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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"Oh, god," says Johnny, now thoroughly disgusted. "Holy shit, dude. No. Stop that."
It's right around then that he notices they have company. A lot of company. Closing in around them on all sides. Johnny spins around, looking for an way out, which they don't have, of fucking course.
"Oh, fuck, oh fuck," he snaps, feeling desperate. He storms back over to Seth and Shannon and forces them apart. "Seth, wake the fuck up. We have to-"
He's cut off when Zombie Shannon, with a sudden aggressive snarl, wraps her arm around his throat and jerks him back, immediately trying to bite him. Johnny makes a desperate grab for her hair, holding her back as hard as he can, struggling awkwardly. "Fuck off!" he says shrilly, entirely terrified.
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Seth tries to catch his breath as he looks down at her body, no longer bloody, apart from the gash in her skull. He clothes have changed too, the jeans and jacket he buried her in (the second time).
"Are you alright?" he asks, looking up at Johnny. His own face still has blood on it. Where did he get the shovel? It must've been lying there from when they dug her up, but he can't remember picking it up. He doesn't think too much of it.
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"I'm okay," he says, though he's not, really. "But there's like, a fuckload more of them." He makes a sweeping gesture to encompass the approaching hoard.
Where did the shovel come from? Johnny casts a look around and notices, even more confusingly, a baseball bat. Well okay. Whatever goddamn works. He picks it up and hefts it. "Please tell me you have a better idea."
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"Aim for the head," he adds, walking towards the line of zombies. Better than to wait for them all to center on them so they'll get attacked from all sides.
cw: more grossness/blood/graphic violence with sound effects
"I can't believe this is fucking happening," mutters Johnny as he follows Seth, keeping relatively close. He draws a breath and exhales slowly, leveling the bat at the nearest zombie. Freaking zombies.
He pulls back like he's about to hit a pitch, then swings and smacks it neatly across the skull of his would-be attacker. Actually, not that neatly. Quite messily, in fact. It makes a sickening crunch, and the zombie person staggers to the side, looking dizzy and dazed, before crumpling to the ground.
"Oh fuck," he says, breathless, but he can't stop there; they're off and running now, and he's swinging left and right, keeping Seth close but always outside his bat radius. Blood is fucking everywhere. All over him. Goddammit.
cw: just assume most of this thread is horrible
Seth's face isn't the only thing covered in blood now. All he can taste is blood, all he can smell is blood and moist dirt, all he can see is blood and darkness and Johnny - who is also covered in blood.
He brutally slices someone's head open with the sharp edge of the shovel, but it gets caught in the skull and unbalances him for a moment, and a moment is all that's needed. Someone jumps him from behind as he's trying to get a proper grip on the shovel again, and he cries out in pain as teeth close on the side of his neck.
cw: yeah that
He wakes up screaming. Not unusual.
He sits up hard and fast, making himself a little dizzy. Scout's agitated, whining from the little bed Johnny made for him. Johnny swings over the side of the bed, breathing heavily, bringing himself back down. "Come here, Scout," he murmurs, holding his hands out, and the dog hurries over for some whispered comfort and scratches behind his ears.
"I'll be right back," he mumbles, getting to his feet and staggering to the door. He fumbles it open and steps into the hallway, angling toward Seth's apartment.
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He wakes up with a start, breathless and clammy, his heart thumping. For a moment he clutches at his stomach, just to make sure. Then he rolls over, gagging for a moment, trying very hard not to throw up. Thankfully he manages to avoid it.
He looks up as he hears someone in the hall, and pushes himself out of bed, fishing up a pair of boxers and pulling them on as he heads to the door. He opens it, looking out blearily, and there's Johnny, looking about as terrible as he feels.
"You too, huh?" he asks, leaning against the door-frame and running a hand down his face.
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Sure.
"You okay?" he asks, in reference to... everything.
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He gives a nod in response to the question. Well. He's not really, but it's not Johnny's fault, nor is there much he can do about it.
He sighs. "What the hell was that place? You seemed like you knew it," he asks. Considering Johnny knows (or at least has enough information to work it out) the circumstances of Seth's bits of the dream.
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It's blunt, but he's exhausted, and he has no energy to go into his messy internal life while they're both half-naked and recovering from being eaten by zombies. Gentler, he adds, "You sure you're okay?"
There's an undertone of don't go in there and shoot up, but he's not willing to say it out loud.
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"Peachy," he echoes from earlier, but this time there's a bit of a smile to go with it to show he's joking. "I'm gonna go take a shower, I feel gross." Some of his hair is plastered to his forehead from waking up all clammy.
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He's just about to turn back into his apartment when he notices the scars on Johnny's back, though for a brief moment he thinks he's just imagining things after that dream. But no, they're faint, but there.
"Johnny?" he asks before he can stop himself.
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Oh. Oh, fuck. He's almost forgotten about them, the scars on his back. Gabe's never once asked about them. He doesn't know where they came from.
"Sort of," he says. "But not like that." He stands stiffly, not sure how to explain without going further into it.
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"Right," he answers after a few moments. "Sorry," he adds, remembering that even if Johnny might be inclined to share sometime, that time is definitely not now.
He shakes his head a bit in a 'never mind' way, and finally heads back into his apartment. "Night."