station72 | [open] you were tearing up everything

Entry tags:

[open] you were tearing up everything

CHARACTERS: Lexa!
WHERE: Lexa's mind, various splaces in the Station.
WHEN: After the fight with Ilde (whatever day that is) to before the next mission
SUMMARY: Dream-melding and the aftermath of that. Please see note at the bottom!
WARNINGS: Lexa comes from a society that I like to describe as "fond of the language of violence," so that is likely to come up in some of these threads. That said, without explicit provocation, she won't harm anyone while ... awake ...

dreams that bleed

[In the hours (and therefore days) that follow Lexa's altercation with Ilde, she finds herself weakened. Part of it is the call upon her power, as she still hesitates to do it even when training. Part of it is that Ilde had managed to exaggerate and emphasize her fears; she had found sore spots that were mere bruises and managed to dig her nails into them, turning her mind into a weakened place. She will pull it together. She will—but she hasn't yet.

After all, she is weakened. For as much as she's been trained to not rely upon others, she had begun to do just that before she arrived in the Station months ago. Now, she can feel the missing parts, and as much as the sensation irritates Lexa in her waking hours, it takes hold when she's less aware of what she's managing. It's then that she reaches out without realizing it.

a: for acquaintances For these individuals who might feel a sleeping Lexa brush over their minds, they will bear witness to a forest. As much as Lexa has mentioned an apocalyptic world, what they'll see isn't ... immediately that. There are tall trees and little signs of civilization. If anything, it looks like a world untouched by ruin. That is, until a spear comes out of nowhere, either slicing into the body of the "visiting" host—or coming very close to doing just that.

b: for students, and those who may hesitate to call themselves friends These individuals will find themselves as ones among many, perhaps even younger than they should be, sitting in rows upon rows of individuals in light armor. In the front, Lexa sits on a throne, dressed casually, with a warm smile upon her face. She asks: "What are the three pillars of being a Commander?" The answer (wisdom, compassion, and strength) may or may not be within reach.

c: for those she is closest with These few will find themselves in a room that contradicts itself, as it's a blend of her quarters in The Bearings (in an apartment building, and her room was altered to look like there were trees along the walls), her recreation room in Polis (where she has a large couch and coffee table procured from homes long forgotten; on the table sits a sketch book with a drawing of Lexa sleeping), and beneath the greenery on the walls, there's a metallic, stark-white appearance, not unlike the interior of the Station. Lexa rests on the couch sleeping.

Whichever path someone ends up on, two minds cannot meet without briefly becoming one. Things will change, as they do.

Few are able to control their dreams at will.]

the waking hours

[Some may not stay within Lexa's dreams for long, but still might be caught with a memory of it resurfacing during the day. Lexa is available at her usual haunts: the recreation room, where she sits silently; the training center, where she trains, trying to block out the minds and sounds around her; the library, where she goes to find a more organized collection.

She may even be passing some of her books from Concordia over, left for the next people to find. After all, she's finished them.

Just the same, Lexa is the type of person who will notice another in a room with her, and with proper provocation, she'll greet them. Thankfully, she doesn't need much to make it "proper."]

finding control

[Made aware of her shared dreams or not, Lexa will be aware of one thing: while her mental blocks grew in strength in Concordia, her ability to keep them fortified has weakened with the last sleeping broodmate. She supposes that she's only fortunate that she can manage it at all after her altercation with Kylo Ren. A weaker person might have given up then. She refuses to be weaker.

(Or weaker than she is.)

Just as she has haunts to read or observe, she takes up similar spots during high traffic hours in order to try to block out the surrounding and stirring minds via meditation. It will be difficult, but it will be obvious that this is a rather public training session.

Lexa hopes (or thinks) that her willingness to sit cross-legged in silence will be a show of strength. Still, she is expecting to be disturbed, and ... will likely allow it. Again, it doesn't take much to provoke a response from her, especially if she's meaning to find one in return.

(And to some degree: she is. Lexa doesn't meditate in public to do anything but draw some attention.)

[OOC: Hello! So, this is an experimental post on my part to play with dream bleeding. The first section is meant to play with minds sleeping and colliding, and maybe inserting some stuff into our characters' subconscious that doesn't belong there. This isn't meant to be a dreamscape thread where one person experiences another person's dream, but rather a dreammelding. I'm not sure if it'll work out!

