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

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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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( Sakura is a person of routine and it's no surprise to know that she'd gone to sleep at a perfectly reasonable time. Her dreams are always nothing out of the ordinary-- at least, nothing out of the ordinary for those in the same army as hers. There are nights when she dreams of the war and nightmares where she holds a patient in her arms as the life leaves them despite her best effort and nightmares of King Garon coming for her family or of a mad dragon at the bottom of a deep canyon....

But tonight is not one of those nights. Her dream tonight is warm and bright and full of light as the sun shines on a radiant kingdom. In the castle town, a great dragon statue stands and in front of it, Sakura and her siblings talk happily about something when a woman interrupts them. She beckons for one of them to come over and it's Sakura who steps forward to speak with her.

"Yes, mother?"

The woman smiles lovingly at her youngest daughter, "We have a guest."

Sakura looks confused. A guest? This is the first she's heard of anyone coming today. She can feel her anxiety spike as she wonders what this means. Who is the guest? She isn't dressed to greet anyone but before she can say as much, Mikoto reaches out to smooth her hair, "You'll be fine. Now, why don't you show them around?" And she gestures away towards their dream guest. "Don't stay out too late..."

Sakura turns to see who it is and gasps. She hadn't expected them to appear so suddenly... )

Hello...?

[Her dream is of the sun, bright and brilliant over the spires of her castle, bringing warmth and light to everypony beneath it. All of Equestria seems visible from her spot in the tallest tower, even though in the waking world it would hardly be.]

[But Celestia, unlike most, is used to a presence in her dreams -- only not here. Not in the Far Shore. The moment she feels that touch she turns in surprise, with delight written all over her face in anticipation.]

Sister?

[Perhaps Zelda should be more worried about yet again finding herself spirited away somewhere unfamiliar with little reason as to how or why. Certainly, when she first arrived in the Heavens not too long ago, she viewed nearly anything and everything with suspicion, waiting for the world itself to turn on her.

But... oddly, that anxiety just isn't here. Perhaps it's because though this kingdom's ornamentation is far from anything she recognizes, the spirit of it reminds her so much of the Hyrule of her childhood: bright, peaceful, and happy. Perhaps the dreamer herself has something to do with it, the warmth and contentment she feels with her family blending into Zelda's own feelings until she cannot tell which is which. She finds she doesn't really care why, in the moment; she must make introductions, and she would like to see more of this radiant land...]

Please, forgive my intrusion. [She curtsies lightly-- she's not entirely certain why, but she feels like she should, and she remembers how to do that much at least from when she was a child.] I am Zelda, Princess of Hyrule. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.

[... She should have more to say, she should know the girl's name, but when she fishes her mind for it, she comes up blank. So she smiles, pleasant and benign, and prays the short introduction does not insult.]

[Surprise is written plainly on the intruder's face as well, but the delight is sadly absent. As warm and bright and beautiful the kingdom surrounding them is, she finds she can hardly enjoy the sight when that singular word breaks her heart.

Sister. Someone she clearly, obviously, is not.]

... Forgive me. My name is Zelda.

[And for once, there is no questioning how or why the pretty rainbow pony is talking, because that's how dream logic works.]

Princess Zelda...

(In the memories of her dreams, it doesn't sound familiar. It doesn't sound like anyone from the nearby lands and this woman's dress is more like that of Nohr and its surrounding nations... maybe that's why? Even her mannerisms-- the curtsying to show her dress-- reminds her of them.

But Sakura bows in greeting, carefully practiced but natural all the same, the way it should be for a princess.)

Welcome to Hoshido. I'm Sakura. (There's something in the back of her mind, nagging and telling her something isn't quite right but she can't reflect on it now,) You've... come from far away, haven't you? (An assumption.) What brings you here?

[After finally succumbing to the sleep that he's been trying to elude, it isn't necessarily a surprise when his dreams decide to take on a familiar place. It was in a forest, quiet with slivers of moonlight peeking through foliage and casting small shadows on leaves-littered ground. His memories, the ones he regained, were easy to be dreamed of, but there were times when it would grow darker, the shadows shimmering in the pale light as if it were ink instead or happier times with faint voices in the distance, laughing as the moonlight was replaced with glimmers of sunlight instead.

