dreamcrystals | dream recording 🔶 life flashing before your eyes

Entry tags:

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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[ 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.]

[ Who needs a stove when you're a firebender? ...Though the magical tech is about ten times as cool. Since it's not her magical tech, it's also that much easier to convince herself not to tear it apart, thankfully for Ferran. It takes a while for her to figure it out, but once it's doing its thing, she'll watch eagerly as she calls out: ]

What kind of flowers did you grow?

[He can see them in his mind, through the fog. The names... He knows the names, but it takes him a minute to retrieve them, bringing a shaky hand to his forehead as he tries.

The cactus flowers had been too difficult, in Aefenglom's climate. But the others... yes, now he has it.]

Peonies... and hydrangea.

[ ...Ah. Did he know that hydrangeas actually grow here in Reverein? Because they totally do now. She may have just given some to Jude last week, for reasons. ]

...Hydrangeas are called ajisai where I'm from. There's actually a legend about them...

Was there a certain color you liked?

[Ajisai. He doesn't know that they're here, but he hasn't really been looking. Maybe he'll find out. For now, he turns his eyes away from Susato at the question.]

They were for... my girlfriend. [So many of the flowers he showed Yona were only illusions, but he did put in the effort to make sure some of them were real. Even after she went back home, he still cared for those plants when he could.]

She liked the pink.

[ Oh. Well...she's not disappointed exactly, but she does go quiet. The pink doesn't surprise her either, it being a popular color (and Susato's aesthetic to boot). ]

Heartfelt emotion... I see.

[ Well. ]

I didn't know you had a girlfriend.

[Though Ferran is far from an expert in flower language, the idea fits well enough, so he simply nods. He certainly has a lot of those, however much of a detriment it can be to him these days.]

Not anymore. It was the other world I mentioned.

[Before they all returned to their separate homes. Well—it wasn't just her, or there.]

... home, too. A few. [Remember that thing you said about heartbreak, Susato? It wasn't too far off the mark.]

. . . [ She opens her mouth, then closes it again. By now, the tea is ready, so she'll start to pour them into teacups.

She doesn't really know what to say to that. She has no idea how close to the mark she had been, given that was just supposed to be a joke. ]

How many did you have?

[He leans his head to one side, thinking, tracing his memories back as best he can.]

Six... pretty sure. [With his memory full of holes and static, he can only be so certain, but. Six sounds right.]

[ Six. She's still looking for the matching holders for the cups, and there's a pause, but in the end, it's not really so strange. Well, other than the fact that he seems quite young for that.

She comes out of the kitchen back under the fake starry sky. ]

...That's a lot of flowers. [ Does he keep notes on which one likes which kind? That's what she would totally do if she were a dashing, gallant boy. Though he only mentioned one in relation to flowers, so... ]

Yeah... guess it was.

[He never had to note any of it down, as dedicated as he was to memorizing that kind of thing for the girl he was with. That probably wouldn't go quite as well now, so it's good that he has no qualms with note taking in general.

He waits patiently for Susato to bring the tea, not certain enough of his grip to reach for it preemptively.]

I didn't grow any back home, though... just the other world.

[ Steam still rising from the cups, Susato walks over, having to make room on the table to set down the tray. She is stirring the cup intended for Ferran (they're both the same anyway, though), allowing for the faint clinking of the spoon against the cup before she goes out of her way to give it to him directly by hand.

What was it called again...? It was so long ago now. ]

Ge, Gear... [ Gear-something! ] ...dragas? [ Close. ]

[He nods; it's definitely close enough for anyone to get the idea.]

Geardagas. [Ferran takes the cup and carefully keeps it between his hands, resting on his knees. Rather than dive into his experiences in that world, he focuses on a point that he recalls having surprised him. Avoidant, as always.]

I actually knew the name, before. From an old book I read in class...

[What was it called again...? He presses hand to his temples, after first making sure his tea isn't going anywhere in the other hand.]

. . . [ She just watches him make that expression, ready to jump in if something does happen to the cup in the other hand, because she knows he isn't exactly at his steadiest. Hearing the name again, correctly said by him, actually stirs a familiar feeling in her as well, in combination with the mention of an old book.

Where has she heard that? ]

"Days of old." I think I know what you're talking about, but my days in English literature can be such a blur.

[Ah, so she does know it? That keeps him from having to strain his memory, so he lets it go, and returns his hand to the cup.]

