dreamcrystals | fifth entry ⊗ first dream: only in a dream

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fifth entry ⊗ first dream: only in a dream

Sender: Eustace
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive Dream Recording
Warnings: Death makes for a sad ending to an otherwise happy dream (no violent acts but there is a lot of heavy grief)
Notes: A dream depicting glimpses of a lone wolf at various stages of his life and eventually forming his own family until...

It begins with a vast snowy white landscape, so empty and barren save for a few bundles of trees that appear here and there. Atop a barren cliff lays a lone silver gray wolf, its right eye slightly scarred at its brow as if it had been burned, but it's subtle, just barely noticeable under the tufts of fur. As the wolf slowly opens its eyes, the right eye is a little duller compared to the bright blue of the left. But it can see just as well and it tracks the sudden movement below—of other wolves crossing the snowy plains, a few of them playing around and running freely with each other.

It seems warmer down there, welcoming...yet the lone wolf remains at his perch, turning his head away as ice forms around him.

Time passes and what was once a barren snowscape has changed, pockets of grass and more trees poking through the snow. The wolf is now on the ground watching the others play around, but while he keeps his distance every so often one approaches to shove its head against his side, as if pushing the wolf to the group. The wolf grumbles, pinning his ears and baring his fangs...but he never attacks. Instead two smaller ones appear, one with blue tinted fur and another and orange red, and it's with their help that the lone wolf moves and is brought into the fold. There other wolves run out to greet him, each with their own distinct markings. The lone wolf still doesn't really participate, but he stays within the group, watching...and slowly his tail sways from one side to the other.

Like stop motion the trees grow, the grass spreads, and the number of wolves grow. The once lone wolf still doesn't really participate with their antics, but he appears calmer and more relaxed. He mostly stays on the edge, but he wanders through to be with the others, even letting the younger ones "tussle" with him. The cliff he once inhabited has turned into a mossy green and he hasn't returned to it in a long while. But when he looks out, there's a new wolf beyond the pack—black, female, with deep red eyes. He's wary at first, but she's welcomed into the fold like everyone else who has come through. When she passes by him, his eyes follow her, the scent of flowers lingering.

Once more time passes and the scenes pass quickly, all focused on the black wolf. Of her bothering the gray wolf and sticking to his side. Of her crying and he comforting her. Of him chasing and cornering her. Of quiet moments of them together. With each one, more snow disappears and the feeling of spring grows with the warm atmosphere, and his voice whispers in the breeze as each snapshot passes through.

Tifa, you are my partner now, and I want you to be there in my future. I told you before... You are the one I chose to be my partner for life. The one I chose to give my heart and soul to. No one else.

Tifa Lockhart.

The two wolves race through the snow, a black and silver blur leaving flowers in their wake.

Will you marry me?

Around their necks are matching necklaces: a metal dog tag and glowing charm, the moon on the black wolf and a star on the gray. They continue into the forest of trees, through a flower field bursting with colors—the sunlight dancing over them as petals swirl around them as the two wolves continue to frolic and play with each other, the remaining ice that had once surrounded the gray wolf completely melted away. Eventually they stop to rest against each other, and as he looks over at his mate, his blue eyes shine in a way they never have before. Soft, gentle, completely in love. Slowly they close, wrapped up in that beautiful bliss...

...And when they open, he finds himself staring at two small pairs of eyes, one red, one blue, their coats a darker gray. The pups' tails wag eagerly in the air as they bark.

Dad!
Yay he's awake!
Play with us!

At first he's confused—

Dad?

Who's dad?? But he hears the soft laugh and as he's shoved over onto the side by the pups, he looks over to see the black wolf sitting nearby with a smile, her red eyes shining in delight.

Understanding crashes into him like a tidal wave, and while something in the back of his mind tries to warn him, there's a burst of light, the ground overflowing with flowers as he laughs and plays with the pups. His pups.

His family.

