Smoke & Mirrors: Masao's Dream
05/09/2006
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
[GMNote: Stacey GMed this dream sequence.]
[At the Odeon.]
After a long day of walking the streets and a stint or two at panhandling, Masao returns to home. Be it ever so crumbled, there's no place like the Odeon. Taking some time to settle down and relax in her blanket nest, the Ragabash eventually dozes off to the sounds of Squeaks playing with her latest cheap Happy Meal toy. The shift from waking world to dreamworld is definitely a change. The worn-down theater changes to a variation more ornate and in much better shape, bringing a smile to her face before she ambles out towards the street.
The outside of the theater also appears in this improved condition, even the street seems cleaner, as though someone had taken the time to pick up the usual litter. The sun warms her face and shoulders, while a fresh, cool breeze blows past, bringing with a sense of freedom and serenity.
Masao smiles more widely, glancing up and down the street with a decided lack of her usual wariness. "Now -this- is a beautiful day. Wonder how fast I can get to the park?" she asks no one in particular as she starts walking in that direction.
Not very long at all, apparently! As soon as Masao finishes speaking and walks forward, her feet land on the soft grass of Harbor Park. The sky is a wide, open blue, and the trees wave gently in the breeze, as though greeting the Gnawer. Up ahead, the fountain bubbles merrily, the benches around it empty for now. A few people mill about, but further away, and none of them seem to be bothered by or notice her.
Masao giggles and actually skips towards the fountain, giving into a little behavior common for her age. Once there, she settles onto one of the benches and watches the cascading water quietly. Occasionally, she looks around the park more out of habit than anything else.
As Masao's attention is focused on the fountain between looking around, a shadow across the bench, and a young teen leans over with a charming smile. "Hey, hon," Basil says, then walks around to sit next to her. "Beautiful," he adds, nodding to the fountain, but his gaze upon her.
Masao looks up and smiles at Basil, though the expression is a touch guarded. "Hey, bro...yeah, it is, isn't it? Seemed too nice to do anything but sit in the park today." She leans slightly against him when he sits, though, a gesture of familiarity between the two.
Basil nods, putting his arm back behind her on the bench. "Yeah, you're real good at just sitting back and watching," he responds, although still with that charming grin. "Can't say I blame you, though. It is a nice day."
Masao grins a bit more easily, losing some of her guard around her tribemate. The lovely day is enough to lull her into a sense of calm, as if so many things hadn't happened of late. Things it would be so wonderful to forget for a while.
Basil moves the arm that's behind her so that his hand rests on her shoulder. "I've been thinking... What if we just left? You and me. Get away from all this, find somewhere that's less restricting. Someplace we can be ourselves."
Masao turns her head to look at Basil with a little confusion. "Leave? You mean the park? Plenty of places to go...and I'm always myself, I dunno what you mean." The touch doesn't quite register as much as what is said.
Basil rubs her shoulder a bit and smiles. "I mean Washington. The Sept. There's a whole wide world out there! Who says we have to stay here in this rigid place? Let's go where we can be happy."
Masao slowly begins to frown, "But...I'm happy here. At least, most of the time I am. This is my home now. I belong here, for once." Her posture closes up a bit and tightens as she looks back at the fountain. "It's not all friendly out there. Not at all. Not a lot of room to be happy."
Basil sighs and then nods, giving her a quick squeeze before he removes his arm. "You're right. It's wrong to try to take you from this little bubble you're happy in. I'll ask Kevin," he adds, then stands, as if to go do that right this moment.
Masao frowns more and reaches out to grab Basil's hand. "Wait! Isn't that how all the shit started? Just because you can't break the Litany with me, you have to go and do it with him?" she says sharply, having never been afraid to hold her tongue with the ahroun before. "And what do you mean, 'this little bubble'? I've seen more of this world than -you- have, I'm sure!"
Basil turns back as she grabs his hand, smiling. "That is why this all happened, yes. Because we could not be." He then shakes his head, reaching out to brush back a strand of her hair. "You may have seen more, but in the end, you chose to embrace the safe and comfortable."
Masao pulls her hand back and looks up at Basil with uncomprehending eyes. "Wh...what? A-are you serious? Safe? Comfortable? Since when is being what we are anything like that?" she says in a suddenly softer tone, curling her hands tightly to her chest. "If I wanted safe and comfortable, I would've never have left home. I'd never would have ended up here and I certainly would never have met you..."
Basil reaches out and grabs a hold of her shirt with both hands, pulling her to her feet. "Then you see nothing! Sure, you dare. Sure, you're not completely safe. Yet still, your courage only goes so far. You're not willing to risk enough to take what you want." His expression softens. "Or what you need."
Masao is shocked at first by finding herself so quickly moved, inhaling her breath in a sharp gasp. It doesn't last long, though, especially after what she hears. Then, her small fists begin to beat on Basil's hands, arms, shoulders, anything they can reach. "Let go of me! Right now! How do you know what I want or need? You, who say you care about me, love me, and then turn around and are willing to just run away?" she says, the words punctuated sharply by her movements.
Basil laughs as she tries to beat him. The sky behind him begins to darken. A midnight blue. "Because I can see you as you really are! Look!" He abruptly, with the strength of a Full Moon, pushes her back down hard onto the bench. The wood shatters as she hits it, and she falls back even further. The sky fades to black, colors bleed until only gray remains, and when she hits the ground, it is not the soft grass of the park she feels, but the cold cement of a cell.
