|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2014 6:17 pm
Hard at Work
Grey and Granny Spiderlegs
It was just -- damn! It was just a dream catcher; how was he supposed to just digest all this information and be okay with it?
Well...he'd accepted it.
Resigned himself to it, really.
Grey exhaled through his nose, a plume of smoke lazily detailing the sigh's passage. He stared hard at the seemingly harmless piece of leather and twine that he'd placed above his bed, the soft colors acting as a beacon for attention in his otherwise wood-and-white room. Extending a hand, he gently nudged one side of the catcher with his knuckle, watching it spin in a slow circle, the arrowhead glinting in its dance. There's something living in there, he thought to himself, pursing his lips around the cigarette that hung at the edge of them. Not just a thing. A he. A male spirit.
He swallowed a little hard at the thought of it. Something living in his dreams, an entity that had, for some ungodly reason, chosen him. His dreams, his...inner most thoughts or desires, he didn't know what to name it as. The glen had been there for years for him and he'd never thought a thing of it: it was just his subconscious trying to escape his metal prison, he assumed. Grey was no dream reader and it did confuse him why he went to this place when he was happy enough with the life he lead. He loved his work, he was good at it, was paid very well and wanted for nothing. Why, then, did he just think that he was in a metal prison? Why, then, did he 'escape' his life to this glen?
The man frowned a touch, removing the cigarette from his lips and staring quite firmly at the mostly innate catcher. It was sentient...or would be, he knew, and it was depending on him. Could it hear him? Could it see him? Grey had no idea and he realized these were questions he should have asked Granny. Exhaling through his teeth, he scratched the back of his head with a briefly distant expression. Maybe later. Maybe next time. It wasn't like he thought for one second it was the last time he'd see her.
Shifting awkwardly on his feet, he frowned a little more deeply and lifted two fingers to stop the lazy turn of the dream catcher. "...so, uh. I'm Grey. Your Dreamer." God. Was he really doing this? Talking to it? Him, his mind corrected himself. Not an it. Him. "...look, I only know what I've been told about this arrangement," he tried again, feeling awkward as hell but feeling that speaking his mind out loud would give him some peace. "I don't...really know what to expect. You'll be manifesting in some way and there's a whole 'no one can see you but me' thing and the fact you picked my dream out of everyone in the bloody city--" Grey exhaled sharply through his nose. Getting off track. "-- but, uh, look, I'm going to do my best here." His off-colored eyes stared at the catcher with some sort of guarded expectation. Nothing happened, of course, but it made him tense all the same.
"I'm not good with people, fella, and I don't know that I'll be any good with you, but...if you help me, I'll help you. I mean I'm going to do all I can, but giving a man the tools to do the job without instruction can go a multitude of ways and not all of them have a good outcome." Grey snuffed the cigarette on his bedside ashtray, running a hand through his unbound hair. "Let's try for a good outcome."
It was possibly the worst pep talk he'd ever given, but he felt like he owed some sort of introduction, the way parents talk to a mother's swollen belly. Even if he'd not been expecting this bundle of joy, he was going to do the what he could, to make sure he was holding up his end of the deal. Grey knew he'd do what was right for the both of them, but...the spirit - the Oneiroi - was still just a catcher. He'd have to wait to figure out all the anxiety that was gnawing at him another day and for now...sleep, and hope tomorrow was more productive.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2014 6:18 pm
Dreams
Grey
Grey found himself working.
It was a tractor, this time, the man welding a splintered axle underneath it. The light from his flame meeting the metal was an unusual gold color, the sparks it sent out drifting harmlessly into nothing over his unmasked face. Despite the heavy machinery and lack of filtered sound between himself and his work, he could hear everything: traffic, cars honking, people talking, sirens wailing...it all sounded like it was right in front of him, even though he was the only one in the room. It was easy enough to ignore for a few minutes, but it mounted into a cacophony of sound that jarred his focus and made him grind his teeth. When he felt that listening for even a minute longer would make his ears explode or his brain turn to liquid, he removed himself from the work station and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it as though it were a final nail in a wall between him and the world. He splashed his face with water, trying to turn everything into white noise and wishing ruefully for the world to just drone off into white noise and leave him be. To give him peace.
