thenearshore | and I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

Who: Princess Zelda + YOU
What: Zelda accidentally goes dreamwalking. Shenanigans ensue.
When: September 1st, night
Where: ~the land of dreams~
Warnings: Please put any content warnings in your subject lines!

[Gods and shinki, strictly speaking, do not need to sleep. The biological need simply does not exist in the spiritual beings of the far shore, and if the old gods, beings with no experience in being bound by the physical needs of the body, were still around, perhaps we wouldn't be having this discussion.

But it is said old habits are hard to break, and sleep can still offer some benefits to the denizens of the heavens besides, even if it is no longer truly necessary for survival. So it is a quiet night, and though the air is warm, the rising of the moon brings with it a breeze that keeps it from being nearly unbearable as it is during the light of day. You drift off, as you have likely done a thousand times before, but something is different now--

Your dreams are not your own tonight.]

_{[ooc; dreamwalking log! set up the kind of dream your character is having in your starter and zelda will appear in the middle of it, mildly befuddled. and again, please make sure to put any content warnings that might come up in your subject lines. thank you!]}

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[Relatively speaking, it's a peaceful night on the front of Shun's nightmares. However, it's rare that he's not having one at all, it just means that tonight's isn't caught up in the battlefield itself. It means, as he knows by now, perhaps a few extra hours before he jerks awake and has to find something else to occupy himself until morning.

A dead, pressing silence occupies this dreamspace, the washed-out grey ruins of a long destroyed city scattered somewhere in the distance. This part of the world, however, is occupied by rows upon rows of identical gravestones, stretching far into the distance, almost beyond sight and scope. The ages of the graves seem to vary, though none look very old, and at the far end of the foremost row of headstones, a young man in a tattered indigo coat kneels at the foot of a grave.

The earth of the grave seems to mist up around him, and for just a few moments, a spirit forms - a black-caped boy a few years younger than the one at the grave, with two-toned purple hair in a series of bizarre spikes. The apparition shivers unsteadily for a moment, and he reaches out towards the older boy, who tries to reach back.

And then the spirit breaks up and dissipates, and Shun's hand curls into nothing but air.

He can hear the sound of an approach, though, and he turns sharply, eyes darting over the area.] Who's there?

[She recognizes none of the graves, nor the destroyed buildings that loom off on the horizon, but this place is still familiar in a way that leaves her heart feelings heavy in her chest.

This is a war zone, or the edges of one, anyway. Death presses in on all sides, cold and silent inescapable, but uncaring for the ones left behind in its wake. It reminds her of Castle Town, a dilapidated husk inhabited only by the dying and the reanimated dead.

She sees the boy - the only spark of color in this lonely place - reach out to what she can only describe as a ghost, and she immediately wishes she hadn't. She's intruding on something personal and private, but where else is she to go? It seems as though she could walk for miles and still remain within the bounds of the graveyard.

When he turns to face her, she lifts her hands in a placating gesture, showing she's unarmed, or at least not hostile. Perhaps she should be as alarmed as he is, but for now, simple melancholy is the only thing she can feel in this place.]

Be at peace. I do not mean you any harm.

[The gesture does help somewhat - it shows Shun that she's cognizant enough of where she is and what's surrounding her to first express the fact that she's disarmed. Still, his bearing remains wary, and he looks her over with a calculating eye, as if he's trying to draw what information he can out of her just by sight.]

I don't have any word but yours on that. [There's a certain graveness to his tone, and something bitter but untargeted. It's more the situation that she's found him in that he considers the offense here, and he looks over the graveyard very briefly before returning his full attention to her. That's where it's going to be staying the majority of the time, until he's quite sure she doesn't mean any harm.

He knows this place doesn't exist - or, at least, the graveyard doesn't, even if the ruins in the distance very much do. It's merely the way his mind chooses to conceptualise the thousands, millions of dead from his city. Which means one question is very much on his mind right now, and he crosses his arms to his chest in a reserved motion as he speaks. However, it's still loose enough to react at a moment's notice if he deems it necessary.]

How did you get here?

That is true, but if I had truly intended to hurt you, would I not have been at your back while you were... preoccupied?

[She remains still, moving neither closer nor farther away, hands held high and open, sticking out like a pink and gold sore thumb against the greyed backdrop of their surroundings. Her expression is sympathetic, however. She does not know this boy, or this land, or what happened here, but she recognizes the wary glint in his eyes, the way he holds himself like a coiled spring, ready to jump at a moment's notice.

Whatever this place is, it has not been his friend, she can be sure of that much.]

I fear I cannot answer you question, because I do not know entirely myself. But if you can tell me how I can leave, I shall.

I've never been preoccupied enough to let anyone get that close to me. [There's almost an implicit challenge in his voice at that, as if it's being suggested that he isn't capable of that much. Though that might be in part due to the heavy shadows under his eyes that speak of a lot more than one day of missed sleep, or possibly even completely absent sleep.

That also isn't a particularly reassuring answer to Shun's question, and his eyes narrow a little. If she doesn't know how she got here, chances are they're not going to find an easy way to get her out.]

Usually it's waking up that gets you out of dreams and nightmares. That's all this is. [Does it sound more like he's telling himself that than her? Quite possibly.]

[Her silence probably speaks volumes of what she thinks about Shun's self-assessment. But regardless, she does not give voice to her thoughts; she empathizes with the strain of maintaining a high guard and constant vigilance, and sees little reason to argue against his pride. Instead, her eyes mirror his as he offers his explanation of the situation, narrowing and briefly glancing about, recontextualizing their surroundings.]

You mean to say none of this right now is real?

[It would explain the impossible size of the graveyard, but not necessarily how she ended up in it.]

[Shun isn't considerate enough of what anyone thinks of him to argue an unsaid point, as obvious as it is. Not to mention the subject of where they are and what it means is much more relevant right now, and he looks over the area with a short nod.]

This place doesn't exist in reality. So it goes without saying that none of this is real. Not to mention we'd have to be in my world to see that.

[He points towards the rubble of the city in the distance. Despite the tightness in his voice at that last remark, he doesn't elaborate on what exactly it is, and it doesn't seem like he plans to.]

and I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

cw: war elements, ptsd

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