(2018-03-15) The Old Familiar Sting
The Old Familiar Sting
Summary: Callisto tries to protect Daxton's dreams from her mother. That goes over well.
Date: 2018-03-15
Related: Result of this scene.
NPCs: NA
Scene Runner: NA
Players:
daxton..callisto..

TP Room 4
Thu Mar 15, 2018


Daxton's mind! O_O

(Dreamweaving scene.)

===

<FS3> Callisto rolls Psychic: Good Success.
<FS3> Callisto rolls Stealth: Good Success.

Needless to say, sleep found Callisto the night of her mental tiff with her mother.. and it did not grant her the reprieve from the waking world that it typically did. The fae sorceress was there waiting for her on the fringes; could not be avoided. And there, Malachite had laid siege to her daughter: how DARE she dismiss her? How DARE she deny her the payload of horror, or trauma.. and all of those delicious, powerful emotions in that boy's dreams? For Malachite, an emotional/psychic 'vampire' or sorts, thrived off of such energy… reveled in it. Callisto had awoken from that dressing-down in an uncharacteristic display of upset. Good thing nobody saw…

The day followed in an almost monochromatic haze of unhappiness and stress… and anger/. She was perhaps a bit… //worried too. So like any good creature of the night (only much prettier), the fae girl had arisen at roundabouts 2am. The power is out in the school and in that deep dark, with no classes slated for the next day… most students and hopefully most authorative staff are sawwing logs. Like a lithe, pale shadow Callisto makes her way into the boys' wing, unseen, with preternatural silence and stealth. She has a destination in mind… her lips pressed into a grim line.

Daxton's door is labeled with the burned name "TEMPO" that Inferno wrote. He's passed out on his bed, shirtless in a pair of sleepy pants. He's breathing slowly, asleep long enough for REM to have started. He's back in High school, in CA, waiting to go into the Jr. ROTC meeting. But no one else seeks to be around.

He's asleep. This is known.

There's really no bells-and-whistles around it; no flashy effects or rituals for Callisto to undertake to get into a boy's sleeping mind. All it takes is the slow hunkering down outside of his door, perhaps even a testing to both see if it's unlocked and a brief glance within to make sure it is Daxton in the room. Yes, and yes. This bodes well. For him to be alone in here is to allow herself to gain entry, settle into some dark corner of the room and keep out of the hallway so as to not be noticed. She intends but a glance… just to make sure that awful woman hadn't gained entry to Daxton's sleeping mind.

A moment of meditation; it's comfortable, like submerging her head into lukewarm water. And then, she is emerging — unseen by the dreamer unless she wills it — into Daxton's sleeping subconscious. She stands alongside the younger boy, and cants her gaze over to look upon him. Nobody else is around but an invisible, watchful fae girl. Callisto breathes deeply as she acclimates herself to Daxton's dreamscape. She simply settles 'alongside' him, keeping watch.

<FS3> Callisto rolls Dreamweave: Good Success.

Bright blue eyes, not yet haunted, trail around the school hallway. It's new to him, they just moved here per the summer. New schools are nothing new to the army brat, but he's nervous for some reason. Pulling on his tee shirt as if to straighten it, his yea comes up sharply as a door opens slowly, creepily. There's no noise, but Callisto can feel his heart beat suddenly, like he's fighting running. Instead though he step up and through the door.

The girl is clad in her own sleep-clothes in real-time, but here she wears some sort of gossamer gown, enmeshed with some manner of night-blooming floral design, hair long and loose and quivering unseen, almost of it's own volition. She looks every bit the fae sorceress in her own right, though hardly as malicious as her matriarch. IF she is to encounter Malachite here, Callisto wishes to look respectful. But no.. all she sees, wants to see… is Daxton. While she's not an Empath in the waking world, here it is easier for Callisto to 'tap into' the dreamer's emotions in this instance. There is trepidation here, and the boy's heartbeat is a throbbing staccato in the fae girl's ears.

The door shall open slowly to admit younger Daxton, and Callisto shall follow throw like a pale shadow, tracing his every move. Her eyes — a pale bluish-silver in this instance — rove the room into which they step. Will it lead smoothly into the intended room? Or shift as dreams are apt to do? Callisto keeps her 'finger' on the current of the speedster's sleeping mind.

