[No. No, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening. This just can't be--

The dreamscape this time around is dark. It's a twisted world, a strange pit that loosely resembles his childhood home of Destiny Islands. And he's just... Sitting there. Injured, to reflect the hard battle he fought back in the waking world. But it hadn't been enough, and there's a rip in his shirt to show as much. And there, right on his chest, peeking out of the rip in his shirt, is a black and red symbol, though only a corner can be seen.


He's just lost for the moment, staring straight ahead.]

...I... He really...




[[OOC: The symbol is only from his own perceived state and a reflection of what happened to him. Yup, folks, he lost his heart, making him permanently here until it's gotten back.]]

It starts off innocuous enough. He's walking in a suburban neighborhood in daylight, kicking a can down the sidewalk. As if anybody does that anymore. He thinks it's odd that nobody's out and about this time of day, but doesn't think to address it.

...Until the sun moves behind a cloud, and suddenly it's much darker than it ought to be. The sky is choked by clouds. The can skitters a few more feet down the sidewalk and then clatters to a stop, giving way to complete silence.

Peter turns to look at the house on his left, and sees that the windows are blacked out.

Something makes him jump, makes him run. He thinks he saw a hand start to creep its way through the yellow grass. Even if he didn't see it, he felt it. The vampires are coming.

The street stretches out endless in front of him. White arms with crooked, reaching fingers are digging their way out of neglected front gardens. Peter runs past house after house after house, all identical, all hollow and deserted. Every window black.

[OOC: WARNING for a high probability of blood and disturbing imagery in the threads. If you'd rather not have it come to that, let me know and we can either plot out a different ending, or the dream can end before things get too far.]