applesaucedream | Tender Lumplings Everywhere, Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare [Open to All]

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Tender Lumplings Everywhere, Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare [Open to All]

The woods are dark and deep, but not particularly lovely. If anything, they feel dangerous, as if something terrible might come lurching out from behind any given tree and tear into the nearest warm body. What that terrible thing might be is anyone's guess. A cat with hands? Slenderman? Stegosaurus? Actual cannibal Shia LaBeouf? All of the above in a horrible mob? It's anyone's guess. But every dreamer will be absolutely convinced that there is something unspeakable out there, and that it's after them.

The dreamers have two things on their side. The first is that there is actually nothing dangerous lurking in these woods (with the possible exception of other dreamers). The pervasive terror the dreamers are feeling is just that: a rift-given feeling, nothing more and nothing less. That snapping twig or rustle in the undergrowth is almost certainly just a squirrel or something else equally harmless.

The second is that no dreamer is alone. They all will be reunited with - or introduced to - their dæmons, a source of comfort in this dark, intimidating wilderness. However frightened the dreamers might be, at least they have someone with them who definitely doesn't want them dead.

[OOC: as ever, any and all are welcome! You don't have to be in the game to join the fun. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. And the party only stops when you want it to; feel free to backtag forever.]

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"I could feel she was a part of me, somehow, but never really took the time to consider what that really meant. Not that this place really gave me a lot of time to contemplate the more abstract realities and complexities of the soul."

Julian leans his head against his chin. "So that's why you call me 'Jules,'" he says thoughtfully, this time more to the fox, who is obviously the quieter side of his personality that Julian often has trouble tapping into. "Not just because you really know me, but you are me."

"Ascended?" Julian asks, then quickly, "Sorry." It felt... rude to interrupt a conversation between another man and his other self.

"Uh, yeah, that's...kind of a long story," he can't help but sound apologetic as he says it. "Abridged version? I died, um, again, and a race of aliens helped me, uh, achieve an understanding of a higher plane of existence. My consciousness, it," he makes an illustrative wave upward, "well, it Ascended, and left my body once it died. I don't remember much of what I experienced on that plane."

"You met me," Aliyah murmurs. "Not in exactly this shape, perhaps."

He acknowledges her with a final scratch behind the ears and glances back up at Julian. "See, she's just...a part of yourself, externalized in a physical shape. Well, as physical as it can get in dreams, anyway."

"It certainly all feels real enough, even in the physical sense," Julian muses, rubbing his wrist absent-mindedly. "I think this would all be quite a lot less terrifying if it didn't feel quite so real. Dreams are usually all fuzzy afterwords, where time doesn't make sense and things just around. Here, though it feels crisp and clear." He glances down at Agamede. "I could use you in the lab though. Beats talking off the ears of lab assistants." Agamede scoffs... or at least that's what it sounds like, you know, if foxes could scoff. "Talk? I already know what you're thinking anyway. What you mean is you would need me to keep you in line."

"Wow," Julian says, eyebrows high on his forehead after he listens to Daniel's explanation. "That must have been quite the experience. Well, I'm... glad you're not dead. You're not ascended anymore, though? You seem and act human enough, at least. You have your body back, after you reached a higher existence, or are you still... Sorry, no offense," Julian adds. "It's really none of my business, but it isn't everyday someone comes back from the dead."

Edited 2014-11-02 22:20 (UTC)

"No, it's, it's fine," he laughs. He has to laugh. There are so few ways one can deal with their own anomalous mortality, so he settles for self-mockery and apologies and an offhandedness that belies the reality of the fact that he can no longer remember how many times he's died, slowly and painfully and in a myriad of terrible ways, because it's simply easier.

"No, I, I got, um. De-scended, I guess is the word for it. Twice, actually. Well, I died more often than - you know, it's, uh, I'm sorry. It's kind of a lot, I know."

"'Fine' seems relative, but I suppose I can only take your word for it and you're not just being polite about the fact that I'm asking you, whom I met not all that long ago, all sorts of personal questions about things that are not all that pleasant." Julian muses. He does that, pries. He's been told that before. Sometimes his curiosity, his need to understand, makes his a bit callous.

