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 Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2014 5:56 pm
For once, there was no burning house.
He wasn't trapped alone in an unknown building, his exits blocked by fallen beams as a wicked, stifling fire raged around him. He wasn't suffocating, choking on smoke as the flames licked closer, trying to catch his clothing or hair. No door handle would greet him, where he would relive burning both of his hands.
Instead, he was standing in a dark field, quite alone and very cold. A thick, heavy fog began to roll in as Ripley heaved his first cough, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead he looked around, surveying the land, trying to find anything that would tell him where he was; there was nothing...and nothing was happening. Over all, it was a rather boring dream, but something about it was unsettling. Even now, with nothing happening, he felt the nerves begin to worm into the pit of his stomach, twisting and writhing-.
Wait -
He looked down at his arms, amber eyes widening as something wriggled under his skin...and he watched on in horror as it burrowed deeper into his flesh, the wriggling disappearing as it made its way between muscle and bone. Augh -
"No." Nausea hit him like a wall, and his free hand shot up to claw at the bare flesh of his arm with too-sharp nails, simultaneously searching for the parasite's entry point, while trying to forcibly claw it out of him. "-nonono-"
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2014 8:27 pm
-Tap tap.
The nausea stopped and so did the squirming. Everything stopped, the black peeling to trees, long, ornate trees that covered the lack of sky.
A small child in a mask stared at him from behind one of the trees. In their hand was a green staff, much longer than even Ripley. Slowly, on all fours, they crawled closer towards him, reaching about several feet away before stopping. They were waiting for something.
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2014 8:36 pm
Unlike his other dreams that stubbornly stayed fairly consistent, this one began to change. He felt oddly better, and whatever was under his skin had disappeared, much to his relief. The darkness around him was peeling, and he turned his head to watch it, still uncomfortable in this strange new dream.
It was the green that caught his attention at first, and drew it towards the small, child-like figure with the mask. One that he found he recognized, at least a little. Amber eyes narrowed in on the little form as it began to crawl towards him, and on instinct he took a step back, trying to keep at least a small distance between them.
That didn't seem terribly necessary though, as it stopped, and waited for...what, exactly?
"..." A lengthy pause ensued, where he wasn't quite sure what to do - usually, his dreams were solitary things. Sharing them wasn't something he was used to...and wait, should he be this lucid, while dreaming? Hrm. Oh. Wait. Right. The child.
"...Where'd you come from?" What else did you ask a dream kid? At that moment, he had no idea. "Are you lost?" Not that he'd know where to find anything, but...well, too late to take that question back.
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2014 8:42 pm
"Where did you come from?" the child repeated, mockingly, "are you lost?"
It began to prod Ripley rather rudely with the stick. The contact hurt, each touch a strange electric shock in a sensory sort of plain that was usually exclusive from dream states.
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2014 8:47 pm
"Listen, you little s**t--" Ripley growled out. This was his dream, he didn't need to be nice! Yet, somehow, before he could finish his threat, the little brat was poking him repeatedly, each touch of the stick sending waves of sudden shocks through his system. What had once been a threat came out as a rather undignified 'Ow!', and he began to back up as quickly as he could, trying put as much difference between himself and the strange kid as he could.
But, as he did, he realized just how unusual the pain was - it felt...strangely real.
"...The ********?!" He blurted out, between realizing how different this was, and still feeling the residual tingle of the shocking jabs.
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2014 9:11 pm
"The ********>," the kid repeated, saying the forbidden word a few more times, once again proving that adults should really not swear in front of small children.
They at least stopped jabbing Ripley, long enough to crawl away, standing above him. They pointed downwards.
In front of him was an assortment of masks, all carved, wooden masks, with different shapes, patterns, faces. One of them was calling out to him. The child sat down and waited. Enoh Love Go ahead and create/design a mask for Ripley to pick out!
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Posted: Mon Sep 22, 2014 2:28 pm
Well, one thing was for sure: He wouldn't be winning any Father of the Year awards, he realized as he watched the kid only happily repeat one of his top three favourite curses.
Relief came when the child stopped poking him, but it was short lived as he realized, somehow, that the child was above him. He looked up to keep the masked brat in his line of sight, especially now that he knew what that stick could do, but found, after a moment, that they were pointing downwards.