Which is why there are options two and three! Option two is so that people can briefly have their character experience the bleeding of her dreams and maybe handle it when they're awake. Option three can also take the first two in mind and someone can go, wow, she's trying to fortify her mental walls because they sure are banged up! Or whatever. You can also ignore ignore the first two prompts and jump to the third. I'm down for whatever.

I'm also open to wildcard options and you can reply with prose or the brackety action text. I just wanted to try this! And if you have any questions, feel free to PM me.]

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[ Katie has a terrible sleep schedule. She tends to stay up too late and wake up too early, but she does sleep. And when she sleeps, she dreams. She usually doesn't remember them very clearly. Nor is she much of a lucid dreamer. Tonight, however, she's having one that she's had before. She's walking down a long corridor, darkened and lit by dim, purple lights, and ahead of her, just rounding a corner is a familiar figure: her brother. A young man with glasses, a bit taller than her, wearing a spacesuit.

She hurries after him and turns the corner -- and she's in a forest. For a moment, Katie is confused, brow furrowed as her dreamself glances back the way she came. ]

Matt-?

[ That's when a spear comes ripping out of the undergrowth and she just dodges it, flattening herself against a tree. She feels like she's moving too slowly, as one does in dreams, as if weighed down. ]

Matt! Where are you?

[ There's movement in the trees. Where does she go from here? ]

[ OOC: Let me know if that works OK! ]

[OOC: Works great, and I'm familiar with Voltron, so if you don't mind, I can play with some of the Matt imagery, too! LMK if I need to change it.]

[Once, there were kids not unlike Pidge or Matt who rushed through the woods—her woods, her people's woods—unaware of the consequences. But the scouts are there for a reason. The land may seem open, but there are sectors, territories to separate people.

In the distance, there is a taller blur of familiar hair, and a panting that could only belong to Matt. His back is to Pidge, and right behind him, there are two people dressed all in black, tattooed on their arms, with swords in their hands.

The idea is to run him off and to keep him running—as if the traps, the spears, the everything, aren't enough.]

[ OOC: Sounds great! ]

[ Pidge's heart skips a beat. He's here, he's close, she's almost found him again. She forgets about the spear. It's not important, not here, not now, and she throws herself forward through the undergrowth. She's usually so much faster than this, but it feels as if every vine and bush in the forest is trying to slow her down. Her voice rises in a scream. ]

Matt! Get away from him-!

[ She doesn't have any weapons. There's just her. That doesn't stop her from giving chase, intent on fighting them off with her bare hands if she has to. ]

[The distance between Pidge and her brother continues, seemingly endless, like the rows of trees will go on for days. There are no signs of life between her, her brother, and the men attacking him—right until Lexa herself (younger, in this incarnation, hair shorter and armor heavier than anything she wears around the Station when she thinks she might need to train) drops down from a tree behind Pidge to drag her close, to hold a knife to her throat—]

Em gonplei ste odon. [The hiss of words is just outside of understanding, at least at first.

But the meaning is clear soon enough, as both men take down Matt, driving him through with blades, and as they turn back, they seem to change, shifting from that of men from Lexa's clan, to Galra warriors, dressed in the typical garb for their soldiers. Dreams never happen sequentially or logically, so the transition is nearly instantaneous, as if they were Galra all along.]

Hey-! [ Pidge's first reaction when she's grabbed is to thrash, to try and throw her attacker off. at least until there's a very sharp blade pointed at her throat. She goes still, pupils dilated and staring, chest heaving as she watches. A tremor runs through her as she watches the two men cut her brother down and a sound rolls out of her - something despairing and sad and broken. Lexa can probably feel the emotion, too. A stab of fear and hurt and despair. ]

No-! Why did you do that? Why-? Let me go-!

[ She has to get to him. She has to see if he's OK, she has to hurt them, because they took her brother from her. She's suddenly in her armor and her bayard is in her hand. Was it always there? She lashes out, trying to force Lexa off of her. ]

[The Galra continue to approach.]

They are not my people. [The words are unnecessary, in part because Lexa has been knocked back against a tree from the lashing out. She has no desire to stop Pidge, even if her mind tries to meld understanding of why these purple aliens are here. Why are they here? Why are they approaching? Nothing seems to answer her, and she doesn't cling to the necessity of the answer.

And then the Galra double in their numbers: two become four, then four become eight.

Lexa steadies herself, extending a hand to her side, still holding a blade, but then the blade itself bursts forward with a flame. (Is the flame within her? Her brain registers this, and then accepts it as a part of her.)]

But as I said—his fight is over. Can't you tell? He's dead. Soon, you will be too.