Julian shakes his head and smiles. "Don't be sorry, I asked, didn't I? And it's not too much. It's not something I've heard before, granted, but I'm somewhat used to strange. It sounds a bit complicated though. Ascending, descending. Do you retain anything from these experiences? The memories, or at least any benefits for all your trouble?"

"Nothing too concrete, unfortunately." The technical aspect, at least, is a more conversationally acceptable topic, and it's nice to have cleared the hurdle of oh and by the way I have a habit of dying quite a lot. The curiosity is mutual, or would be if their positions were reversed, and even Daniel Jackson's legendary sympathy has too often been trounced by his own insatiable spirit of inquiry.

'Trouble' would be putting it mildly. The slow dissolution of his body while his internal organs bled out of his disintegrating pores is an experience that remains, unfortunately, stubbornly seared into his skull. At least the second death prior to Ascension had been a matter of quicker, marginally less painful bleeding-out.

"Not the first time, anyway. The second time I had to descend on my own, so I retained more memories. Not enough for anything solid - all that knowledge of the universe is locked away in my subconscious somewhere, I just can't access it. But I do have some...senses, perceptions of things I might not have otherwise. It's how I saw Lucifer for what he was before he admitted it."

"Knowledge of the universe..." Julian seems floored by this idea, fingers tapping out unknown patterns on the side of his thigh. "I suppose it would have to be locked away, wouldn't you say? I wouldn't think that, no matter how brilliant you might be, that the human brain is able to handle that sort of thing. One would think it would simply burn the brain up." Julian says in a way that suggests that he is willing to dedicate the next six months thinking about this and possibly writing up numerous different theories on if Daniel is in any danger should he manage to access this knowledge. Agamede nips at his fingers none to gently. "Jules, stop before he decides you're better of being fed to that thing out there." Julian nods. "I... I in no way mean to trivialize your experiences." He can't imagine that dying, ascending, being put back in your body, and then doing it all over again is in any way something that any person should have to deal with. He wonders how Daniel could even keep his sanity. "It is the kidn of remarkable in the sense that I have not actually had to experience it myself and can't say I would survive it if I had. But I can't deny that the fact that you have some sort of residual extra sense is remarkable. Could save your life one day," he adds. "Which... I realize might be a futile thing to say to someone who has already died more than once."

Edited 2014-11-03 02:12 (UTC)

"That's one of the reasons the Others buried those memories," Daniel agrees with a regretful nod. Julian's excitement over the prospect honestly reminds him of the reason he agreed to Ascension in the first place, even if the memory of that promise rings more bitterly now. "And it's why I had to leave my body behind, even if I hadn't been dying at the time. Human physiology just...can't contain it all. Maybe it was worth it, for all that knowledge of, of everything. But I don't remember."

He tries for another smile but it just comes out pained, a twisting grimace on one side of his mouth, and he has to look away. Aliyah makes a low, sympathetic rumble and flops down to drop her head on his lap. He absently unbends his knees and stretches his legs out to accommodate her. Julian's addressing of the whole thing, mildly clinical and strictly third-party in his outlook, helps, if only slightly. It achieves that scientific distance that Daniel himself no longer has access to.

"Saved my life a few times. Made me a target in others." And darkened him, perhaps irreversibly, to know that the godlike beings he once revered for their potential power and knowledge were content to watch entire galaxies wither under oppressive megalomaniacal cosmic reshaping, simply because they thought themselves above the act of physical interference.

"Maybe it was," Julian agrees quietly. "Or perhaps it wasn't. I imagine that you didn't get much choice in the end about most of any of it." Which to Julian is the worst part, to not have control over something this important. Perhaps Daniel would have kept the knowledge, or preferred to stay ascended, or to stay dead. Or simply to stay alive in the first place. "I've been trapped in my mind before, had my body used against my friends, against the safety of the people around me. Sometimes I wonder if I had been given a choice, if I would have kept the memories of the things I did or not. Sometimes I'm not even sure there's a right answer to that."

Julian is quiet for a few moments, aware of Daniel's presence nearby, still little more than a shape in the darkness, and of Agamede's more tugging presence in his lap. He can hear in Daniel's voice that unnamed emotion when someone speaks about something that is too much a reality for them.

