The expression used for a situation getting worse is that it snowballs. To snowball, a problem would need to start out minor, then increase in such intensity that it only gets bigger and bigger until it's truly destructive. But once the damage is done, things tend to settle back down. The ruins are left behind you, and all you can do is walk forward.

Can you?

Or are you always looking over your shoulder, back at the havoc you wrought?

The Lombax stumbles amidst a snowy field, struggling to find his footing, with a large, gaping wound in his chest. He's not sure of where the wound even came from, or why, but any time he thought of it, The Praetorian Omniwrench would appear in his hands, caked with dried blood and...

His own fur.

Upon his back, there's a small silver robot, entirely still, and optics completely black. The robot no longer functioned, and if he didn't move forward quickly... well, neither would he.

On his knees now, sluggishly dragging through the wind and the ice, he can only mournfully glance back at a pitiful attempt at a grave marker, adorned by a few scarce flowers that were seconds away from being taken into the storm.

Talwyn Apogee

Researcher, adventurer, and friend

Just because Howard knows he's dreaming doesn't mean he can wake up. He tries, reminds himself, this is a dream, pinches himself in the dark, but he stays where he is, kneeling in someone's backyard at sunset. Dirt up to his elbows, and he's burying human body parts, except they aren't really body parts. They're more like pieces of oversized dolls than anything else, no blood or anything. But definitely flesh. Clean flesh.

He sits back on his heels and starts to dig the dirt from under his fingernails. His hands hurt, his shoulders are tense, and there are still so many pieces left to bury. He can't quite explain why he's doing it, except that there is some oppressive sense of dread if he stops. It's starting to soak in now, so he picks up a disembodied hand and tosses it into the shallow pit.

There are all sorts of things in the pit; alcohol bottles, baby toys, a t-shirt with a spatter of blood down the front. He squints and tries to remember how all these things got here, then figures it's irrelevant and tosses an anklebone in. The sun's setting, and he has to get all of these covered or else he starts over; the strange logic of the dream dictates this.

It's hard work, and seems an unfair task for someone of his meager stature, and in the dream he's exhausted and starving again. His skin hangs away like the sails of a ship. He sits back on the dried, yellow grass and runs dirty hands over his face - he can feel all too clearly the sockets of his eyes.

But there isn't time to waste energy stressing out about what he can't change (the task, the hunger, the fact that he's not yet awake) and so he gets back to digging.

[It's heavy, threatening, loud. The sound of waves chaotically sloshing around the open sea and rebelliously assaulting the tiny, wooden boat. The waves bend the small vessel to their will, and it joins the disarray of the waves as it is tossed and thrown into a directionless whirl. This goes on, the same pattern of waves with all the same sounds and sights.

The captain of this ship, however, stays glued to center of the deck. Despite the chaotic, unruly voyage, the invisible physics of this realm keep her held tightly down with her legs folded up like pretzels. She's cradling a small looking glass that extends to be much longer. Hesitantly, the girls lifts it to her eye, looking out on the thin layer of blue that covers the briny deep. Her examination doesn't last long, but she continues to do it in pendulum with the waves. Everything is a cycle, and it goes on for a long, long time before she breaks out.

Long, baggy white pantlegs scream as they transition into strips of black leather held tightly together by the metal zipper between them. It happens on her entire body, like a snake that shed its skin growing a new coat of ebony.]

There was something...[Her voice is soft and careful. Unsure and worrisome. Like hitting the wrong frequency might cause this whole ship to capsize. She speaks only to herself, vocalizing heavy thoughts and emotion.]

Something that I was doing. And I can't...I was supposed to go back...
That's right. Sora...[Becoming aware of her surroundings, the seas seem to shift at her subconscious whim. The waves settle into a gentle, rhythmic lap against the wooden exterior.]

He wanted to build a raft...Explore the sea and all the worlds. [It was a good wish. One the tide loving Xion could easily share herself. But in the wake of the end of her life, it's a bittersweet sensation to watch these tides glisten in the sun.]

Is this his wish? What's become of me now...? Now that...

[A heavy sigh of realization. Although the presence of anything to realize eludes her. Shde doesn't know where she is, why, or what to do.]

I don't understand.

[The girl is lost at sea.]

[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.]

The twists and turns of the forest are long, secretive, and closed. But in this one small clearing, there is a house made entirely of sweets. Gingerbread forms the walls, adorned with enormous pieces of candy. The pillars and lampposts outside are peppermint, while the bushes grow marshmallows and slices of pie and cake. Even the paving stones of the pathway are rock candy. A river of pure dark chocolate flows lazily alongside the house, hot enough to be molten.

It's clearly a haven for children. In fact, a girl with pink hair and wearing a soft dress sits comfortably amid the wafer candy grass and nibbles at a handful. She looks up and smiles at the newcomer. Something about the smile is a bit too cold for her greeting, but with so much candy nearby, there's plenty to distract from the expression.

