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| [Dreams can be bright and cheerful, sometimes. Full of candy and soda and other happy objects and playful scenarios. But some times, they're barren and empty, desolate landscapes with nowhere to go in any direction, no oases in sight no matter how far you walk and no relief from the oppressive atmosphere. And it's this the atmosphere that makes up Sora's dream.
Hard, cracked earth stretches for miles and miles in all directions, a singular, barren tree the only landmark in sight. Beneath it, a single bush of belladonna in full bloom, and next to it, choked by its roots, a single, wilting lily. And there, standing beneath the tree, curled in on himself is Sora. Except, perhaps, to everyone else, he doesn't seem to exactly be there. His shape to others is indistinct, almost like he's half-formed illusion.
But he's there, and the oppressiveness of the atmosphere seems to be taking its toll on him.] | |
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| [There's nothing here.
Nothing. No sound, no shapes, no movement. A void. Were it not for how frighteningly aware you are of a lack of substance is in this place, it would be easy to believe that you weren't dreaming at all.
Until enough time passes, and the darkness begins to close in.
It's not the sort of darkness associated with emptiness - it's a real thing, where before there had been nothing at all. The kind of darkness that grows and expands, covering, choking all that stands in it's way. Except nothing is there. Nothing but you, of course. No matter how much you run, or try to push it aside, there is no end to it. No light.
But the darkness does recede, eventually. There is no more feeling of being covered, or surrounded, though there is still nothing to illuminate the world around you. Instead the darkness is a force that lingers, surrounds this place, but those who are wise will realize that it's far from benign. It holds back power that can only spell destruction.
It, or him.
Because there is a boy there, among other things. A boy with glowing yellow eyes, who seems to belong in this darkness. Who may even be part of it, or at least know what it hides.
The are sounds, now, too, to fill the void, somewhere off in the distance. The sound of blades, clashing during a fight. The sound of the wind blowing over a vast wasteland.
The even fainter sound of waves.
And the sound of a voice as the boy finally speaks, because he knows that he isn't alone.]
You should leave.
[It's a threat, one that he sounds all too happy to back up.] | |
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