dreamcrystals | Passive Dream Recording

Sender: Tobias
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive dream recording
Warnings: Torture, PTSD, hunting

You fly on auburn wings high above the field, looking down at it. It's far below you, and yet you can clearly see the rats scurrying in the grasses, the rabbits hopping into their burrows as your shadow passes, and you know you could swoop down and kill them in an instant. All of them, if you really wanted - the mother and her babies. You can almost taste the meat and blood and fur - but no. You're not hungry right now, and better to let them grow so you can hunt them later.

You turn, wheeling up towards the sky. There's a forest nearby, and you have a destination. You tilt your wings downwards until -

Wham! You slam into what feels like a glass window. Shrieking, you try to go around it, to find where the edge is and - and you hear a teenage girl's voice.

"You are obviously not a leader. You are not even second-in-command. You are a nobody." The voice makes you panic more than the words, and you kick off of the 'glass' to try to dive towards the field and -

Wham! There's another 'wall' - floor? - beneath you. You push off again and panic, trying to find the exit -

Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham! Four more walls, making a cube. You're trapped. You're trapped and you know it's closing in and you can hear the girl laughing. It's a dark chuckle, and you know what that means. You're in the box again. You're in the box again and you know what that means, you know that she could pull you back to reality once again and cause you pain and you're panicking. You flutter around the box, trying to find something, some exit - but you know it's useless.

"Demorph!"

<No!> You shout it wordlessly, struggling against the inevitable. You reach up a wing in front of your face and see - a hand? But it's also a wing? It doesn't make sense, and you hear a gruff man's voice - older, raspy, cold.

"What good is it?"

What good is it anyway? You're going to die here, you're going to die and no one is going to help you and all you can see is your wing/hand and the blue sky and you tense your body, ready for the pain and -

Blackness.

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It's not weak. You aren't weak.

[It comes out before she can stop it, and a whole lot angrier than she would have liked. She takes a breath and steadies the shaking again.]

And it's not the hawk that makes you that way, either.

[Well, she went from pissed to bitter. Not really better. Come on, Rachel, get a grip-]

Nobody could go through what you want through and not be messed up by it. That doesn't mean you're weak. You survived.

<I know. ... I know.>

[He closes his eyes and lets out a mental sigh. How does he even explain?]

<Survival and fighting is what matters. So we need to try to figure out what to do. People here talk like they've got all the time in the world, but they're not dealing with the Yeerks.>

As long as we're here, neither are we. There's no mission, there's no danger. We can just relax and not worry.

[If there was one thing she could appreciate, it was that at least that was behind her. Logically, this was safety.

Of course, that went right back to 'knowing' and 'believing.' She still felt like the other shoe was gonna drop any minute.]

And even back home, it won't be forever. We-

[...she hesitates. Something feels slimy in her stomach. She ignores it.]

We'll have time. We can all... I dunno, get shrinks, or whatever people do.

[He's not convinced that they're not in danger. The anxiety is still there, even if he's not sure what to do with it.]

<Yeah. I mean... we have to win. There's no other option. Though I'm not sure any shrink would take a bird as a client. Or they'd need to consult with a falconer or something.>

We will.

[Is that spoilers-certainty or just her usual determined attitude? She's certainly not gonna clarify.]

And you're not a hawk.

[Wait-]

I mean, you are, but- these aren't hawk problems. This is vet stuff.

[Wait.]

Veteran, I mean. It's a war, right? The aliens and the morphing and that stuff are new, but the war stuff, people understand that. People can help you with that.

[...Us. She should have said 'us.' Whoops. Too late to correct it now, she'd just have to hope he didn't pick up on it.]

<I mean they are, but being a hawk affects stuff a lot. It's not like I'm who I was at the start of the war. You and the others are the only ones who understand what animal instincts are like.>

[He's about to 'yell' when she says 'vet', but calms down slightly. Slightly.]

<... And you. If - we all need help. Hell, even Ax. He grew up in a warrior culture but still probably needs help.>

[Do Andalites have therapists? It's an interesting thought, but not one he should be distracted by.]

<It's... I don't know. Some people here have already picked up on the fact that I'm both young and in a constant state of fighting. And they've been... like, sad about it but also nice about it? If this place really does pull in people from other worlds... we're not the only ones. Maybe the only ones who really get our specifics, but...>

[At first, she's annoyed- wasn't that what she'd been saying all along? After a moment, she realizes that she's not trying to win an argument here, she's trying to comfort her boyfriend.

Birdboy. Birdfriend. Whatever-he-was-friend. What he definitely wasn't was looking for an argument with Naomi Jr.]

If we showed up, maybe the others can too, right? Maybe it'd be good for all of us.

[She's not holding out hope. In some cases, she's even a little conflicted about seeing them at all. Marco would be insufferable, Ax was never close. Cassie... was complicated now. And Jake- Jake would be weird to see now. And not just for her own sake.

She has a feeling that what happened to her would come out sooner or later. She's definitely going to tell him. Eventually. When the time is right. And the last thing- the absolute last thing- they need is for him to start blaming Jake. Which he will, of course.]

Like a vacation. A vacation in terminally-fashionless ren faire land.

<Maybe. I... I mean there's weird stuff out in the woods, but it's fine. Maybe you can bring fashion to this place. You'd be good at it.>

[His tone is a little lighter, but it's still definitely down. He can't help but flinch as he remembers the dream again, fluffing up slightly.]

<... You should try to get back to sleep. I'm not sure if I can, but I'll be here.>

What am I, a miracle-worker?

[Well, he sounds a little better and he's cracking jokes, she'll take it.]

But yeah. More sleep, definitely. Otherwise I'll look like a zombie tomorrow.

[She's tempted to ask for more- for him to morph human, let her hold him, maybe lie with her as she sleeps- but that wouldn't really be about comforting him, that would be about comforting her, and she knows it. So she says nothing.

Instead, she withdraws her hand from his back, lies back down, and closes her eyes. Like him, she's not sure sleep's gonna happen, but she can try.]

[He resumes his perch near the window, doing his best to block the larger part of the cold air. They're used to California, after all. He hesitates and - screw it.]

<Sleep well, okay? Nothing's going to happen while I'm here.>

[He knows she doesn't need protection. He doesn't, either. But they're strange people in a strange land and they need every reassurance they can get.]

Passive Dream Recording | The Box

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