Looking down would take the kid out of his sight, and if the child was out of sight, it could easily try to poke him again, and that wasn't something he was interested in. But, somehow, he simply couldn't help it. He looked down, following the pointed finger, and found...masks. A layout of countless wooden masks. He stared at them, transfixed at the variety of the spread, until he realized something else:
One of them was calling to him.
The child received a suspicious stare and yet despite that he moved forward, carefully looking between the masks, scanning each of them to find the one that called him. It was so strange...he felt like he had done this before, but the last time it was stone tablets in a cold, dark room.
Finally, he stopped in front of the one that was calling to him; compared to the rest of the masks, it was dull...but it was likely the simplicity that spoke to him the loudest. He stared at it, yearning to touch it, but simply...didn't. The call back to the weapon selection room was overpowering the call of the mask, and the warning bells that followed were unsettling.
But it was just a dream, right? If so, it was pretty damn symbolic. But the pain earlier...
"Why masks?" He asked.
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Posted: Mon Oct 27, 2014 9:59 pm
"Why not masks?" the mask said in return, quite literally, contorting it's mouth to speak at him. The language was not English, it was grating, it was old, it forced Ripley to understand, to experience, visualize, each and every word. "It is your responsibility, it is your aversion to responsibility. Regardless, the decay has already begun."
The mask stopped, and the child was also gone.
'Wear me', the mask instructed. It felt poisonous, like a strange sickness seeping through Ripley's hands, slowly muffling his breathing and heartbeat.
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Posted: Tue Oct 28, 2014 7:59 am
Ripley stared down at the mask in his hands as it spoke words he didn't recognize, though ones that he seemed to just understand. His expression pinched in confusion as it continued to speak at him and the concepts it forced him to visualize. He had never experienced this level of discomfort before, where it seemed every ounce of his being was out of place.
The mask demanded to be worn, but better judgement told him not to. It was asking for trouble, and putting himself in danger. There was no way he could -
"I don't..." The air around him began to thicken, radiating from the mask in his hands. Breathing became difficult as the poison permeated, ans soon his lungs began to burn and ache; his heart struggled in his chest, and soon his extremities began to tingle uncomfortably. Pins and needles worked their way up his arms and legs, followed by a sense of limb loss and pain.
He began to choke, gasping for air that simply wasn't there any more. He fought it for as long as he could, but as the burn in his chest became overwhelming, and as he felt his consciousness begin to slip, there was only one more thing he could do. A last ditch effort to save himself, no matter how ill-advised it was;
He put the mask on, and hoped for the best.
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Posted: Wed Nov 05, 2014 6:44 pm
Everything darkened, and then Ripley woke up.
He would be lying on his bed, the room empty, except for him. There was something wrong about his room however, but it was too dark to decipher just what quite yet.
The power also did not seem to be working.
While his room door was closed, there was a strange sound coming from the other side, various dull thuds, like wind beating against an aged door.Enoh Love Exploration time! The power is not working, but he can fumble and try to look for anything in his room. You can do this in bold red. Just explain what he's looking for and I will explain what happened to it! Feel free to type in multiple exploration prompts (as I am horrifically slow with tags LOL)
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Posted: Thu Nov 13, 2014 6:49 am
He could breathe again.
That was important, he figured, and it was noted with a pleasant, deep breath. Nothing but clear air filled his lungs, no pollutants to suffocate him, to cut off his oxygen at the molecular level; it was nice, sincerely nice. Once the issue of breathing was out of the way, he focused on the rest of his surroundings in his groggy, waking haze.
It was dark, but that wasn't terribly unusual for him, especially since waking in the night was a common thing. He was on a bed, which also made sense because, well, he had been sleeping, so that was fine. Yet there was something about his situation that just felt...wrong. Off in a way he couldn't place, though so far everything made sense in his head.
He tilted his head to look towards his window, and found it just as dark as his room - there must have been a power outage, which didn't seem terribly uncommon, either. Unsettling and foreboding, but not uncommon. His first order of business was to seek out his dresser, where he kept a flash light, or at least some candles.
Along the way across the room, a noise caught his attention; a steady series of thuds from the other side of his door, which was...certainly not a common thing. Perhaps this was why he had been uncomfortable? He had registered the noise, before he even fully heard it? It seemed at least plausible now, and with or without the flashlight, he tried to summon his weapon. The power was out. It was quiet. He was alone. There were thuds outside of his door. He wasn't going to take any chances and step out unarmed.
Then, carefully, he moved across the room, following the noise to the door, and soon leaned against it to listen for any other noises that would indicate if he was actually alone.
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