Kazuma Asogi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chippedsoul) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamcrystals2022-10-02 08:49 pm
chippedsoul) wrote in dreamcrystals2022-10-02 08:49 pm
002 - Dream Recording
Sender: Kazuma Asogi
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive Dream recording
CW: Blood, Death, Naga?
Before there is any sort of scenery, there is warmth. A comforting breeze blowing, the sound of birds chirping, a flowing stream. A child's laughter echoes in the darkness. And then it turns to white. Like eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, a scene starts to take shape.
Colors come alive, and there was the smell of fresh linen. Clothes being hung block your view for a moment as the world expands behind them. A grassy area with a rock garden and a Japanese-style wooden home, a yard of sorts. Cherry blossom petals were floating through the breeze from the nearby blooming trees, and down by the stream was the source of the laughter. A small boy with an older gentleman, probably his father.
"I got something!" The boy pulls on his rod with such enthusiasm, at the end of the line, a small guppy. "Aw, it's so small." The parent gives him a few headpats, a warm smile on his face.
"We all have to start somewhere." The boy looks up to him.
"Well when can I start practicing with a sword? It's been a year now!" As if the father expected this inevitable question, he laughs.
"Much older I'm afraid, but...I suppose your mother wouldn't be against practicing with a wooden sword." The boy's face suddenly lights up with anticipation.
"Really?! Ah that is--I would be honor if you could teach me the way of the Asogi clan." His excitement quickly replace with a stiff bow, failing to hide his giddiness. The father continues to have a warm gentle smile, as the edges of the dream shifts like static. As they move from the stream, they just miss a white snake slithering through the grass.
Like changing the channel on a television, the scene changes and you are brought inside the home of this boy and father. Both stood on opposite ends of the room, a change into training clothes and wooden swords in hand. The boy was intensely focused, breathing heavily to indicate they had been at this for a while.
"One more, just one more try." He had been attempting and failing at a technique apparently. And he stubbornly does not know when to call it quits and to try again later. His father, a sympathetic yet stern look.
"There is a lesson in knowing when to stop."
"I'll stop after this one. Promise." And he will keep his promise. His father simply sighs as he raises his sword. Not mad, just amused.
"One more it is then."
And so they spar, a bit one-sided, but it was a child training with a grown man. He just, needed an opening. One good hit through all these parries and he will have succeeded. "There!" Just as the boy thrust his wooden sword forward, he slips and lets out a yelp as he tumbles into his father instead. Father goes along with it as he "falls" onto the ground.
"Ahh, you found my weak point" He feign defeat, his free arm hugging his son. The boy groans. "I did not..." Thanks for trying to make him feel better, dad. His father just chuckles as he pats him on the head.
"You pushed yourself more than you could take. You'll get it next time after some rest." The boy knows this to be true, though he wish the session hadn't ended in such embarrassing way. Just as he was about to say something to his father, he felt something wet in his hand. Looking down, he's freezes with shock to find what appears to be blood on his hand, blood on his father's clothes. No, he couldn't have.
"Father-?" A look of horror on the boys face as the colors on his father's face fade. The scenery around them become harder to stay in focus, crumbling into a darkness until it was only them. His father's warm expression turns cold and lifeless.
"Why?"
Suddenly the dream felt like was speeding up. The boy tries to wiggle himself free, only to realize he couldn't feel his legs. He had no legs, just a long serpentine tail. Scales and fangs suddenly appear, giving the boy a more serpent appearance as he looks back to his father in a panic, confused, seeking help, answers.
But he was no longer on his father. He was suddenly left alone on the floor, his father floating away in the distance, leaving a trail of blood. His features became less life-like, more blood dripping as if he had been torn in various places on his body.
"No! Father, I didn't-!" The boy felt a heavy weight that kept him from going after his father, no matter how much he tries to reach for him with his bloody hand.
"I taught you better. No son of mine would ever take a life."
"I'm sorry!" Desperation in the boys voice, not wanting to lose his father. "I just wanted-I didn't mean for it to happen!" Please come back to me.
In that moment, you'll feel a coldness and being weigh down, sinking. The dream will then abruptly end.
