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dreamcrystals2022-01-27 12:26 pm
lonelysmiles) wrote in dreamcrystals2022-01-27 12:26 pm
A Day in the After Life (Part 1)
Sender: Alastor
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive dream recording
Warnings: It takes place in Hell, and Hell is not a nice place. Also, this upcoming series of periodic dreams is based on the official Alastor comic with this post covering the first two pages. The viewer is taking Alastor's place, directly seeing what he sees, feeling what he feels, and thinking what he thinks, so unless you want to potentially traumatize your character with experiencing the after life in Hell as a cannibalistic serial killer deer demon, you might wanna pass.
[It starts with music.]
[It sounds like it's coming from an old speaker, but it's coming from you. You willed it to play. You always did like Glenn Miller and his jazz orchestra. Such class and style that cuts through the throbbing pulses of "techno" that is the latest craze down here.]
[You walk the streets. The beings here are far, far taller than in the living world. Someone being six feet? That's short for a male or about average for a female. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a shop window. You look the same and are still the same height as you've always been, but periodically reality glitches and suddenly there's a seven-foot red-and-black deer demon mirroring your movements. Then reality glitches again and it's just you. It's always been you.]
[And the others around you are terrified of you.]
[Muggings, murders, and all other manner of streetside debauchery and violence come to an abrupt halt as you leisurely stroll the sidewalk. You're smiling, humming along with the music. It soothes no one. Instead, the other demons around you -- the twisted inhumanity that your fellow sinners concealed in life on full display -- cower at your presence. They flee; they hide; they watch you with wide eyes and tense muscles.]
[You keep walking, eyes focused forward but listening to the whispers in your head from the shadow creatures that lurk everywhere. You're not actively hunting for prey today, but you wouldn't be disappointed to sink your teeth into a proper meal.]
[You step calmly over the last remains of some other demon, just a few bits of viscera and bone left. It seems Lucifer decided to force at least some cleaning of the city beneath the glowing red pentagram. It wouldn't do for the capitol city of his fallen kingdom to look too much like a slum. You find the King of Hell's stubborn, useless pride quite amusing since you can already see that the effort to clean the place is futile.]
[There's no sound on the street, even the cars stopping as you pass. It's like you're a lion on the Serengeti even though this isn't your territory. Not that it matters. Even the local overlords think twice before engaging you. You remain alert to potential threats -- you'd be a fool not to -- but you're confident that no demon would dare approach you. And you're right.]
[No one catches your eye, so you keep walking, humming along to Glenn Miller and his orchestra. Sooner or later, you might stop into a cafe for some coffee and a snack before continuing your constitutional. For now, you'll follow your feet and just keep walking as the rest of Hell clears your path.]
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive dream recording
Warnings: It takes place in Hell, and Hell is not a nice place. Also, this upcoming series of periodic dreams is based on the official Alastor comic with this post covering the first two pages. The viewer is taking Alastor's place, directly seeing what he sees, feeling what he feels, and thinking what he thinks, so unless you want to potentially traumatize your character with experiencing the after life in Hell as a cannibalistic serial killer deer demon, you might wanna pass.
[It starts with music.]
[It sounds like it's coming from an old speaker, but it's coming from you. You willed it to play. You always did like Glenn Miller and his jazz orchestra. Such class and style that cuts through the throbbing pulses of "techno" that is the latest craze down here.]
[You walk the streets. The beings here are far, far taller than in the living world. Someone being six feet? That's short for a male or about average for a female. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a shop window. You look the same and are still the same height as you've always been, but periodically reality glitches and suddenly there's a seven-foot red-and-black deer demon mirroring your movements. Then reality glitches again and it's just you. It's always been you.]
[And the others around you are terrified of you.]
[Muggings, murders, and all other manner of streetside debauchery and violence come to an abrupt halt as you leisurely stroll the sidewalk. You're smiling, humming along with the music. It soothes no one. Instead, the other demons around you -- the twisted inhumanity that your fellow sinners concealed in life on full display -- cower at your presence. They flee; they hide; they watch you with wide eyes and tense muscles.]
[You keep walking, eyes focused forward but listening to the whispers in your head from the shadow creatures that lurk everywhere. You're not actively hunting for prey today, but you wouldn't be disappointed to sink your teeth into a proper meal.]
[You step calmly over the last remains of some other demon, just a few bits of viscera and bone left. It seems Lucifer decided to force at least some cleaning of the city beneath the glowing red pentagram. It wouldn't do for the capitol city of his fallen kingdom to look too much like a slum. You find the King of Hell's stubborn, useless pride quite amusing since you can already see that the effort to clean the place is futile.]
[There's no sound on the street, even the cars stopping as you pass. It's like you're a lion on the Serengeti even though this isn't your territory. Not that it matters. Even the local overlords think twice before engaging you. You remain alert to potential threats -- you'd be a fool not to -- but you're confident that no demon would dare approach you. And you're right.]
[No one catches your eye, so you keep walking, humming along to Glenn Miller and his orchestra. Sooner or later, you might stop into a cafe for some coffee and a snack before continuing your constitutional. For now, you'll follow your feet and just keep walking as the rest of Hell clears your path.]