This time, there's the laughter of children, tiny voices talking animatedly with one another.

Lavi is leaning against a tree, a soft and affectionate expression masking his face as he watches two kids - one who looks like a younger him and another child with dual-colored hair - play with one another, crouched over some sort of board game. They seem to be arguing, but the smiles on their faces dispelled that.

But familiar with the world of dreams, familiar with someone's presence intruding in on something that shouldn't be seen, Lavi's eye seems to dart around the area before settling back on the kids as they continued to play.]

Oh, goodness.

[At once the profession attitude of Princessly serenity and calm practically slams down over her like a window being shut with all the force a pony could muster. Celestia inclines her head gracefully.] Please forgive me understanding. My sister is Princess of the Night, and her duty is to walk in the dreams of ponykind, to guard Equestria's slumber.

[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?

I have. Farther than I imagined, honestly.

[Hyrule is impossibly far away, yet the pleasantness of the dream keeps her from dwelling on that fact. Instead, she thinks of why she's here, and... she doesn't know. But admitting as much would be shameful, so she improvises.]

... Your country is beautiful, Sakura, and its people are happy. That I can tell even from the brief glimpses I have gotten before meeting you. It is my wish to learn how I can bring that kind of happiness to my own people, if you would allow it.

[It's an improvisation, but not entirely a lie.]

I... I fear I do not understand completely, but...

[But she could practically feel the walls coming up, and even if everything else she's said is too much to comprehend at once, she does understand that. After all, she's guilty of doing the same more than a few times herself.]

There is nothing that needs forgiving. I merely wish I could have been the one you long to see.

[You miss her, she'd say, if she were crueler, if she didn't understand the safety the dutiful mask provides. It hangs in the air instead, heavy and perhaps even palpable, given the hazy and blurred line between thought and action in dreams.]

( She's a humble person, one quick to put herself down and turn away any compliment but at the praise for her kingdom, she can't help but swell with pride. Hoshido is a beautiful country and she's proud of her people for all of their strength and warmth. )

Thank you.

( Oh, but is she really the best person to be teaching anyone the proper way to run a kingdom? )

If you want to know about how to lead then you should really ask mother-- ( But when she turns back, the woman from earlier is no where to be seen. ) W-well, that's all right... Besides, big brother is... the king... now?

( That's right? Ryoma is king now because Mikoto was... dead? There's a look in her eye as she begins to realize something isn't quite right. Why would Mikoto be here if Ryoma was king? She's certain she remembers this now and she glances at the dragon statue in the center of the square only to see it replaced with a statue of a woman instead.

Her hand reaches up to her forehead to check for fever to explain the confusion she's beginning to feel but she feels fine. )

P-pardon me, I must have... been mistaken... ( Only she doesn't sound so certain. ) Please, allow me to show you around.

I miss my sister, but not quite so much that I wish for her to show up here. [Because even if she came as a god, that would still present many of its own problems. Celestia can admit to missing her sister so long as the princessly serenity is in place; she doesn't have to worry about her subjects losing faith in her or worrying about her, here.] Am I to gather, then, that you are not used to this power?

[His dreams may not be entirely his own, but they look grimly familiar. The room is small, a cheaply furnished kitchen lit by warm yellow electric light. It had been clean, once. Now, over the harsh whiff of lemon-scented cleanser, it reeks of blood and voided bowels.

There is a demon sitting at the kitchen table. His sharp fangs are just visible past his parted lips, vine-like markings arc across his nose and cheeks, and one of his eyes is a startling slit-pupiled yellow. The other is an equally startling human green. His ears are long, and as pointed as the bloody claws on his folded hands. There's only one other chair at the table, and it's occupied by the slumped body of a woman. She's face-down on the table in a puddle of blood, her long black braid slowly soaking it up and dripping red onto the floor.

The other body, crumpled near the door, is long-haired too, but male, and his hair and fixed, glazed eyes match the blood from his torn throat.

Three little ear-cuffs, silver, unbloodied and finely wrought, lie in the center of the table. The demon is staring at them, and not at the corpses sharing his room.