"I'm sorry," he says, realizing he's said this before, but he does mean it. "I can't imagine this is something you like to rehash over and over again. I do that sometimes, and it's not the best of habits. When I can't understand something or why something had to happen, I take it apart from the inside out, even if it might be the worst possible thing for me to do. I do it to myself," he adds with a humorless chuckle. "There's always that question of why, though. What could I have done to save this person? What equipment could I have had that might have helped me find a cure for this population before I was too late? What could I have done that would have made me less of a target for this attack?" How many research projects did Julian have still active, projects that didn't even mean anything anymore, research for people that couldn't be saved anymore? More than was probably healthy. But there were also the times he'd had to make decisions about those who didn't want to be saved.

((I lost this post about six hundred times. It's a mess. Arg.))

The smile becomes a little less forced and a little more definable as a 'smile', but it only grows even more pained. The words all ring a little too true to home. And they ring far too true to when he was approached with the offer of Ascension the first time, how Daniel couldn't imagine why anyone would think he could be worthy for something like that.

He falls silent, lets the two of them wrestle their existential demons for a moment. He's gathered that they're both of them people who have built themselves around who they can help, what civilizations they can save. Peaceful, largely, and trying to build peace in galaxies where that was simply not in their nature. And when the galaxy or universe at large are to blame for things like that, it's only too easy to take all the guilt and possess it into themselves, internalize it, feel responsible for what they may not have been able to prevent either way, and steep themselves in self-blame because it only seems fair.

"We muddle our way through," he says finally, looking down at Aliyah as he strokes her, softly, requires something to do with his hands to grind away the knotted anxiety. "And if there's...anything I do remember from when I was Ascended, it's that we can't judge ourselves on a criteria of success versus failure. If we judge ourselves at all, we do it by the strength of our conviction and, and how we chose to face the things we couldn't possibly win against every time, regardless of whether or not we failed."

Ah, yes. Failure. Julian has a long, complicated relationship with failure. When it comes to his job, the idea of failure feels like a non-option, but also in the face of it Julian comes completely undone, losing all of his (extremely overblown, Miles you say with a smile) confidence. But it is more than that. Julian is who he is because of failure. Or who he isn't. Had his parents not found him failing, wanting, then they wouldn't have had he remade, changed him from his fundamental core, changing who he was on the most basic biological levels . The mind of Jules Bashir would still be alive inhabiting this body (albeit a lesser body), and Julian Bashir, doctor, Starfleet officer, wouldn't even exist. Julian wonders on a daily basis if that wasn't the wrong choice, but he is who he is and it's too late to go back in time. But even though he is stuck in a dream world with a person he will most likely never see again, this is a secret that he has spent 20 years keeping a secret. Speaking it out loud now would seem like breaking a spell.

"Easier said than done," Julian muses after a moment of silence with a humorless chuckle. "What's the ancient saying? 'We are our own worst critic?'" He glances over at Daniel. "Not sure I can say this to someone I met all of a few hours ago, but you seem to have more strength of conviction than nearly anyone I've met. You seem to be doing much more than simply muddling your way through, though I'm sure you can't see that. We rarely can."

"Well," Julian says suddenly, almost brightly, slapping his hands on his knees. Enough of that then. "Here I am, stuck in a dream world being hunted by something dangerous that wants to eat or possibly murder me, and not helping either of us by making you relive experiences that can't possibly be pleasant in any way. I am, it turns out, not very good in these situations. Should we run again or continue stay hidden? Can one even fight a possibly horrific mystical dream creature? I have no with to die here, even if it does end up with waking up. Do you have any ideas? Because I'm clear out, and you have much more experience with strange worlds and dangerous situations."

That was it, the strength of his conviction that had allegedly allowed Daniel the capability to Ascend with the Others' help, accepting he was worthy, opening himself to the fact that his own failings were not all that he wad done, that all the times he had tried and labored and negotiated without result were not the sum of who he was. Julian means well, he knows it, but despite the Ancients' confirmation - or perhaps because of it - Daniel knows he is beyond simply accepting that he is worthy of much of anything.

He says nothing about any of it. The technicalities of their situation are more important, and less densely complicated than philosophical discussions about success, failure, and the hypothetical weight of the human soul.

"I don't know," Daniel says truthfully. "We can go further in, maybe, see if anything comes of it. It's...entirely possible that there's nothing after us at all, just a, a dream-specific emotional response to the setting."

