pakiramay

[pakiramay]

SCENE 6: Still there.

OUR HERO blinks. Somehow, THE PRINCESS looks a bit different to them. Perhaps it was the light? Her hair shines more golden. Her smile beams in a different way. When she pulls them into a tight embrace, it feels strong in a way that only a healthy girl could manage. That is strange… had she always been so cheerful?

THE THORN: Certainly not with him around…

She is not so high in vitality, usually, OUR HERO agrees. But it is just as well—the ashen expression of an empty stomach was never one she wore well. Better this newfound flush than the wretched opposite.

THE PRINCESS: Looks like I won! OUR HERO: Congratulations… THE PRINCESS: Let's go play another game! Play, play, play! Let's play… in the flowers!

Towards a flourishing flowerbed, she flies. It's graceful, like a butterfly or a spear. She lands in the center and starts sniffing each one, a dreamy look set upon her round face. She beckons OUR HERO to join her, holding up a peony.

THE PRINCESS: Here—The nectar is sweet! They say that if I drink it, I'll be a HERO!

She rips the flower apart. Golden sap spills out like a RIVULET OF BLOOD. It smells sweet. Saccharine. The nectar drips down from her hands and onto her dress, staining it yellow. Play, play, play! I'm gonna be a HERO!

THE PRINCESS is about to suck it from the stem, but…

SCENE ???: The theater collapses.

Triandra stumbles forward. Her chest seizes up, and she soon finds herself sprawled over the floor, kneeling. She wraps her arms around her chest and coughs something out. Dryly, disgustedly, she spits out a molar. It digs into the ground beneath her and blooms into a flower. She trembles.

"Don't drink that!" She screams.

THE PRINCESS: Why not?

Triandra heaves. Because you should have never wanted to be a hero, she wants to say. Because being my sister should have been enough. Another tooth dislodges in her mouth instead. She desperately looks up at THE PRINCESS' eyes and sees that they are spring green. She feels strange. Had they always been green?

Play, play, play! Let's play… dress-up!

"...You're not my sister." she realizes. Her breathing turns ragged—Where had Peony (Sharon...?) gone? This wasn't his/her sister. Still, something drops down into Triandra's stomach when she sees THE PRINCESS pout. Her sorrow was familiar and all too terrible. Suddenly, she's not quite sure who this is or why she cares.

THE PRINCESS: [Tearily] What?

Triandra feels her nails dig into her skin. She shakes her head. Petals fall from her hair. A growl sands the edges of her throat. How could this happen to her? How could his memories consume her too? She groans, then sobs. Then chokes on the bones in her mouth.

OUR HERO(?): Lady Freyja! Lady Freyja, please! I didn't mean to… I didn't think… save me! Please save me! I… I can't keep… THE PRINCESS touches her shoulder with sticky, sappy hands: A-are you alright? OUR HERO pushes her aside: No… I need to stop him. I need to stop this... This isn't right... THE PRINCESS: I'm sorry... OUR HERO: Don't be... I(?) love you.

✧ / APOKALYPSIS.

WARNING. depersonalisation, derealisation. tbt.

#THREAD ✦ apokalypsis #cw depersonalisation #cw derealisation #((erm. here's that sporadic posting schedule i was talking about JHYFDGHHJSDFGSJFD))

[pakiramay]

Triandra is not worthy of the solace she finds tonight. A creature such as herself only knows how to take peace from others—she should not get to enjoy it. But standing here in the academy's greenhouse, she feels it overwhelming her. For the first time since coming here, she feels almost… at home. Her mind is not the maze it usually is. Thoughts feel right. Her senses make sense. Dare she say, she feels like herself. (Who is that? She doesn't know.)

Though wrong, she basks in this peace like a flower in the sun. She breathes.

Tap-tap-tap! A knock on the door briefly pulls her out of her repose. Triandra feels she might get scolded for trespassing. Not that she cares—she trespasses every night. Still, she finds herself responding: "What is it?"

(wc: 133)

GUILTY OF YOUR INNOCENCE

[TOA OPEN] CHALLENGE FOR YOU AND ME!!! (mostly me let's be real jhshajsdhsddjsk) Let's keep replies short: 150 words max!

#THREAD ✦ guilty of your innocence #toa open #((a practice on brevity!)) #((i want to try being more purposeful with what i write)) #((not to say that i don't already try but.... i think this will help a bit more HASGHDSGHA)) #((let's keep things simple and sweet!))