Things go by in a blur. Spending lazy days together, meeting and venturing with the original pack. It seems as if it all could end peacefully like this. ...But then there's a low rumble overhead, dark shadows overtaking the once sunny area. As lightning cracks high overhead as if to shatter the once picturesque sky, the pups whine and hide beneath his legs. It's just a storm and yet there's a chill in the air that causes every single hair to stand on end. One that makes them run, run before the darkness engulfs them, run to their home where they would be safe. But—

Where is she?

—the thought blares through his mind as they dash into the cave and everything goes dark.

Rain falls. It beats on the gray wolf who sits with his head hung low, his once vibrant blue eyes dull and lifeless, tears now ice frozen on his fur. In fact there's no color at all—it's all white, gray, and black. In front of him is the black wolf lying on her side, eyes closed. A dark pool spreads beneath her lifeless body, flecks of red breaking through the monochrome. Her necklace lies in shattered pieces, the beautiful glowing moon crushed, dull. Beside him the pups whine and try to move him, but he doesn't budge. He can't. The weight of loss chains him down—

I failed.
I failed to protect her...

I killed her.

Slowly he falls forward, his head landing lightly just above hers. As the rain turns to the snow, ice crackles and forms around him. At first he still hears the pups, but when he slowly cranes his neck he can see them fade away, disappearing into the ether. Because they were never real to begin with.

They never can be real, a dark voice whispers as the snow continues to slowly bury him. None of this is.

No longer is he a wolf, but Eustace cradling Tifa's lifeless body as it slowly disappears, the snow and ice almost completely covering him as the voice becomes heavier and more oppressive as it continues.

When you wake up, you will forget it all like you did before. When she wakes up she will leave you for another.

A dream. This is all just a dream.

All it ever will be.

[It's there that the dream will cut off as Eustace jolts awake.

Note: there will be some delay before Eustace responds but he'll at least be of...somewhat calm mind if a bit more reticent and giving shorter, curt answers. ]

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[She follows along silently again as he leads her up the path, and somewhere along the way, she takes him by the hand into her tentative but firm grip. Her hands are cold from the ride, but behind that, there's a tenderness there too, a longing to still be there for him, and at his side no matter what kind of tension rolls between them.

It's like a thick cloud that fogs her vision—she can't quite see or think as clearly, and no matter how hard she tries to push it way, only more of it comes back. No matter how much she tries to grab hold to control it, her fingers slip right through like smoke.

When they arrive at the rocks, she still refuses to let him go, and they wander over together to sit, Tifa setting her bag down. The horizon is up ahead, and the indigo skies have turned to a soft yellow. She opens her mouth to say something, closes it, and rocks gently on the rock to get comfortable. She isn't quite sure what to say, but she says something anyway to break and find a way through the silence.]

... Did you already know about this place too?

[This feels like the kind of place Eustace might have taken her to on a happier morning, when they wanted to come out here.]

[He accepts her hand, and while he holds it firmly and gives her a soft glance back, there is still a feeling of that strange uncertain distance from the cloud that overhangs them. Literally, at this point there is a gray misty shadow that slowly forms over the area as they walk, darkening the area a bit. And once they reach the area, he continues to walk with her, letting her situate herself before he sits next ot her.]

Mm... I scouted the entire area. There are a few other places that have a good view.

It's nice...

[In spite of all of this, the flowers still bloom a little bigger and they rustle in the crisp wind that passes through. And when he sits next to her, she moves so that she's tucked right up against his side.

Another stretch of silence lingers, and Tifa keeps her eyes fixed on the sunrise, trying to keep her attention focused on that and not on the awful knotting in her stomach or the twisting in her heart as it sweeps over them. What is usually so natural and so comfortable has turned into something sad and uneasy... painful to sit through, and although there's so much to say, she doesn't know where to start or how to say it.

Instead, she slips her hands away so that she can zip open her bag and pulls out the canteen of coffee, twists the cap off and pours some of it in before offering him the container while she nurses the small lid, lifting it to her lips to take in the scent and the comforting, familiar warmth it gives off.

...

....