Staring, until the kettle on the stove behind him escalates from bubbling noises to a sharp whistle. He rises from his chair with automatic grace to turn off the stove, lift the kettle, and begin pouring tea. His hands leave shocking bright red smears of fresh blood on the stove handle. The kettle. The cups. Everything he touches.

But there's someone else in the room, and he hadn't expected that: he looks up, slowly, from the bloodied cup and tea canister, looks away from his bloody hands towards the stranger. His wariness doesn't conceal his confusion. Shouldn't he be alone here? Someone else in the room is different, and he steps back from her until his hip hits the counter to stop him, filled with sudden, terrifying dream-certainty that, if he isn't careful, he'll hurt her too.]

Who are you?

[It's one of those dreams that Archer doesn't remember after waking up. He's standing in an endless wasteland, with countless swords in the ground akin to grave markers. Smell of sulfur and smoke fills the air. High on the sky as red as rust hang gigantic gears. It's a desolate and lonely place.

Archer is wearing only his black armor without the red overcoat. He adds another sword to those already here and straightens. Slowly he turns around, aware that he's not alone. It's not as it should have been; no one else should ever enter this place.]

What are you doing here?

[ "Land of the Shadows" earned its name right. The place that sun can barely reach, malignant and dangerous. Dun Scaich castle casts a heavy, almost oppressive shadow. There, on the ramparts and stone formations the first sign of life shows.

"Watch your step!" Woman with a red spear shouts, as she mercilessly delivers her attacks. The boy continues to try and parry the incoming swing, but he's constantly on the defensive. She feigns an attack, he tries to dodge, and... well, ends rolling down stairs, all the way to the level below.

"I told you to watch your step" If she's disappointed or annoyed, she does not show it on her face. She walks down to the youth but does not offer a helping hand - instead delivering a blow with blunt end of the weapon right in the middle of his forehead. "Don't ignore your surroundings, use them to your advantage, or your enemy will do that instead"

The surroundings change, along with time. The boy is now more of a man - even if that much time didn't yet pass, really. How many months did he spend there? Or maybe those were really years?

He's moving quickly through the castle, only to hide in the darkness of a gallery above the entrance. Seconds later, the woman, his teacher arrives on the space below him. That's when he jumps down and strikes. She dodges gracefully and puts a distance between them, red spear ready to strike in her hands. But she finds herself positioned into a corner.

"You should watch your step, master." Her pupil grins at her, proud for some reason, even if his attack didn't really work. And she proceeds to chastise him for it.

"You wasted your breath to speak and lost your chance to deal a fatal blow."

"Mmm, maybe..." he agrees with her, smile not fading. "But you didn't see me coming, didn't you?"

It's woman's turn to almost smile.

--

He's both himself, and both that boy, but in the final part of the dream, the separation becomes more noticeable. Eventually making him just an observer that sits on the sidelines. ]

Now that's nostalgic...

[Sleep is normally something Add avoids at all costs, but today happens to be one of the nights he passes out on his desk, exhausted from stress and endless working. The dream's scenery seems innocent enough—a stark white apartment complex with numbered plates attached to the doors, a few stands with decorative plants here and there, and a staircase at the other end of the hall. This is, apparently, the second floor, and there must be at least one more floor above.

But it's not long before the building starts to feel off. Patches of the floors and walls seem out of place, marred with distorted patterns and colours that weren't there a second ago. Objects seem to flicker from the corner of her eye, though they seem fine when viewed directly. The hall is eerily silent, lacking even the sounds of her own footsteps, aside from a steady low frequency tone coming from an unknown source.

Further down the hallway is Add, yanking on locked apartment doors with a sense of desperation about him. Notably, none of his movements or the doors seem to make any sounds either, though his frustrated grumbling can be heard loud and clear.]

[It's quiet, and peaceful, and Zelda isn't certain how exactly she got here, but for the moment she thinks there are worse places to be. Especially when she hears the cheerful chatter of children in a nearby clearing; she cannot help peeking around a tree of her own to watch them play, and even though she recognizes neither child nor the game they toy with, it feels... nostalgic, somehow.

