lostcarnival | ⇨ THE REALM OF DREAMS

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⇨ THE REALM OF DREAMS

Who: EVERYONE!
When: S1:D8 - S1:D18
Where: Visiting the Realm of Dreams.
What: The carnival arrives at a new location and has its first performance week with the new cast, as outlined here. This is a general mingling log for convenience purposes, but players are welcome to make as many other logs for this purpose as desired.
Warnings: Could be a lot of things, around these parts.

THE REALM OF DREAMS↴

As the carnival arrives at its first stop since its recruitment phase, and prepares to put its new band of workers to the test. In the meantime, there is a whole new world of dreams and nightmares to be explored, and threats to be faced on carnival turf. As of S1:D11, the carnival will be opening its doors to the creatures within, and the carnival will be open daily from noon to midnight, though the connection to the realm will be constant.

This is an all purpose mingle log for the full duration of the stay, so please mark top levels with some estimate of what days they'll be occurring on. Please bring any mod questions to the original plotting post.

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[ At which point, someone intervenes. He's tall enough to give the dream's crowd much more trouble to simply push around, with a forbidding air about him that lends some aid to bending the dream to go around him rather than into or even over. It's that advantage that he leverages when striding straight through the group of lawyers and scattering them even as they make their complaints towards his rudeness.

In the waking world, Childermass would not have cared one lick over upsetting such stuffy men. In a dream, this remains as true as ever and he keeps his attention to them on a backburner. They might become something slightly more worrisome later, for all he knows, but for now he'll settle on addressing Alois. ]

You are going the wrong way. [ He says as much sternly, though not to scold. Just to be taken seriously. ] It is only worse at the center of this dream.

[ Beyond that, he'll simply hold his ground. He's no proper replacement for a butler, even his former master would be forced to agree, but he is a fair enough as a shield for the moment. ]

[Right now, in the spike of his panic, Alois is needy (even more than usual) and terrified of isolation (also on an even greater plane), so he would take even a scolding. But instead he gets just the straightforward frank and stern, and he tries to swallow his heart back down, willing it to recede from his throat, even from his chest, hoping to sequester it away.

He has known this sternness before; he has known a voice which is commanding without actually telling him what to do. So once the stuffy men scatter, Alois stares up at the face of his savior (and he's quite serious about that word), almost expecting to see a too-perfect face, crafted by the neediness of a child. (Claude Faustus knew what Alois wanted him to look like even before Alois did.)

So, Childermass' actual face, not the frigid marble of Alois' butler, is kind of a disappointment. But Alois learned a long time ago that you've sometimes got to take what you can get.

Alois immediately attaches himself to one of Childermass' arms like a child much younger than fifteen. He's never so earnest and open as he is when he is frightened, and he's quite entitled besides, so he's not going to feel ashamed of this clingy action until later.] Do you know which way to go? [he asks, desperate, breathless.] Do you? Oh, take me the right way, how can it be even worse than this! Take me the right way.

[ Some faces are meant for crushing hopes and dreams and it just so happens Childermass has one of those, alas. It's to some advantage here, however, as the dream people seem to play by the same rules of avoiding someone so grim. ]

I know which way not to go, which is all we need.

[ Which is a roundabout way of saying, no, not really, but it's definitely not back the way he's just come from. In any case, he's not about to move on with Alois clinging like that. He may still be a child, sure, but he's not quite young enough to get away with that, and that means Childermass takes a moment to try and shake his arm free of the boy.

If he can manage that, he'll instead reverse the role here and grab Alois by a shoulder, to, first, keep from losing him in the ever growing mass of tall, imposing people, and, second, it's just easier to navigate this way. Someone weight down his arm is less useful than steering that someone this way or that.

If he can't... Well, it's annoying, but there's only so much time to waste on that. ]

This is not a good dream, so we must be on our way and quickly.

[Childermass is successful in prying Alois off his arm, if only because Alois is so focused on trying not to literally hiccup in fear that his strength is kind of lacking. Still, once he is off Childermass' arm, Alois nearly starts crying immediately. It's only the contact to Alois' shoulder, something he perceives as comfort and at least an edge of security, that keeps Childermass from having to deal with actual tears.

