SEEMS I GOT IT WRONG—

[dipolar]

WHO? hei dipolar and some various other punks
WHAT? closed prompts for dreamshares, hit me up if you want in on this
WHEN? december 12th to december 23rd
ANYTHING ELSE? content warning: child soldiers, suicidal ideation, graphic violence/gore

ＡＲＴＨＵＲ．

(russian winter in vladivostok. a stone's throw from north korea. despite how close it sits to japan, its cold bites as mercilessly as the rest of the country's weather does. arthur can still feel it, even seated inside the dining car of a train headed for — where? with nothing outside but a vast expanse of inexplicable ocean, it's difficult to tell direction. with a sky that looks caught between dusk and dawn, it's difficult to tell time. the dreamer's impression of these oddities is bleakly accepting, finding them to be something run of the mill.

the only heat in the area rolls off of a wide spread of food laid out across a too-small table. overwhelming overtones of a gnawing hunger make it irresistible.

hei sits across from arthur in a nineties parka, forking bite after bite after bite of his meal into his mouth with a numbness that threatens to sink the scene into the waves lapping at salt-stained window panes. looking at him, he's almost unrecognizable with long, unwashed hair pulled away from his neck in a thick ponytail and an unkempt face of patchy scruff. the reality of it becomes stark when his hand stills and dead eyes lift with a response so quiet it'd be easy to miss under the anvil-like weight of a flask dragged closer.)

I killed Pavlichenko. Is that all you wanted to discuss?

(hei's sure he knows who's there as he raises the flask to drink — an action that triggers a worrisome groan of the train's metal skeleton trying to hide its shame. but it's just not arthur he's seeing, not really.)

ＭＩＤＮＩＧＨＴＥＲ

(up, down, left, right— it's all the same underwater. it rushes and surrounds, cuts off air supply and threatens to drown him. there's no supernatural quality, no ethereal glow to guide him out of the blackness of it. what it is in reality? a submerged hall of a building that fell victim to land subsidence, abandoned and left to sink.

if that wasn't stressful enough already, there's no obvious exit in this research and development department. logic would tell anyone to follow the gradual upward slant of the ceiling if it manages to be found in the dark, but what's another potential cause for alarm is the sound of a struggle close by. the crackle of movement that's swift when unchallenged by current. turning to face it will bump midnighter into someone who's been searching for him since the plunge and bring him within arm's reach of gloved hands.

while m isn't who he's been expecting, hei's mind makes up for the oddity by slotting the man into the place of whoever it belonged to first. the change, albeit convenient, fills the room with a contagious, sick kind of panic that sets the mood for the entire nightmare. eyes narrowing at the foggy outline, he tries to grab at an arm to get the teenager's attention. it's obvious why: he has the only ventilator, one that fits snugly in the mouth without oxygen tank or tube.

one he's insisting on giving to him, offering it out with a slow shake.)

ＲＹＵＪＩ

(ryuji stands in a lake at twilight, full moon high and shedding an eerie lambency that seems to dance on blond hair. a dense rainforest grows up around him and, from the shore, great, timeless roots sneak into the shallows to sponge up what drink they can. it'd be a peaceful scene, but something's innately wrong. something's off and it's hard to pick out any one thing until he's taken his first step — only to meet the resistance of a liquid so unlike water that the viscous surface rolls instead of splashes.

red. the vast body of water sits still and dark like blood, so rich a colour it blocks light from seeing beneath its layers at the unevenness he can feel underfoot.

a foreboding atmosphere, giving ryuji the unique sense that this is somewhere he shouldn't be. it makes the air thick and difficult to breathe, but that could be the clouding mugginess that weighs on unaccustomed lungs in a climate so shockingly divorced from all others. or the sudden sighting of a lost child on the shore of the teenager's macabre bath. the haunting image of a small boy no older than twelve with a runt's stature and bruised eyes that point out from beneath a familiar mop of unevenly cut hair.

it's over the lake he stares, calm. the feeling around him is not, rather strikes as something a fearful resolution.)

Area secure; we're moving on.

(a lengthy pause, like the child's wondering if he's been heard, but avoids a direct look at ryuji when he turns away to wipe at a round cheek. it only serves to smear more grime into his skin, only glancing back once to address his idleness.)

You'll die if you stay here with them.

ＡＣＨＩＬＬＥＳ

(a satake telescope sits at the edge of a pond in a park long abandoned by the day. insects and tree frogs chirp, a warm breeze ripples grass, no dangers lurk in the setting. there's a serene calm to this dreamscape and a startling expanse of stars, a memory visited and revisited often, which is perhaps what makes it the most troubling kind— no one wants to wake up from something like this, no one wants to lose this boneless kind of relaxation.

there's something lonely about the child sitting in the grass beside the tripod. he doesn't look the least bit bothered, but the mood inward borders melancholic. it's the sense of him being the only one, the last one. of what?)

