002 - Dream Recording

[chippedsoul]

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.

Comments

[discourtesies]

[Generally more polite with animals than people and more than a little interested in dragons, Barok offers his hand for the strikingly-colored creature to examine, and apparently... passes some manner of test. Which is a good sign!

Taking his hat in hand, however, the prosecutor steps up as instructed, taking a look about at the surrounding view, if just for a topic of conversation at some point. Once he's at the top:]

My thanks for the invitation. [He'll do his best not to let any awkward or uncertain feelings influence the mood of the conversation on his end.]

[chippedsoul]

[There's a lounge chair on one side of the porch, blanket and pillows setup for the coming cold weather and then a table on the other end for one to enjoy such things as teatime. Soft jingling sounds can be heard from a windchime hanging by the door into his home. It basically gave off a warm homeliness feel to the porch.

Fang has gone to wrap herself around behind Kazuma, watching Barok curiously as he greets them. Kazuma nods in acknowledgement, setting down the tea prepared for Barok and gesturing that he joins him at the table.]

I hope oolong is fine with you. [Kazuma, while presentable, clearly had signs of tiredness on his face. A distant look, slight bags under his eyes. Not his best day for sure.]

[discourtesies]

Of course.

[... if he's had that, it's been a very long time. Not that he's about to refuse an offer of tea; that would be impolite. The last thing he wants to do is cut off an open avenue before they've even begun speaking.

So he sits, takes note of the protective creature and the exhaustion of its keeper, sets his hat aside. His initial thought is to offer some soft spot of his own rather than immediately dig into Asogi's suffering, but wonders if the young man would even care about anything Barok said about his own experiences. Would it make him seem selfish, instead?

He's overthinking it, most likely—but he decides to try something else, a little less direct but nonetheless to the point of the matter.]

Do you remember your dreams often?

[chippedsoul]

[Honestly, he should be a better host and make the conversation. He invited him here, surely he's not as opposed of his presence as he was before. Why does this have to be difficut?]

Hm? [Caught in his thoughts, he nearly missed the other gentleman had just asked him something.]

Some. They come easier when they're more frequent. [Like a double-edge sword. Just as one can get reoccurring happy dreams, bad ones can too.] Yourself?

[discourtesies]

Less as of late, strangely. Excepting those dreams none of us can avoid being drawn into.

[Those are much more... reality-like than their personal ones. Perhaps just because they're so different from what might come out of his own mind alone. He's going to pour himself a cup of tea, if just to fill the space of the conversation.]

Though I have tried my hand at dreamwalking voluntarily.

[chippedsoul]

[Tell me your secrets sir.]

How did that go? [The teacup sits against his lips for a moment before he properly drinks from it. He's thinking about a part of his conversation with Susato last night. Apparently she dreamwalked into someone's dream and met his father...]

Have you had any dreams as of late that pulled people in?

[discourtesies]

The results have been... a learning experience.

[Like maybe he should be slightly more careful about the dreams he walks into. But anyway—he turns his attention to the second question, and pauses to give it some thought. Hmm...]

There may have been, some months ago. [He doesn't sound entirely certain.] It wouldn't have been particularly remarkable. A memory of my younger years.

[chippedsoul]

[It may not be remarkable to him, certainly Kazuma cares little about the Prosecutor's younger self (or so he tells himself). It's the contents of that dream that interest him. He sets his tea down.]

Was my father in that dream...?

[discourtesies]

[Van Zieks takes another sip of his tea as he considers. Well, it's only logical the elder Asogi would be there in that specific setting, even if Barok can't remember all the details.]

He was, yes. He and my brother... as I recall, they were something of the protectors of the peace in that particular instance.

[Perhaps that's a bit much to say about a graduation party, but there was a violent moment or two he can vaguely recollect.]

Does that surprise you? [That he also dreams of Genshin—and in a positive light, no less.]

[chippedsoul]

...No. [Perhaps jealous, that this man before him got to see him during his last days. But that isn't why he was asking.]

Miss Susato mentioned seeing my father in another's dream. Must have been you she was referring to.

[discourtesies]

[Miss Mikotoba? Well, then... he may not fully recall, but he thinks he did meet with a young girl like her in those dreams, now that he considers it. Something about first aid, perhaps...]

Yes, I'd presume so. He would have appeared as I saw him then... unmarred by false accusations.

[He lets out a breath that's almost a sigh, full of regrets.]

Would that I could give you some proper resolution to your loss. [He had an obligation to share the truth, of course, and he'd repeat those shameful facts again if need be. But emotional closure is such a different affair.]

[chippedsoul]

[Free of accusations. Something about the man partially responsible for his father's demise having dreams of him as an innocent man makes his blood boil. He still remembers that nightmare, those cruel words uttered about him and his father, even if it wasn't what the Prosecutor believed anymore. But he is too tired to make any sort of snide remark. So he just takes another sip of his tea.]