For someone who is otherwise opinionated and aggressive, Alois is quite good at allowing himself to be steered around. He's pliant and kind of dizzy. All he can do is have a frantic faith that Childermass is a knowledgeable man who can lead Alois to safety. But he can't resist being angry, even as dazed as he is:] Obviously it's fucking ghastly. [There's no acid, just muted bewilderment.]

You misunderstand. [ Childermass replies, calm as ever, which is in stark contrast with what he says next. ] There are nightmares here with us.

[ Nightmares, plural.

He had actually considered not mentioning those at all to Alois, considering how scared the lad looks, but if he's grown up enough to cuss at him, then he's grown up enough to know just how much danger they're in. That said, it really is time to move. He leads the way, dragging Alois along in his wake rather than shoving him on ahead. It's easier for Childermass to shoulder people out of the way when there isn't a some scrawny kid directly underfoot. ]

[Luckily, Alois is just too fear-numbed to start crying or displaying any other marks of typical hysteria. Well, it isn't luck so much as instinctive emotional repression. Regardless, he lets himself be pulled along without protest, though he thinks faintly that it makes him feel quite young, too young, in a dysphoric way. He's quiet at first, aside from his harsh and awkward breaths and the clacking of his boots (a blessing he's so good at running in high heels), and the only sight he can process is that of Childermass' back. If he dissociates hard enough, the back looks a bit like Claude's, doesn't it...

And Alois is well-practiced at deluding himself, so he finally demands, this side of shrill,] Then can't you get rid of them? [as if Childermass really is the strong and wonderful demon Alois is used to. It's totally unreasonable, but maybe it just comes off as a child's blind expectations of any adult.]

My skills lay in avoiding danger, not confronting it.

[ Not every adult is a demon, kid. What magic he does have leans towards staying out of sight, not taking on living nightmares in a dream realm. Had it been a few regular mortal men, it'd be less a problem, but this? No, he just keeps them both moving up until they hit a roadblock.

The animals that had been ridden before around this particular bad dream had all been large animals, sure, but they'd been mostly contained to one spot. What they come across next, a few steps out and free of the crowd for a short time, is something awfully longer and infinitely more hideous. Instead of a trolley or a bus or whatever equivalent to mass transit the dreamer within this dream has in mind, they find a hulking millipede in their way. It sprawls down along the entire street, cutting a wall through the masses as dreams either climb on or off, everyone waiting for it to pass.

Childermass' knee-jerk reaction to almost running them straight into the damn thing from out of the crowd is to recoil a few steps, still dragging Alois along. ]

Of course... [ He grumbles, prying his attention off of this particular monstrosity after a few seconds of staring, to look for another way past. ] Of course there'd be giant bugs.

[All the while, Alois bobs along and to and fro like an aimless cork, given direction only by Childermass' pull. His nose is wrinkled vaguely, disgust and disapproval in how he finds Childermass lacking, but it's faint, not strong enough to help him find his voice any further.

Of course, that's until he sees the millipede skittering along with way too many legs. It's so sickening that it jolts Alois' nerves back to life, and he raises his free hand to his mouth and shrieks through splayed fingers:] Bleeding Christ! [He is nowhere close to composed, unlike Childermass, and the smothered hysteria from before is beginning to make its appearance.

...

Something frenetic takes over in Alois' mind, it clicking into place like a piece of reason into a slot. Though it's not reason, exactly. It makes perfect sense to Alois, but in reality, it's...] Oh, get off— [He shakes his hand a bit, though not with real violence. The actual violence is here in his intent—] Just let me stomp through them and then we can go the right way!

[His great idea is to bully and brute force the crowds, basically. His fear is now manifesting as physical, foolhardy anger. Maybe he could do it, but mostly he's remembering how easy it was to kick the shins of angry bakers and dusty farmers.]

[ The shaking only earns him a much firmer grip on the shoulder. They've gotten this far, to get split up because Alois decided to throw a tantrum would be foolhardy. ]

Be quiet. [ This time it is scolding, in response to the impossible threat of violence. ] You'd only get lost and trampled if you tried.

