ᴏɴᴇ ✄ something's wrong

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

[[OOC: Warning's for slight violence.]]

[It was like a heartbeat. Each passing moment, heartbeats. The steady rhythmic thump that would normally seem so calming, especially when sleeping, was a sure sign something was wrong. Everything was quiet besides the thump-thump. Then a gun is being cocked. Bang. Shotgun. That's what it is. 

Thump-thump. Heart beat's normal. Regular. It's now that a boy starts to make his way into view. There's a whistling that takes over the heart beating, along with his footsteps down a hallway. Where is he? School. Lockers surround him, black and white tiles coat the floor. The boy's tall, blonde, but what's wrong with his face? There's blood dripping down it. Wait, that was right, right? There was blood dripping down it. His hair was a bloody mess, too. Oh, no. He's got a fine face now. Just fine. That blood was only an illusion.

Suddenly, the scenery changes. Tate's in a library. There's a girl under the table, crying. Whimpering. Things are quiet. No more whistling. No more heartbeat. Just her. He pushes the table back and -- Violet? No. That's wrong. The scenery changes again, and he's in the basement of a large house, holding a red ball.

He looks confused. None of his dreams have ever been so meshed together like this.]

[ooc: haaayyy! sorry if this isn't..the right way to post? IDK IT'S MY FIRST ONE. if something's not right, lemme know. also, i am super excite to play with everyone c:]

Comments

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

She's everywhere, but she's not Violet. She's an Asian girl instead, with dark hair and darker eyes and a sly smile - and of course, a school uniform. She never seems to quite look directly at him, face always hidden in profile at best.

She's there in the school hallway, where she traces a finger down her face, as if to draw attention to the blood on Tate's. She's there in the library, sitting on a table next to the one he looks under - surprise! not Violet.

She's in the basement. She holds out her hands as if to catch the ball.

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

Tate looks at the girl, frowning. Who was she, and why was she in his dream? Purposefully, he drops the ball to the floor, glaring at her. She didn't belong here.

"Why are you here?" His voice is soft, but harsh. He's feeling rather defensive, which is understandable, considering a girl he's never met in his life is standing right in front of him.

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

"Who knows?" In that breezy, airy tone, it might be a true admission of futility, or it might simply be enjoying hiding it from him. Her lips quirk upward as the ball rolls away across the floor.

"You should greet a guest properly," she tells Tate.

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

Tate practically sneers at her tone. He takes a defensive step towards her, but he's not entirely sure what he should do. He's killed a girl before, but he didn't know her. He didn't know this girl, either. Dreams were dreams. It's not like she was real.

"Why are you here?" He's repeating himself, and his voice is louder, taking up more of the room. He may be thin, but with a straight posture and a set glare, he's threatening.

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

She eyes him for a moment, still calmly. The temperature in the room drops sharply. Ice starts to form along the walls. It's a warning of her own.

"I didn't come here to attack you," she says, "However, if you keep going with this foolishness, you'll be hurt."

And it certainly gets him no answer. She is not some human to be trifled with, and certainly not his subordinate.

"Ask me properly and I'll consider answering you."

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

He doesn't notice the temperature change, and he really doesn't care. He is a little curious about the ice, but for now, he doesn't ask about it. "Bullshit." Naughty language coming from a homicidal boy, what a nice thing to hear. There are shifts in the shadows, of things. Of older spirits, wandering in the darkness. They'll close in on her if she gets too close. Or worse. He will.

"I don't care, you ungrateful bitch. Tell me why you're in my head."

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

She's too used to tempers to take them personally, at least in someone she doesn't even know. She notes it, though, and notes the insult.

"What's to be grateful for?" she retorts. But as he seems disinclined to fight, she doesn't reach for her weapon. Instead, she glances towards the ceiling, as if the answer is there or, more likely, indicating the world they're in right now.

"You can call it a lie if you like," she doesn't anticipate being believed. "However, I was brought here by chance. The borders between worlds and dimensions are weakened here. In dreams."

[butwedonot.livejournal.com]

[ Even with everything so distinctly wrong in his head, he knows this isn't his dream-- he doesn't know these places that well, hasn't been to some of them, the blood is there but it isn't cloying. However, he's less alarmed than he should be; it wouldn't be the first time his mind has drifted off during slumber and allowed him access to another's dreams. Not the first time he had another mind twined with his own, it was curious but not enough to make him run away. Instead he watches with that detached curiosity that was probably entirely unnatural.

