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.
no subject
[Is that good? Bad? Is he calling Barok a coward? What is this argument, he doesn't know. He just can't believe he's done anything to the same extent as him.]
no subject
Is that what you think I'm referring to.
[His tea cup is on the table. He folds his arms.]
I have not been so fortunate as to avoid the violent compulsion of magical forces, Mr. Asogi.
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Here...?
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... Another who has entered my nightmares was not prepared in the way you were.
[Not only was Kazuma a capable combatant, but he was also well versed in the use of dreams to augment his strength—and his defense.]
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You seem to have taken it surprisingly well.
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It has been some months since that time. The fact that the victim has refused to stay out of my affairs despite such an act and my attempts to establish distance between us... is also a significant factor.
[seriously susato get some self preservation]
Although it does not often leave my mind for more than a short while, were I to continually blame myself for the matter and act accordingly, I would harm that individual as well as myself.
no subject
I hate to admit you're right, that dwelling on such things can cause problems for others. But these thoughts won't ever leave me, as I know you understand.
no subject
[Barok likely had an easier time of it, he knows—he was only possessed for such a short time, and he saw his victim so soon after, physically unharmed—but he can't say he'll ever truly forget that dream and his actions therein.
With a slow exhale, he retrieves his cup of tea to finish it.]
Perhaps someday the unconscious mind may release us from such frequent reminders... [It's a distant hope, but one nonetheless. He can't allow himself to wallow entirely in cynicism.] We can only attempt to make peace with ourselves until then.
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You may leave when you feel ready. [. . . . . .] Thank you, for this talk.
no subject
Once Kazuma stands and gives his thanks, van Zieks dips his head briefly in acknowledgement, and as a display of his own.]
And you have my gratitude for the opportunity.
[Though he's in no rush to leave, he's aware that his presence may still create some discomfort for the other—so he'll depart not long after he's finished with the drink, lingering just long enough to politely express his goodbyes.]