After a few more moments of watching the sunrise and a couple of careful sips of the hot coffee, she sets it down on the rock next to her and folds her hands in her lap, her fingers fidgeting among themselves.]

Eustace... I can't stand this. I don't like... whatever this is.

[There's no easy way to do this, so she's just going to come out and say it, and there's a nervous energy about her—it shakes her voice and twists the smile that she tries to put on for him, but she's going to push through it anyway because there's nothing else worse than sitting here in this silence with him.]

[He remains quiet, offering a small word of thanks when she hands him the coffee—but he doesn't drink it, instead holding it in his hands as he stares out at the sun. He knows he shouldn't, but because of that dream, he wonders how many more will they have? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? And when the dark reds bleed into the oranges, a more unpleasant memory comes to mind, forcing him to look away before it completely spoils everything.

It's around then that Tifa speaks up, and he only glances at her, fingers tightening their grip OK the thermos before makes a small sound of acknowledgement.]

...Mm.

[But then what? How should they start? With a small sigh he sets down the untouched thermos to the ground.]

...It's difficult. And I know you're having a tough time with it as well.

[And then be voices the question they both share.]

Where do we even begin?

[She knew it would be a useless endeavor to try and hide her own fears about it. Tifa had grown up quickly and learned how to mask them all well for the sake of others, and for herself, but Eustace... he could open her up so easily and read her as if it were nothing that was it even worth the effort?

She stiffens when he mentions it, and when he voices that same question that's been troubling her at the back of her mind since they decided they would come out here, her eyes move from the sunrise to him. She stares at him for a while—perhaps longer than she should in silence, and her lips part with the hope of being able to come up with a reply, but nothing comes out at first.

...

Tifa shifts uncomfortably again.]

I don't know.

[She doesn't have the answers, and she wishes she did, but even the simplest one of where to start, what to say... none of that is coming to her. So, Tifa does the one thing she knows to do right now and leans in, her fingers tapping the end of his chin, and she touches her lips to his in a light kiss. It's cautious, soft, barely a brush, but it carries the same weight of her feelings her kisses always do, and she wants to be certain that he knows where she stands after all of this.

That, no matter what, she doesn't love him less than she did yesterday, or even a second ago.]

How about... from the beginning? [Tifa moves back slightly to look him in his eyes. To really look at him, and it's the first time since she has they sat in bed together.] Has this been bothering you a while?

[His eyes close briefly at the kiss, his fingers twitching to reach out for hers and then they eventually do, taking the one that had tapped his chin and to hold it against his cheek as if seeking her warmth. Only then does he half open his eyes to meet her gaze, his expression a bit conflicted.

...How long...]

...Not exactly. ...Not everything, at least.

[A small sigh.]

You already know most of my concerns and fears...but it's nothing new, at least not by now. I hadn't thought anything of it until that dream.

[She feels a surge of relief, of happiness, when he takes her hand, and her own fingers curl along his jaw, her thumb stroking the gentlest, most comforting lines over his cheek as he presses into it. Her smile is small and crooked, but it fades just as quickly as it had appeared when he answers.

Even starting from the beginning, it's difficult still to find which way to go from here. There's too much to unpack, and there's too much that hurts them both that she's afraid to open it all up and find out...

Her brow furrows with worry as her gaze roams over his expression.]

I don't think I know all of them...

...

[Again a conflicted expression as he averts his gaze.]

...No, you don't. They're more difficult to bring up.

[A quiet, almost pained noise escapes her, as if she were trying to fight back an oncoming sob. He's suffered through so much, and how much of it does Tifa truly know?

Her other hand comes up to rest against her chest, where the charm and the dog tag lay hidden beneath her shirt, and she can feel them through the fabric, can feel their weight around her neck as they remind her of how far they've come together in the last year... and how much further they can go if he'd just let her in a little bit more.]

Well... [she begins slowly, the word forming before she has something to follow it up with.] We can talk about them.

[They should talk about them is what she should have said.]

