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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[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? ]

[He turns his gaze to the poor cracked walls, some of the glass of the windows practically ruined. While it's obvious he's done no dream magic to improve on or expand the structure, it's been decorated with care, in the interest of comfort. He thinks of the place fondly, and he's not going to leave it broken if he can help it.]

... yeah.

[There are a lot of things Ferran might argue he doesn't deserve, but he'd really like for some of the simple pleasures like a house that's in one piece. It's still decently cold outside, and a broken window isn't going to do him any favors.]

I'll have to get help to fix it...

[ . . . She follows his gaze. Perhaps the damage is even worse than she thought, at first glance, being masked the fake sky of stars. She grips her teacup a little tighter, considering options. ]

We can find you some help tomorrow, when it's light. [ Even if she has to ask for it herself. ] For tonight... well, we do have a guestroom.

If you are not opposed to it.

[The idea that he might damage her home as well as his is the only reason to refuse that he considers more than a brief moment, but he hesitates even so. The thought of repaying her kindness with that kind of destruction is almost unbearable.

But she said they'd grown those nightmare-repelling flowers, so he assumes there must be more where she is. ... and he still has more of those golden talismans tucked away in his journal, if it comes down to it; he lowers his gaze to said notebook as he answers. Well, he's not about to ask anybody to sleep here right now.]

... If it's not too much trouble.

[Bringing an obvious disaster like him into a house in the middle of the night will probably invite questions, among other things. But he knows he'd be more comforted even by the presence of strangers than by staying here, alone, and he's fragile enough as is.]

[ Actually, it's quite possible they have more than one guestroomS now. Maybe another had always been there. Who's to say how many they had to begin with? Is the house expanding as they need it...?

Who's to say. But she clearly seems pleased that he agreed. He definitely needs to get out of here. ]

Of course not.

[ Thank God Kazuma and Sholmes have already fixed their entrance, otherwise she would have had some explaining to do herself. ]

The change of scenery would be good for you, but there's no need to rush. [ At the very least, she's definitely going to be finishing her tea first, and insist he do the same. ]

[Dreams are strange and mysterious that way, aren't they.

Well, honestly, seeing the broken door would probably put him... at ease? At least in the sense that he isn't the worst disaster to grace their entrance in recent times. Either way, he is learning to accept help when he needs it... in most instances.

He nods his agreement that rushing wouldn't be a good idea.]

Probably better to make sure I can walk without tripping on my face...

[And in the interest of finishing his own tea, since Susato was nice enough to make it, he will in fact start to take decent sips. His stomach, at least, is feeling less unsteady.]

Oh... don't worry. I won't let that happen.

[ How would he feel about pink, Japanese-style door curtains, is the real question.

She looks at him with some concern though as he gently sips from his cup, seeming ready to react, whatever may happen. Sure, she had tossed him the first time they met, and maybe he deserved that, but now she's going to do... the opposite?

...Is that a thing? It's apparently a thing. (Who knew?) ]

Thanks.

[Adorable. Certified Ferran stamp of approval. Bit drafty, maybe.

Thankfully, there's not much for her to react to at the moment. While he doesn't look good by any stretch—pale and drawn are more apt, even ignoring the dark cracks—he's better, and he's stopped shaking quite so much. But it's probably a sign of just how out of it he is mentally for how long it takes for him to notice and meet Susato's gaze. It might have taken longer than the two or three sips of tea if he wasn't actively trying to stay out of his own head, though. So that's something.]

Hm?

. . . Huh?

[ She visibly startles when he notices. All she can do is hurriedly avert her eyes, and maybe pretend like she hasn't been staring for so long, though she's never really been convincing as an actress, outside of the courtroom. ]

No, it, it's nothing. Take your time.

[ She certainly is. Though after a while of relaxing in the relative comfort of his company, she finds her cup empty. ]

[There's too much mess in his brain to try to guess at what might be going on in hers, as disappointing as that is for his nosy personality. He'll have to leave it for later, when he has more energy to get past the fog...

When he sets down his own empty cup a minute later and pulls a nearby blanket around himself as if as a makeshift cloak, he's at least managed to come up with something to say.]

You live with your dad?

[ At some point she'd set down her cup, too. He seems as comfortable as he can be, considering the situation; at the very least, he seems to be trying, judging by the blanket-cloak, so she will continue to not rush him. ]

I do.

[ She is not ashamed of the fact, given she's still pretty young, though maybe some cultures would find that strange. She doesn't know. She just knows there isn't a good reason to not live with him. ]

He will not mind, truly. He likes keeping younger company around, I think.

[ Overcompensating dad is overcompensating. ]

[It's more the fact that Yujin is even here to live with her that's remarkable to him, and the reason he brings it up; he's fairly sure he's never met anyone from his home in the other world, and he definitely hasn't here. What would that be like? He doesn't really know if it's something he really wants to think about.]

Or maybe he's trying to make you comfortable.

[So she and her friends don't have to feel weird spending time there. ... he does wonder, though, if Susato brings home a lot of strays. And he doesn't just mean dogs.]

Do you have a lot of people over?

[ Most people their age would probably be ecstatic to get away from their parents. Susato, on the other hand, has spent too many years without him, so, childish though it may be, she is definitely glad he's here. She doesn't know how she would have dealt with half of what she did in Reverein without him.

(Kazuma, probably. He did say he would have looked out for her--and speaking of that:) ]

Mostly family and close friends from home. Although, we did welcome a number of people the day he decided to put forth the idea about forming a council. Our greenhouse is rather eye-catching, I think.

[Well. Susato should have plenty of evidence for why Ferran wouldn't feel that way about staying with one's parents, at this point.

More people she already knew, she says, and he almost stops listening at that point for how the idea strikes him. There's a pang of something in his chest as he considers it, and no—he guesses he doesn't want to think about that. His eyes turn downward, his voice quieter.]

... It's always just been me. In these places.

[ He can probably see the moment Susato trails off, maybe not quite making it to the end of that sentence once she realizes he's tuned out. She's obviously not offended, though, just... guilty. The foot-in-mouth syndrome is strong with this one.

He and Kazuma had that in common, it seemed. At least until a few months ago. ]

I'm... I'm sorry. [ She'll shut up, but not actually-- ] What of your girlfriends?

[His eyes fixated on a spot on the floorboards, Ferran tries to hold on to the comfort he's brought by the fact that he can even remember them. There must be so much he's still missing, but... he can imagine their smiles, and that's something.]

Rikku, and Yona... they were from other worlds, too. [He brings a hand over his necklace, fingers curling around the silver pendant almost as if to make sure it's still there.]

The only thing I ever saw from home... was the sword of the person who ruined my life.

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