Seth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
powerdealer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
applesaucedream2014-05-19 03:47 pm
powerdealer) wrote in applesaucedream2014-05-19 03:47 pm
[open] Locked within a room of memory, locked up away with no light of day
Seth sits in his bed, back against the wall, facing the door.
This is not his current room. No trace of the sleek, clean style he favours. No decorations, no furniture at all except for the bed. The walls are brick and stone, the floor dirty cement, the air musty and heavy, with just a hint of smell from the sewers coming from the toilet in the corner. There's a constricting feeling of anxiety and dread, his attentions focused on the heavy, bolted door.
There used to be books and writing equipment at least, but they took that away before they returned him here. They even took away his nice blanket. It's funny the simple things you get attached to when there's nothing else.
Any moment now, he knows, one of the rebels will come through that door and discipline him. Tell him he'll do as they say, or else. He wonders what it is he did this time. There's been quite a few times over the more than three months they kept him here that he didn't want to do what they told him to.
He's had this dream before. He doesn't quite know it's a dream yet, but it'll soon come to him. And while it's not a nightmare that makes him wake with a start and a strangled scream, it's the sort that weighs heavily on him the entire following day, like a weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe, making any small room feel like a trap.
The door opens, and someone steps in, the door closing heavily behind them.
[This is a recurring dream for Seth, so he can have a different visitor on different nights. If you tag in, merely pick a date.]
This is not his current room. No trace of the sleek, clean style he favours. No decorations, no furniture at all except for the bed. The walls are brick and stone, the floor dirty cement, the air musty and heavy, with just a hint of smell from the sewers coming from the toilet in the corner. There's a constricting feeling of anxiety and dread, his attentions focused on the heavy, bolted door.
There used to be books and writing equipment at least, but they took that away before they returned him here. They even took away his nice blanket. It's funny the simple things you get attached to when there's nothing else.
Any moment now, he knows, one of the rebels will come through that door and discipline him. Tell him he'll do as they say, or else. He wonders what it is he did this time. There's been quite a few times over the more than three months they kept him here that he didn't want to do what they told him to.
He's had this dream before. He doesn't quite know it's a dream yet, but it'll soon come to him. And while it's not a nightmare that makes him wake with a start and a strangled scream, it's the sort that weighs heavily on him the entire following day, like a weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe, making any small room feel like a trap.
The door opens, and someone steps in, the door closing heavily behind them.
[This is a recurring dream for Seth, so he can have a different visitor on different nights. If you tag in, merely pick a date.]
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After some consideration, she says, "If you'd rather I didn't, I won't." She doesn't like the thought of Seth being on the run with no resources, but what's the alternative? Trying to haul him to HQ against his will? As if she even could, considering the rift power he currently has.
"I mostly help process new arrivals," she adds, both to calm him down a little and excuse herself for letting him run off into the sunset (if that's what he's so determined to do). "It's not my job to drag in every rifty I meet."
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"Thanks," he answers, relaxing a little. He'll figure out what to do about resources. He still has some contacts - if he's careful, he can talk to them. They'll give a helpful hand, and be much plainer about what they want in return.
He debates revealing a few choice tidbits (not just rumours) about Romac, but decides this isn't the time. He's hardly in a state to properly argue the point and convince her - besides, he doesn't want to push his luck or just seem plain ungrateful.
"How long have you been in the city?" he asks curiously, since he doesn't want to be discussing factions or what she does for them.
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She tips her head towards the Beast and says, "The Quarkbeast and I came through together. What about you?" If his accent is anything to go by, he's from the UK as well. Probably not hers, but still.
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"Quarkbeast, huh?" he adds, looking curiously over at the creature. Once you get past the rather off-putting exterior, it's oddly charming.
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"He's sweeter than he looks," she says with a wry smile. The Beast wags its clubbed tail a few times and lets out a cheerful "Quark!" Jennifer continues, "Quarkbeasts are nonevolutionary animals - one of several invented by wizards in a sort of contest." Even with the increasing crackle, it's hard to imagine having enough to just invent animals. "The Mighty Shandar invented Quarkbeasts - and he won."
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He smiles at the beast. It seems to ask quite a bit like a puppy, which makes it likeable. "Nice to have someone from home," he comments. "So, I take it your universe is rather different from this one."
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He smiles a little at her phrasing. "Yeah, it's pretty much exactly like this world. Except instead of the rift, we had a storm that somehow gave people superpowers. Back in London."