vatheon sfc network
February 6th, 2013 
crabbygenius: (Hello I am Little Washu)
The stone stairs of a Japanese shrine come into view... )

[ooc: Feel free to walk up to them on the stairs or contact Washu after the dream ends. it's up to you.  Washu  speaking and  Funaho speaking]



02:06 pm - 002 Dream
humanitylost: (pic#5453967)
Cut for non-consensual transformation )

((ooc: This dream is not interactive, and so just network responses please.))
heartandsoul: ([Pain] Almost dead)
There be violence of the strangulation kind under here. )




[Present day Maka wakes up from her rest at what looks to be a desk. She looks pale, but more irritated than anything, this doesn't change when she notices her SFC turned on. Though she doesn't bother to offer an apology for the dreaded accidental broadcast, she instead scowls and mutters to herself about defective tech and turns it off.]



((ooc: This dream is non-interactive but why would you want otherwise, so just network replies please.))
spiria: (⌠ playful ⌡)
[ Kohaku's dream is set in the back yard of a small house. There are a few backyard toys littered around the area, though they're left ignored for the time being. There's a familiar female voice counting down backwards somewhere. She reaches the final number and turns around. If it weren't obvious before, it's obvious now; the woman doing the counting was Kohaku.

She's got a different set of clothes on; a short-sleeved shirt, a long skirt, and a half-apron. Her hair is pulled back into a single ponytail instead of the usual low pigtails she usually wears. She looks as though she had been doing some work around the house prior to this event, and she's a little weary ... but she looks happy, otherwise. ]


Ready or not, Here I come!

Rest of the Dream Beneath a Cut )

( ooc: Leaving it open-ended! If you want to have your character interact with Kohaku in her dream (hide and seek, anybody?), please specify that in your subject header. If you're interacting with her via SFC (or action, in some cases), please specify that, too. )
worldofhurt: (Too much to bear)
[Flashes of violet and white tear, feral, across vision, blinding in their intensity, coupled with near-immediate thunder roaring, and somewhere amidst it, a child whimpers. Voices behind her urge her onward, encouraging, but the perspective whirls around to fill with bodies--adults--gathered a little ways away from the dais dressed for stealth with weapons across their forms. At the front of them, an old man smiles.]

You can do this, Sheena.

Loss. )


[The wail that rips from her throat is what forces her out of the dream, lurching and reaching for nothing though the sound is more a drawn out groan in the waking world. Sheena, refusing the pay this world any heed (she knows the SFC's probably broadcasting after Zelos' and some of the others' she's seen crop up on the network, but she doesn't care, so it doesn't enter her mind solidly enough to bother), curls up, arms around her knees and her face pressed against them. She forces her breathing to slow, shoulders trembling. It works for a second. Just before she breaks down again, whimpering apologies to the fallen and their families all over again.]



[ooc: Feel free to try and interact with her within the memory, or talk to her afterwards. She needs hugs. Now in the right comm!]
coolerthansora: (sweet dreams and flying machines)
[At first, Roxas's dreamworld doesn't seem all that terrible. He walks the streets of Twilight Town, with the warm glow of sunset catching the tops of the buildings, the space between in comfortable shadow.

Except that everything is much too still and quiet. Not a soul stirs all along Market Street, and the tram common is utterly deserted, the tram frozen at some point along its track. Only the sun seems to be moving, sinking farther behind the buildings, the shadows deepening. Roxas picks up his pace.]


Hayner! Pence! Olette?

[Each shout is softer and less certain. His voice echoes strangely in the silence, and somehow he knows, this time it's not going to work. It's not supposed to work.

Movement catches his eye and he turns-- A trio of Dusks ripple up out of nowhere and slither towards him. He takes a step back.]


No. I told you I wasn't going back.

[They don't acknowledge his words, but keep coming. Roxas calls Oathkeeper, reluctantly sinking into a fighting stance...]


[It takes a while for Roxas to waken. There's nothing startling in the dream: a world empty except for Nobodies. It leaves him feeling empty, like hasn't in a while, and he just lies staring up at the ceiling.]

((Open to interaction or network replies~))
ms_potts: (not so worried girlfriend)
Dream under cut )

((OOC: Raza (AKA the terrorist), Obadiah Stane. Regular font is Pepper, obviously. Open for network interaction before she goes off to be Action Pepper with Coulson))
09:15 pm - mark ii
rockstark: (there is NOTHING. to SIGN.)
[when the date first showed up on his SFC, Tony's blood ran cold. there was no way he could forget it, no way in hell. but he figured it was probably just the faceless scientists of the crazy coral god trying to mess with him, trying to get him to tweak out... so he played it as cool as he possibly could.

it didn't mean he was actually calm, though, not in the least. he kept himself busy, during the days to follow - as busy as he could get. he burned through his projects, making constant runs to the market, and a few to the Nostalgia Nook, spending the last of his credits to get the few precious ingredients that he needed to finish the assembly pad for his suit. the guest bedroom hardly resembled a guest bedroom anymore - wires and steel plating and fiberglass everywhere, sledgehammer holes in the walls - but there was still a bed pushed up against the wall in the farthest corner. it was like it was taunting him, the more he pushed himself. two, three days without sleep ... touching the coral in the square on the way to his supply runs only just gave him enough energy to keep going. but the date remained. with every sluggish blink he took to try and substitute sleep, it burned behind his eyelids. he'd seen the tattoo on his shoulder glowing, in the morning, after his showers - and Bugs had warned him what that meant. genius or no, it didn't take him long to figure it out.

now, on the evening of his third day without sleep, he's not sure he can stand it anymore, and he's got the communicator in hand, staring it down accusingly]


Look, I'm a scientist. You don't give a scientist new buttons and expect him to leave them alone. It's like putting Twinkies in front of a chubby kid after a week at fat camp. You just know what's gonna happen. And yeah. Yeah, I pushed a button. And I may not know what's happening, but - [and here, his voice shakes almost imperceptibly] - I gotta hypothesis. ... I just ... I should get some more coffee.

[he blinks, slowly - and the span of that one, tired blink is all he needs to black out. the SFC blacks out with him - and in an instant, there's blinding light, one single point of it in darkness, and the sound of harsh, gutteral voices speaking.

the focus of the video feed swings, and reveals a man with a burlap bag tied down to a chair, hands behind his back - bloodied, bandaged, bruised, and quite badly off for wear. he's also surrounded by men in fatigues and ragged clothes, each armed, each of their guns pointed at him. at a command from somewhere off screen, one of them reaches out and rips the burlap sack off the captive's head.

no surprises, here: it's Tony.

welcome to Golmira, Vatheon: the base of the Ten Rings, and Tony Stark's worst recurring nightmare.]


((OOC: You can interact with Tony if you want to, but here is the way this is going to go down. I'm going to have two sections: one for interacting once he's awake, and one for actual in-dream interaction. Further details will be in the tags that delineate the sections.))
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