He's not dead! [ Katie spits the words out, but she can taste the lie she's telling herself. His crumpled body is just beyond the semi-circle of Galra. Pathetic and limp without a single sign of life. An empty house. She can feel her anger starting to burn. It's a consuming, overwhelming feeling.

They took him from her. They shattered her family.

The sword bursts into flame next to her and she spares it a glance. It seems to echo the anger, burning white hot. She feels as if she's lit up from the inside, purified and hollowed out until there's nothing left but the sharp point that she needs to do what comes next. ]

I'm not going to die here-!

[ Katie launches herself. She's small. She's not a fighter like Keith or Shiro, but she's quick and she has a weapon that will change itself for her. A crackling, glowing whip shots out, bayard responding to her anger and desperation and it wraps itself around one of the galra.

It sinks through it like a hot knife through butter. That's not what it's supposed to do, but it does anyway, flesh and armor sliding apart and collapsing in on itself.

For some reason Katie isn't surprised. ]

[Lexa passes the blade from one hand to another, fire seeming to lick down the handle as if it's nothing. Some distant part of her mentally chastises Pidge's anger, but the words don't come. Here, anger is to be expected. Here, there are invaders in the woods who don't belong, warriors that are inhuman, who think that they can kill their enemies as if they have any right—

Logic and reason run together.

Pidge's anger lights a fire inside of Lexa. She rushes forward, slicing through the first Galra she sees, and then another, and another—and it's only after they fall that these Galra suddenly look like her men again, dressed in black with heavy eye paint and gaze staring forward in shock after dying at the hand of their Commander.

That doesn't keep her from fighting, though. Her mind still registers them as an enemy to kill, feeding into a temper that she tries to keep hidden away.]

[ Katie's not paying much attention at this point. She's just venting her anger, her hatred, her frustration, her sorrow, into her fighting. She's attacking with a reckless sort of abandon that she's never used in reality and there's something liberating about it in this context, even as her brother's killers morph from Galra to humans in black. She still cuts them down, weaving through them with a clumsy sort of grace.

Until one of them catches her with a blade and everything seems to slow down as she falls back against a tree. There's no pain, but there is a glinting metal blade, handle dull and leather wrapped, sticking out of the gleaming white of her armor.

Pidge stares at it, confused. ]

[If Pidge moves her hand to her stomach, she'll find that the blood that comes off on her hand isn't red in nature but black, not unlike the same black blood that blooms from the wounds of her current comrade. Lexa doesn't turn right away, but she does when the fight appears to end, appears to hit a pause, almost like it had never been there from the start.

Then she turns, eyes observing Pidge (Katie), but mind blurring the role of Katie and Matt and all of that with another, the black blood only sealing the deal.]

Do you think you deserve this? After what you did to him.

[ The pain starts then. A rolling swell, that starts as an ache and starts to sharpen to something acute and cold. Pidge gasps aloud, feeling cold sweat start to bead underneath her helmet.

That's not right. Her blood should be red. Why is it black? Katie glances up at Lexa, expression confused, as she tries to make sense of it. Oddly, she's more concerned about the color than she is anything else. Even the pain seems to recede in the face of that strange fact. ]

I didn't do anything to him! They killed him!

[ She spits a retort. ]

And - and this is wrong, my blood should be red.

[ The blood in question doesn't flow like it should either. It's thick and viscous and it isn't even properly oozing so much as just moving as things do in dreams - in jumps and starts. ]

Blood can be what you make of it. Are you worthy of being a Nightblood? Your brother wasn't. It's why he died, why you couldn't save him. [To Lexa, the logic makes sense, her mind melding together details that science is unable to answer. It's how her people have functioned, and the pressure of the dream wants to solidify her logic to make it all stand.

Even if Pidge isn't someone she fought en route to becoming Commander.

Even if the fight would have never happened in a place like this.

That barely matters.]

I'm more than worthy!

[ There's a flare of anger and rage and determination and it propels Katie back upright. The wound doesn't seem to bother her, but it's still there, soaking her armor with blood, staining the ground beneath her with more blood then should be possible. It's a spreading pool under her feet, swallowing the earth. ]

You don't get to tell me that I can't save him! That I failed when I haven't even had a chance!

[Blood is blood. Lexa's mind registers it as if it's normal. That's the nature of a dream.]

If you were strong enough, you could have stopped it from happening in the first place. You would have been at his side already. Distance would mean nothing to you.

Shut up!