A shooting star is the light that escapes whenever God opens the lid to the sky...

(as though talking to himself, his voice is soft. quiet enough to be a whisper but carrying well to spite reality's rules. then he moves with slow purpose, breaking the scene's stagnancy with a raise of a hand. palm up like an offering to the starry ceiling above them, wanting to give something back to the glittering little lights, as though he could present himself and be taken away by them. something that should be possible in this world he's found a shred of restfulness in, but he just can't seem to part with any piece of his soul.

moments pass and there's a sudden shift, a movie reel missing a frame, and hei's smiling shyly at achilles like he's been there with him the whole time, sharing in this as friends, as family.)

If you make a wish when you see one, God will listen to it.

Comments

[thingpuncher]

[His first response is to fight.]

[He thought the space station was in, well, space, but it seems the aliens were too dumb for that? Underwater, he realizes he doesn't need to breathe. Is that something else they did to him, when they cut open his chest? He could see his own lungs rising out of him before he passed out, and then--]

[More of the same. Back in his cell. Trying to escape.]

[And it seems like he did this time, though he doesn't remember how, but that's- he doesn't remember much. What's his name? The sign on his cell says MIDNIGHTER, but that's not a name.]

[...is it?]

[Something grabs him in the dark depth of the ocean, and instinctively, he tries to pull away. Blood trickles off him in tiny rivulets through the water-- scars and stitches that haven't healed yet. It could get infected-- no, he doesn't' need to worry about that anymore. He doesn't know why. But the creature holding him can't be with the aliens, because it-- he?-- is offering him air. Air he doesn't need.]

[The boy with the bloodshot eyes and bruised face shakes his head, and pushes the ventilator back. He doesn't need it. How does he communicate without words? He struggles for a moment in the empty halls of his mind, before coming up with something he isn't sure is correct, but he'll try anyway.]

[The nameless boy puts his fist out, and rises a single thumb from it. That means good, he's almost entirely certain.]

[dipolar]

(hei can't smell the blood, that'd defeat the whole purpose of the ventilator. can't see or taste the metal tang beneath the salt of the ocean water. he can, however, feel the ridges of stitches beneath gloved fingers and that's enough of a warning for him to get himself and this boy out of the water— stat.

is the kid a contractor? he has to be, sucking in water like that without drowning, but there aren't any telltale signs. no red pupils, no synchrotron radiation. from behind his breathing apparatus, hei's eyes narrow and he forces himself to pull away with a raise of his chin. typical mop of everywhere-hair floating weightlessly out of his eyes (you're welcome), giving him a wider vantage of what they're dealing with.

think, this is familiar. think, you know this layout, you've been here before.

a pinch of brow, exhaling in a cloud of bubbles that stream up the side of his cheek. then a snap of fingers — very audible, something of a surprise to him —, a harmless strike to m's arm cushioned by the water, and a point to his chest. follow me, if he can make it out in the dark, repeating the motion before pumping his legs to begin a blind ascent.)

[thingpuncher]

[He keeps twitching, dodging on instinct. The miserable anxiety of the dreamworld matches his memories perfectly-- this is bad this is bad this is bad-- and he can't help but want his distance. With strength he doesn't know he has, he unhooks himself from the underwater man's grip. Oh, he's strong, he's so strong, that's from the surgery where they opened up his wrist, opened up his whole arm while he screamed and screamed--]

[He doesn't know how to swim. He realizes that a little too slowly. But there's a chirping in his head, his constant companion, and it analyzes the swimmer's movements. He lets the computer do its work, and follows the swimmer up to the surface.]

[He breathes on instinct when he gets there, coughing seawater out of his nose and rubbing it from his eyes. It hurts, but it's nothing compared to the surgeries. Will he really never have to go through those again?]

[He looks for the swimmer, hoping he didn't drown, and also wondering if it's better if he has. It might be better to be alone. He's used to that.]

[dipolar]

(should be getting the picture with each thrash away the boy makes at hands that try to keep them together, but the need to protect a stranger who very likely doesn't deserve a pointless death is overriding sensible actions. he shouldn't care, a contractor wouldn't care, so why does he? why must he?

cursed to give a damn as a man with a foot over both species' thresholds, a cloud of bubbles bursts from him in a frustrated exhale.

hei loses track of him in the moments after he unhooks, but it doesn't alarm him anymore than the rest of the situation does. their signs were clear: while they're both alright for now, they need to get out. that's where he's going and that's where midnighter'll be heading — he beats at water and rises against the sloping surface, quick to catch up. his head breaks moments after the doubts in m's mind, teeth baring in a bite around the mouthpiece of the ventilator to get a fresh breath of air before tearing it away with a splash of fist.)