He stared at his own reflection in the mirror that was surprisingly free of fingerprints or other signs of life, noting the darkness under his eyes, the purse of his lips, the water that clung to his well-kept beard. Grey was looking at himself, but he felt like he was trying to see through himself, to find what was taking his focus from him. As he started judgmentally, he caught a flicker of gold in the corner of his eye, prompting him to turn away from himself and face the opposite wall. The corner of the worn metal wall was slightly peeled, and he could only tell it was 'peeled' because where there should have been wall, the metal was curled and behind it, a shaft of light.
Approaching the wall with confusion and vague annoyance at the condition of the wall, he leaned down and pulled the curled tip, peeling the wall away from...something. It was too bright for him to see clearly and the peeling jammed just above his height and with hardly enough room for him to pass through shoulder to shoulder. It made no sense, but Grey was not one for sense just then and, curious, he stepped into the light, releasing the wall when he arrived at his destination.
The glen. He knew it well, and immediately he felt a smile tug at his lips. So he was dreaming, after all. Walking through the knee-high grass, he tilted his head back and breathed in the sweet aroma of the land, a honeysuckle mingled with the musk of rain. He could breathe clearly, his lungs hurting briefly with how sharp and clean the air was, even with the clouds rolling overhead and hiding most of the sun. It was spring now, and he recognize some of the flowers as natives of the area, though he didn't know their names. It didn't matter, though, as the glen was welcoming him to its peace and solitude and he, feeling drained from the weight of life, eagerly met its embrace.
The only sounds that reached him here were the soft rippling sigh of the grass 'neath the breeze and the brook babbling some distance away, satisfying his need for white noise. Grey took a seat in the high grass, though once he did, it seemed to level itself to him and give him the breathtaking view he desired, eyes lazily lidded and staring off over the yawning stretch of green. The animals came at some point, though he didn't really see them so much as become aware he wasn't alone; it was odd, but it was a comfort. And there, in the distance far enough he didn't feel the need to try and focus on it, the white plumage made itself known.
He was supposed to simply be at ease for the rest of his sleep, but rather than be blissfully unaware, he felt something unusual beneath his palm as he leaned back in the grass. Curling his fingers around it, he withdrew it from the cool soil and brought it around, tearing his eyes away from the scenery with some difficulty to look at what it was. There, in the middle of his palm, was a perfect golden arrowhead, untouched by time and only dirtied by the soil he'd retrieved it from. Puzzled - this felt new, and in a dream of many years, that was slightly alarming - he ran his thumb over the smooth object. It was as real as the rest of the dream, and as he touched it with his thumb, it shifted - or maybe it had been facing that way all along, but he was aware it was pointing. Grey lifted his gaze and saw it was aiming at the copse of trees that usually housed the white feathered thing, and it was then that he realized it was getting closer.
There was no sense of dread or fear in him, just a pleasant surprise and a warmth of comfort, as though he'd been waiting for this and it was finally coming to pass. Grey said nothing, but watched in wonder as it came closer, seeing it but not focusing, knowing it was only a plethora of feathers and that whatever it was, it was very eager to make his acquaintance.
Grey tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth to speak--
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 01, 2014 6:18 pm
Dark Alleyways & Smoke
Grey and Dee
Fixing the safety mask back over his head, pushing his pale hair over his shoulders, Grey didn't really know what to make of the exchange that had just happened. It'd been a long...long time since he'd spoken to a perfect stranger of his own free will (outside of Granny Spiderlegs, but that was a story unto itself), and to think that if he hadn't taken the jump to talk, they may have not discovered they shared the same secret...
The man struck his welding flame back to life, eyes slightly narrowed with focus upon it as the white-hot flame burned sharp and steady. Dee. A quiet man, a skittish creature, but he'd looked so desperately alone. Grey wasn't sure if he'd seen his own reflection in the man or if he was projecting his own concerns onto him, but it did seem to him like Dee needed a friend and a smoke more than he was able to give him. Damn, he thought belatedly, looking towards the door he'd entered some ten minutes ago. We should have exchanged numbers. What if they needed help at night, when the dreams happened? What if they just...had questions for each other or needed reassurance they were doing the right thing?
We're only human. Grey frowned at himself, turning his eyes back onto the work at hand. We all make mistakes. It was a mantra he'd repeated to himself for many years, but this time, it sounded a little hollow even to himself. Exhaling slowly, he pressed the flame to metal and let himself get lost in the familiar droning sound, trying not to think of the lost looking musician and the chance that'd been missed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 14, 2014 1:26 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 10:17 pm
See the Sound
Grey and Zain
Solo.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri May 23, 2014 10:53 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
