[open] don't you know you rock my world?

[crownless]

WHO? Travis Touchdown crownless
WHAT? A dream, a nightmare, and enough caffeine, guarana, and taurine to down a large bull.
WHEN? On base or ~in your dreams~.
ANYTHING ELSE? Warning for violence, Travis' ex-girlfriend, and a scantily clad anime girl. Feel free to switch to brackets or throw your own starter at me, orrrr hit me at smithsyndicate or over PM if you wanna do something different!

ONE - DREAM;

It should be plain as day that Travis' bright dreamscape is false: a landscape of color and sound, low and distant bass thumping like a heartbeat, characters spotted in the corners of one's eyes as if childishly scribbled into the world's margins. But there's something about the technicolor lights and glittering, other-worldly stars that is as disorienting as it is deeply distracting-- a grand, pacifying diversion from the outside.

Travis himself, in the center of the expanse and starkly hyperreal against all else, doesn't seem to question much of anything. He's seated in a red armchair playing some obsolete video game console, hooked up to an older television model. A fat gray tabby cat purrs away in his lap as he and a minimally-clad, pink-haired magical girl duke it out in some super-sentai themed game. Both maintain a laser focus on the screen, with only the faint sound of finger-on-button clacking to signal that anything is happening at all.

Suddenly, Strawberry jumps to her feet, the bounce of her twintails a physics-defying exaggeration. She swears at Travis, some rough approximation of Japanese, and chucks the controller at his face--

"What gives?!" --but, hey, he catches the thing before it smashes into his sunglasses-- "Sore loser."

As the girl stomps away, Travis turns to whomever's invaded his dream. Unabashed, he offers them the controller.

"It's two players. C'mon. Wanna play?"

TWO - NIGHTMARE;

There's deep red splatters on the black-and-white checkerboard tile, a sense of urgency that tingles up and down the spine, the biting acrid taste of metal, of gore and rot, in the back of the throat.

Travis' presence has been here as long as his dream-invader's has, but it's only when they can register that they're surrounded by the walls of an eerily too-large suburban home that he speaks at last.

"You need to leave," Travis demands. His eyes are set, livid with rage but pulled wide-- a panicked animal in the throes of a fight-or-flight adrenaline high. "I know this shit's not real. You gotta leave. You gotta wake me up."

Drawing ever-nearer are the sounds of bare feet on the cool floor... and a woman's voice.

"Travis?"

"You heard me," he repeats, insistent. "Wake me up!"

THREE - HOT SPOTTIN' / WHATEVER YOU WANNA;

After that disaster, Travis is taking a novel approach to the current dream situation, called "get the mess hall droids to synthesize you the equivalent of 5 Red Bulls in one hellish slurry and down it in one go".

It's going about well as you'd expect.

Off-kilter, jumpy, and sleep-deprived, Travis is skulking through the halls trying to find something-- anything-- to occupy his mind long enough to keep him awake. He's snapping at people he runs into; he's knocking shit over and swearing at droids; even the crows, all of whom he's taken a shine to, aren't immune to his messy sleepless self. Stop him or not, he's gonna keep going until the alien hot spots knock him out once more.

Comments

[crownless]

"Hah! You're on."

Gripping a controller in each hand, Travis hops out of his seat to assume a fighting stance; as if they were his old pair of katanas all along, they hum to life, solid pink light emerging from both hilts of Rose Nasty. The comfort of Travis' imaginary room fades around them, and as both of their intentions shift, so too do their surroundings-- they've moved, as it seems, outside. Out on the asphalt of the motel's parking lot.

Just like the last time they'd gone head to head.

"Round two." Travis gestures his way with a katana, grinning toothily. "Always wanted to give it another shot."

[handsomefoil]

Accepting that as something completely normal, Henry activates his own beam and then with a flourish of his wrist holds it down by his side in a defensive posture. As their surroundings change, he looks side to side with a slow grin, much more pleased by the aesthetic and meaning behind it.

Just like their last fight.

He nods in agreement. If there's one thing he wanted to know is who would kill the other in a fair fight? Here, it'd be even easier as it's just a dream.

"And with no interruptions."

He raises a hand slowly, holding his hand out for a second before flicking his two fingers in a 'come at me' gesture.