third dream 🌱 it's rising again

[multidisciplinary]

Sender: Zelda
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive Dream Recording
Warnings: Nightmare containing generalized descriptions of violence and death.

--

Zelda's dream begins on the final night of the flower festival. The last hints of sunset colors have faded and the inky sky is bright with stars. Without the light of the moon, the stars seem to shine unnaturally bright. Zelda and a few of her friends—Satan, Mammon, and Link—are sitting on a picnic blanket spread out atop a grassy rise. The group is sipping chilled sake and chatting idly while they wait for the flower fireworks show, which is just about to begin. (Thankfully, they are comfortably dressed in their normal attire instead of their ostentatious festival costumes.)

A spot on the horizon begins to brighten, a soft crimson glow slowly blossoming from the direction where the flowerworks are being prepared. Everyone's attention turns to the source and excited murmurs run through the gathered crowds. The flowerworks are promised to be an incredible spectacle to cap off an unforgettable festival and almost everyone in Reverein has turned out to see.

Before the show can begin, a sour burning smell tickles Zelda's nose, pulling her attention away from the horizon. She looks around for the source, wondering if someone has started a campfire. There's no campfire to be seen. But as she turns back to the horizon, she catches a flash of motion out of the corner of her eye. A single tendril of smoke rises up from the grass a few inches away from the edge of the blanket.

As she turns her attention to it, she catches sight of another one a few feet away, then another and another. Flecks of black ash and smoldering embers materialize out of nowhere, fluttering upwards into the sky as though gravity was suddenly reversed. The crimson glow on the horizon brightens, spreading out over the night sky and dying it in red and orange hues, like a sunset happening in reverse.

She knows what this is. She's seen it before. Her heart begins to beat faster and panic squeezes against her chest like two strong hands. Tension presses in on Zelda from all from all sides.

The air grows thick with smoke, causing Zelda and her friends to start coughing. Unsettled murmurs spread across the hillside as the other dreamwalkers start to notice the smoke and ash in the air. The entire sky has turned shades of red, so bright that the stars can barely shine through it.

Then, on the horizon, a red sun begins to rise again.

The hands squeezing Zelda's chest suddenly clamp down, crushing her heart and lungs in their grip. A choked gasp escapes her lips. No, not a sun.

"The blood moon...!" she rasps, voice hitching.

The red sun crests the horizon and comes fully into view, plain for all to see. It's not a sun, but a full moon, the source of the red glow brightening the night sky, with the same luminosity one would expect from the full moon on a cloudless night. But no one feels a sense of beauty or serenity as they gaze up at it—only a sickening dread curling in the pits of their stomach.

Zelda is the first to react, scrambling to her feet in a panic. She clutches her hands to her chest. Her heart races, thundering in her ears. "No, it can't be. Please, not here! I beg you! Not here, too!!"

A low, fearsome roar reverberates across the field, its source unseen, as if answering Zelda's pleas. She lets out a sob.

Suddenly, monsters materializes across the hillside, exploding into life from a swirl of black smoke and burning embers. The monsters brandish their weapons and howl, answering their master's call.

All around, startled dreamwalkers are leaping to their feet. Link jumps up immediately after Zelda, one hand yanking free the sword from the scabbard strapped to his back. He motions for Zelda to stand behind him, but the fear roots the princess in place. She squeezes her hands together, fingernails biting into her palms.

There's barely a moment to react before the monsters lunge forward to attack the nearest dreamwalkers. The dreamwalkers' screams join the chorus of roars and howls as battle breaks out across the hillside. But it's hardly a battle at all—more of a massacre. The dreamwalkers find themselves defenseless, bereft of weapons and dreamotion magic. They are easily overpowered by Calamity Ganon's hoard, slaughtered without mercy.

Link manages to fight some of the monsters off, but Zelda's group is beset on all sides. Satan and Mammon stand as if to fight as well, but also find themselves unarmed and magicless. A crowd of monsters rushes the group from the rear and a moblin manages to grab the two demons, one in each hand. With a roar, the moblin hefts them by their wrists above its head, boasting its catch. The beast opens its crooked maw, ready to consume them.

"No!" Zelda screams and dashes towards her friends. She throws out her right arm to reach for them, begging her sealing magic to stop the beast before it rips her friends apart.

But nothing happens. Her divine power ignores her pleas, as dormant as the day the Calamity befell Hyrule Castle and she was forced to flee with Link, leaving her father to his death.

"No!!"

The dream ends abruptly before the demon brothers can be violently dismembered and eaten alive. Zelda jerks awake in her own bed as she continues to scream.

--

( ooc: Zelda is having a nightmare of the rising of the blood moon, an event in Breath of the Wild that resurrects slain monsters. Here is a 62-second video of the event, if you want to see the visual effects in motion.)

