Trunks Briefs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fighting4afuture) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caughtinanetwork2012-04-25 02:43 pm
fighting4afuture) wrote in caughtinanetwork2012-04-25 02:43 pm
Entry tags:
[dream//INTERACTIVE]
[oh look it's another one of those dreams. and it's traumatizing. my, how original.
The city--the sky--it's all burning. Acrid smoke and dust from destroyed buildings fills the air, coats the lungs, makes it difficult to breathe. For a city, everything is oddly quiet--there's no sounds of people, of the screaming and crying that might be expected in a scene of such destruction.
Everyone left living knows better, they know to stay out of sight, stay quiet. The creatures responsible for the destruction can't find you if you hide.
There's only one person out in the streets, a young boy crouched in the ruins of a collapsed building with dust and blood in his light-colored hair and a sword across his back, looking at once determined and hopeless.
There's two people floating above him--young adults by the look of them, one black haired and one blonde, their faceless heads turning this way and that as they search the rubble. Search for him.
Trunks' hand clenches in the dirt for a brief moment, and then he's flying--streaking through the air to attack in a flurry of kicks and punches that ends with him being tossed backwards, crashing through another crumbling building.
Maybe he lands at your feet, battered, dazed, and bleeding. Maybe he just rolls over and tries again, an aura like fire exploding around him and hair spiking upward and turning brilliant gold, only to be repelled again just as easily, the fight--if you can call this exercise in futility that--just repeating, ad-nauseum.
That depends on one thing. Are you watching, or are you there?]
((ooc: Interactive dream, go wild. There will be things exploding.))
The city--the sky--it's all burning. Acrid smoke and dust from destroyed buildings fills the air, coats the lungs, makes it difficult to breathe. For a city, everything is oddly quiet--there's no sounds of people, of the screaming and crying that might be expected in a scene of such destruction.
Everyone left living knows better, they know to stay out of sight, stay quiet. The creatures responsible for the destruction can't find you if you hide.
There's only one person out in the streets, a young boy crouched in the ruins of a collapsed building with dust and blood in his light-colored hair and a sword across his back, looking at once determined and hopeless.
There's two people floating above him--young adults by the look of them, one black haired and one blonde, their faceless heads turning this way and that as they search the rubble. Search for him.
Trunks' hand clenches in the dirt for a brief moment, and then he's flying--streaking through the air to attack in a flurry of kicks and punches that ends with him being tossed backwards, crashing through another crumbling building.
Maybe he lands at your feet, battered, dazed, and bleeding. Maybe he just rolls over and tries again, an aura like fire exploding around him and hair spiking upward and turning brilliant gold, only to be repelled again just as easily, the fight--if you can call this exercise in futility that--just repeating, ad-nauseum.
That depends on one thing. Are you watching, or are you there?]
((ooc: Interactive dream, go wild. There will be things exploding.))
no subject
[It makes him uncomfortable to think about. Trunks likely knows exactly how his life plays out, even if he did find that book in Vatheon that mentioned alternate timelines. But what if they're from the same timeline? What if...]
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[There's dawning realization on his face--that's why he feels so strange, like he was forgetting something important.
Because he was. He sounds hesitant again when he speaks up--and almost older.]
...that's right.
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Of course it's in the future. You're the one who should know that!
[Alright, maybe the anger is in his voice a bit too. It's not directed at Trunks, though.]
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I guess it was...whatever's going on. I didn't remember.
[Remember meeting you, that is. He's becoming more aware, though.]
This can't be...real.
[But it could still be dangerous.]
no subject
[Vegeta is matter of fact about the situation for the most part, though he still seems angry. If they die here, maybe the coral will bring them back at least.]
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...right.
[Luckily, Trunks knows his way around--he's done this a hundred times before, in his nightmares and in reality. Through the door, they come out into a network of underground service corridors.]
They'll get bored and move on before long. This is nothing but a game to them.
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[At first it was terrifying to think that someone could sense his energy without even using a scouter, but now he's become used to the idea. It's much easier to accept now that he can do it, as well. He follows after Trunks, having no further questions beyond that.]
no subject
[Luckily, that wasn't a function they were built with.]
They might have thermal vision. No one's gotten close enough or stuck around long enough to see. There should be enough residual heat to cover us either way.
no subject