Type: Nightmare Gender: Male Dreamer: Anderson Rey
Anderson Rey and Malbec belong to Aki Ana. Do not post in this journal without the owner's permission.
Posted: Mon Feb 24, 2014 8:48 pm
Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake
1. Cert 2. Table of Contents 3. News 4. Official pics/stages 5. The Dream 6. Oneiroi profile 7. Dreamer profile 8. Relationships 9. Requirements 10. Captured images 11. RP log 12. Dream Log 13. Solo Log 14. Battle Log 15. Credits
Aki Ana
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Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 3:55 pm
The drowsy water rats; There we've hid our faery vats, Full of berries And of reddest stolen cherries.
3/26/14 - RP with Scheel started 3/24/14 - The Poltergeist has manifested - 3/9/14 - Dream Bound Catcher cert arrives - a cherry!! 3/1/14 - Staff RP with Granny started - 2/24/14 - Cert arrives - 2/27/14 - Journal created -
Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 3:57 pm
Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand. For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight;
A slow, steady drip echoed down the wide hall. Anderson didn’t remember such a hall adjoining his study, but then, there was much he no longer remembered. He marked his place, closed his journal, and rose from his weathered desk.
That’s how it always began.
The old man's steps were measured, matching the heavy drip. The light at the end of the hall was dim and flickering. It came from slender candles, melted down to stumps, resting upon their waxen cascades. They dotted a long table, a table which was groaning under piles of fruits and bread, bowing under the weight of gilded glass.
The fruit was puckered and shriveled, the bread spotted with mold. Even the glow of the candles seemed wan and shuddering.
Drip, drip. A stream of thick wine had wound its way to the end of the table, and pooled on the floor like blood. The neglect touched everything…cracking the clawed feet of the table, tarnishing the delicate silverware, dulling the intricate carvings that leered from every lintel and ledge. It had the air of a feast for a wedding that never happened…a surprise party for a birthday that everyone forgot.
The heavy atmosphere made Anderson’s skin crawl. The silence grew until it was almost deafening, broken suddenly by the wail of an infant. He started, looking around the vaulted chamber. Riches were piled like rubbish. Fat pomegranates split to show glistening ruby seeds, and golden trinkets crowded the corners like toys. Again, the cry rose, undulating and plaintive.
Panic gripped him. It was no place for a child, not as it was. He could almost imagine it otherwise…the candles still tall and bright, the food unspoiled, and music chiming through the halls. It would have been beautiful. Decadent. But who would bring a child to a place like this?
The cry peaked, and Anderson flinched at the sudden sound of cracking glass. A thick framed mirror, the height of the entire wall, had split straight up the middle at the keening wail. He turned towards it, dazed, and found himself staring at his own reflection.
Not his reflection, not exactly. It moved like him, reeled back like him, but it was the image of Anderson from a very very long time ago. The sharp young face grinned suddenly, and the mirror shattered completely as the infant’s cry reached an incredible pitch.
__
Anderson sat up in bed, heart pounding. The dream always left him like this, dizzy and disoriented. It wasn’t the dream that scared him, though.
The old man looked around slowly, at the leather journal on his bed stand, the crystal ashtray half full of Spanish peanuts, the alarm clock still blinking 12:00. This was the hardest part of the dream. Not the corruption. Not the crying. Not the doppelganger.
It was waking up to this.
Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 3:59 pm
To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Dreamer: Anderson Rey
Age: 67
Appearance: Well groomed with short grey hair, sharp glasses, and a love of outdated fashion.
Personality: Anderson is straightforward, usually a kind man but with little patience for nonsense. He has trouble remembering details, and will often consult his little leather journal.
Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 4:01 pm
Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star
Malbec has not yet met anyone __
Anderson
Granny: A most charming and selfless woman. I look forward to her company, no matter the circumstances.
Aki Ana
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Aki Ana
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Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 4:02 pm
We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns that drop their tears Over the young streams.
Dream Catcher --& Bound Catcher Lasts 1 week, or until all requirements are met. Set up your pet's journal. You will need at least a post for your Dreamer, Oneiroi, and the dream that attracted your pet. Set up an RP with the old woman (crispywondermint) to show her the spirit you've caught.
Bound Catcher --& Spirit/Poltergeist Lasts approximately 2 weeks if all requirements are completed early. One journal entry about your dreams and/or your reaction to your meeting with the mysterious woman who gave you the dream catcher.
Spirit/Poltergeist –> Specter Lasts an average of 3-4 weeks if all requirements completed early. One journal entry about what changes your Dreamer is going through with this spirit. How do they feel about it? Does it creep them out, or do they feel safe? Does it feel like there's something watching them? Update your dream/nightmare post to reflect these changes, since the dream/nightmare is getting more intense with each stage. One rp with any other dreamer (must have started while pet was a spirit/poltergeist and not before)
Specter--& Reve/Nightmare Lasts at least 3 months if all requirements are completed early. Minimum of 3 RPs with other players, either Dreamer or Oneiroi, started after reaching the Specter Stage. 2 Solo RPs in journal 1 Staff RP Journal requirements: At least three entries, not including solos.
Reve/Nightmare --& Lucid Dream/Night Terror Weekly offerings of blood, sweat, and tears A massive bucket of pixie wings, phoenix ash, and the heart of an unborn tadpole.
Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 4:03 pm
Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
Arts and gifts
Aki Ana
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Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 4:50 pm
Away with us he's going, The solemn-eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside
PRP: Scheel and Anderson -The Night Train 3/28/14- Finished!
Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal chest
The First Dream:
A slow, steady drip echoed down the wide hall. Anderson didn’t remember such a hall adjoining his study, but then, there was much he no longer remembered. He marked his place, closed his journal, and rose from his weathered desk.
That’s how it always began.
The old man's steps were measured, matching the heavy drip. The light at the end of the hall was dim and flickering. It came from slender candles, melted down to stumps, resting upon their waxen cascades. They dotted a long table, a table which was groaning under piles of fruits and bread, bowing under the weight of gilded glass.
The fruit was puckered and shriveled, the bread spotted with mold. Even the glow of the candles seemed wan and shuddering.
Drip, drip. A stream of thick wine had wound its way to the end of the table, and pooled on the floor like blood. The neglect touched everything…cracking the clawed feet of the table, tarnishing the delicate silverware, dulling the intricate carvings that leered from every lintel and ledge. It had the air of a feast for a wedding that never happened…a surprise party for a birthday that everyone forgot.
The heavy atmosphere made Anderson’s skin crawl. The silence grew until it was almost deafening, broken suddenly by the wail of an infant. He started, looking around the vaulted chamber. Riches were piled like rubbish. Fat pomegranates split to show glistening ruby seeds, and golden trinkets crowded the corners like toys. Again, the cry rose, undulating and plaintive.
Panic gripped him. It was no place for a child, not as it was. He could almost imagine it otherwise…the candles still tall and bright, the food unspoiled, and music chiming through the halls. It would have been beautiful. Decadent. But who would bring a child to a place like this?
The cry peaked, and Anderson flinched at the sudden sound of cracking glass. A thick framed mirror, the height of the entire wall, had split straight up the middle at the keening wail. He turned towards it, dazed, and found himself staring at his own reflection.
Not his reflection, not exactly. It moved like him, reeled back like him, but it was the image of Anderson from a very very long time ago. The sharp young face grinned suddenly, and the mirror shattered completely as the infant’s cry reached an incredible pitch.
__
Anderson sat up in bed, heart pounding. The dream always left him like this, dizzy and disoriented. It wasn’t the dream that scared him, though.
The old man looked around slowly, at the leather journal on his bed stand, the crystal ashtray half full of Spanish peanuts, the alarm clock still blinking 12:00. This was the hardest part of the dream. Not the corruption. Not the crying. Not the doppelganger.
It was waking up to this.
The Dream Changes:
A steady, rapid drip…like a heart beat...echoed down the wide hall. Anderson already stood waiting for the hall that would adjoining his study. Here, his memory was perfect. He never looked back, always forward into the Great Hall.
That’s how it always began, now.
The old man's steps were swift. He strode forward, eager to see what lay beyond. The light at the end of the hall was steady and subtle. It came from a multitude of slender candles, dotted with rolling wax that lay like great pearls down their length. They were scattered over a long table, a table which was groaning under piles of sweetmeats and soups, bowing under the weight of gilded utensils and twisted horn vases.
The fruit was scattered and spilled, the bread torn and tossed. Even the chairs were upended, scattered to corners and under tables on their sides.
Drip, drip. A stream of thick wine had wound its way to the end of the table, and pooled on the floor like blood. The discord touched everything…the table was askew, the chandelier swinging, every strange object and artifact oriented directly towards him. It was as though the room was a compass, and he was True North. It was a feast, interrupted…a fete that now held its breath.
The anticipation was so thick that it wrapped him in tension. Anderson's steps slowed. He could hear the intake of breath that always came before the wail, and he raised his hands to his ears before the screaming started. Riches were piled like rubbish, and they tarnished and cracked in the face of the unseen infant's shriek. Fat pomegranates split to show glistening ruby seeds and moulded, desiccating inward, the bread shrank to give life to a carpet of patchwork green. Again, the cry rose, undulating and plaintive.
Panic gripped him. It was not the child he feared for…it was this place. He could almost imagine it, the way it was meant to be…the candles still tall and bright, the food unspoiled, and music chiming through the halls. It would have been beautiful. Decadent. But who would bring ruin a place like this?
The cry rose, and Anderson flinched at the sudden sound of cracking glass. Not now…he was so close! He'd wanted to see what was beyond the windows, fogged like winters frost at their edges!! He'd wanted to press his face to that glass like a child, and gaze out at the moonlight and whatever it held!!
It was too late. He could hear the crack spread, like a rift in ice, and he was drawn towards it. A thick framed mirror, the height of the entire wall, had split straight up the middle at the keening wail. He turned towards it, anxious and ill, and found himself staring at his own reflection.
Not his reflection, not exactly. It moved like him, reeled back like him, but it was the image of Anderson from a very very long time ago. From a long time ago, and with vivid, cherry red eyes. The sharp young face grinned suddenly, and the mirror shattered completely as the infant’s cry reached an incredible pitch.
___
Anderson woke, but did not move. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his heart going faster than was comfortable. He could almost still hear that hateful cry.
Automatically, his eyes focused on the cherry, still resting atop the catcher on his nightstand. He blinked at it wearily, the dream still spinning and fading in his mind, and closed his eyes to find sleep again.
Aki Ana
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Aki Ana
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Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 8:06 pm
For he comes, the human child To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand From a world more full of weeping than he can understand
Tangled Reflections - Page 2
The Bonded - Page 2
Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 8:20 pm
Aki Ana
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Posted: Tue Feb 25, 2014 8:27 pm
Malbec and Anderson are property of Aki!
Oneiros and official art and story lines property of Oneiros staff!
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