Are you okay?

(the briefest expression of something worried. then it's choked down with another pant and a dog-like shake of hair out of his eyes. sea water stings and sits in a salty pool at the back of his tongue, spat out as he turns to shallows nearby. flooring angles out of the water, grey tiles like that of a cold hospital, building in a deep lean towards the ocean. by hei's impression of the layout from memory, a large set of rusting metal doors sit at the far end, a violet glow rolling from the cracks in its frame.

spares a glance back, angling himself away as an arm sweeps at the water — a bid to swim closer to dry ground. his voice echoes, addressing him again.)

Come on. We're close.

[thingpuncher]

[The enemy is too close; evasive action needed. Snap the neck or gouge out the eyes, throttle, drown- He sees an endless repetition of suggestions, all ending in the death of this man. Too unaccustomed to these simulations to fight against them, he reaches out with an inhuman speed, his hands going to wet shoulders, a thumb on the soft throat-]

[No.]

[He splashes away from his savior just as quickly.] I'm fine-! [He coughs on water, and pushes aside the feeling of how the cold of the water is making his stitches ache.] Who are you?

[dipolar]

(reaction time quick enough to recognize the slap of hands on his shoulders the instant they blur at him, hei is swallowing against a thumb with a grit of bared teeth, ability kicking in—

it doesn't.

instead hei smacks the surface of the water with a fist, reigning himself in as the acclimated adult, and spits his warning at the boy:) Don't try that again. Do you want the infection to spread? Get to shore, you've wasted enough of my time already.

(doesn't answer him, not yet, matching the push away with a sharp click of tongue and a crawl through the water to his destination. plans to say it, but there's a lot on his mind. if he doesn't take care of this and rip it up by the root, it'll poison the bodies of millions. billions. he needs to go into hiding with yin quickly, the rub being that there won't be a world to hide in if he fucks this up and— god, he owes at least this much.

manages to drag himself out with a shucking of a water-logged trench coat, checking back on the kid against his better judgement.)

[thingpuncher]

Infection? [He's genuinely horrified, and it shows in his voice, his expression, mottled as it is by old bruises. He frowns, unsure what he's done, but sure it's his fault.]

[They made him to kill, didn't they?]

[The hollow expression stays on his face as he swims to shore, mollified to stay silent through the trip. He doesn't remember learning to swim, he just can, and he does with impressive strength, pushing cold water behind him as though it were nothing.]

[He stands on the shore in a stance that is likely obviously defensive, anticipating some kind of attack. From who, he isn't sure. The computer just says one is coming-- he's quickly learning it always is. He wants to break free of it, but its suggestions are so insistent, and he is so tired of pain and torture, coming at him in waves...]

[Yet his expression is more guilty than anticipatory when he looks to his companion,] you didn't tell me your name.

[dipolar]

(stressed leather creaks when hei flexes his fingers against the dampness, loath to yank them off. there's nothing for it, he has to handle his weapons, and the water is only a distraction. bites the tip of his middle finger, wrenching one off a hand with an immediate grab at a forearm-length dagger beneath his arm.)

I didn't. (it seems like he'll leave it at that, letting the silence settle before taking a measured breath in.) It's Hei.

(looking the boy over gives him an unfortunate preview of those injuries. the stitches are where dark eyes linger, but the active flow of blood in rivulets down skin happens to be what's concerning him the most. too bad he never kicked the habit of making strangers' business his own business.)

What happened to you?

[thingpuncher]

[He wants to say I don't know, but guilt wins out. Maybe he didn't know, once, but in the months (years? It's so hard to tell, but he's sure he's grown bigger... his memory is fuzzy) he's been with the aliens, he's begun to put together a picture of his life. It's not one he likes, but it's the truth.] I think I was kidnapped.

[Hei, Hei, no... that doesn't feel familiar. But nothing does, anymore. He squints over at his companion.] Did you know me?

[ryuji]

[There's a soft spongy feature to the ground beneath his feet. Ryuji's can't recall the last time he's been this far out in nature and away from the big city, but he can't quite help but feel that the soil beneath him isn't exactly terra firma. His hands are at his side, making friction against his fingers under the dense liquid that seems to almost pulsate with a warm, unpleasant buzz- and as he raises his hands up to look, even the moonlight doesn't color in the shade that flows off his palms and back into the mass pooling around him. It's sickening, in a way, and the only thought he has at the moment is to get himself out of this.