Yeah. I only remembered because it was recent for me, then... sounds like you were ahead of me.

[If her English-studying days were indeed a blur. Geez, he's getting the feeling she'd have a proper degree by now if not for being brought here. Lifting the cup closer to his face, he takes in the scent for the moment, debating on whether to take a sip yet.]

... I miss school.

I do, too.

[ Life was simpler then. When she was younger, all she had to worry about was doing well in her studies and being the best assistant to Kazuma that she could. Sometimes that would involve following him around like a puppy, doing everything that he did. Even homework. Sometimes he would even get mad, but that would only make her feel more determined. In the end, anyway. Eventually?

It feels like too long ago now. Now she notices how Ferran is hesitant to drink. She kind of remembers that he has that thing about fae food in this world. Maybe if he saw her drink it first, he'd be less reluctant.

She lifts her own cup to take a sip. ]

How old are you, Ferran?

[When Susato agrees, Ferran's attention goes to her. While he's accepted his lot in life to some extent, the idea that Susato might be missing the kinds of experiences he'd thought everyone their age should have... it's upsetting, even if it doesn't quite show in his expression.]

I just turned eighteen when I got here.

[Happy birthday, Ferran; have a nice dream after being stabbed. He does finally take a slow, shallow sip of his tea, trying to fend off the taste of bile that the memory leaves in his throat.]

With Geardagas... I guess, nineteen. [He wonders if he'll stay here as long as a year. Maybe he'll be lucky and stay for longer.] What about you?

[ Susato is distracted momentarily, but she still manages to meet his eye for just a second before he finally takes a sip. She can feel pity from his gaze, though she doesn't know why what would be, when he is the one who had the nightmare.

... ]

Seventeen. I can't say I've been to Geardagas, the Realm of Stories or... any other realms to bolster my age. [ Three years...... she'll get over this, someday. ]

One other world is complicated enough....

[Ferran would definitely pick this one if he had to. For as much as nightmares might be prominent at times... the chances he has here to just be himself make it worthwhile.

But even with his head as cloudy as it is, he takes note of that mention. She's brought it up before.]

Do you know someone who was there? The story place.

[ Her expression clouds over, becoming difficult to read, particularly by the light of Iris's stars, but she seems to answer anyway, however automatically. She was thinking about it, anyway, so. ]

Mmh. [ She takes another sip of her tea, mumbling something in the affirmative. ] He was there for three years, all by himself.

...But I seem to recall travelling all the way out here for you, not me.

[ Her expression lightens, her voice taking a teasing tone. It's probably best that they haven't focused on Ferran, though she will still wonder if avoidance will help him in the long run. At least, short-term though... for whatever it was worth, he seems to be in better spirits. ]

[Susato's presence is certainly a calming one for him; she's a breath of fresh air, a reminder of what his life used to be like before all the mess. It's easy to keep it together around her and just not think about himself, even in a state like this.

He lowers his gaze, drawing his shoulders in as if to cut himself off from the outside.]

I'm not... easy to talk about.

[He wishes it wasn't that way, but things are what they are, and he doesn't know that he can change how he feels about it. He doesn't like worrying people more than he already has, and even seeing a segment of that nightmare would be enough for someone to start.]

[ There's a pang of guilt that resonates inside her like an annoying ringing in her ears. She'd meant that as an invitation; she's no stranger to difficult conversations, and she's a firm believer that people can come out stronger after having had them.

Still, that didn't really give her the right. ]

I am not here to force you, Ferran. Sometimes a dream is just a dream, but if there is a deeper problem, I am not a fan of burying them, either.

I just want you to be alright.

[That's very sweet of Susato to say, even if it's really just a basic thing to hope for somebody. Maybe it's just nice to hear it.]

Thank you.

[To say there's a deeper problem would be an understatement, he feels. He steadies his hands around the cup he's holding, focusing on the warmth for a moment.]

The problem... it isn't here to be solved. I'm just trying to live in spite of it, as much as I can.

[ Nice, maybe. Doesn't feel particularly helpful though, but that 'Thank you' feels genuine at least, and warm. She'll have to hold onto that. ]

I suppose.

[ She'll take some more sips of her tea while she tries to decide what to say next. Why does she feel so oddly unsatisfied? ]

At least you deserve to rest in a place that is not so damaged or crumbling. [ Or... gosh, she doesn't know. What if he just needs a night away from this house? ]

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