With all due respect, you would probably make things worse than better. [Or can he be prove wrong?] . . .I won't find it anyway until I've come to grips with my own demon.

[discourtesies]

[Barok lets out a brief hum of acknowledgement; he can't disagree.]

It may be as you say.

[He's not known for being a terribly comforting figure! But he settles his attention fully on the young man in front of him. For all the time they've both been here, and the many encounters they've had therein... Barok doesn't truly know the origins of this Asogi's so-called demons; he only has a few vague deductions. He hesitates for a moment, but:]

... Would this be one you acquired in that other world?

[chippedsoul]

[He tenses slightly at the question. His immediate response is tell him off, but he stops himself. He's already seen some of the darkness that lurked in the prosecutor's heart. Is it only fair that he should share a little as well...? Either way, his reaction was probably telling enough.]

Yes. [He drinks his tea without further elaboration. But he just might if given the right questions.]

[discourtesies]

[No son of mine would ever take a life.

Striking words, those were; though they only came from a dream, there was clearly a deep-seated guilt that drew them out. And Barok recalls with unfortunate clarity the brutal creature that attacked him so early on, grown out of whatever nightmarish things Kazuma must have experienced.

The heart of the matter here is clear. What he doesn't have are the details, the context.]

What were the circumstances of the death?

[Perhaps it will help if he speaks of it more objectively. He can't imagine Asogi wants to be coddled over it.]

[chippedsoul]

[There's a small chirp from Fang, apparently sensing her owner was feeling agitated, even if he isn't visibly displaying it. How does he answer this question? Did he want to answer it? He lets out some air, a hand moving to pet Fang's head.]

It was scripted to happen. A role placed onto me that I could not refuse. [Of course being Kazuma, he does not simply accept that. Whether it was the role he had to play or not, he still took another's life. Several lives, but that's not what Barok is asking about-]

[discourtesies]

[Barok's attention is momentarily diverted to the dragon, though for the moment he only takes a sip of tea so as to not further agitate the situation. He simply waits for the response.]

... Compelled by forces not unlike those that trap us in collective dreams here, correct?

[That's... well, it brings to mind a heavy subject. He can imagine the guilt associated with such an occurrence because, to an extent, he's experienced it. That their mutual female friend ultimately came out of that nightmare alive was only so much of a consolation...]

[chippedsoul]

Something like it, I suppose. But if you can believe it, my actions was for the good of the world.

[By the scoff and shaking of his head, he is not impressed.]

[discourtesies]

[The distinct frown on his face—moreso than usual—as well as his low tone say that van Zieks isn't particularly pleased with the idea, himself.]

Was that the hollow platitude offered to you? [If only he was holding his own cup rather than his host's. Hopefully it doesn't crack simply out of his displeasure.] Had the victims any say in this supposed good?

[chippedsoul]

Well...one simply accepted her fate. [She was a strange one, but her death was what eventually led to more.]

In that world, death isn't permanent, but many would rather find alternatives than just "die". And there was...but when it all happened, I was no longer myself. The memories as hazy at best during those times. [He shakes his head.] Regardless, it doesn't change the fact I let it happen.

[discourtesies]

[There are a number of complicated facets to this situation—more than even van Zieks would have pictured, despite his experiences in this dream showing him just how much was possible in these strange worlds.

However... he can't help but challenge that final statement.]

Am I to take it, then, that you did nothing to prevent these deaths?

[chippedsoul]

[Fang chirp when Kazuma unintentionally clench the hand that was on her head. He refuses to just say no, because that would be admitting he gave up. The alternative answer isn't any better. Though he wasn't particularly looking at Barok, he was definitely avoiding his gaze now.]

I failed in all my attempts. [For he had lost his mind.]

[discourtesies]

Then you did not simply let anything happen.

[Words mean things, Asogi! And even if the victims didn't remain dead—a question he intends to clarify soon enough—the man is still suffering over the thought of it all. That diverted gaze is one indication among many.]

There is no shame in failing against impossible circumstances.

[chippedsoul]

[HOH BOY. IF ONLY IT WERE THAT SIMPLE OF AN ANSWER. He just laughs uncomfortably.] That's all there to it? Even when those circumstances were created and born from within me?

[He glares defiantly at Barok, but there is a sense of doubt behind those eyes.] Those words hardly bring me much comfort.

[discourtesies]

[Van Zieks faces that defiance with an equal amount of contention in his own posture. He's not backing down out of courtesy this time.]

I would not expect them to. I merely intend for you to face the truth of the matter.

[Whether it brings Kazuma comfort... well, as long as it curbs some of that misery his subconscious has inflicted upon him, that will be enough.]

We all have demons within us, Mr. Asogi. Whether they lead to violence or harm... in the mundane world, our will is enough to prevent such actions. In ours, your will has been enough, however you may have questioned or faltered.

[His eyes narrow, though out of sympathetic frustration.]

Magical compulsions require more than our own efforts to deny. [Lower, and with some regret, he adds:] ... far more.