dreamcrystals | dream recording 🔶 life flashing before your eyes

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dream recording 🔶 life flashing before your eyes

Warnings: blood, death, past suicidal ideation, decapitation

—You have to go, angel, your mother urges you as she holds back tears, your father doing what he can to lift a fallen, crackling beam for you to go past, his glasses askew. The smoke is already horrible, the heat alone suffocating enough. Your right arm stings and throbs, blood dripping from your useless hand, but you can't afford to pay attention to it. Vision blurring—

I love you, you sob.

You barely remember stumbling through the fiery hallways. Something lands on your back at one point. You notice that the knob of the front door has burned your hand before you collapse.

You'd almost thought that was the end. Maybe it would have been easier if it had been. You still aren't sure how long you were unconscious at the hospital.

—The horrific, twisted whale fall pulses, choking you even through the breathing charms with its dark sickness. You're infected, you know, the plague taking advantage of your Fae nature, and you can already feel it crawling through your veins to get to the rest of you. You wait as the magical bomb is activated, even after the dragon calls for all of you to flee. A young woman with white hair takes you by the arm.

Now's not the time to throw your life away, she cries. Your argument doesn't last long, the explosion blinding you with blue light and breaking your fragile wings against your back as you try to protect your friend with your body, at least.

That wasn't it. The dragon caught you as you were all launched out of the ocean, and the medical witches cured you before the infection was irreversible. What would have happened if you died in another world, you wonder?

—Your best friend isn't with them, you notice. Curious, you turn your eyes about to find him, however bad a decision that might normally be when you're fighting the rest of the group—but it's not like they want to attack you, anyway. When you finally spot him, you see he's unnaturally obscured in shadow, aiming at the back of your guardian, the man who took everything from you and then became your family.

You use your new magic to teleport in the way, ignoring the strain of it. Nobody says anything to you before you're struck by the bolt shot by your best friend and your guardian's blade. Your vision goes white with pain and you collapse in the murderer's arms.

You survived then, too. He healed you, for all the good it did.

—I know you wouldn't want to hurt anyone like this.

A redheaded prince in a devilish costume torn by the same kind of gem shards your hands and legs have become stands in front of you, hesitating. You've sunk to your knees, head hung and waiting in your hopelessness, dark pools growing around you and threatening to create more monsters from your nightmares. You don't care. You don't care about anything, knowing there's no point. He will end it, finally.

He lifts his sword and lets it drop fully on the back of your neck, slicing through—cutting off your awareness of the rest of you, but you have just long enough to realize you no longer have a throat to scream—

NO, PLEASE

Ferran wakes in a panic.

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[ Not the first time Susato will have died in a dream, or at least feel like she has, as she watches the scenes unfold. It probably would not be the last. It was difficult to tell at first, whose dream she may be watching. Watching everything in the dark, the explosion is even more blinding than usual.

Normally she is content to keep flipping the page and allow for whoever it is to keep their privacy, but by the end, it feels so familiar. She places a hand over her own neck, rubbing it gently at first as she closes her journal. She realizes then that she can actually check for the sender behind the dream, and she opens it again, seeing the familiar name.

... ]

Ferran? [ It's a hurried scribble. She doesn't know what else to say, just yet. ]

[It's close to twenty minutes before he even thinks to look at his journal, unable to sleep after the terror and its unfortunate results fade to something more dull. He only feels worse after the message makes him realize others must have seen the nightmare.

His writing is shaky, like he's struggling to hold his quill properly.]

sorry

[ She may have dozed off or gotten distracted in those twenty minutes, but she is back quickly enough. She frowns, almost wanting to give him time to calm down before she forces a response out of him again, but she doesn't want to just ghost either. ]

For what? [ That's meant as a rhetorical question, by the way, so she adds: ] Don't answer that.

Just breathe.

[He answers it anyway. He hates that his worst memories and thoughts just get put on display where they might upset people.]

nobody should see that

[He's... breathing better than he was, but the shaking is another thing.]

I said don't

[ She's not thinking about who should've seen what, stubborn boy. There may be a cutesy faux-angry emoji along with that. ]

Do you need company?

[You can't tell him what to do.

The answer is yes. They both probably know that even without him writing as much; as much as Ferran likes to keep his problems to himself, he knows that's how he gets into these things at all.