He can't help but focus on the ball, he's seen them, occasionally brushed his fingers against the hard rubber surface when he was walking through the stores behind Raven. He wants to touch it now, but knows he can't, or rather shouldn't, instead he lifts his head and focuses on the person whom holds it. Not someone he knows, again, another stranger in his head. ]

It's too dark in here.

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

[Tate's head darts in his direction, and staring at him with a set glare. He's not scared that the man's in his head, but he's confused, more confused than he's ever been. He clenches the ball in his hand, shifting his weight. A small amount of light filters in from the windows at the mention of it being too dark, by it's not by much. Tate just wants to see who's here.]

I don't know you, so why are you here?

[butwedonot.livejournal.com]

[ Charles remains unfettered by the glare, it wasn't a concern of his really; all he wanted to do was inspect things, he's wandered off into someone's dreams again-- it's something that's happened to him a time or two before so he doesn't feel as bothered as others might. He looks to the ball again, fingers twitching but his own movements stilled, ]

I don't know. [ He reaches out a little before thinking better of it and retracting his hands. ] I must have wandered in.

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

[The general softness of this man's attitude made Tate relax, but only a bit. He was incredibly untrusting of this sort of thing -- he wasn't used to it at all. The only sort of 'inside your head' thing he got was a shrink who was ... sort of doing his job.]

Are you real?

[He doesn't want to be any more crazy that he actually was, especially after his first encounter with the girl. It's not fun.]

[butwedonot.livejournal.com]

[ He knits his brows as if he's pondering the question of his own reality even if the answer itself was something he should be sure of. ]

I think so. [ How sure could one be of their own reality? Raven saw him so clearly, he had to be real, right? If enough people saw him he was real; or at least he would assume that till he hears otherwise. Though with his constantly drifting consciousness it was hard to tell. ]

Are you?

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

[Tate nods. He hadn't really expected the sort of answer that the man gave him.]

Yeah. I have to be. It wouldn't be right if I wasn't.

[thatoldthatkind.livejournal.com]

[ The Doctor leans against the wall of the basement without a word. Then he licks his finger and holds it up to the ceiling. It was normally a way to test for winds, but this is the Doctor, nothing is as it really is supposed to be.

Especially snowglobes.

But, he left his back in the TARDIS, ]

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

[Tate walks closer to the other man, eyes narrowed, head tilted to the side in question. He's not especially pleased with him being in his dream, but he wasn't pleased most of the time, so he's trying to deal with it.

Sort of. Not really, at all.]

What are you doing?

[Not so much about the testing of the winds part, either. Either explain yourself, or get out. That's how Tate sees it.]

[thatoldthatkind.livejournal.com]

Ssssh.

[ The Doctor holds up his other hand to Tate's face. Hush now. Doing scientific alien things. ]

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

Don't shush me.

[He's a little closer now, but -- wait, how did he get so close to him? There were no footsteps, but it must have been a trick of the light. It was dark.]

You're not exactly making this any easier for either of us. Who are you?

[thatoldthatkind.livejournal.com]

I'll shush you if there needs to be shushing.

[ He waves his finger at Tate. Then after a moment he turns back to look at him. ]

Hello! I'm the Doctor.

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

Whatever.

[he doesn't care enough to come up with a come back.]

What, your parents didn't give you a name?

[helpmeguideit]

[ Charles was initially drawn to the library, pulling books off of the shelves. They were from after his time, he realized, eyeing the copyright dates. There was a change in the scenery. The book was gone, and it was just a basement. It gave him a chill to realize that things were changing so rapidly. He turned on a heel, facing the boy that he could feel in the room here. He knew it was his dream. Everything was far too unfamiliar for him.

He stepped towards him, hands in his pockets. Whatever issues he had on his own were irrelevant to how busy this one's mind was. ]

Your mind is busy when you dream.

[ He doesn't sound surprised, but perhaps curious. ]

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

[Tate's uncomfortable, and he hates being uncomfortable. His expression is blank, but there is a certain anger in his eyes. He's holding back on jumping the other man, he knew he could if he wanted to.

He hated the uneasy feeling that he got with this man in his head, so the only solution was to make the other uneasy, as well.]

Your mind is busy when you fuck, too. Did you know that?

[helpmeguideit]

[ Six months ago, that might have really bothered him. But now, he just stays calm, looked Tate over. Offers a half-smile. ]

I'm not here to fight.

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

[Another calm figure, but it relaxes Tate, sort of. As much as it could, anyway.]

Really.

[helpmeguideit]

[ Small smile. Offers his hand. ]

Charles Xavier.

[ghostpsychosis.livejournal.com]

[He stares down at his hand. Hesitantly, he shakes hit.]

Tate.