onepassingnight | ᴏɴᴇ ✄ something's wrong

[[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:]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Now he was starting to understand: He couldn't afford to disregard her presence, because she was his best chance at information. Indispensable. She likes that.

"Does it matter?" she asks reasonably. "When you wake up, you can decide it has no meaning at all."

This is a trick she's never managed as neatly as she pretends, but it's a valid option nonetheless, logically.

"Liar." He's calling her out on it, simply because he's had to deal with a liar for most of his life, and liars all around him. He hated that. Though there's a chance that she's telling the truth, Tate isn't taking any chances, especially with her attitude towards him in the beginning.

She seems quite undisturbed. She's been called much worse than a liar before. Besides, she tells herself, she knows the truth for herself. She doesn't need for it to be believed.

"Ohh?" She deliberately relates his words to the immediate context instead of her news as a whole. "You can't even decide for yourself what to believe about your dreams? You just accept them without thinking?"

"No, because they do mean something. Something like this has never happened before. You're different. You shouldn't exist in my head, but you do. Explain that to me. None of that 'know it when we're awake' crap."

He's definitely being more forceful this time, and it's on purpose. Tate really doesn't want to let her have her way -- especially since she's being so annoying about the whole situation. If what she was saying was true, and there were others out there, he was hoping there were others that had better conversational skills. Not like he was one of them, but it would be more useful to get information from someone who was willing to give it. Powerplay. He hated this part.

Edited 2011-11-27 02:36 (UTC)

Conversational skills were never the strong point of the girl who buried herself in books, and then in darkness. Overlooked, never thought of.

Being a thorn in someone's side is better, far better, than being nothing. She decided that a long time ago. Besides, if she wants the feeling of 'friendship', well, human minds are easily manipulated by power. She has plenty of that.

Right now, she's half amused that he keeps trying. She supposes the determination should be considered admirable.

"I've already said it. My answer won't change." She's almost used to the strange shifting of worlds, and now the dream world, by now. But she doesn't plan to make him believe in it.

"What's wrong with you?" It's not so much of an accusatory question as it is an actual question. He's beginning to believe whoever is in his head has some kind of problem, because hey, that's how it's been in the past. He'll save the real questions for someone who's a little more clear and less defensive.

He's beginning to falter with what to believe, though, and that's why he's so disturbed. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he's staring directly at her, but he's thinking of a way to just get out. He can't stand it. He wants to wake up.

How rude. There's nothing wrong with her. Certainly, a human shouldn't be the one to question her and imply that there is.

"Nothing," she says, calmly enough not to be defensive but too quickly to have been an answer formed through introspection.

"What's wrong with you?" There's a smirk there, and the insufferable superiority of someone who sees flaws.

Her quick response gave him the clue that he needed: there was something wrong with her. He doesn't react positively or negatively towards it, though. He's still playing the neutral card, for now.

"Nothing," his response is much slower and thought out, but still a lie. He wasn't about to just pour out all his problems now.

How fortunate nothing is wrong with either of them. She smirks faintly, as if to say it, as if to recognize it for the lie that it is.

"Then someone like you has no business asking that question," she says. Whether she means someone without problems can't understand them, or that someone with problems and lying about it shouldn't be pointing the finger, goes unsaid.

"You'd know, wouldn't you?" His tone is definitely more accusing this time, Tate is getting rather tired of her 'better-than-you' attitude. She was nothing like Violet, or the women that he's met.

She has endless attitude to give, really. The moments it drops are the rare ones.

"I know we don't know each other nearly well enough for you to pretend to know anything about me," she answers bluntly. Knowing someone takes time. And effort.

Tate gives her a look that clearly says 'I don't care' and motions to the stairs that lead up to the house itself. He wants her out. This was his mind, his unconscious, and she had to right to it.

"So leave."

"As you wish, then!" Though the words were entirely facetious rather than obedient, she did in fact start up the stairs.

They'd doubtless harass each other in further dreams anyway.

ᴏɴᴇ ✄ something's wrong

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