[pakiramay]

✧ lyssamania: the irrational fear that someone you know is angry with you.

obscure sorrows

She sends her nightmares after a young girl this night.

Her fears are quite typical for a child her age—Triandra creates visions of towering beasts, sounds of unknown rustling in a dark forest, the feeling of brambles that prick at every step. It is simple. Nothing that she hasn't made. But it is terribly effective. Fog blurs the girl's vision and snakes between her feet. A shadowy form (which Triandra hasn't yet bothered giving proper shape) chases her, and she screams. 

"Help! Help!" the girl shrieks as she dashes through the woods. Scratches line her ankles and knees. Her sandals begin to slip off her feet. "Sister! Where are you?!"

Triandra seizes up at that word, especially screamed in that octave. Sister. 

(Stop it... Don't hurt her... Don't hurt my sister...)

A young girl in pigtails appears in the middle of the forest path. Her yellow dress is bright against the drab of the woodlands. She catches the running child in her arms, wiping her tears with chubby little hands. She looks up at Triandra, brows fussed and unsmiling. In her hair, an orange flower blooms.

"That's not nice! Why are you bullying children?" she scolds. In her embrace, the child whimpers. Triandra looks at the both of them, something quite like sorrow twisting in her heart. "It's my job. I have to do it." Triandra responds, not sounding so convinced.

The little girl frowns. "But I thought you wanted to protect—"

Triandra's gaze turns deadly. She's had enough, she decides. With a wave of her hand, she dispels the nightmare. The girl disappears, and the forest dreamscape fades into oblivion. The child wakes up, surely off to cry to her real sister, in her real home, in the real world. Triandra remains standing there, alone and unsure of exactly what to feel.

#INBOX ✦ munting pangarap #((thanks for the prompt tehehehe)) #((i. erm. havent exactly figured out how i want the nightmare realm to work yet tbh)) #((so if it's lowkey vague. that's why LSDJKFGHSDFGKJHSDKJ))

[pakiramay]

✧ apolytus: the moment you realize you are changing as a person, finally outgrowing your old problems like a reptile shedding its skin.

obscure sorrows

When the first thorns grow out of her hair, she begins to cry much less.

It is curious, of course. One would presume such an appendage would bring nothing but pain to her—but the nectar her lady had been providing makes pain but nothing. In fact, the thorns are something Triandra finds herself appreciating. Too often did she catch her own reflection in pools of gemstone waters and see how much human remained in her features. This is a girl who is weak. This is a girl whose hands are stained. This is a girl more useful to the world when she is gone.

Now, however? Why, she looks too freakish to be human at all! She is evolving. She is growing. She is even beginning to forget her former life. Her hands go to touch the thorn that sticks out from her hair; it pricks, it bleeds, and when she sucks the blood off her finger it tastes saccharine. Triandra feels somewhat enamored by this.

What once was bitter turns honey-sweet. Tight cocoons give way to wings. And soon, she will not recall the fact that she was a girl at all. She will thank her lady profusely for that.

The rest of her biology collapses rather quickly. First, it was thorns, then it is a large rose blooming out from the locks of her hair. The dream nectar only nurtures the growth. Plant life takes its root in the soil of her body and crawls through her flesh until it is clear to any who gaze upon her that she is otherworldly. Inhuman. Something only seen in one's wildest dreams—or worst nightmares.

Triandra sees this transformation and finds a warm surge of satisfaction pulsing through her. Finally, this is a girl worthy of becoming fear itself.

#INBOX ✦ munting pangarap #((freaked up alfar biology my beloved)) #((i deeply enjoy the fact that the thorns on triandra seem to be growing from her)) #((thanks for sending n!!!!! very cheesed by this prompt))

[pakiramay]

✧ yu yi: the longing to feel things intensely again.

obscure sorrows

The tears do not even threaten to fall.

It is such a shameful lack of sorrow at her lady's sacrifice. Triandra ought to be crying. Why is she not crying? Her body (traitorous body, which had stolen the pulse off her lady's neck) yet moves. She gasps. Her gaze turns upwards. Her exhales err on shaky and her eyes grow wide. It responds to the grief. But there is no rapture. No ragnarok. She does not collapse alongside the rest of her world. Is this how people react when losing the meaning of life itself? Somehow, she is nothing—a simple, wretched nothing.

