towerofanimus | DREAM A LITTLE DREAM WITH ME

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM WITH ME

Characters: all the characters involved in the Dream Event
Setting: various dreams, various locations
Format: any
Summary: Xehanort draws a large amount of the tower into worlds constructed from their dreams in an attempt to learn about everyone en masse
Warnings: ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING

[Tendrils of magic wound their way around, lines of energy flickered into existence, forming a large shape on the ground around where Xehanort sat with his back straight and legs tucked neatly beneath him. Perfect. It was a bigger scale than the one he'd done but a month before, already he could feel the flickers of connection, the shape getting brighter and more defined.

More participants. More mental drag. There was little to worry about. With Xigbar on guard duty, his sleeping body would be quite safe. No, it was time to dream... and see just who would follow.

Darkness shrouded his hand, keyblade flaring into life, and he gripped the handle in both hands, aiming it at the ground, at the keyhole defined by criss-crossing darkness responding, resonating...

drowsiness laced through him, the blade in his hands sagging downward until the tip touched the ground, his posture slacking, head and shoulders slumping slightly

in slumber, the dreams of others awaited

the Master was asleep.]

OOC NOTE BECAUSE I CAN'T EDIT THE POST IT'S ON ANYMORE AND NOT REDOING ALL OF THAT: Dreamers should post to their REAL WORLD thread explaining where their character is, if they made it to a bed or if they're on the floor somewhere or wherever.

If you have questions for me, put them in your base character thread!

If I missed you somehow, let me know and I'll add you to the appropriate section!

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[A marketplace. A very, very old marketplace. Old-fashioned buildings, cobblestone roads, carts with all sorts of wares set up along the sides of the streets. The people, too, are dressed in a very old-fashioned way.

And there are... certainly a lot of people here. A huge mass of townspeople, heading towards what could only be assumed to be the center of the town. Why? It's... not immediately obvious, but there's a strange setup right in the middle of the town square. Wood and straw, piled high around a large stake.

What's all this, then...?]

[She's wandering down the streets, frowning as something niggles at the back of her mind, a half-forgotten ~~buried~~ memory. Without her realising, her modern clothes have transformed to the sky blue and gold-brocade dress of her youth, stilettos lowering and changing into her slippers.

Dread grows in her stomach as she follows the townspeople and the blood drains from her face when she sees the stake.]

... Dieu, non-

[Her fears are confirmed when the sound of a horse-drawn cart breaks through the din of the gathered townspeople. The crowd shifts, backing up to allow the cart passage, and that's when the first glimpses of the person inside could be seen.

Her time in prison had not favored her, judging by how thin she had become. But Jeanne d'Arc, even in her final minutes, still held herself with as much dignity as she could, keeping her head up even as the harsh mutterings of the crowd began to reach her ears.

This is a dream that she's had far, far too often. She had fought desperately the first few times, not wanting to relive this one horrible, painful moment. But it was no use. She knew she'd wake up before she could truly die, so it was simply a matter of time...]

[She's regressing into her childhood and she doesn't even realize it, her body shrinking as she becomes younger, not much older than 15 in appearance as she fights her way through the mob.

Not even thinking of the consequences, she struggles to reach the cart, small hands clawing for the captured woman, and she screams desperately:]

Jeanne! Pour l'amour de Dieu, non-! Jeanne!

[That's... new. Oh, she had heard people cry out to her before, but that was always... later. After the fire had been set, when the heat was rising to uncomfortable levels and she had to focus on something other than that...

She turns, and it doesn't take long to notice the woman-turned-girl, what with how desperately she was trying to make her way through the crowd. In the vague corners of her mind - the part of her mind that hasn't completely gone back to 1431 - she feels a hint of familiarity, and a look of surprise crosses her face. That couldn't be, could it? No...]

Ah...

[No luck getting any words out. One of the guards that had been marching alongside the cart steps in front of her, pushing the crowd back even further, blocking her view of the girl.]

Edited 2012-08-03 17:01 (UTC)

[She's shoved aside by the restless crowd and she struggles harder, ducking and weaving and pushing through to reach Jeanne. It's the same as back then, except back then she'd been so weak after war that she couldn't even scream as she tried to reach Jeanne before she was killed.

She's screaming now because if there's even the slightest chance of her rewriting history, of saving Jeanne, she's going to take it.]

Arthur! Anglettere you cowardly bastard I know you're here! Stop this madness now- Arrêter! Release her!

[Several of the guards are beginning to look unnerved by the hysterical woman. One actually reaches for his sword, but another - the one currently standing in France's way - shakes his head.]

Get back!

[The front rows of the crowd do as commanded, pushing back and causing further resistance to France's attempts to break through. With enough room now, two guards reach into the cart, dragging Jeanne out by her arms. She actually stumbles; in her first life and in every replay of this memory in her dreams, she had been able to keep her footing, keeping up her dignified poise.

But that girl - that strange yet familiar girl who was trying so desperately to push through the crowd - was throwing all of that off. Jeanne stands stock-still for a moment, just... watching.]