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive Dream recording
CW: Blood, Death, Naga?
Before there is any sort of scenery, there is warmth. A comforting breeze blowing, the sound of birds chirping, a flowing stream. A child's laughter echoes in the darkness. And then it turns to white. Like eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, a scene starts to take shape.
Colors come alive, and there was the smell of fresh linen. Clothes being hung block your view for a moment as the world expands behind them. A grassy area with a rock garden and a Japanese-style wooden home, a yard of sorts. Cherry blossom petals were floating through the breeze from the nearby blooming trees, and down by the stream was the source of the laughter. A small boy with an older gentleman, probably his father.
"I got something!" The boy pulls on his rod with such enthusiasm, at the end of the line, a small guppy. "Aw, it's so small." The parent gives him a few headpats, a warm smile on his face.
"We all have to start somewhere." The boy looks up to him.
"Well when can I start practicing with a sword? It's been a year now!" As if the father expected this inevitable question, he laughs.
"Much older I'm afraid, but...I suppose your mother wouldn't be against practicing with a wooden sword." The boy's face suddenly lights up with anticipation.
"Really?! Ah that is--I would be honor if you could teach me the way of the Asogi clan." His excitement quickly replace with a stiff bow, failing to hide his giddiness. The father continues to have a warm gentle smile, as the edges of the dream shifts like static. As they move from the stream, they just miss a white snake slithering through the grass.
Like changing the channel on a television, the scene changes and you are brought inside the home of this boy and father. Both stood on opposite ends of the room, a change into training clothes and wooden swords in hand. The boy was intensely focused, breathing heavily to indicate they had been at this for a while.
"One more, just one more try." He had been attempting and failing at a technique apparently. And he stubbornly does not know when to call it quits and to try again later. His father, a sympathetic yet stern look.
"There is a lesson in knowing when to stop."
"I'll stop after this one. Promise." And he will keep his promise. His father simply sighs as he raises his sword. Not mad, just amused.
"One more it is then."
And so they spar, a bit one-sided, but it was a child training with a grown man. He just, needed an opening. One good hit through all these parries and he will have succeeded. "There!" Just as the boy thrust his wooden sword forward, he slips and lets out a yelp as he tumbles into his father instead. Father goes along with it as he "falls" onto the ground.
"Ahh, you found my weak point" He feign defeat, his free arm hugging his son. The boy groans. "I did not..." Thanks for trying to make him feel better, dad. His father just chuckles as he pats him on the head.
"You pushed yourself more than you could take. You'll get it next time after some rest." The boy knows this to be true, though he wish the session hadn't ended in such embarrassing way. Just as he was about to say something to his father, he felt something wet in his hand. Looking down, he's freezes with shock to find what appears to be blood on his hand, blood on his father's clothes. No, he couldn't have.
"Father-?" A look of horror on the boys face as the colors on his father's face fade. The scenery around them become harder to stay in focus, crumbling into a darkness until it was only them. His father's warm expression turns cold and lifeless.
"Why?"
Suddenly the dream felt like was speeding up. The boy tries to wiggle himself free, only to realize he couldn't feel his legs. He had no legs, just a long serpentine tail. Scales and fangs suddenly appear, giving the boy a more serpent appearance as he looks back to his father in a panic, confused, seeking help, answers.
But he was no longer on his father. He was suddenly left alone on the floor, his father floating away in the distance, leaving a trail of blood. His features became less life-like, more blood dripping as if he had been torn in various places on his body.
"No! Father, I didn't-!" The boy felt a heavy weight that kept him from going after his father, no matter how much he tries to reach for him with his bloody hand.
"I taught you better. No son of mine would ever take a life."
"I'm sorry!" Desperation in the boys voice, not wanting to lose his father. "I just wanted-I didn't mean for it to happen!" Please come back to me.
In that moment, you'll feel a coldness and being weigh down, sinking. The dream will then abruptly end.
Sender: Futaba Sakura
You know that dreams aren't reality, it's your brain making you think it's real. If your dad is like my mom, I think he'd still love you. Be proud of you, even. Even if you're kinda grumpy sometimes.
no subject
Father was a compassionate man. I have no doubt he would have, but...there's always a small corner of our minds that get the better of us. Right?
