his eyes glowed red. People from Reverein would recognize the way his shape contorted into a shadowy beast. A noctaere that mimicked Dante's brother.

"I didn't know I'd make it this far. I thought the dream would end and I'd go back..."

"But you found a new life. A new family. A new brother or two, I'm sure..."

"You're still my brother, dumbass!"

"You didn't bother trying to find me. Like mother, like son!" Blades clashed once again, and the fight (or for those perceptive enough, the negative energy from Dante) began to attract attention. The creatures didn't make themselves seen, but rustling could be heard from the brush, clicks from unknown creatures, mocking demonic laughter. Things were threatening to overflow, if the scene continued as it did...

[butterflyaffect]

"PERSONA!" She was going to be damned if she was going to let whatever this nonsense was continue. Vergil, if he didn't move, would be frozen to the spot by a spire of ice.

And there was Renée, charging, looking for all the world like a mid-century guerilla soldier had walked through a blue dye factory and come out the other side, leveling an assault rifle at Dante's brother, bayonet and all.

And there was Eva behind her, the Persona's skeletal face locked in a vicious grin. "Hi, Dante. What the fuck?"

A Circus of Nightmares

[helluvaboss]

The reappearance of dreamotion caught Blitzø off guard - he hadn't been fighting sleep or dealing with feelings the way he had been in Reverein, falling back on avoidance without such tangible consequence.

But now it was there, anyway.

A massive circus tent loomed in Pride. A dream that one might round a corner and find themselves facing instead of the street they thought they were approaching. The tent was tall, tattered, and the red sky of Pride had an unsettling green tone to it - and it was hot.

Stepping into the tent brought one into an impossibly sprawling space - a labyrinth of rusty catwalks, stairs, and suffocatingly hot green nothingness underneath for anyone that falls over the railing. There is a deafening song playing on an infinite loop, making it hard to even think. The catwalks are lined with walls of funhouse mirrors, showing myriad faces scowling, spitting, or cursing at whoever passed. Faces of hellborn and Sinner alike, faces of humans, faces of people from that dream world that made all of this possible.

You might even find yourself here, if you've met Blitzø before.

The deeper one goes, the more surreal and oppressive the atmosphere is - but there are doors to find, that could be opened...

wheeeeeee

[herewardbound]

Somewhere, amidst the chaos, after waking a third time to find that he'd been dreamwalking again, somehow, he'd turned a corner and wound up here. Stepped out of an alleyway and into a fucking labyrinth. Catwalks everywhere, rust and music and-

"Goro!"

He turned- and there was Renée, wearing the fatigues that he'd come to recognize as her new look within the Metaverse- and that was a sobering thought. "I think it should be Crow, here."

"What?!"

"I THINK IT SHOULD BE- Fuck me-" Nope, not working, can't hear for shit with that fucking song playing, try a different tactic. Renée had mentioned, once, that language was no barrier for people like her- so he dipped into an old skill. Maybe should teach the others this, if shit like this happens again. Fingers and hands moved haltingly, but she watched with brows furrowed.

USE-CODENAMES
PALACE?

She looked around, frowning. And shook her head. Not a Palace. Something else.

OK
FOLLOW-MY-LEAD

It was way too fucking hot. Way too fucking hot. He could guess that whatever was at the core of... whatever this was- was somewhere down. But how far, what caused it- that was something else entirely.

He descended the nearest set of stairs.

[hadal_predator]

Ohhh, this... this made his skin crawl seven ways from Sunday. But he proceeded along the rusted catwalks all while rubbing two of his upper arms. He'd never had dreams like this before... he thought circuses are kind of creepy, honestly.

He remembered Ruby asking once if he wanted to see one in Pride. But one picture of a clown had a very small Nephew give the child's equivalent of 'HELL TO THE FUCK NO'.

But he needed to find a door, or... something, here, that made some kind of sense.

Or something that'd make the music stop.

[lonelysmiles]

With dreamwalking somehow available again, Alastor had decided to do some exploring. It was a pasttime he'd missed from Reverein.

It was easier than passing time via slumber here in Hell at any rate. Even the pleasant dreams were ultimately nightmares.

He ignored the jeering crowd, continuing to stroll through the twisted circus.

Poppy Papillon

[poppypapillon]

Following the example Goro set! Either drop a starter scene/dream here or hmu in the discord to plan one!

DO something || For Alastor's Eyes Only

[poppypapillon]

For someone familiar with dreamwalking, peering into a past memory was not unfamiliar. One may be tempted to peer in on someone that had done the peering prior, after all.

The scene was mundane. Simple. The memory of a house, clean and tidy, looking straight out of a magazine photo. At the table where Poppy sat was a little baphomet boy... and Poppy herself, in this memory, was hardly any older than he was.

Still, dreams had a way of focusing on details the dreamer noticed so much more clearly than anything else. Any observer would easily pick up on how Poppy's attention honed in tightly on very small, subtle gestures from the boy.

The way the kid trembled with uncertainty every time he slowed down answering a question he was getting tutoring on. The way tiny eyes darted behind Poppy, to the kitchen beyond, where another adult baphomet was busy on the phone. The bruises visible through the fur on his arms... and the smell.

The dreams show just how potent hellhound smell is.

Fear has a smell, but it's so much clearer. And there is a smell of deep self loathing, smelling of the plaque on unbrushed teeth. Of tears dried salty on fur.

It's distracting. Poppy's doing her best, but it's clear that the more upset and panicked the kid is, the worse he's doing, which is spiraling the panic further.

"...Let's take a break, okay?" she suggested in a calm tone.

Simple Joys || Sten's view into Sloth

[poppypapillon]

Sinners rarely got to peek into the other Rings. One might try to temper any growing curiosity with the expectation that the other rings were likely just as trashy and miserable as Pride was - it IS hell, after all.

But this dream is warm, pleasant, almost sleepy. The sky is a pleasant pink, little hunks of land with trees floating lazily... and the area here was littered with trees as well. Sure, the trees were willows that all had eyes, but it was damn near picturesque! The little park was calm, sleepy... a few hellborn were already passed out on a bench nearby.

The dreamer herself was but a little pup, in this park, wearing a slightly-too-big yellow overalls dress and carrying around a disposable camera. And Sten? Sten is the newest, weirdest thing she's seen all day!

"Hello mister! Can I take your picture please?" the pup asks, tail wagging a mile a minute as she adjusted her oversized glasses.

Camp || Goro can come too

[poppypapillon]

Camp was always a blast when she was a pup - but being a first time camp counselor was new! Really, this was light work compared to hitting the books all day... just a simple gig to save up some money.

Oh, this Goetia is also a counselor? For some reason, it doesn't feel weird, or out of place.

Dreams, right?

"You ready? I just finished my CPR review. I have no idea why I'm nervous, this should be fine, right? Heheh."