I want to know... Whatever they are, I wanna help.

[He studies her for a moment, lips pursing for a moment. He's been fairly honest with most things, but then there are others where he's only touched on but not really delved into with her. Reasonably so as they aren't the most pleasant of topics and he doesn't want to needlessly worry her.

He knows how she's like.

...]

...It's not that I don't trust you.

[Just a slow beginning before he looks at her carefully.]

But I don't want you to worry more than you need to, or worse—do something on your own.

[He then gives her a slight look.]

I'm not the only one who is keeping things to themselves for the same reasons.

[...

Tifa regards him with a hard look—not anger in the least but upset by how that rings true. A protest forms in her head, but by the time it makes its way out, it's become nothing, because how could she even argue it when he has a point? If she knew there was a way to fix it or to help, why wouldn't she go and find it? She would get up and run and leave him here in the dust now if someone had given her the answer they need to make this all stop.

But it hasn't, and she has more questions than she does answers, and being left in the dark when she ends up seeing things like this hurts more than whatever could be waiting for her if she tried to "do something on her own."]

I'm already worried. I always am.

[Her voice is small, and she lets her forehead fall to his.]

I keep seeing all these things, and I don't know why. The stuff in that dream, you in that moonscape...

[He knows what he said might hit hard, but it's something that needs to be pointed out. Of course, he's not guiltless. He takes things on his own all the time, and he's also being unfair to Tifa as well. Even if his thought process is well intended (not wanting her to worry), it's still keeping her out. And now...it's about time to open up before they really do make a mistake.]

As to why it keeps appearing... I'm not sure I have an answer, except that the nightmares are pulling out my deepest fears and making me face them as if to remind me.

[A small snort of derision.]

I promise you, the things you see... I don't think about them often. But it is true that they exist. Especially... [His face twists again as he hates having to say it aloud let alone think about it.] ...Of you dying.

[Her breath catches subtly in her throat, but he'll no doubt have heard it, even as she tries to swallow down that bubble of dread that leaps up from the center of her chest. The air around her snaps cold, as if his words had sucked any warmth right out of it, and she can feel the goosebumps rising all over her skin, and that pool of heat forming where she'd felt the blood in the dream...

Where it had felt so, so real...

Tifa doesn't mean to put any distance between them, but she leans back again to look into his eyes, to try and stare past that hardened expression and see what he's really thinking and feeling, but it's so hard to when her own eyes are starting to glaze over with fear.

Her fingers twitch against his cheek, and her hand slides down to rest around the back of his neck instead.]

...Is this...

[She's almost too afraid to say the words and bring that memory forward again after she—they had worked so hard to push it away.]

... about what happened in that dreamscape?

[He should know which one she's referring to. It's haunted them both for far too long, it seems.]

...Yes.

[A small exhale as his head sags slightly, the guilt and pain clear not only in his eyes and expression, but his entire body. How his body tenses, retracting into himself.]

...I'll never be able to forget it. I can't, it's impossible. Even if I learn to live with it so that I can at least not have such visceral reactions, it's still too soon. Even then...

[There may always be that small flinch, that small ripple of tension even in the years to come.]

...I've taken many lives, so my hands were never clean. But you... [He cuts himself short as he closes his eyes, unable to bear it.

It's only reasonable for him to be like this. Although he may have hardened himself to kill enemies, to take the life of the one he treasured and wanted to protect the most...there's no way he'll be able to shake that off.]

To lose anyone...is already something I fear. [His voice wavers a little although, his voice starting to shake.] But to do it by my own hands...

[It doesn't matter if he was unable to control it. No—it's worse. Far worse. It means he has a vulnerability, a weakness. That he can't truly protect those he loves.]

[But you weren't in control, is what she wants to tell him. That it wasn't his fault... but she knows that those words are empty to him. Tifa knows that him being unable to control it is why it's so terrifying in the first place. She trusts, without a shred of doubt, that he would never do anything to hurt her, but this world and its magic or the forces that compel them to do things that they'd never do in their right minds always seem to have other plans.