He just offers a warning.]

it won't be pretty

[ Crap. Okay, maybe she hadn't been expecting that he would say yes. She kinda hoped she would though. She glances at a clock she has by her bedside (a fancy digital one, what?!). ]

Tell me where you live and give me [ A pause, like she can't decide. ] 30 20 15 minutes

[ ??? Small town, right. ]

Edited 2022-03-11 21:10 (UTC)

[It's a small town.

He draws her a small, simple map with a few landmarks in the residential area, leading her to a stone cottage. It's one of only a few residences not made mostly of tree, and Ferran picked it for a reason. Trees are, after all, highly flammable.

The cottage is unfortunately stained and smells of smoke whenever Susato arrives, but the lack of reddish light or heat should hopefully show that there's no actual fire clearly enough. The only source of illumination that can be seen around it, inside or outside, are a few firefly lanterns with glowing mushrooms.

The door is unlocked.]

[ Surprise: as much as Susato wants to always appear like she knows what she's doing, she is 17 and does not, really. She begins rummaging around her room for things. What does he need? A snack? Tea? Tea is pretty much always needed in this situation.

What else soothes her?

... In the end, when she shows up to Ferran's house after following his map, it is with the aforementioned tea, a blue flower, a jar of what looks like more of them same (or its petals, at least) and... a black stuffed bunny.

The smell of smoke gives her pause, but her sense of smell has tricked her before in this place, so she will quietly ignore it until she is given a reason to do otherwise.

... She knocks quietly on the door. ]

Ferran? I'm here.

[He's at least taken the time to button up his sleep clothes and shuffle towards the living area, and that will have to be fine for now. The floorboards and stones of the walls are cracked halfway through the space, spreading out from his bedroom where the damage is the worst but leaving the kitchen mostly intact. There's not much he can do about it.

Between using his hoarse throat and getting up from the small sofa on shaky feet to open the door, he chooses the latter.

He looks almost like a different person, compared to how he's presented himself with her. There are unnaturally dark circles under his eyes, his hair is a mess, and the black fractured markings on his jaw and wrists have spread, making them harder to ignore. To say he looks exhausted is an understatement, his shoulders weighed down with fatigue.

He leaves plenty of space for her to step in, and closes the door behind her whenever she does.]

[ Susato steps in quietly without saying anything. Seeing Ferran's state, she is almost afraid to. She tries to distract herself with other things around the house, but it's hard not to notice the deep cracks damaging the walls.

She shakes her head, imagining the feeling of her hands hitting both her cheeks, only without actually doing it because she's not in court and that's weird. She's not here to make any judgements or anything about the house, she is here because of Ferran. ]

Hello. [ Alright, so maybe that was a little delayed, it's fine. What else she got, though? Where does she start? ...Did she bring too much stuff? ] Um... this is Iris.

[ Well then. Her hands decide for her, holding the black bunny out and making it bounce up and down a couple times. Again. This is fine. ]

[Though he nods slowly at her greeting, he says nothing in return and his expression doesn't change, even as she presents the rabbit; he has no energy for it. But she does clearly have his attention as he watches her... attempt to cheer him up, he's assuming. It's... cute?

He doesn't know if it's working, but he takes the plush from her and holds it in his arm as he urges her towards the sofa with a gentle hand on her shoulder. Even in this situation, it seems like he can't help but try to be something resembling a host. She should at least put something down.]

[ Iris is very cute. Look at her, Ferran. Look.

Yet he doesn't really give much indication that it is working so she's just... going to quietly assume that she struck out. She lets him take the plush, hoping that maybe holding her will at least help. She sits down on that couch, however reluctantly, if only to make Ferran feel better (?), and then she's glancing at the few lanterns in the room.

...It's dark enough...

Spoken gently and encouragingly: ]

Squeeze her stomach.

[He's looking!!! What's he supposed to do, look harder? The verbal instruction is far more helpful. He does as asked once he's seated near her, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. Once he sees the lights begin to project, he blinks and turns the rabbit so the stars display properly against the dark ceiling.

For several seconds, he simply watches the slowly rotating lights. Fresh air and a walk probably would be nice if he felt physically capable, but he doesn't—so he appreciates the little piece of the sky brought into his small home.

Ferran finally says something, if weakly; his voice is rough, like he's been shouting.]

It's nice.

[ It's not quite the explosive reaction she would've wanted, but it's more than she expected, and hearing his voice gives her some glimmer of hope. The fact that it sounds so rough does not escape her, though--she can hardly blame him for being so quiet now.