Breath leaves Masao in a sharp gust as she hits the cement, leaving her coughing as she looks around her. The inspection is slow at first, with a little latent shock at the change in scenery, then slowly gains a bit of panic as the smooth gray surface meets her in every direction. "What? Where? How? Basil? What the hell?" she says with a slight squeak to her voice, searching for any way out.
Her voice echoes through the cell, which seems to be getting smaller with each moment. A chilling laugh eventually answers, and then voices begin to whisper all around her, whispers /about/ her. Familiar voices. Sad voices. Concerned voices. Angry voices. Accusing voices. The smooth sides begin to melt and then reform into bars, through which she can see the figures of Justin, Blackriver, and Leslie, each standing at a different portion, scowling down at her. "She's just as guilty. Worse! Sympathizer. Lover of litany breakers!"
Masao's breathing comes quicker as the lack of escape from her sudden prison is all too apparent. The voices, their tone and words, only make it worse. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and the seeming reality of it only drives her panic harder. "Guilty? Guilty of listening to my conscience! Guilty of respecting the decision of one higher than me!" she gasps out, stretching one arm vainly out between the bars. "Yes, I loved him...but I loved him enough to let him go! I should have killed one of them! I should have!"
Justin snarls, smacking her hand away as she reaches through the bars. "She admits her guilt. You should have killed him. Should have killed both! We would all be better off if you had. But you failed, and failures go to hell." His voice rings out as though a judgement had been pronounced, and the center of the cell's floor becomes soft, malleable. Her foot sinks into it, and it starts to suck her down like metallic quicksand.
Masao looks down in horror at her foot, pulling the limb free or at least trying to. "Nonono...no! Please! Let me out! LET ME OUT!" she cries, growing more desparate as she sinks, "PLEASE! I'll do anything! Let me prove myself! Let me -redeem- myself! Not just in your eyes, but everyone's! Please!" Her dark eyes are so wide that white shows all around. Even though her hand is smacked away, she tries the movement again and grasps for anything in reach to keep herself up.
The Philodox that surround her remain impassive, uncaring as she sinks deeper. When she tries to grasp the bars, her hands slip through them, and they too begin go melt, the ceiling even starts to drip down upon her, burning like silver as it touches her skin. "All sinners must be purified," Leslie intones. The Gnawer sinks deeper and deeper, faster as she struggles, the pain almost unbearable.
Masao screams in a mix of frustration and pain, the situation pushing her to the limits of what she can take mentally and physically. Before she realizes it, her body bulks up into Glabro and a wild sound begins to build in her throat. "NO! This can -not- be the only answer! You'd take a warrior from Gaia so easily?" she snarls, brandishing long-nailed fists and eyes growing in Rage. "I will -not- let you take me out like this! I -will- die fighting! You take a coward's way out, all of you!"
The Rage builds within her, pulsing with each silvery, burning drip from the ceiling, lending her strength as she starts to claw her way out. She is still being sucked down, but not as quickly. The Rage, though, that fiery anger within, it blinds, it calls, it licks like flames at the edges of her mind, begging to be unleashed. Fight back, hurt them, kill them, stop those that would destroy what you KNOW is good! The three laugh as she struggles, mocking her words in twisted voices, then they too begin to shift, turning into mockeries of the Crinos form.
A roar of defiance marks the otherwise invisible flip of a switch that catapults Masao into Crinos, giving herself over to the fury of Rage that gives her such power. ~Liars! There is no justice in your words, only mockery! You would destroy us all with your false judgements!~ All of her strength goes to freeing herself so she can lay into the deceivers with her claws and fangs.
Her claws finally find purchase once she enters Crinos, and the Gnawer is able to shove herself up out of the metallic pit and toward the Philodox. Her skin is still aching, covered in the silver-like substance, and the song of Rage pounds in her ears. The three roar at her, slashing with their claws, trying to defend themselves, but they are no match for the /righteous/ fury of the Bone Gnawer. Justice comes from the least! She must fight, she must win. Whether they laugh or scream, she must not falter. Now, Rage is all that matters. The battle, the blood, to tear down the false preachers.
Losing all sense for words, Leaves-None lets her claws and their edges do the talking for her. There is pain, but it is almost nothing in comparison to the Rage she unleashes on the Philodox before her. Justin is her first target since he brought words down upon her first. Perhaps some tiny part of her regrets having to destroy one she considered friend, but it is silenced by the howls that tear out of her throat as she lunges forward.
The Bone Gnawer continues to fight, her anger building up like bile in the back of her throat, her vision red along the edges. Justin is the first attacked, the first to fall, still laughing, mocking, judging, even as he roars in pain and defeat, his blood flowing down Masao's arms, adding scarlet threads to her silver-dipped coat. Blackriver, Leslie... Neither can stand against her. Pain, exhilaration, blood, death, victory, Rage, frenzy... It's all a swirl of emotions. And gradually that confusing blend, the gray and the red, it all begins to fade, to mix together, as Masao begins to awaken, tossing and turning furiously in her sleep.
Masao comes sharply awake with a defiant cry, finding herself wound in a tangle of threadbare blankets and scavenged clothing. Some of it, already the worse for wear, is torn beyond repair and lays in shreds here and there. Staring off into the darkness of the theater, heart pounding in her chest, the newmoon tries to sort out dream from reality with shaking hands. In a far corner of the theater, Squeaks' otherwise soothing noises fall fearfully silent for long minutes.
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