[ Worse, the outburst is drawing attention. In the dreamscape around them, the people of the city have only begun to grow even more shadowy and taller, the same being said for their various beasts and creatures. Childermass discards the idea of finding a safe route at this point. He doubts it exists, so the next time he drags on Alois' shoulder, it's to pull him along straight towards the increasingly nightmarish mass. He'll keep the street with the millipede running up and down it to one side, which at least buys them a thin margin of space to proceed down.

Though as he's focusing on what's ahead, he's missing out on the few figures that begin to deform out of shapes that had once been human behind them. Those ones are following. Those ones are growing jaws with teeth and numerous red, glowing eyes... ]

[Be quiet— Be quiet— The command, outright, might actually cause more outrage than even the fear of the dream. Alois flusters, fear-blanched cheeks tinging pink, and opens his mouth, probably to loudly proclaim something indecent.

Abruptly, he instead sucks in a sharp, deep breath, drawing close to Childermass' back as a needy play for some sort of safety. He is quiet, at least, for once obedient, when he fiercely whispers,] We are about to be devoured whole by forces of darkness. [It's a dramatic statement, but Alois is a dramatic boy, and, let's be real, this is a dramatic situation.

He twists in place, frantic like a cornered fawn, now pressing up against Childermass' back with his own back. His hands are flaring out at his sides; he's not sure whether to shield himself or to go in fighting. His feet are stuttering, the rearing of a spooked horse. Grasping blindly, he tugs at Childermass' coat—] Hey— Hey— [and there is slaver dripping from the developing jaws, and Alois thinks, This isn't the way I was meant to be eaten.

Now it's his fearsome will to live that clicks inside his head. He takes a deep breath.] I'm going left, [he says decisively, any tremor gone from his voice.] Are you coming? [Left may not look any better than right, but it's better than front or back, and Alois thinks he can make left work. Left feels good, right now.]

[ Dramatic, but apt. The fuss Alois makes distracts Childermass from what's ahead, which is a good thing. What's ahead isn't as dangerous as what's behind and he turns to look at the tugging of his coat. If he felt any irritation at it a second before, that goes out the door upon spotting the nightmares on their tail.

Were they too slow? Too late? Too out of luck? He won't show the same surge of fear he feels, far too prone to being stoic in the face of so much, even the bizarre, but he will loosen his grip on Alois, enough for him to slip away. ]

Left it is. [ It's as good an idea as any. ] Go ahead, run for a building, an alley, anything to the far side of the crowd. I'll be right behind you.

[ This time it's up to Alois to find a way through, unless he'd rather have the nightmares at his own back instead of at Childermass'. ]

You had better be, [mutters Alois,] because I won't wait around for you. [He takes a deep breath. He takes another deep breath. He doesn't really have the time to stand here and prepare himself: the nightmares are slinking, and the crowds are interlocking like thick and forceful fingers. Alois glances behind himself, past Childermass, into the burgeoning bundle of corpulent shadow, their red eyes. Alois is tight-breathed and white-faced, but he isn't panicking like he was before. As he turns his face forward once more, as he grinds one foot against the ground and takes aggressive posture, one thing seems clear in this state of a dream:

This is not the same child who was, moments ago, clinging and close to hysterics.

And then at once, he forces himself forward with a clacking of heels. He doesn't seem to care about dodging or weaving; he clips past the folks in the dream, never minding how he smacks against their sides, how he volleys away and almost loses his balance. He never does quite lose it—the boy is sure-footed despite everything. Maybe he doesn't have an actual destination in mind, but he's still running, still pushing past, until there's one unavoidable group of men directly in front of him. He cannot edge along them this time; there's no getting past unless he turns sharply, or...

Alois throws himself bodily at the men. For just a moment he has left the ground completely, hurling himself with such force that his heeled boots are inches above the concrete. It might look like a stupid move; he must seem too reckless and impulsive. Those things are true, but his approach here ends up working, at least. He hits the men with the sharp and violent points of his right shoulder and elbow, and when he lands back onto the ground, he does so one foot at a time, so he only barely keeps himself upright. Two of the men crumple to the ground completely, while the others wobble as if on an unsteady axis, swaying in different directions, and allowing a break in the throng. Alois takes the barest moment to steady himself and gulp in some air, panting. Then he jets forward again, running on the final fumes of his determination.