Who--

[She couldn't stop herself from trying to call out, but at that moment, one of the soldiers placed a firm hand on her back, pushing her away, towards the stake...]

[She's knocked back by the crowd, but she refuses to let it stop her. Using her small build, she darts through until she's in the front row of people, staring with horror as Jeanne is taken towards the stake. Without thinking, she shoves against the guard in her way, taking his sword with practised ease and holds it to his neck, snarling viciously and looking for an instant like some wild creature in human skin.]

Move if you value your worthless life!

[In an instant, several guards draw their swords. Even the one leading Jeanne to the stake halts and brandishes his weapon, though he does not move away from the prisoner. The others close in...]

Stop this!

[... but it's not the voice of any of the soldiers. It's Jeanne, the one that France is trying to save... telling her to stand down.]

Please, you must stop.

[France glares at her enemies - because that's what they've become - and bares her teeth at them, barely registering Jeanne's voice.]

I won't! I won't watch you die, not this time!

[She forces the guard she's threatening to step backwards, blade tip digging against his skin so that he has to move or impale himself.]

[Ah, so it's... yes. It's her. One of the spirits of her country. France herself is fighting to save her, a far cry from how the events up to and including her death played out in her first life.

Is this... hesitation? Regret? No. She fought to her very last ounce of strength, and was captured even as she pushed herself beyond those limits, all for her country. There was no way she'd regret the actions that led her to this place.

But watching France fight... it definitely stirred something in her. The cry that had haunted her soul the first time, a cry for someone, anyone, to come help her.

But it shouldn't be like this.]

You cannot change the course of history! This is my fate... and I have accepted it. Please, stand down!

[She's surprised that she's even been allowed to talk this long. But not a moment after the thought crosses her mind, the guards snap into action. The one behind her shoves her forward, towards the unlit pyre, and the one France is currently threatening manages to smack the blade away with his armor-clad arm, at the same time lashing out at her with the opposite fist.]

Never!

[She doesn't even flinch when the guard lashed out at her, for once disregarding her needs to behave like a human and letting her strength uncoil from inside. Had she been a real, human girl, that blow would have undoubtedly knocked her clean off her feet and unconscious. As herself, the fist might as well have been made of feathers.

As Jeanne's moved even closer to the stake, she snaps, eyes blazing with pure hatred for these men around her. She strikes the guard with the sword across his chest-plate, leaving a deep dent in the armour before kicking him hard enough to knock him down into the dirt.

She bares her teeth at the guards around her, looking ready to tear their throats out as she moves closer to the pyre, sword held at the ready. Ridiculous, that even though she hadn't wielded one for a century, the blade, almost as big as her young self, feels like a natural extension of her arm.

Perhaps it was her mothering instinct that brought out the worst in her.]

I shall not leave my child to the mercy of you wretches!

[The thing about dreaming about memories, at least in this strange spell-induced situation... no matter how hard you try, you can't do a thing to stop the events from playing out. It's as Jeanne said; it's pointless, trying to change the course of history.

One guard went down, but more swarmed around France, grabbing her and holding her back. Strangely enough, they seem to be able to match her strength... and more are coming to aid in restraining her. It takes over half the squad, but they manage.

And the townspeople? The townspeople lent no hands in aiding the woman. Most of them were in support of Jeanne's persecutors. Those that weren't, of course, were too fearful to speak out.

And Jeanne... Jeanne is actually struggling a bit. The guard leading her is almost to the top of the pyre, but she's still turned back towards the commotion, pushing so that she might get even a few more moments before the inevitable happens...]

I beg of you, please stop! [There... there are tears in her eyes now. This has all become too emotional for her, and no matter how hard she fights, she can't hid those tears.] Please... I do not wish to see you punished for this!

Cowards!

[She's screaming at the top of her lungs, struggling even though it's pointless.]

She's worth more than all of you combined-! A thousand deaths would not be enough for you!

[Tears are streaming down her cheeks even as she continues to curse the men restraining her, snapping her teeth at their throats when she can't move her hands or legs.]

She's mine and you can't have her! You can't have my child!

[Jeanne is shaking. It hurts, listening to France's cries. But... but at the same time...

She manages to smile. Even as the frightened soldier binds her arms to the stake, she meets France's eyes, trying to convey as much reassurance in her gaze as possible.]

Thank you, Francisca. [It seems silly, not just calling her France. But there's no point agitating the people surrounding her by giving them a reason to call her insane.] It will be all right, really! I am... happy.

[France's pain hurts her as well, but at the same time... it puts a part of her that had been nagging at her for a long, long time at ease. If the personification of her country is this devastated by her death... then that means it must be the same for her countrymen, right? She wasn't truly abandoned, there were still many, many people that would have fought against this...]

So... please, do not shed any more tears for me.

[It's... amazing, how her voice - calm and no longer shaking - can carry over the surrounding noise.]

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DREAM A LITTLE DREAM WITH ME

Dream 6

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