His body makes heaves against the still tide of it, as he tries to settle the nausea that rises up in his belly. The stench of this is all vile, wrong and unjust, filling his nostrils and making him want to empty the contents of his stomach- but he holds it in. He can't attest to what this actually is below him, but he has a guess, and his cognition of it almost bends around him, like he's back in the Metaverse.

There's the silhouette of a figure at the embankment of the lake- what seems to be too small to be an adult, and his first instinct is to get to him, to pull him out of whatever this was. Always trying to play the part of hero, even when there was nothing to save.

As he gets closer, the features fill in, and although he can't see his face, now that it's turned away from him, he notices the way his hair dulls in the darkness, and a wave of familiarity absconds with his better judgment. He knows he's trespassing at this point- that wherever they are, he's not meant to be here. And definitely not meant to interact with this kid as he exits the lake, clothes dripping and staining him, like a paint that's made to cover over virgin walls of a new house.

God, this is fucked.]

Who's 'them'?

[He reaches out to touch the kid's shoulder, to get him to look at him.]

[dipolar]

(the touch lands, but the reaction it gets is visceral. he's bullet fast in reality, as a child in a dream he's stop-motion slow. his movement takes a few seconds to happen, unaccustomed to the threat he's trying his best to pose, clumsily drawn forearm-length blade held up and aimed in a point at ryuji's throat.

it wavers, like the expression on the child's face.)

Don't touch me. (tries to spit it, tries to lace it with his venom, the impact lost on a voice that hasn't broken yet; he can't growl the way the chilling adult can.)

[ryuji]

[Taking a step back, and with it, his hand from Hei's shoulder, his eyes go wide with disbelief. What the hell? This is just a kid!]

H-hey, I'm sorry. I ain't here to mess with you. You alright?

[He's not entirely convinced by the brashness in his voice- it's still too soft, not warning enough, and even then, there's a good chance Ryuji would rush right in and try to be a hero, even if the situation didn't call for it.]

Seriously, you can put the blade down. I'm unarmed, see? [He holds his hands above himself to show that he doesn't have a weapon.]

[dipolar]

I won't. (coolly, uninterested in putting the blade anywhere but deep into the cartilage of ryuji's esophagus.

no, no, i don't want to, i don't want to— told not to trust a soul on this side of the planet or the next but takes a step back with his knife still high. he's an unknown, not a part of their company and far from bolivianos. not a brit either, eliminating all excuse he could use to make hei believe the boy isn't a misplaced tourist. or someone posing as one.

detachedly, hei wonders if he should answer the question he's been posed. is he alright? no. he isn't. but that'd be the wrong answer. yes is far safer, even if it's a clear lie by the way this civilian attempts to pamper him. the third option is to ignore it completely and it's a path he readily grabs for, remembering ryuji's previous curiosity. so hei gestures with a nod at the red lake.)

"Them".

(he meant it. he wasn't hallucinating despite the dream itself being one.

when ryuji turns, bodies. countless bodies. they bob in the water like buoys where he was standing only moments ago, fresh water keeping rot from disfiguring the freshly dead, pallid skin and their howling expressions. all framed by prominent veins — swollen and purpling from stress of an attack and water bloat.)

I need to find Bai. If you're staying, fine.

(a turn on his heel, finally sheathing his weapon.)

[ryuji]

[Relieved, temporarily, as Hei drops the blade away from his neck and resolves the conflict of the moment- he turns at the indication that's meant to catch his attention. The scene in front of him nearly makes him gag, holding his hand up to his mouth, fighting back the stinging acid of bile as it comes up to his throat and...

It's the most disturbing scene he's ever witnessed in his entire life. He was just... there, how did he not notice the bodies? The bodies. Instincts come first, and shit, if he was too young to be seeing this, then Hei was infinitely worse. The cool indifference at which he points them out and the lack of enthusiasm other than needing to get away sends a weird chill down his spine. This isn't right. This kid isn't right. In more ways than one. But still, Ryuji can't just walk away. He wants to save this kid.

Nobody deserves to witness this.]

Bai? N..no, dude, c'mon, we're getting the hell out of here. It ain't safe! Trust me, okay?

[dipolar]

(can't care enough to watch ryuji struggle with the scene, numb to it. downcast eyes remember the path he took to get here and follow it, listening to the boy he's now tasked to babysit catch up and struggle with what to say behind him.)

No. (said with finality.) I need to find my sister.