Still, she wishes there was something—anything that she could say to help make this pain of his go away, and to stop it from bleeding into her so that she can't stand firm for him to lean on. Tifa flinches when he cuts himself off, that thought lingering in the air for far too long before he speaks again, but at some point, she hasn't realized that she's stopped breathing as she combs her fingertips gently through his hair, hanging onto his every word.]

... I wish there was a way I could make this stop...

[To forget it all, but even when they go home to their own worlds, that pain will never leave their hearts. It will be something that they will have to live carrying, whether they realize it or not, forever. Tifa came back after what happened—they woke up and she ran to him, but she'd be lying if she said that she wasn't still bearing the burden of that fear still... She just forced it down so that she could be there for him.

Now that he's opening up to her about it, she still isn't sure what to do, and although it's tearing her from the inside out, she isn't going to let this moment go to waste.]

And the moonscape...?

[He knows. He knows very well that she wants to do something for him—anything. And that's why he's kept it to himself. Now it might be different, but back then it was not her burden to bear. And even then...he has no answer. What can be done for what's a significant trauma? Just having her by his side has already been more than enough.

But at her question, he stiffens, eyes trembling as the illusion flashes back with a lot more clarity than he would have liked. Immediately after he clenches his fist in a vain attempt to suppress the anguish and fear that comes with it, and again he really doesn't want to talk about it. Doesn't want to subject her to that horror again.

...However he had told himself that he needed to be more honest with her as it's more of a question of "when" than "if" at this point on her somehow seeing it. So he looks at her for a moment before he can only look down, trying to keep himself steady.

Tries to tell him it was just an illusion, it wasn't real...

...Would be a lot more convincing if it hadn't already happened once before.]

...You were dead.

[His voice is quiet, strained. Please don't ask him for the details—]

[She doesn't ask because there aren't any more details than what he's said. Tifa can put two and two together... she had been there, on that battlefield among the fires and the lightning that struck down around them, and she had seen him in the dream, cradling her body in his arms. Even if she'd wanted to press further, she's not sure she even wants to hear him explain something she can picture vividly in her head.

But now she can see it all again, and she leans forward to wrap her arm around him and to bury her face in his chest, to hide the mirrored pain in her eyes before she screws them shut, hidden against the front of his shirt.]

I had a feeling... [Her voice is muffled, frail, and arms tighten around him.] I'm right here... I always am.

[She doesn't think it will help much to hear it, if at all, but she feels the need to say it out loud and remind him anyway.]

They're just dreams. None of it is real. [There's a pause as Tifa gives a small shake of her head.] I'm sorry... I know this isn't helpful...

[The moment she falls into him, he has to grit his teeth to stop the overwhelming emotion from cracking him any further, and instead transfers that strength in his arms as he holds her close, face burying into her hair. It's time like these that he really pays attention to her scent, her warmth, her breath. All the things that remind him she's here with him—alive.]

I'm sorry...I know this isn't easy for you either.

[She's a victim—his victim. He still thinks it a miracle she didn't leave him after that, that she doesn't become frightened on seeing him. Of course he realizes his thoughts are illogical a d fortunately doesn't think that. But sometimes, when he's forced to remember those events, that dark thought pokes its thorny head to further dig into the wound.]

The greatest fear I have...isn't you suddenly leaving me to return to your world... It's you dying and either because I couldn't protect you or—[He bites his lips and clutches her tighter.] ...Because of me.

[By his own hand. Because he couldn't stop himself when under some other control not his own.]

...I don't want you to ever suffer or be in pain, and it's already happened once—

[He cuts himself short because he feels he's already said too much. This isn't what he wants her to hear, to know.]

[His words twist and twist, squeezing at her heart until it breaks. To think that she is the center of his greatest fear, the one thing that has been eating him alive from the inside out since all those months ago when they played Romeo and Juliet—she doesn't know what to think of it. It hurts her, it makes her soul shatter into thousands of helpless little pieces. These are things she's known about since, had always had that nagging fear in the furthest reaches of her mind that she'd ignore to make room for the happier memories, but hearing him say them out loud, hearing him give them his voice...