Finally he is able to reach out, and catch with his hand the edge of a railing. The railing sets on either side of a tiny set of steps—four steps and a landing, they lead up to the door of a tall, tall building. Alois clacks his way up the steps, makes it to the landing, and then turns to look out into the crowds. They file past the steps; the steps and the landing at the side of this building are like a little outlet. People aren't going to spill over into them.

Still breathing hard, now flushed with high adrenaline, Alois is searching for Childermass, and his hand still grips the railing, white-knuckled and overly tight.]

[ Which, any other time, would be no easy feat. Childermass blends into this dream far too well, similarly in black, similarly grim and tall. It's only moving against the crowd that makes him stand out at all and he is, as he said, right behind Alois, or as well as he can be. There had been a scant few seconds where he considered leaving this suddenly bossy boy behind to draw the attention of the nightmares away from himself, but, as luck has it, such a notion never had much heart behind it. How much easier life could be if he actually could be that cruel.

So, yes, he's still there, making his way through, this time following the trail Alois has left through the startled masses. There is a quickness to his step, even if he has no intention on running himself. The nightmares still follow, having paused when their smaller target made a run for it. Paused, considered, and realized the bigger one still seemed less work to follow after, still growing and mutating with every step, dropping their shadows over the dream as they go and absorbing the people in their way. Where Childermass and Alois had problems, they do not, leaving a swath of empty space in their wake where there had been nothing but thick crowds before.

He pushes past the last man trying to get to his feet, which sends him back to the ground with another outburst of surprise, though no reaction from Childermass in return. He's going right up the same steps, but he won't be stopping on the landing. It's straight to the door for him, with a brief try at turning the handle. Of course it's locked. ]

Hm... [ No easy escapes from a nightmare. That makes sense. ] Watch them.

[ Because he can't right now. What he does next is produce an old flip knife from one of the pockets in his greatcoat, jamming the tip of the little blade into a particular spot where the door latches and immediately applying weight to the handle right after. It's something he's done before, anyone with an eye for less than legal dealings would know, but it does take a moment. ]

[As Childermass reaches the landing, the door, Alois is torn between two instincts: cling and cry, begging for safety; and brutal independence. Alois swallows his quivering breaths, lost in his own labyrinthine longings—he wants to be taken care of, but he doesn't want to need anybody. In the end, he doesn't reattach himself to Childermass' arm. He stares hard at the nightmares as ordered (for once not resisting a simple command), standing with straining legs, holding onto the railing with shaking hands. Some of his violence is giving way again to fear. Only some, though. His heart is a push and pull between determined anger and overwhelming anxieties.

Childermass' endeavor, by the way, is one familiar to Alois. He wasn't an expert lock pick as a child, preferred to bust his way in with tiny but furious fists and feet, but he knows a thing or two about being crafty, or at least he did once. It's almost a weird sort of comfort for Alois, and helps that determined anger stay strong: when Alois is reminded of a time when he was a boy called Jim who was willing to fight anybody or anything, he feels like... he feels like maybe he can fight again. So his voice sounds livid when he narrates:] They're very dark. And they are very hungry, too, I can tell you that much. I think they can eat things just by touching them. And I think they will eat anything, never mind the time to savor, but right now you and I are particularly appealing. Don't know why. Suppose that's just our lot, or maybe because we're such lovely flesh and blood. Anyway, here they come, creeping. You had better finish bloody quick, because they're eating and they want to eat us too, all that darkness, the all-consuming kind, and I— and I—

[He funnels in some rickety breaths, not unlike the creaking of a ship.]

I will not be eaten today.

Then perhaps you should work on catching your breath instead of arranging one final monologue.

[ Even his nerves have begun to wear thin, this time the sarcastic bite to his words showing their teeth. There's no more time for patient words and stern commands. But as it so happens, Childermass can finish bloody quick, if the sound of the door being forced open with a loud crack is proof enough. The handle will be worse for wear, but in a dream, that isn't even a worry. He shoves the door wide open, knife vanishing again, back into a pocket.