This might mean she has to talk enough for the both of them. ]

She... She helps me sleep. [ Sometimes. ] I thought she might do the same for you, but I can't claim to know your sleep habits. [ Nightmares of fiery (near) death aren't a part of the routine, she'd hope. ]

[ha ha ha ha ha well. Not every time.]

Not a good idea right now. [For as tired as he is, he's not so sure it wouldn't just end up with more of the same. He places the plush between them on the couch so the lights can continue uninterrupted—he'd be upset with himself if his feelings end up messing with it at all—and he returns his attention to Susato.]

Thanks...

[He's a little lacking on conversational topics at the moment. Sorry.]

...Understood.

[ She scoots a little to make room when he places Iris between them. At some point, she would have placed down the large jar and the matching flower she brought with her, but she's picking them both up again now.

Hmm... She should have led with this, perhaps. ]

Then... this is something called a Glowing Dawn flower taken from our greenhouse. Someone close to me discovered that there's something special about them that can repress the noctaere side of a person, and we've been growing them ever since.

Last month, when I was dealing with my own nightmares... I helped spread them all over my room. [ They're also all over her house for Other reasons that she won't get into just now. She holds up the jar, its petals beautiful but still varying degrees of crushed. ] It-- I think the theory is that they absorb nightmare energy.

[The concern that might have shown through his face as he considers the implication of someone close to her needed to fend off their nightmarish side doesn't have a chance. But his eyes remain on her, as intent as they can be in his current state, until he finally turns his attention to the white flower.

He can put his hand on hers as she holds it up for him, though. It's something.]

... is there anything you can't do?

...! [ FERRAN SHE STILL DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE COMPLIMENTS YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THESE THINGS. ]

Th, That's... No, I...

[ Wait... ]

I, I mean, yes, there's a lot! For example, I can't-- [ You know that thing, where you could make a whole list of said thing, until the moment someone asks you and it just disappears? No? Well, it's exactly like that. ] I don't-- I don't know if it can actually... prevent nightmares, but that night, I slept better than I had in weeks.

[ That... That might have to do with the big sleeping brother snake watching over her but they're not here to talk about him, 'k. ]

[He takes the comment at face value. He's never been good at seeing secrets people keep without a lot of evidence that they're being kept, and even now he has a hard time thinking to look in the first place. Susato's not-so-secret crush is safe from him.

~~for now.~~

It's funny, though, that she can't even manage an actual retort to his question. Nice to know that even half-broken as he feels, he's still got it.]

Thank you. [He has every intention of placing them nearby when he does finally sleep. He's not going to refuse the potential solution to any repeats of that awful collection of memories when it's as harmless as a flower, even if he has his hesitations about some of the magic things here.]

... do you have a lot of them?

[ ~~forever.~~

Susato seems to consider the question for a moment. What would be his definition of a lot? She has to nod, though, thinking of their greenhouse. ]

It's a fair amount. Unfortunately the cave in the Wildlands where they're originally found has been completely razed, so... they can't just go and pluck more when they want to, but my father made our greenhouse so we could grow our own.

You can make tea with them, too. Just make sure to use a little rainbow honey, or--

[ or else it'll be too bitter, and possibly taste unpleasant and prickly going down, but she gasps instead of finishing that thought, suddenly remembering something. ]

I forgot. I brought tea, too. [ The British/Japanese love language. ]

[Ferran nods in understanding, recognizing the gravity of having such a valuable thing destroyed. He feels a little guilty for accepting a limited resource, but it sounds like they have it taken care of enough that he doesn't have to worry.]

I used to grow flowers...

[It feels like a lifetime ago. In some ways it was, and he can't say he's unhappy to be in a different life. He lifts his head when she remembers another thing she's brought to help. While Ferran doesn't know how well he can keep anything down right now, his throat could certainly use it...]

... what kind?

[ She perks up at that, tilting her head with interest, but she will answer the question first. ]

It's... lavender. For stress relief.

I can make some for us if you allow me to use your kitchen.

[He nods to affirm that she can use what she wants there. He doesn't have a lot, exactly, but there's enough utensils and dishware for two. The place isn't exactly big enough for a lot of company, anyway.

Whenever she does go to make the tea, she won't find anything to start a fire of any kind, and even the old wood stove has been repurposed as storage. She will find a kettle powered by some kind of magical tech, though.]

Sender: Susato Mikotoba

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