The Baker's Wife (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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applesaucedream2015-01-18 07:16 pm
andhiswife) wrote in applesaucedream2015-01-18 07:16 pm
A Time to Rise and a Time to Fall [Open to Multiple]
Greta dreams of falling (again, and again).
The path ends abruptly. Maybe there never was a path, only a deceptive stretch of ground, free of any undergrowth, that looked like it could be one. Either way, she's left standing on the edge of a sheer cliff, looking down at the leaf-strewn forest floor far below her. A small rock tumbles down, as if for the sole purpose of illustrating the length of the drop. It seems to take ages to reach the bottom, clattering off exposed roots and finally thudding to the ground.
There's a roaring in her ears like a great wind, but it isn't the wind. The earth shudders beneath her feet. She reaches out wildly for something on which to steady herself, knowing even as she does so that she'll miss; she always misses, it's so stupid. Maybe she deserves whatever comes next.
But she doesn't miss. Her hand closes around something - not a branch. An arm? Whatever it is, she isn't letting go.
[ooc: whoops, Greta's dropped into your dream. Or you've dropped into hers. Whether you want them both to be in her giant-plagued forest or in a setting more familiar to your character is up to you. Poor Greta's just gonna have to roll with it either way.]
The path ends abruptly. Maybe there never was a path, only a deceptive stretch of ground, free of any undergrowth, that looked like it could be one. Either way, she's left standing on the edge of a sheer cliff, looking down at the leaf-strewn forest floor far below her. A small rock tumbles down, as if for the sole purpose of illustrating the length of the drop. It seems to take ages to reach the bottom, clattering off exposed roots and finally thudding to the ground.
There's a roaring in her ears like a great wind, but it isn't the wind. The earth shudders beneath her feet. She reaches out wildly for something on which to steady herself, knowing even as she does so that she'll miss; she always misses, it's so stupid. Maybe she deserves whatever comes next.
But she doesn't miss. Her hand closes around something - not a branch. An arm? Whatever it is, she isn't letting go.
[ooc: whoops, Greta's dropped into your dream. Or you've dropped into hers. Whether you want them both to be in her giant-plagued forest or in a setting more familiar to your character is up to you. Poor Greta's just gonna have to roll with it either way.]
no subject
He is not going to survive this fucking forest in all its audacious, deciduous nonreality nor the things that fucking walk it. He isn't going to fucking panic over nothing but if he does not get out of here -
He won't waste in his own mind. It's a dream, and one normally wakes up from dreams. Even those of the atypically vivid variety.
Rush is leaning against a tree in what he is asserting as a thoroughly unconcerned manner, arms re-crossed and expression re-arranging itself into something that is, decidedly, bored.
"One down, then," he says evenly.