First Dream

[drknss-bnd-lght.livejournal.com]

[As far as the eye can see there's only a field of grass with a light wind blowing. It's freezing cold, but the boy laying back to look at the stars doesn't seem to notice. Or, if he does, he's used to it. He's been here for a while, slowly watching them blink out of existence one by one. Each time they do he reaches up, sadness written on his face - in the air around him. He can't stop it, he knows that, but he reaches anyway, trying as hard as he can. As if that will help. It doesn't and as each one slowly winks out, he seems to curl up on himself - bitter, hurt - lonely. It seems like hours, but soon, there's only a handful left.

Ventus shivers, rolling over and curling up - He's alone. He shouldn't have tried. How does he reach the light anyway? He can't. Sitting up, he pulls out the pieces of his wayfinder, face an open book of abandonment and betrayal. Hurt and anger.] ....I wish...

[And flings it away as far and hard as he can, uncaring where they fall.

Overhead, several more stars wink out, the rest shining just that much fainter.] I've never known you if you were just going to abandon me.

{{OOC: Tags returned when I wake up. }}

Comments

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

[Mercury knows loneliness. She knows loneliness and the pain of that betrayal to abandonment. And in her world, at least, the stars going out means the death of soldiers like her across the galaxy; they are born of stars and planets. She turns her face away from it to speak to Ventus.

If she feels the cold herself, as she should in the short-skirted uniform, she gives no sign of it; she is ice. She does not particularly seem sympathetic at first; she's been taught to feel revulsion at these open signs of feeling. Nonetheless, after a moment of undecided staring, she does not ridicule him, either - nor does she leave.]

It'd be easier, is that it?

[She speaks lightly, but if she had never been fool enough to listen to false promises, everything she's had to do would have been so much simpler. Her head would be unclouded.]

[whitleas.livejournal.com]

[She finds herself, this time, on a field of grass, shivering at the freezing cold for a moment before shaking her head and reminding herself that she's been through colder places.

Then she feels something...hit her on the head. Her hand reflexively darts into her bag, grabbing a Pokeball and looking around before realizing, with a wave of relief, that, no, there are no enemies around for her to fight.

The relief is quickly replaced with puzzlement, though, when she notices the pieces on the ground. She picks them up and pockets them, looking around for their owner.

It's not long before she finds Ventus.]

Hey.

[Whitlea's greeting is quiet, tinged with a sort of sad sympathy. She'd tell him she found the pieces of his wayfinder, but it seems as if this is a bad time to bring them up.]

[defiantstand.livejournal.com]

[It was an interesting place he'd ended up in this time. There was so much green and the wind really flared out his cape nicely. An immediate glance around reveals little of interest, though it is curious to see the stars fading out and blinking. Merely making note of the situation, he makes his way across the endless rolling green until after a short while, he hears something whistling through the air.

A glance at his feet reveals the pieces of a peculiar object -something he didn't really recognize as anything more than an odd trinket, but generally unable to determine its original shape. Crouching and neatly collecting the item in his hand and pocketing it, he travels onward until he comes across the boy in the grass.]

Oi. Kid.

[He's very flat-toned and blunt-sounding as he addresses the blond boy in the grass. But he seems intent on figuring out if he's awake first.]

/latest ever to all your posts X(

[slayerpreferred.livejournal.com]

[Buffy just sort of appears right next to him. She does that. And though her tone is blase, her expression as she looks up at the dying stars is empathetic, like she knows exactly what he means.]

It's a lie, you know. That the hurting is better than the nothing. The nothing is much, much worse. [She curls in on herself a bit, wrapping her arms around her knees; still not making eye contact.]