"Ah, a theory I certainly hadn't considered. I suppose that is entirely plausible. In fact, even very likely possible. But allow me to retain my distinct terror at whatever it is, real or emotional response, all the same," Julian says with a wink that Daniel most likely can't see. Julian groans as he stands up, legs sore and stiff,

"Going deeper in certainly sounds just as awful as going back out and staying in place, but at least then I feel like I'm *doing* something constructive. Shall we?" He offers a hand up to Daniel.

He accepts the hand and uses the weight to lever himself to his feet, Aliyah having retreated so he could do so. He understands the need to move, to work towards a goal no matter how illusory. It helps him think, rationalize, stay calm.

"We're gonna have to watch our step," Daniel cautions, dusting himself off and peering without much result into the semidarkness. "Aliyah can see well enough to let us know if we're about to walk into or off of anything but we won't get much warning."

Edited 2014-11-04 03:18 (UTC)

Once Daniel is up, he lets go and takes in a deep breath. Agamede's oversized ears flick up. "I can't see quite that well, but I can hear things far better than Julian," she says, and all Julian can tell her is, "Just stick nearby, don't go too far ahead." He doesn't know the rules, really, but even he can feel the tug deep in his chest as Agamede moves away from him.

"I suppose it'll have to do," Julian muses, reaching out in front of him. It's already nearly impossible to see, and he figures if they go farther back, he will most likely lose sight of everything. EVen with enhanced eyesight he hardly has any sort of night-vision. But again, taking action feels at least... useful, somehow. "I'd say good luck to us both, but that doesn't sound particularly as optimistic as it did at first thought," Julian says with a light tone he doesn't exactly feel.

"Well, if it's any consolation," says Daniel, full well knowing that it's hardly any consolation at all, "if we die the worst that happens is we wake up."

Aliyah butts him on the knees, just hard enough to make him wobble and he bites his lip, immediately contrite. Morbid humor's easier when one's died a half dozen times and a dozen more in dreams.

Wordless, he stretches one hand out to feel against the cave wall, smooth and cool and disconcertingly solid, and uses that as his guide in the dark. A few steps forward at a time, then a few more. Aliyah moves a half step in front of him, wary and tail swishing.

"I suppose it somewhat comforting," Julian agrees with a chuckle, because of course dying and being able to wake up alive is certainly better than the alternative of staying dead. Julian has never actually died and come back to life. He's been revived from near death, or found alive when everyone thought he was dead, but never actually resurrected.

"But this fact doesn't make me any less keen on experiencing it. So for now, I'll do my best to stay alive." Julian isn't sure how much his best is worth, but it's dark and he can see Daniel even less than he could a minute ago. He can still see Agamede, but even more so, sense her... feel her nearby, like a tug on his heart. It's somewhat reassuring, knowing that at the very least he can't lose her completely no matter how dark it gets.

"Good, uh, good plan," Daniel calls back, glancing back over his shoulder as he says it, straining to make out the faint outline of Julian in the thick, choking darkness. In the end he just has to stick with vocal confirmation - especially with the thick crack in his glasses, his eyes are all but useless here.

There's a long stretch of silence (or perhaps he just perceives it that way) in which he can hear nothing but the whisper of his fingertips brushing stone, the dull crunch of footfalls over gravel and rock floor, the padding of Aliyah and Agamede, the soul-creatures Daniel just has to assume are close by since he's essentially flying blind. Completely blind, in fact; when he lifts a hand in front of his eyes to test his vision he can't make it out at all.

Aliyah growls a short warning but Daniel still stumbles and smacks into the wall when he comes up against it. He immediately begins running his hands over it, searching for an indication of a fork, a turn, anything. But the wall simply curves seamlessly around to form a perfect semicircle.

"Dead end." He lets out a small grunt of frustration, sorely tempted to kick the wall in a useless, annoyed gesture. "We should probably turn around before -"

He stops when the words are punctuated by a dull rumbling, the groaning weight of the stone overhead making its heretofore unknown instability explicitly clear.

"Uh-oh."

