dreamcrystals | dream: i need the rest of me

Sender: Vanitas
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive dream recording | CW: choking, vomiting, drowning

It all starts at a Heart Station. Or, rather, what should be one. What should be a great structure rising from the very darkness itself, covered in stained glass is... Blank. There's nothing. No colors. No shapes or depictions of things that the heart would hold dear. Instead it's all broken. A web of shattered glass that is beyond repair - though it most certainly looks like someone has tried. Great fissures mar the surface while large pieces seem to be broken away or even missing. A coupled even seem to be floating above the station proper.

Most would be bright and shimmering to some degree, but this one doesn't. Whatever light had once been has faded. Stare long enough and there are flickers, as if there would be a short in the wiring, if this place had anything like electricity flowing through it.

At the center, of course, stands Vanitas. Whether or not this is a true depiction of his heart doesn't matter. This is how he views it. How he sees it. Longing. Anguish. Pain. So much pain. Hate. Hate hate hate.

Whole... I want to be whole. I need it. I need my -

Light. There it is. A soft ball of warmth coming from above. He looks up, of course. Because it's right there and within reach. When Vanitas moves, it's jumping from broken piece to broken piece and ready with his hand out to obtain what he desires most. What will make him complete. Whole.

Almost -

Monster

A pause. Frozen. Something like ice begins to move through his veins. No. Not here. Not now. The shadows around the Station seem to shift. Take the form of red, glowing eyes watching his every move. He knows this feeling. Knows this emotion. Terror. It's bubbling in his chest. Gipping it like a vice. Vision spins as Vanitas missteps and falls. Crashes against the glass. Tight too tight. Air. No air. Can't breathe. Terror. Horror. Fear. Anxiety. Everything hitting hard. Fast. Too much at once. Spinning. Spinning. Dizzy. Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Can't hold it in. Can't contain it. They're going to come out. They're going to break free. Then it will start all over again. And break free they do with Vanitas on his knees. Coughing and hacking. Covering his mouth because he needs to keep it all in. Emotions can't be allowed to break free of him again. Yet out it comes, Vanitas heaving and a black substance like tar splatters against the glass. Rolls down his face. And again. And again. Over and over, fire taking the place of ice. The glowing red stares all the more intense as they take shape and form. Unversed. Hundreds of them. All his own emotions grabbing and reaching.

Pulling. Tugging. Dragging further and further away from that Light. Not until they swallow Vanitas up completely. His lung burn. Fear. Terror. Pain. It's an endless cycle that he can't break free of. For the more intensely he feels those emotions, the more that he chokes and more spawn. What good did it to? To keep trying? This is the result. This is always the result. To live and to suffer. To strive and to always have it out of reach? To have hope. All of these thoughts cycle, out of control. Emotions spiraling until it's thing but a sea of black and those faces staring at him. Limbs growing tired and weak. Everything is fading. No Light. No Darkness. Just-

"V a n i t a s!"

Nothing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Perhaps Naminé is too easily contented, to feel so relieved by what she has. Or maybe it's more that Vanitas' broken heart is greedy in a way her new one isn't, and longs for more than she does. Though she's probably the happier of the two, she doesn't mentally decide on which one of them is right, if there's such a thing in a situation like this.

So maybe the best way for her to understand is to ask, ]

What kind of beginning do you have in mind?

[ What kind of beginning. Now see... That's something he actually has thought about. A lot. ]

One where I kiss this nightmare goodbye.

'This nightmare?'

[ There are a lot of manners in which the term could be interpreted. ]

The one you had? Or is it that you're not happy in this world?

[ Songerein's been kind to her, but she can wrap her head around the idea of someone feeling otherwise. ]

Why can't it be both, huh?

[ Not that it is easy to admit... No, it's actually hard. But at the same time what's hard about it isn't actually saying it. It's saying it without seflection. ]

It can be.

[ There's a beat before her answer, but not a long one. No hint of judgement, if such a thing can be determined from text; even when she thinks she might understand Vanitas a little, Naminé's not so egotistical as to imagine that she can predict his feelings all the time. Her pen taps once against the paper, pauses; then, ]

I guess I just didn't expect that to be the case.
Still, I'm sure you have your reasons.

That's the thing though, isn't it? It's not as if anyone really knows what to expect from me, right?

[ Naminé's mouth presses more tightly closed, despite the fact that it's her hands giving too much away that she's got to worry about. ]

I can't say that I think that, exactly.
You and I have only met a few times, so of course I wouldn't always know.

[ Neglecting to tell him how much she does know might be a conscious choice, but the fact remains that he's experienced so much that she isn't aware of that it's more like meeting someone entirely new than she might have expected, if she'd ever imagined this scenario. ]

But I don't believe that there isn't anyone who understands you, or that there's no one who could if they really tried.

[ After all, weren't they just talking about who was dearest in his heart? Clearly he's managed to form some kind of bonds between the time she first heard of him and now. ]

"Expects." I didn't say anything about understanding, though that is a factor as well. Even after people see this entire nightmare, it's not as if they can really understand. Relate, perhaps, but not know personally.

What I meant to say is that I'm not someone that can really be considered predictable.

That's true.
I suppose I've always thought of them as being close to the same thing.

[ Understanding and expectation are so interconnected for Naminé that of course she'd conflate the two to some extent; she's always been required to do both together, after all. And she has more she could say about the personal aspects of that nightmare, but that's a can of worms she's reluctant to open just yet.

So she'll speak honestly where she chooses to speak at all with her, ]

No, you aren't. Not in the ways people usually are.

[ And yet there's no judgement there, either. But given what he's been saying-- ]

Do you think that that's bad?

Edited 2022-03-15 05:27 (UTC)

It doesn't really matter if I think it's bad or not. That's not a thing that bothers me.

All it means is that understanding isn't likely to come. Not easily at any rate.

[ While some might care more about what others think - or feel that he should, perhaps - Naminé finds she can respect such a notion. The application thereof might be a stickier subject, however. ]

Maybe not. But that would be the case no matter where you go, wouldn't it?

[ People are people, regardless of where they are - although as she rereads it, she doesn't like the implications. Frowning at her journal, she's quick to amend, ]

Besides, you've been surprised before, haven't you?

[ That's not hard to guess, given the fact that he was willing to consider anyone worthy of his Station when they discussed it. The two of them might be very different individuals, but Naminé knows enough to spot another person who has had the thoroughly unexpected privilege of meeting someone who can care about them, like she has the past year. ]

[ Pretty much... People are people. Maybe that's Vanitas' entire point. ]

Periodically, I suppose that I have. Been surprised, that is. I'd chalk that up to "acceptance" rather than "understanding."

[ She could ask what the difference is, but she knows already. It'd only be for the sake of his perspective. Still, it's funny-- realizing how much she herself has elected to make do with and never think to demand more.

It takes her an extra couple of seconds to fight her way out of her own head to write again. ]

Would you be satisfied if there were more people here who could understand you?

[ What is it, really, that he longs for? The answer's more interesting to her than she might have expected, if she'd thought about it in advance. ]

dream: i need the rest of me

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