Comments

[multidisciplinary]

[ Zelda tries to imagine Satan and Mammon devouring a moblin and her mind supplies her with two scenarios: one in which the brothers are able to unhinge their jaws to a comical extent and swallow the beast whole; and another where the moblin has been roasted and laid out on a dining table like a suckling pig, complete with an apple in its mouth.

Both images earn an amused snort from Zelda. ]

I suppose it's possible that you two were simply waiting for an opportune moment to turn the tides of battle.

[ The ever-rational Zelda doesn't truly believe what she's saying, but playing along is preferable to imagining the real outcome of that moment. ]

My grievances? [ There's a distinct pause in her writing. ] I don't believe anyone has ever asked me that before.

[angelbirth]

I agree. That Moblin would be our dinner, not the other way around, which I think is a much more fitting ending.

[ Zelda is probably closer to the truth in her first idea of how they would devour the Moblin. Less unhinged jaws, more tearing apart piece by piece. ]

Oh. Well, surely you must have them. There are always inconveniences in life, like your phone being useless and unable to connect to the forums in your home world, or setbacks with research... or larger, more pressing issues.

I'd consider the question to be a "How are you?" that you get to respond to honestly instead of "I'm doing well, thank you." Though, it doesn't have to be entirely negative. In fact, if you do have anything happening in your life that makes you happy, I'd be pleased to hear about that, too.

[ Satan stops there and considers adding in an apology for basically rambling, but refrains. While he considers himself emotionally mature -- at least moreso than most of his brothers -- he only knows how to deal with his own emotions. It feels as if the emotions of others, especially mortals with such short lifespans, are an enigma to him. Still, wanting his point to be clear, he adds one more line: ]

Whatever topic you'd like to discuss, I'd be happy to discuss with you.

[ Before he can further embarrass himself, on the other side of the journal he firmly folds his hands so he can't write anymore until she responds. She's going to think he's being stupid - he knows it. Although... he supposes it would be worth it this one time if it means she's focused on an emotion that's not fear, or worry, or sadness. ]

[multidisciplinary]

[ A Moblin would probably make a foul tasting meal, but better to be the one eating than being eaten. Snatches of the dream come back to her at that thought, images of monsters rending limbs from bodies, their sharp teeth tearing through soft flesh.

No, none of that. Zelda smacks her cheeks with both hands until they sting. ]

I do have a grievance, actually. I would like to know why my nightmares must repeatedly be shared with the entire population of Reverein. I had a perfectly lovely dream about flying over the Wildlands on the back of a giant butterfly just last week that I would have been happy to share, were I given any say in the matter. I hardly think it's appropriate that my privacy should be so disrespected in this form. Are we not guests in this world? Is it too much to ask that none be privy to my greatest fears unless I desire to share them?

[ Actually, this is quite cathartic. Zelda has never really complained openly about anything before, except to her diary (and, occasionally, to/at Link). ]

[angelbirth]

You bring up a valid point. I think more often than not, the dreams that are shared are of the dark and traumatic variety. Considering this place runs on dreams and emotions, it makes sense, as unpleasant as it may be. After all, nightmares tend to linger for longer and bombard you with negative emotions. A happy dream is appreciated in the moment, but most people remember the nightmares weeks after the fact and forget the happy dreams.

[ He wonders what kind of butterfly it was. Probably a huge monarch butterfly. Regardless, it sounds like it was a cute dream, and it's definitely the type of dream he would prefer Zelda to have. ]

When your dreams are shared like dirty laundry, how would you prefer the people you know to react? I had assumed you might be happier if I didn't tell you I'd seen it, but I also wanted you to support you in whatever way I could. I ask since I think even if we were to send a strongly written letter to someone--who, a tapir?--that little would come of it. Well, and also because I care about your feelings.

[multidisciplinary]

[ She hates that he's right. Neutral and pleasant dreams don't usually stick in her mind for more than a few minutes after waking up from them, but nightmares are not so easily forgotten. It isn't even just the tangible nightmare energy that clings to the dream world like so many stubborn stains; it's the fear of just how easily those nightmares could become reality. Zelda was always plagued by nightmares throughout her adolescence as the weight of her duty bore down on her over the years. Even though the Calamity has already passed and she's free of her princess duties, she still can't shake that fear of it all.

Zelda could have probably kept venting, but Satan's casual, "I care about your feelings," makes her heart skip a beat and derails the frustration train. ]

If the tapirs do control this, I will be happy to deliver our collective complaints to them in person. But considering how they seem to work themselves into a little frenzy whenever something strange happens, I suspect they do not control this "shared dreams" phenomenon.