(sparing a glance over his shoulder, low-lidded eyes raising to check on the civilian. is it concern? he's not sure. he's not supposed to feel concern. he's not supposed to feel anything. child amorality has its grip on him and he sniffs wetly at the humidity of the surrounding rainforest, noting instead the dark sky.)

Are you leaving or following me? Hurry up and choose; it's dangerous to stand around in a war zone.

[ryuji]

[Almost quickly, blurted out without hesitation-] You're a kid, what the hell are you doing in a war zone!?

[He's not about to leave him- none of this actually makes sense, and it's getting weirder by the minute. But if he's concerned about... his sister... then Ryuji is just going to have to get the both of them out of here alive.]

I ain't leavin' you here alone. [As if Hei actually needs someone following him to begin with.]

[dipolar]

(stops short, the back of his neck baring when his chin very nearly sinks against his chest.)

Fighting the war. Stop shouting. (a hiss of a reply, choking up on the handle of his dagger.

if this teenager causes him anymore trouble, his hand will be forced. he'll have to do it. he'll have to kill him. there wouldn't be any other way and keeping bai safe is top priority. dragging this weight back to base camp will already risk his future there. introducing a civilian to contractors and soldiers... he was hoping they'd know what to do with him, but jesus—

the child's eyes widen a fraction, before the expression is chased away by a bite at the inside of his cheek. he has his own questions, now realizing the suspicious nature of this guy's appearance.)

Who are you? How did you get here?

[chariotry]

[ A young Achilles has seated himself close to the other boy, clad in a chiton and looking quite out of place for a dream set in a relatively modern world. He doesn't seem at all perturbed to be here, though, easily accepting that he's now stuck here watching the stars with a strange boy he's never met before.

He keeps his gaze fixed upward, watching the sky as he reclines and lays his head back on his folded arms. ]

What? Which god are you even talking about? Whoever told you that must've been trying to trick you.

[ Pointing towards the sky, he lights up a bit as another streak of light crosses the sky. ]

There -- that's a soul falling. [ META.... SO META. ]

[dipolar]

I hope it's no trick... but I think I'd choose to believe it anyway. If I could.

(it's puzzling to him. he only knows one god, one he still has faith in. god takes care of everyone on this small planet in the middle of a endless universe.

has to glance up when achilles motions at the shooting star and feels a small bite of envy. he didn't get to see it.)

If it's falling soul, doesn't that mean someone's dying? Isn't that sad?

i'm too lazy to make icons

[chariotry]

[ He feels understandably smug, thinking that this boy is much younger and in need of guidance. Teachings that he received from Chiron himself, the great mentor of heroes. ]

It's just a part of life. Didn't your parents tell you that you'll die one day?

Wouldn't it be cool to be a shooting star? Or to be immortalized in a constellation?

I hope that when I die I'll get to be up there, along with my teacher. [ He points to a section in the sky, and to someone who isn't well-versed in constellations, Hei won't be able to see that he's pointing to Sagittarius. ]

[dipolar]

Ah, well, no... (thinks for a moment that it's insensitive to ask something like that about someone's parents or lack thereof, but the other boy doesn't know any better.

everything else, however—)

It wouldn't feel like a leash? Keeping you here when you want to go?

[chariotry]

[ A leash... Well, he never thought about it that way before.

Getting up to sit properly, he clasps his hands over his ankles as he pauses in deep thought. ]

Why would you want to leave the heavens? It'd be an incredible honour to be made into a constellation by one of the gods.

[dipolar]

(a puzzled look as -- the stranger? his friend? his brother? -- the boy sits up. he's certainly larger than him, runt's body slight, and he tries to square up a bit straighter.

no, he wasn't exactly meant for that, was he? he was never meant to stand out.)

If you think so, I'm sure you will be. A constellation, that is. (an honest smile he'll rarely if ever wear again, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.) What do you think yours is gonna look like?

[chariotry]

I want my constellation to take up this much of the sky. [ Spreading his hands apart, raising them up against the night sky. ]

Right beside my teacher. [ Right next to Sagittarius. Throwing an arm around Hei, he laughs. ] When I die a hero, Zeus will surely give me a spot.

[dipolar]

(the arm has him flinching, but he ultimately lets his shoulders sink under it. it's a nice moment, he can't ruin it by speaking up about his discomfort. bearing this much is easy, easier when he thinks of his sister and the way she clings to him.

isn't it the same?)

That's— (searching for words to express the impossibility, but why would he ever shut down such an innocent dream?) That'd be really something. You'd have to be a whole galaxy. It seems like it'd suit you...