It makes her wish all the more that she could reach into his soul and pull them free, even if it meant taking those burdens on in his stead.]

It's not going to happen again.

[... She presses her lips together a moment, and with a deep breath, she continues.]

I know it's a lot to promise, especially when there's so much that happens that's out of our control, but you can't ever hurt me...

...

Not like that anyway, because I can't stand seeing you like this. I don't like what this is doing to you.

[Even if it can't be helped. These are all very real fears of his, but nothing in this world can hurt her more than seeing him so hurt and so afraid the way he is now.]

[There's a staggered breath as he shakes his head.]

I told you, it doesn't happen so often... I'll always have that fear—it's stemmed from the ones I've had since I lost my family so it will never go away. But these kinds of nightmares...they're rare, I promise.

[He's trying to reassure her, but he knows it's a hard sell. The words seem hollow even to him. But he's not lying—he doubts he will ever be rid of this fear, but managing it is a different story. He's been able to keep it locked down, the lock only forced open during these times.]

...If anything... You being here by my side is already helping.

[It is a hard sell. She believes him and she has no reason to believe it isn't true because most times, he seems happy enough. They are happy, things are good... until this happens, and it feels like the wind's been knocked out of them both. Her being at his side is good enough, he says, but she feels like she needs to—she wants to do more.]

Rare, but when they do happen...

[She blinks her eyes open and lifts her head only far enough to look at him.]

There's that nightmare energy... remember on the moon...?

Yes...

[A small sigh.]

But I only ever notice it when there's such a strong, visceral reaction, which is not unusual given the nature of what nightmare energy is. Even if some is generated, it's gone within the next day.

Because I have you.

[He looks at her.]

You know it best, the worst was when I was on the moon and that was because it's already filled with it. A dream like this...it won't do anything. As long as it's balanced out then that's all it will be—a small side effect that won't amount to anything.

And even if not...

[His voice trails a little before he continues.]

I've already taken steps to prepare against the worst case scenario.

["Because I have you."

...

Those words make her heart, heavy as it is, flutter. It doesn't chase away her fears, but it does help to remind her of what they have with each other. How lucky she is—how lucky they are that in spite of all the things this world throws at them, they've somehow managed to make it this far. And as she tips her head to one side, there's the gentle clink of her charms beneath her shirt as they tumble across her chest to serve as yet another reminder of that.]

Steps...?

[There's a note of curiosity in her voice—one that says it all. This is the first time she's heard about any steps besides what she saw on the moon, and her hand clutches at his shirt tighter, that spark of hope that he ignites surging through every muscle in her body until she's searching for purchase, clinging onto it as tight as she can...]

You remember how I asked for assistance in creating power limiters, mostly for those like Phantom? There is also research in creating uses for them against nightmare energy. It's still in development, but I plan on keeping one on hand once it's finished.

I've also acquired some of the Glowing Dawn flowers that help reduce the nightmare effects. We also received the items from when we went to the moon. And...

[A small pause. Now this is one secret he's kept, but if he's saying this much he should go ahead and say everything.]

...Ever since that dreamscape [She knows which one.] I've kept note of everytime I do experience nightmares.

[She blinks up at him, but there's a nervous flutter to her lashes when her heart stutters and leaps into her throat, and that nervous energy begins to build up again. This isn't the first time she's heard about these power limiters—she had seen that message of his go out through the journals, but she assumed it had everything to do with Phantom and what happened to him, and nothing to do with Eustace...

But it doesn't take much for her to piece it all together now, and she feels her heart wrench in her chest, and she forgets to swallow the air she's breathed.]

... Every time?

[How often is every time, she wonders?]

Why didn't you tell me?

[Although she can already guess his answer, her voice breaks as she asks, slowly, but it's a gentle question. Patient, without an ounce of malice or disappointment. Simply worry.]

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