And it's all just in time, down to the last seconds, whether by chance or by dream logic. The nightmares are almost at the stairs, fully formed and dragging themselves, quickly now, forward, their shadowy limbs already reaching out to twist their way up the railing towards the two.

Childermass won't even wait for Alois to turn and go on his own power. As soon as he's sure the door will remain open and the knife is away, he's whirling back around to try and seize the boy by an arm, to throw him through, hopefully before a nightmare can latch onto him instead. ]

[There's no time for indignation and even Alois can respect that. Contrary to first and fifteenth impressions, he knows when to stop and start. So he forgoes the final monologue; he swallows any half-formed protests, shutting his mouth with secret obedience.

He only opens it again to yelp when Childermass tosses him through the doorway. It's way too close to just in time—Alois can feel a curling finger, grasping in its hunger, graze the back of his knee just before he's jerked forward. He doesn't process it until after Childermass has yanked him to more immediate safety, but as Alois stumbles into the building, skittering on his heels, the fear overwhelms the fight again. He spins round quickly instead of fleeing up the flight of stairs.] Don't leave, [he cries, even if Childermass is right behind him.] Don't make me go by myself! [No, Alois doesn't want to be eaten; but when his phobia of being alone is able to bite into his mind, being eaten might seem preferable to loneliness.]

[ He's not about to waste time on assurances. Childermass is bound to take the same route, provided a nightmare doesn't grab him. He slams the door shut again, right in the face of the closest one, and as he's already busted the door's lock, he chances pausing to take in his immediate surroundings. There's not enough time to move something large in front of the door, so it'll be the coat rack he grabs and turns sideways across the door as far as it'll go, jamming it under the handle and between the narrow entranceway until it's stuck.

The most it'll do is earn them a minute of nerve-wracking slamming against the door, as they try to force it open again, but that's better than nothing at all.

It's up the stairs after, following Alois. ]

What's up ahead? [ He'll ask once he does catch up. ] We don't have long.

[Perhaps he should be able to steel himself with the physical assurance that Childermass is still close by, but Alois still feels lightheaded, dazedly skittering up the stairs without really feeling his feet or legs. Everything is a dark fog; he can't process much. He's on autopilot, controlled only by the basest instincts of his overcrowded mind. All his earlier burning bravado has given way to what sounds near to hyperventilation.

Childermass' question lags in the air, taking half a second longer than it should to reach Alois' understanding. Alois shakes his head through his wheezing, trying very hard to connect what he sees to what he's able to say.] Hallway, [he gasps,] coming up into a hallway— [And then he stumbles away from the staircase and into the vague hall.] There are a million fucking doors— [Not quite that many, but they do line the hallway. This looks like a hotel or boarding house, perhaps, a bit old fashioned. Alois peels into the hall and stutters to a stop before a small decorative table pushed up against the wall. The table really is little, with maybe two square feet of surface, and its face is marble or at least imitates it. Atop it sits an ornate vase with nothing in it.

Instead of opting for one of the mysterious doors, Alois tries to grab the vase, but his hands are shaking and so it just clatters a bit against the marble.] You, you take this table and— I'm sure you're strong, you can swing it at them— I'll throw this...

[It seems fear and violence aren't mutually exclusive for him.]

[ Doors, doors, doors, but with the sound of the one downstairs already cracking, he won't dwell too long on finding one that will open. Childermass stares down the hallway once he's reached the same place at Alois, but only for a few seconds. The fumbling with the vase is given a quick glance, along with the table, as the boy makes his own suggestions. ]

That won't do. [ Even if he can swing the table, what's a table to those monsters downstairs? But here, out of the crushing crowd of people, there are other options, and he's already piecing a plan together in his head. If it'll work, he can only pray. There's no telling until they try. He'll gesture to Alois' attention, then point down to the end of the hall. ] Go on, all the way to the end. Pick a side and open every door that will open as you go.

[ It's a distraction, to force them to search every open room, though he does not reveal what he means to do at the end of the hallway. There's nowhere to hide there! ]

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⇨ THE REALM OF DREAMS

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