Who: Everyone! Open to All
What: Holiday Mingle Log
When: the holiday season
Where: Locations in comments, or add your own.

Tonight, dreams take the form of the winter holidays. Everything is imagined in grand scale, from a winter wonderlandscape to a glorious feast, to gifts under the tree and the inevitable mistletoe. All of everyone's favorite things have made their way into the dreams. And it feels so vivid and real.

(ooc: This is a post to keep threads together for winter holiday antics. Separate posts are also fine, and this one is optional. Feel free to use the location subthreads as prompts, or to add something entirely different. These include hints of the dreams crossing into waking life; those are small and entirely optional as well.)

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

[This certainly is unexpected. While the Lombax's roaming dreams had been quiet for quite some time, the scene begins to play out nonetheless, taking place aboard a dark cell, echoing all around its steel walls with the sound of lapping waves.

The ground itself shifts as well, unsteady and inconsistent, and a look at your cell-mate would show the little alien critter in... an unfamiliar attire.

And was that the sound of... pirates, just outside the door? Though they sound more mechanical somehow, chortling and clanging and peering in with glowing golden eyes from time to time to inspect their prisoners with smug faces and loud, roudy laughter. Ratchet himself seems unfazed by this, sitting upon a makeshift bed and eyeing the drunken disruptors with a sly expression.]

Just keep your head down and follow my lead.

[Slipping off the bed, he reaches for his wrench.]

Everything's going exactly as planned.

As to be expected with an alien species, you dream into a world of planets and stars, situated in the seat of a futuristic ship. You're drifting through space, gentle music over the radio, and all seems calm.

Turn to your right? There's a familiar Lombax at the helm.

He seems just a little distracted, maybe even trying to bite back some shock, but there's a smile on his face. He's happy to have your company, after such a terrible tragedy. He's happy to still be alive, for the universe to still be in one piece.

But he is really?

You be the judge.

"So," He says finally, turning to his passenger. "You like music?"

[ooc: post music in the subject lines! Anything you'd like! It *is* a dream, after all. ;)]

So... things look pretty bad here.

Okay, 'bad' was an understatement. Have you ever dealt with a maniacal space parasite bent on destroying all life and bending the universe to his will? Have you dealt with said parasite commandeering a deathmachine?

Have you dealt with said parasite suddenly boosted up by the power of one's deepest, darkest fears, limbs twisting in various directions and voice even more broken and distorted than what it usually was?

Probably not.

He's barely able to block a quick, metallic blow from the creature, skidding back a few feet and already looking worse for wear. Without the backup of his friend, without Clank...

No. He could do this.

Awwww, what's the matter, Lombax? I expected more of a fight.

Another metallic clang, followed by a squealing, sinister laugh.

But then again, I hadn't pegged your species as fighters to begin with! EHAHAHAHA.

The Lombax swiftly dodges an influx of missiles, somehow much faster, and far more deadly than he remembered. A few exploded just inches away, knocking the catlike alien momentarily off his feet.

Using this to his advantage, one of Tachyon's elongated claws spin out, wrapping around the Lombax's leg and attempting to drag him through yet another wormhole.

Come, Lombax. I'll show you true oblivion!

It's been a few years now. Maybe he hasn't slept for awhile, or maybe his dreams have become that opaque.

Either way, the portal to his mind has opened once more, and there is the sight of a slightly-taller Lombax standing in the center of a great city that... has certainly seen better days in its prime. Something other than the local flora leveled this city allowing it to overrun the massive buildings and apparent years of research. The text upon books and certain signs is far from human, detailing very specific weapons and projects. It's nighttime now, and not a single other living being could be found.

...why? Surely such an intelligent race would not simply abandon such important work, right?

Something about this world sparks a familiar sensation in his heart. Its structure, a faint blur of the people who once resided here... but why? He's never been here before. Why would he be having these kinds of memories? He would simply turn, to question his robotic companion about the matter - Clank was, once more, nowhere to be seen.

So he sits alone, under the structural planetarium, gazing past the crafted steel and wires into the real thing beyond. He'd been brought here, and he could feel something within his subconscious telling him to stay.

He could never quell that curiosity of his.

It's a colorful scene. The young ladies wear furisode, the young men wear suits or, for the more traditional, hakama. They mill about, many of the girls exclaiming over each other's hair and robes. Couples have quiet conversations off to the side, sometimes teased by their friends. All of them look their finest, and there's a sense of excitement in the air.

Though a public official, the man chosen to head the coming-of-age-ceremony looks young himself, barely an adult, with blond hair and youthful features. Once the ceremony begins in earnest, his speech is all about growth and renewal: in the environment, in the job market, in the future. A few listen intently, a few look bored, or just eager for the promise of what comes next.

As soon as the ceremony is over, the bright chatter begins again, with high spirits among the new adults as they talk about their plans to go drinking tonight, and when they plan to get their driver's license. A group of girls cluster around Ami, gushing over her looks and chirping for her attention, just as she's always wanted. She responds to them with a careless ease she's never possessed naturally, and though they melt away like the sham they are when someone else approaches, her smile is real.

(ooc: anything goes! feel free to threadjack to hang out with others as well, and feel free to move away from the main part of the dream to do something else to celebrate, or include other rite-of-passage type ideas!)

[While everyone else is having typical, family-oriented dreams, you may notice this one in particular to be... a little unusual. First of all, Ratchet isn't quite Ratchet today.

First off, he's naked.

Second, he's not grinding away at one of his typical projects.

If anyone were to approach this creature out in the grassy field, they may find him lounging about - whether he's scratching at his ears, grooming himself, or just darting around trying to catch even more odd creatures roaming the wilderness. He might even have one in his mouth!

Oh, but don't piss off the little blue guys, either. Word to the wise.]

Autopilot was a wonderful invention when one travels for days on end, because he certainly needed the rest. Sleep came quickly to one certain Lombax, and the enviroment around him changes drastically.

Except now he's not sleeping. Under the crimson sky of the Kyzil Plateau, the cat-like alien is hard at work on something spread out in front of his garage, tail swishing happily as he's lost in the project. But then he pauses, puzzled by something, and the Lombax crawls back out, glancing about.

"Huh."

He hops off, scratching the back of his head before walking around to the back of the ship.

"Hey Clank? Did I leave the turbo back here?"

Except the little robot wasn't there. In fact, for all sakes and purposes, he was alone in the desert wasteland.

"--did I leave you back here? Clank? ...Clank?"

The only response he would recieve is the shuffling of someone else, drawing nearer.

"Hey! Who's that?"