[ Pidge launches herself at Lexa. It's all slow, as if she's moving through water rather than air. She's angry and hurting and not all of it is aimed at LExa What if she's right? Katie wasn't good enough. She couldn't get there. She couldn't save him. Matt's dead and it's her fault. ]

I'm only saying what I think you believe. I am nothing to you.

["Think." There is uncertainty, room for it to not matter. Lexa finds herself standing tall, but there's a shakiness to her composure, like she's also in water at the moment. Her feet won't hold firm if she's knocked over, that's for sure.]

[ Katie barrels into her. Although "barreled" is a relative term with how she feels like she's merely floating through the air. They go down in a tangle of limbs and Katie tries to strike her, anger flashing hot. ]

I'm going to find him! I will!

[ She doesn't believe that anymore, though. Her hope at being able to find him is fading and she hates herself a little for it. ]

[And down she goes, the ground itself seeming to be like quicksand at the same time—only the "sand" is the viscous blood, now seeming to envelop the world around them. It's no longer really blood anymore, as it begins to taint what's there, swallowing what remains of the greenery whole.

Lexa doesn't fight in these final moments, but her only thought is projected by mind.

Somehow, even if it shouldn't happen:]

( Prove it. )

( Who do you think you are? )

[ Katie opens her mouth to "scream" a reply and instead she finds herself sitting bolt upright in her bunk in a cold sweat, breathing heavy.

The dream is already fading. She's just left with an intense mixture of tension, fear, and cooling anger. ]

[The spear slices through the air past Murphy, and lands with a horrifyingly wet and final sound in the chest of Jasper Jordan.]

Help me get him down!

[He shouts as he moves, no thought in following steps already set down in memory. The tree Jasper's tied to looms in the space that hadn't been there, moments before. The trap in the ground beneath it yawns, covering already broken by Clarke's weight, the spikes at the bottom glinting wet like teeth in the bright sunshine. Clarke and Bellamy stand the edge, motionless like spectres as they watch, as Murphy clambers up one side of the tree, knife already drawn to start sawing through the rope.]

[Lexa does not register why she is here, or why the spear has sliced into the boy. All she feels is the horror rushing through her stomach from the unfamiliarity of what's happened. Why did this happen? Why is she here? Her clothes aren't that unlike Murphy's or Clarke's or Bellamy's: she wears the hand me downs of the Ark citizens, and feels like them, too.

(Her brain feels slightly detached, but in dreams, it's hard to put a finger on why.)

She moves swiftly around the trap to begin to help Murphy.]

There may be more that's coming, [she says.] They may want to stop all of us here.

They can try.

[He responds immediately, with all the vicious arrogance he hasn't yet had bled out of him. Adrenaline at the prospect of violence is intoxicating, but something rings untrue, rings wrong, cries caution.]

We can get him back to the drop ship. [Assurance: to himself, or to her? A certainty strung through underneath, can because they do.] It's not that far.

[His knife saws through the ropes quicker than it should, Jasper's weight slumping forward.]

I hope you don't think your knife will be enough to stop them. [Just as Lexa might be in reality, a girl who's grown up on the Ark wouldn't be so different from Wells or Clarke: privileged and arrogant, and definitely willing to call out those who have no place to be.]

Still, you should give it to me. You're better suited to bringing him back.

[Jasper's weight already propped up against his shoulder, he pauses. Cracks a smile that's slow, sharp, cruel. Her tone's familiar, and it's a familiarity that definitely breeds contempt, evident in his eyes as he looks at her.]

Sure. My knife.

[Or Bellamy's gun, the idea of his and Clarke's presence still somewhere behind them. He flips the knife around his fingers, holds the so-called handle out to her. His initials, scratched into the inside, are clearer than maybe they should be.]

Careful. [Don't cut yourself is what would go next, but instead his smile just twists again. He doesn't care if she hurts herself.] I want it back.

[Her handle on the knife, even if it's makeshift in its design, is too good, too proper, for a girl who's grown up on the Ark with little reason to know how to fight. Her fingers slide around it as she draws it close, and she motions her head in the direction that they'll be moving.]

I'll walk beside you. You carry and I'll keep an eye out. [The strategy comes quickly to her. Her mind tells her that this is a war, and reason doesn't fill in the blanks to tell her that she doesn't think it should be one, not if she's a part of the Sky People.]

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[open] you were tearing up everything

dreams that bleed

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no worries friend i use the names pretty interchangeably.

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dreams that bleed: a

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