It's a Waste of Time, Chasing in the Dark

[applesaucemod]

Tonight, the dreamers will find themselves in a forest. Or an office. Or a suburban living room. Or a castle tower. Or a grocery store. The dream is a patchwork of assorted settings, each one blurring inelegantly into the next, most of them only claiming half an acre or so. The hodgepodge makes for quite a sight.

Or it would, if the dreamers could see anything. Natural light is in short supply. In fact, there isn't any light at all, not even a faint twinkle of starlight; you might as well be deep inside a cave. No matter how good their eyes might be, the dreamers won't be able to see their own hands in front of their faces - not unless they can fashion some sort of light source out of whatever they might manage to find. The dream isn't inclined to make things easy; any appliances or electrical light sources the dreamers stumble over won't be plugged in, and any walls, however solid they might seem, won't contain any wiring. A small fire might be the best bet - presuming you can find any means of lighting one.

But there's good news. Each of the dreamers will find themselves with a second set of dubiously useful eyes, because they'll be joined - again, or for the first time - by their dæmons. Granted, said dæmons won't have much more luck seeing in the total darkness than anyone else, but at least no one will have to feel alone.

Just… move carefully. You wouldn't want to trip over someone else's dæmon by mistake. Imagine how awkward that would be.

[ooc: y'all know the drill. Characters don't have to be apped or in the game to show up, and dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the player's discretion. This particular dream isn't a power nerf - a character with the ability to create light could still do so - but the range will be extremely localized, as if the darkness is a solid thing that doesn't want to be pushed back.]

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[etherthief]

She picks her way over stone and occasionally through water, her shoes and the bottom of her skirt now long since soaked.

"This dream is stupid," she hisses.

Aqil's not listening. He never listens. "There's someone up ahead," he says. "You could hear them if you'd stop complaining for a second."

Iman is about to make some kind of affronted response, but he's right - she hears voices, two of them, up ahead. A person and their animal, or two people? Either way. She slogs forward, tripping over herself a few times, before she recognizes Greta's particular cadence.

"Greta!" she practically squeaks, and Aqil heaves an aggrieved sigh. Iman stumbles forward, feeling about, trying to find her or her giant fluffy dog. "Greta, it's me!" she adds uselessly. And then she finds a body, abruptly, by colliding with it. She's pretty sure that's not Greta. "Oh," she says in embarrassment.