She wonders. Would Link befriend the other version of herself? The one who would hopefully never have to flee her castle, toss aside her birthright and take up a new name? Would they have the chance to be children together, even for a moment, like these two boys?

... She'll never have the answers to those questions, she knows. But her mind swims with them anyway, to the point she might not even think to hide from the darting eye of their watchful guardian...]

[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.

[... Illusions? She remembers Impa's words about such things, how the Sheikah learned to create eyes that could pierce them to reveal the truth within, and, conversely, how they used them to their advantage. She can do neither in this situation, but something in her gaze sharpens, watchful and wary, like the gleam of a knife waiting on one's hip.]]

Please do not fret overmuch about it, Princess Sakura. [Even though she watches their surroundings much more carefully now, her voice at least remains even and courteous. Sakura seems like a kind girl, and she doesn't want to worry her even more than she is already.] Perhaps I could ask you to tell me of your older brother, instead. I presume he was raised knowing he was to be next in line to the throne?

[That is fair, she thinks, but also not-- Zelda is one thing, with no living family to her name, but to keep someone away from their close siblings indefinitely? The powers behind their kidnapping grow crueler and crueler.

But the conversation shifts, and she leaves those thoughts aside for more pressing matters.]

I... believe so? To be perfectly honest, I was not aware I was utilizing any kind of power.

[How little she knows about just how long Celestia and Luna were separated before. Not that the Princess intends to mention it without cause, mind.]

I see. That is a little dangerous -- to have a magic like this activate without warning or control. You might up in a very troublesome dream indeed.

Would you like some guidance? I am not my sister, but I know something of her magic. I believe I can help you, if you would like.

[The children's giggling echoes softly in the clearing.

"No, you move it like this!"

"Ah! You're cheating!"

"I am not!"

Their words, their playful bickering, is enough to make anyone smile. However, Lavi is alerted of Zelda's presence, enough where he pulls away from his post in order to confront the princess.]

...Can I help you? [His voice is wary. Enough where it affects his dream a bit that his younger self's head shoots up from the game, looking around as if sensing a sudden disturbance in the air.]

[She hardly even notices his alarm.

Her eyes are fixed on the carnage surrounding them, gloved hands covering her mouth and nose in terrified, sickening shock. But even so, she can still smell the copper-tinged stench of blood covering everything, and she nearly gags on it, saved only by closing her eyes and wincing away from the horrid display.

... Something odd happens when she does. It's only for a moment, a blink or two at best, but in that half second the man's body flickers. One moment, his hair is long and red; in the next, it is short and grey, bedecked by a crown. Then, he disappears entirely, before reappearing as the redhead once more.

She sees none of this, of course, and maybe the demon doesn't either, focused on her as he is. But only once that's done, and she feels like maybe she won't be sick if she dares to open to open her mouth, does she blatantly ignore his question and ask her own in a strained and muffled voice:]

What happened here?

[The redhaired body --

(Gojyo)

-- moves, and Hakkai's gaze whips to him, looking for signs of life, and finding inexplicable gray hair, and a crown, for an instant before he is himself again. Is he hallucinating now? It hadn't been a crown he recognizes, nor a body he recognizes, but perhaps he's just retreating from reality.

Is this reality? It must be. He wouldn't imagine it voluntarily, he is sure of that much, and his hand tightens on the teacup until the porcelain threatens to crack.]

I killed them.

[His tone, rather to his own surprise, is eerily calm and reasonable, but he's still flinching from her, pressed back against the counter.]

Please don't come any closer. I can't be trusted.

[This place is... strange. Unearthly. Like the Heavens themselves and the way they perpetually shift and change with little rhyme or reason, there's something intrinsically wrong about this place that she just can't shake. Like it's something that's not supposed to exist.

Still, she stares, at the gears hanging in the air, at the rocky crags looming in the distance, at the endless, unlimited swords standing sentinel over a world of nothing. At least until the smoke makes her cough, alerting the other to her presence.]

I... I am not entirely certain. [She answers, and coughs again, but this time, a gentle, barely there breeze forms from nothing around her, clearing the air enough so she might speak unhindered.] What is this place?

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

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cw: war elements, ptsd

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cw: gore, reference to violence/death, guilt issues

cw: reference to violence/death,

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