[Even as he writes this, a small bit of doubt sits in his heart. He knows what Futaba says is right, but the fear to be proven wrong is still there.]
no subject
[Futaba pauses in her writing, remembering she can people, kind of.]
You all right? I can talk to you for a while, I'm almost an expert on this stuff.
[After all, she lived for a few years with a similar fear. Sure, she had been over it for a bit, but sometimes, like when they first arrived, it could come back to haunt her. Knowing that, she wants to help, and there's a hope that Kazuma will let her.]
no subject
I rather not get into the details of the dream through this, and I'm not going to ask you wander during this late hour. But I would appreciate a chat.
no subject
[Someday Kazuma might understand her weird sayings, but tonight is probably not the night it's going to happen.]
no subject
I have a feeling you won't take no for an answer. [Another pause.]
We have a spare room if you decide to stay over. [Fiiine. He'll just dimly lit the kitchen area and prepare some tea for her arrival. Fang will be the first thing to greet Futaba at the door, snoozing on the porch now that she's gotten too big to get inside. Something Kazuma has to rectify eventually.]
no subject
Awww, I get to sleep over too? Heh heh, what a guy. See you in a minute!
[Since she's likely been to Wild Harvest many, many times, the familiar sight of Fang is a welcome one. She gets some pats before knocking quietly to let Kazuma know she's there.]
Man, too bad you're too big to be in the house, I'll bet you'd be real fun to take naps with. One big noodle bed.
[...just gonna idly talk to Fang here while she waits.]
no subject
Do you want to sit out here...?
no subject
You look terrible. Nightmares are messed up. [Just a reassurance that it's NOT because he's a "murderer" or anything.] But it's up to you. Where would you be most comfortable? If you're comfortable, you'll start feeling better even after talking about it. If you wanna go inside, we can do that, too.
no subject
...I think we can stay out here. Fang would certainly appreciate the company. [She purrs. Yes very much so. And maybe the fresh air would do Kazuma some good. At least the tea he had prepared isn't too far away, so it won't take long for him be in and back out with the tea tray.]
Why are you up so late to begin with? [And he ends up asking anyway-]
no subject
[Fang is going to get ALL THE PETS while she's here and outside with Kazuma, the most spoiled derg ever.]
So let it all out! Yell at the sky if you gotta! Don't be like me and keep it bottled up, that's the worst thing you could do!
no subject
...I don't know where to even begin. [It's not entirely wrong. His head is a muddle mess after all that. Pouring tea right now is far more straight forward to work with.]
no subject
[...maybe not as much for him being some 200 years in her past, but still way more than she knows beyond simple things.]
There's always something that can trigger it, too. What were you thinking of before you went to sleep, or did you have weird thoughts before bed?
no subject
I could be the best at law, but it'll never overrule the crimes I've committed. [He sets down his cup, staring down at it.] My father has long since passed, so I'm cursed to see him in my nightmares, my deepest fears.
no subject
[...well, she knows one of his secrets, so... she's gonna take a long drink of her tea before she says more.]
We're definitely a pair of weirdos, though. You're a murderer, and I'm the leader of a hacker ring and I'm technically a wanted criminal too. The hacker part isn't the wanted criminal part, though. But I know I had a reason for it, and mom wouldn't be upset with me for it. So, I'll bet your dad is the same.
no subject
I doubt our intentions for doing what we've done are the same. You claim you've become a criminal to do something good? Mine were born under a false sense of justice, and I lost control. [His hands fold together under the table, clenching.] I was angry, I wanted vengeances, I felt...satisfaction with what I was doing. [Those last few words were a struggle to come out and openly admit.]
no subject
[Maybe part of him, sure, but Futaba doesn't want to believe that it was all Kazuma and not partially an actual crazed killer that he had taken an essence from.]
no subject
. . .I don't know. [He wish he could say it's all Hyde's fault, but something holds him back, telling him that's just what he wants to hear. He could feel Fang nuzzling his arm, making concerned cooing noises under the table.] But Hyde is how he is, because of what he finds inside the person. As the story goes.