Dreams are little bitches. Everyone knows this. The moment Daxton's feet leave the hallway he's flat on his back with a bright blinding light shining down on him. his head is free, but his arms, legs and torso are strapped down. Gone are the school clothes, skinny (comparatively) Daxton is just in briefs, the metal table cold underneath him. He's begging although his voice is muted, hard to make out in his own ears. For help. For his father. For his mother. Another table can be made out in the same room, another of Unit 23. It's Pulse, the other speedster. Her body is arching as hard as it can against the restrains and she's vibrating hard enough that the table itself is having to be held down by the men surrounding them. Dressed in scrubs, it's the only thing that is distinguishable about the figured. Daxton's blue eyes, wide with fear, are on Pulse. That is until the looming figures are over him and the needles start to bite into his veins.

She remains there, steadfast and watchful and not interfering. But yes… Callisto would use a word that isn't quite so brash but.. yes, dreams are 'bitches'. She blinks, needn't even brace herself, for she knows inwardly that something is going to shift greatly.

And it does.. oh it does. Her lashes flutter and she stands there unseen between the two tables upon which the two young bodies strain. The terror begins to amplify and Callisto tenses, because as she 'feels' it, detects it… she needs to be watchful because this is precisely the stuff that feeds her.

Callisto can read expressions and movements and she looks with building alarm into Daxton's face as he screams for his parents. She looks right into his face, her fine brows drawn, and it is then that she turns to look upon the girl on the other table. Callisto pads toward this table, watches Pulse strain and vibrate… the fae girl frowns deeply. She passes through the men who hold tightly to the table, and—-

Oh, the awfulness of it all. She may as well feel those needles, and she spirits back to the boy's side. There is an awareness, felt by Callisto, quivering at the edge of this dreamscape. Her features harden. She could try to bend this.. shift it… because she knows who it's attracting. She does nothing yet. «Get out, Mother.» She whispers, unheard by the dreamer.

Chemicals, poisons, god knows what start filling his veins through needles that are too long, too painful. As the fire runs though his body the boy sobs, any worry for the girl on the table evaporates as his own terror mounts. He's just a kid at this point, sense of self preservation strong as he fights, but there's nothing to rally against beyond pain and straps and needles.

But then. Then. Something shifts again in the dream. Something that if in the waking world could not be expressed. Time slows. Or Daxton speeds it? It's hard to say. The pain, the terror is still there, but now he's trapped seizing against the bonds that hold him. Slipping between the moments just as Pulse was, creating a vibration that shakes the entire dream. It lasts forever and is over instantly. His perception of time will never be the same again.

<FS3> Callisto rolls Dreamweave: Failure.

There, seen only by Callisto and poised over Daxton's agonized body, is an exquisitely beautiful woman. Long, lean, angular.. a nimbus of white hair, just like her daughter's; but the eyes are black and cruel. Her mouth pulls back into a baleful grin, teeth as white as her hair, canine teeth sharper than the norm. «Isn't it lovely, Daedhelwen?» Malachite asks smoothly, head tilting, hair falling gossamer-delicate, lashes — so very very long and coquettish — fluttering as the dream shifts. Like her daughter, Malachite is along for this deliciously awful ride. Unlike Callisto, she's loving it and gorging herself.

«Shall I take a form? Perhaps his mother? Perhaps I can dig deep, dredge up her likeness, be seen and laugh into his face..» The sorceress bites out in guttural Unseelie.

The nightmare vibrates and quakes around them and rage flares into Callisto's face. «N-no..!» She 'hollers' at the older fae, tries to 'oust' her from the nightmare. Fails.

Malachite's jeering features fall, and she glares down at the boy.

After digging around, Callisto's mother finds an even better image. Suddenly a man dressed in military uniform is next to the bed. It's his father. Dax himself is older, his physic is much more chiseled. Still, tears are flowing down his face as whatever is entering his system affects him, burns away his ability to understand anything but the orders given him. The table is violently shaking, they've taken to bolting it to the floor. The man shakes his head disapprovingly, "I should have let them take the twins….they would have down so much better." A scream from the table next to his, a man now, although who it is isn't apparent.