"Come over and try some," she invites. "You can eat enough to have a full stomach." This is a rare and precious thing, in a poor kingdom like this one. "Don't worry, I live here with my sister."

(ooc: story can be looked up here. Lethe is working for the witch to lure travelers in return for herself and Mnemosyne not being eaten.)

A little girl lost her father when she was still young. Realizing she also had no godfather, she decided to seek one out for herself. However, who should it be? The Light, she felt, was too careless of the people it should care for; but the Darkness often deceived its followers, too. In the end, she chose Death as her godfather, for Death put no person above another.

Once this was arranged, Death took his goddaughter to a well-known research laboratory. There, he showed her certain compounds and medicines that could cure any illness, no matter how grave. Moreover, whenever she made her rounds at the hospital, Death himself would appear at the beside. If he stood near the head, then she was free to give the patient the medicine and see them recover. But if Death stood by the feet, then the patient was already claimed by him and nothing would suffice. It was their time to go with him.

As Death knew she would, the girl worked diligently and became a very famous doctor, said to be the youngest in the world and praised for being able to tell when a patient would live or die, and for her miraculous cures. One by one, her patients lived, and they showered her with fame and money. For as long as she obeyed her godfather's advice, everything went well for her - for as long as she obeyed her godfather's advice.

And so, the physician walked confidently into the room with her next patient.

(ooc: Taken from Godfather Death. Open to any type of encounter, including cheating Death for close friends/CR.)

❧Once upon a time, there lived a fine and wealthy gentleman. He owned a great house which stood in the center of his extensive lands. Gardens, woods, and lakes, he owned them all. He traveled the world in his own gilded airship, and he was a renowned patron of the arts. Yet in person, his manner was cold and strange, and he had feathers in his hair, which was not the fashion of the day and was deemed decidedly odd. Some whispered that he could even fly like a bird and had the powers of a witch, and so the townspeople were afraid of him. It was well known that witches had no hearts, and to know them was perilous. None of the local girls would consent to marry him; they all stayed far away from him.

However, he was set upon marrying one in particular: the daughter of his neighbor, who he considered the fairest of all in those parts. He paid her court with many great gifts and fine words, and he had her to stay in his house, along with a chaperone. They played games and went riding. He had the finest musicians visit to play for her. He showed her the halls of his home and all its treasures, and above all, he spoke to her sweetly. If he were a witch, he was a very well-spoken one.

At last, she consented to marry him. The two were wed, and their wedding was no small affair. There were glittering lanterns and fresh flowers of every kind, and a feast was laid out upon the tables, and people came from miles around to dine on the splendid meats and sweets, to drink deeply, and to wish Featherhair and his new wife well--though some, in their hearts, were uneasy, for the man's eyes glittered like his lanterns, and there was no warmth in them.

The couple had not been married for more than a month when Featherhair had some business in another kingdom that called him away from home. Before he boarded his airship and departed, like any good husband, he came to speak to his wife and tell her of his going.

"My dear," he said with a smile, "I will be gone for several days. While I am away, you will be the mistress of this house, but first, I have some few instructions that you must follow."


[[OOC: Based on the fairy tale Bluebeard, though it may turn out quite differently. Prose and actionspam replies equally loved.

Whether your character is male or female, feel free to have them play the role of Kuja's "bride"; and replace female pronouns with masculine ones--or not. Or, if you choose, play another role in the story: one of Kuja's servants, someone worried about the bride's safety--or wreck the fairy tale entirely!]]

Once again, Nephrite appears in the Dark Kingdom... but as opposed to the gloomy caverns where he expressed self-loathing, he now has his own glorious room. It's nothing like it was. It's grand and perhaps a little overblown. Granted, it doesn't match the grandness of Beryl's tastes, but it does well enough to reflect his new-found power. The walls are draped in deep red tapestry, designs befitting of a king, and various weaponry and shields displayed proudly alongside them. In the center of a room was a seat that passed well enough as a throne to match Nephrite's ego. He had become the most powerful Shitennou with more power than even Kunzite could dream of.

With a flick of the wrist, he could take out a wall if he wanted.

But he didn't want to. He had gotten everything he wanted: power, respect, Beryl's favor. The price, he thought, was too much. Even for him. Now it only was just him. Him and Beryl-sama. The others were gone. Human. Powerless. No longer in the Dark Kingdom. He thought it would be satisfying, but instead, he's lonely. ...And Beryl's constant presence grates on his nerves. Having her favor is more a burden than it is a blessing, but he doesn't want to admit that. That would mean being wrong this whole time.

But there he sits, on his deep red chair with his chin on his fist, looking miserable. Again.