Julian is an action-driven person, usually. When in trouble, there's always something that can be put to good use, even if it is only his own sharp elbows and knees. But here, as the darkness begins to close into absoluteness, Julian feels an itch of helplessness seep through him. He had followed Daniel's example, keeping one hand against the wall for guidance, sliding his feet forward in an almost-shuffle to keep himself from falling into or off anything, trying to keep a mental note of any changes in texture or temperature of the rock or air around him.

"Damn," Julian says at Daniel's proclamation, and sighs as he comes up behind him. "Well, so much for that idea. At least we'll be heading back towards the light! I'm turning around now, going to follow the opposite wall in case we missed a turn-off somewhere."

But that idea lasts all of three seconds when the rumbling begins. In the darkness, it seems deafening, as if it is the only thing that exists.

"Damn!" Julian says again, because maybe it will help. This is it, isn't it? This is where he finds out what it's like to die horribly in a dream and wake up on the other side. Even knowing that there is another side though, Julian's body won't let him just stand still and accept it. His body is screaming at him to survive even as his brain is screaming that it will all be over soon if he would just stop struggling and let himself awake up already.

"I guess we're running again!" Julian says, raising his voice to be heard, letting go of the wall's safety and beginning to sprint. "If we don't make it," which seems a bit pessimistic, but Julian feels like he can't really be blamed for that, "It was truly a pleasure! Even some of the running and almost dying bits!"

Edited 2014-11-05 22:49 (UTC)

"Noted," Daniel launches back as cheerfully as he can, even with the tempered edge of panic leaking through, because sometimes the gallows humor is the only way one can stay sane. He about-faces, Aliyah bounds ahead, and he tears after her in what he really really hopes is the way out but must be; there are no other passages, just smooth walls and crumbling ceilings and -

- and a rain of dust and heavy stone collapses, directly in front of him, and Daniel has barely enough time to retreat before getting caught in the downpour but -

- but Aliyah doesn't.

There's a horrible wrenching pain in his chest, his limbs, everything as she flees the showering collapse of stone, pulls away down the passage, farther than they should be separated he knows this, he knows this is bad, this is bad this is very very bad. And Daniel hurls himself toward the rapidly building pile of rubble and tumbled rock, straining to make it through before the passageway is blocked completely, ignoring the sharp fragments of stone as they come pinwheeling at him, desperate to reach at her. He can hear her cries, knows she's in just as much pain as he is, but they are separated by a wall of stone and a trembling cave and Daniel can't vocalize, can't scream, can't speak, just grasps uselessly at the hiss of dust, trying to shovel away the mass of heaped debris.

Edited 2014-11-06 01:53 (UTC)

Julian is running, only a little bit ahead of Daniel he thinks based on footsteps, though all of his sense are overwhelmed by darkness and deafening loudness. Julian is stumbling, tripping through the blackness, feeling as if the walls are caving in, the ceiling coming down, and the floor collapsing beneath his feet, not a single steady surface to cling to. His only hope, he figures, is to keep running.

The collapse of stone from the ceiling hits just behind Julian's feet, and he cowers for a second, crouching as the rocks, dust, and debris fall behind him, around him, on him. He coughs, unable to breathe, choking... this becomes more of a concern than the rocks that are hitting him, smashing into his shoulders, arms, and back painfully. He is unaware of where Daniel is, if he's even alive, when a large chunk hits the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. The darkness becomes a different kind of dark, quieter.

It is Aliyah's sounds that wake him, an unearthly sound of pain that Julian is sure he won't ever be able to forget. Agamede is calling his name over and over again, her teeth sharp against the skin of his arm as she bites him, hard, to get him moving. Julian isn't positive how long it's been when attempts to sit up, unsure if he was unconscious or simply stunned, but it couldn't have been too long as the cave still seems intent on collapsing. He gets up, still unable to see, and puts a hand to his head. The side of his head and face wet and warm, which explains the dizziness and nausea that overwhelms him for a few seconds nad leaves him unable to move for a few moments. His body pangs with every movement, every breath, and he gags. But he is alive, and therefore still in the dream. Nothing to do but force himself into a standing position, wipe what can only be blood from his eyes, and do something.

"Daniel?!" He yells over the noise and through the dust that still seeps into his ears, nose, and mouth. It is Agamede who says, "He's trapped on the other side! They're separated, Jules, they shouldn't be separated, they need to be together!" She is absolutely hysterical, and Julian feels his way over to the rock. "Daniel, get as close to my voice as you can!" he yells again, hoping that Daniel can even hear him at all. "Agamede, get Aliyah as near as possible!"