And then, still vibrating Daxton's suddenly on the found, dressed in camp kneeling in something warm. His hand a blur, but the red from the blood is obvious. Laying 20 feet away is a teenage girl, pretty except her neck is at a terrible dead position. Pretty brown eyes are glass in death. A guttural scream from Daxton. he knows her, intimately apparently. And he knows he's killed her. In his gut he knows it.

In the real world, the speedster's body is shaking, almost as if he was having a seizure. One blanket has twisted around his legs.

<FS3> Callisto rolls Dreamweave: Great Success.

Both faerie women hunker down as the dream shifts, and Callisto tenses… anyone who does not know her well would be astounded by the look of emotive pain in her expression. Is she heartbroken because she is picking up on the undercurrents here? Perhaps, but this is her own emotion. She feels horrible for even providing leeway for this horrible creature to get in here. Malachite curls around the shade of Daxton's father, not touching or altering him, eyes flaring. Everything about her is nefarious as she 'feeds', strengthens. Her laughter, heard only by Callisto, grates through the nightmare.

The dead girl, neck broken, and older Daxton's horrified howl… that does it. Callisto cannot take it anymore. «Get out.» She speaks to her mother in their mother tongue.

Malachite is making her way 'toward' the dead girl, perhaps with intention to make a mockery of her.. maybe a puppet show with her corpse—-

«Get OUT you disgusting, horrible thing!!» Callisto hollers in Unseelie, and from her comes a great mental 'push' that catches the gloating sorceress and literally — easy as that — BLASTS her out of the nightmare and keeps her out. The 'edges' of the dream quiver again, and Callisto desperately furthers her intervention. She concentrates… concentrates hard. She is now trying to wipe the whole ugly scene of it away, and replace it with something wonderful. Something Daxton would like to see.

Anything. She grabs desperately. If she is successful, the grisly display will indeed begin to fade, shift, and morph into something that the speedster enjoys, finds comfort from. Callisto tries to grab for that part of his sleeping mind, and wrangle it in.

Something Wonderful? On the top of Dax's brain there's not much. He's a simple guy (not really): food, shelter, family, safety, sex. From that terrible place suddenly he's sitting in a kitchen, two of those milkshakes in hand. Leg is still bouncing, but he seems content to wait. Laughter can be heard behind a closed door, he can just tell it's the rest of Unit 23. Safe, happy. Alive. That seems to relieve the boy, even with the memory of the last dream wipes, there's still an uneasiness. The milkshakes are set down and the mirroring the first scene of the dream he tugs on his shirt like he's straightening it for someone. And that someone appears. It's the dead girl, who's very much not dead anymore. She smiles brightening at him, calling him, "Handsomeness." He smiles back, offering both milkshakes to her (Yes, one is strawberry), "Hey Slugger. Glad your home."

Amidst it all, Callisto is there. It is perhaps a good thing that this simple-yet-not-simple teenage boy has such preferences; such things to turn to, for that bit of comfort and normalcy. If Callisto is ever to be cast as gentle and caring, it is here, trying to grab pieces to stick them together. She does not know Daxton well enough to foist precisely what he could want to see into his sleeping mind.. so she will work with what his mind gives her. It's enough. There's laughter, milkshakes, and that young girl without a broken neck.

Callisto's eyes soften then, and as the scene takes shape around her, the faerie is casting whatever measure of 'defenses' that she can to keep her mother out. For now, Daxton's mind shall be a no-fly-zone for Malachite.

Callisto feels, now, that whatever groundwork she has laid here.. she cannot be privy to. As easily as she entered Daxton's mind, she departs, and is now kneeling alongside his bed. When did she get there? A nigh-soundless breath as her eyes note the sleeping speedster, perhaps tangled up in sheets from the awful parts of the nightmare… and she begins to back away silently. The girl's expression is odd, disturbed. When she returns to sleep, herself, the battle with her mother will continue. Callisto cannot feel sorry for herself, for she considers that her penance.

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