It's tempting to say I would prefer that everyone pretend they didn't see my dreams, but I think that would actually be worse than waking up to a bunch of responses in my journal. I would probably become paranoid every morning I woke up, wondering if anyone had seen my dreams and was not telling me. Unfortunately, facing it head-on is the best choice.

[angelbirth]

[ Satan is tempted to blame the tapirs anyway just so there's someone to blame. Then he remembers that the tapirs seemed to frustrate Lucifer while he was here through their hovering and supposed pestering, and so Satan thinks better of it. ]

Perhaps not. They may know something though, so it wouldn't hurt to ask. Even if they can just provide a more detailed explanation rather than who's responsible for it, I'd be mostly satisfied. Although, I do feel like we won't get much more than a surface level explanation out of them.

[ Not that it matters whether he's satisfied. He's not the one having his dreams on display for everyone to see. ]

I agree, and I'm sorry that this keeps happening to you. You know I'm here to talk whenever you need it, or at least I hope you know.

[ It seems unfair that this is happening to her. Still, in a way Satan is grateful because her nightmares have alerted him to the fact that she still has a lot on her plate. He had been assuming she had been doing well, but... well, everyone has fears and insecurities. ]

Since this world isn't taking the opportunity to share your pleasant dreams, I vote that you share them yourself. So, tell me about your other dreams. The good ones that get passed over.

[multidisciplinary]

[ "The enemy of my older brother is my friend"—isn't that how the saying goes? ]

While it might be cathartic to pick their little brains for answers, I doubt it would yield us any fruit. They seem to be a simple lot.

[ Funny how Satan has never had any of his dreams on display HINT HINT WINK NUDGE. What a lucky guy.

But it's nice that he's always here to talk to her when she's having nightmares. Since Hyrule was a nice normal kingdom that never broadcast its royals' subconsciousness to its citizens, Zelda never used to talk about her nightmares with anyone (sans Link once in awhile). It's kind of ... liberating not shouldering them alone. ]

My good dreams? [ She pauses for a minute. Put on the spot, her mind is suddenly blank of anything but the nightmares she's had. But after a little bit of mental digging, one springs from her memory and brings a smile to her lips. ]

A few weeks ago, I dreamed that Mipha and I were working with Vah Ruta. Mipha was the princess of the Zora people and one of the Champions selected to pilot one of the Divine Beasts. The Divine Beasts were four tremendous mechanical creatures developed to fight Calamity Ganon centuries ago, and each required a skilled pilot to control them. It required careful calibration and training for each Champion to control their beast, so I spent a lot of time traveling to assist them.

Of course, Link was with us as well. But instead of simply standing at ready and shadowing me like he usually did, he was fishing right over the side of Ruta!

[ Zelda giggles to herself as she pens the words. It occurs to her that Satan will have no idea what Vah Ruta looks like, so she imprints an image of the divine beast beneath her text. On top of its head, she scribbles two tiny stick figures for scale. ]

That's not quite to scale. Ruta is over 100 feet tall. And somehow, Link had no trouble fishing from that height.

And that wasn't the strangest part! He was fishing up sharks from that reservoir. SHARKS! From a freshwater reservoir!

[ Zelda continues to giggle to herself at the absurdity of a dream that's honestly very tame and unimaginative as far as dreams go. She's way too amused by the thought of fishing a saltwater fish out of a freshwater lake. ]

[angelbirth]

[ It's good fortune that any nightmares Satan may have aren't put on display. It's doubtful he would handle it as gracefully as Zelda, even though there's just one memory that often plagues his dreams from time to time. In all honesty, the treehouse he and Mammon have come to call their home here would most likely end up absolutely leveled.

When Zelda describes her good dream to him, he smiles at her awareness that he's naïve to the workings of her world and that she explains who people are and what things are without him needing to ask. It helps him craft the image of her dream in his mind, and when she imprints the image of Vah Ruta into the journal, he practically doubles over in laughter. ]

Divine Beast indeed. I'm sure this is a very important machine in your world, given its name and its purpose, but it looks so cute. I hope that Vah Ruta was spraying copious amounts of water as Link reeled those sharks in.

[ Give him a moment. The absurdity of the dream isn't lost on him, but he needs a second to fawn over Vah Ruta's design. Who did this? Who conceived such an adorable mechanical elephant in their brain? Ahem. ]

Now that's a charming dream.

[ He's glad that someone as rational and logical as Zelda can have dreams like this, too. These are the types of dreams he wants her to have. He just knows her science-y brain is having a field day over the impossibility of salt water sharks--plural, even--casually being fished up from a freshwater reservoir of all places, given her emphasis on the text. ]

That's a #lifegoal, honestly. It would be such a thrill to be able to do that in reality. Can you imagine? I'd get so wrapped up in trying to document how it was even possible.

[ Modern enough to be using hashtags. Terrible. ]