Julian begins to try to dig the wall out, not sure if Daniel is really on the other side, still alive, or trapped underneath, but he has to try, damn it! Even if he ran now, he would survive what, for another few minutes? He can't just leave with Daniel trapped, separated from his soul. He has to do something, anything, even if it means nothing in the end. It seems a futile task, considering he can't see what he's doing, but he continues to pull and tear at the rocks all the same. Aliyah's cries are getting worse, and from what he can tell, Julian isn't going to make it. The whole rest of the cave is going to come down on him any minute, surely.

Edited 2014-11-07 01:00 (UTC)

The pain is excruciating, a dragging siege on his central nervous system and everything attached, impacting the core of his self with repeated concussive force. He's aware, dimly, that at some point he must have fallen to the ground, curled in on himself, back and shoulders throbbing with a distant physical ache that is nothing, nothing compared the shrieking agony attacking every metaphysical fiber in his being. He might be yelling too. He can't -

He can't think, can't move, can't process or feel or anything, just lie in tortuous concavity while the blinding skid of pain receptors fire off, repeatedly, and he listens to Aliyah cry.

Some distant part of him registers Julian's voice. An even more distant part accesses the itch, the need to get back to Aliyah and, miraculously, seizes on it. Movement aches (everything aches), movement is an exercise in pain tolerance and grinding slowness (the pain is constant), movement is spasmodic shift through air that is denser than Daniel remembers (Daniel, he can remember his name and its individual syllables now, he must not forget again), movement is a slow and terrible effort to push through the viscosity of his pain and his absence of thought.

Speaking is harder.

"Ju -" Daniel gets no farther. Aliyah's cries reach a piercing, tearing peak, Daniel's heart wrenches in its cavity, one hand leaps out toward the rubble, but unless his reduced sensory inputs are playing havoc on him, the entire cave is shaking again.

"J -"

Dying, it turns out, it just about as horrific as Julian thought it might be. As the cave begins to collapse around him, all his senses are overwhelmed, unable to see or hear what might be happening on the other side of the wall that separates Julian, Agamede, and Aliyah from Daniel. He is unable to morbidly diagnose what his death will be like, figuring he will most likely go from suffocation before succumbing to any deadly injury, his mind quietly listing what that will be like as if his death is an example in a medical text. If he is lucky, he will be knocked unconscious first. His only hope is that he will be spared the memory of this when he wakes up, though how he could forget any of this is beyond him. The human mind can be kind, at times, though. Maybe this will be one of those times.

Julian is still needlessly pulling at the rocks in front of him until the very last moment when everything comes down around him. He curls up crouching, one arm uselessly over his head, Agamede clutched tightly to his chest with his other hand, and Aliyah somewhere just between his body and the stone wall that separates her and Daniel. All Julian can hear is the roaring, and then everything goes silent and still. Julian doesn't remember anything after that.

The instability of the structure he is in roars and Daniel thinks Aliyah might be roaring too, in defiance or in disclosure of agony or some unintelligible emotion he cannot put a name to, he can't say, there is only the dreadful shuddering of stone and sliding rock, and his limbs jerk in irregular movements, trying to get back to Aliyah, he reaches the walled rubble and tears at it, desperately, futilely, and it is in that moment that it severs.

Snaps.

The thing.

The thing.

The -

Aliyah.

is gone.

He can't feel her heartbeat in synchronous panic to his, he can't feel the chaotic swirl of her pained desperation to return to him, he can't hear her calls, he can't feel her terror he can't feel he can't feel he can't feel himself

everything dims

and he is alone

when the ceiling falls he cannot close his eyes and he does not protest

it will not matter one way or the other

Aliyah is gone

--

Daniel awakes in a surge of sweat and panic, clawing at his chest in fearful revelation. Even once he registers it was a dream, it still feels horribly like some deep and vital part of himself has just been irretrievably lost.

(( Thank you! ))

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Tender Lumplings Everywhere, Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare [Open to All]

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everything has just gotten awful (warning for daemon separation stuff)

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tw: daemon separation, death

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