She looks down at her lady's face and imagines her to be dead. She imagines the soul of the goddess traversing down into some dim eternity, where she would stay forever. She imagines the emptiness of dökkálfheimr, the abyss that would soon consume it. She imagines what she will lose—what she has already lost. She imagines Plumeria's face. She listens to her thoughts and hears that the wind is hollow and howling, that the weeping echoes like music in the space. Then she closes her eyes and waits.

Not a prick.

Triandra frowns. Her lady is gone and she does not have the tears to offer. None of the sorrowful tribute a funeral deserved. Could she not manage a whimper? No words of tender mourning for the goddess she owed her life to? She wants to speak. She wants to sob. Where is her mouth? Why can't she scream? Once, her heart was tender enough to do so. Now, there is naught but a thorn in her chest.

Triandra casts one last glance towards her lady. She is beginning to forget the sound of her laughter. Then quietly, she flies away.

#INBOX ✦ munting pangarap #((TY FOR THE BANGER PROMPTS REN WAAAARRGHHH)) #((it's just. argh. you ever think about how triandra only got a crying+smiling sprite NOW? like.... oh my goodness)) #((emotions......... i just feel like they don't connect in her head yanno))

[pakiramay]

SCENE 5: In a field of flowers.

THE PRINCESS: Augh… Ah…. OUR HERO: Hey, hey, it's okay…

OUR HERO soothes THE PRINCESS with their voice. Hush, hush, soft as a whisper. They wrap their arms tighter around her, humming softly into her ear. The blood remains. In the air, the scent of sweet nectar is thick. It lulls THE PRINCESS into a calmer, quieter state. She sways.

THE PRINCESS: Are you hurt…? The… the blood… OUR HERO: [Shushing] It's alright. It's not mine. THE PRINCESS: But… it's all over you… OUR HERO: I don't mind it. THE PRINCESS: Okay… I—

THE PRINCESS suddenly gasps. She tears herself away from OUR HERO's arms and looks down on her white clothing.

THE PRINCESS: Wait! It hasn't stained my dress, has it?! OUR HERO: [Reaching out] No! No, don't worry. I won't let any of it get onto you.

She lets out a loud, frankly dramatic sigh of relief. Her palms run down her skirt, smoothing any wrinkles that may have formed— of which there are none. Naught a crease nor stain would ever taint her dress. Though petals do stick to the fabric, but she doesn't seem to mind those. She skips towards OUR HERO, taking hold of their bloodied (wounded) hand.

THE PRINCESS: Okay… okay… I was worried. OUR HERO: I'm sorry. THE PRINCESS: A while ago... I thought you were hurt... OUR HERO: I'd be okay even if I was. THE PRINCESS: [Gasping] Don't say that! OUR HERO: But it's true. I'd take on anything for you. THE PRINCESS: Augh… but please don't get hurt… [Looking around] Umm, here, let's… let's play in the flowers! Then you won't have to get hurt. OUR HERO: But I'm not hurt��

But THE PRINCESS is already pulling them across the field of flowers, yellowish-orange petals blooming with each step. She leads them to a particularly sweet-smelling patch of flowers. OUR HERO wrinkles their nose. Something seems to be off. They can't seem to shake the unbearable thought that their entire world is about to collapse.

(On her tongue, the bitter taste of nectar....) (She writhes.)

✧ / APOKALYPSIS.

WARNING. depersonalisation, derealisation. tbt.

#THREAD ✦ apokalypsis #cw depersonalisation #cw derealisation #((these are halloween ass colors i just realized omfg)) #((also dear readers. let it be known that i have a histo quiz tomorrow that i have NOT studied for yet)) #((but its okay because im making history right now ayooo 🔥🔥🔥))

[pakiramay]

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

a collection of words to describe the strangeness of being human.

✧ agnosthesia: the state of not knowing how you really feel about something.

✧ alazia: the fear that you're no longer able to change.

✧ altschmerz: a sense of weariness with the same old problems that you've always had, the same boring issues and anxieties you've been gnawing on for decades.

✧ apolytus: the moment you realize you are changing as a person, finally outgrowing your old problems like a reptile shedding its skin.

✧ bareleveling: trying to improve yourself without anyone else knowing about it, afraid that they'll think it's silly or grandiose or unnecessary, or that they'll end up calling too much attention to your efforts.

✧ bye-over: the sheepish casual vibe between two people who've shared an emotional farewell but then unexpectedly have a little extra time together.

✧ candling: the habit of taking stock of your life on the occasion of your birthday.

✧ craxis: the unease of knowing how quickly your circumstances could change on you.

✧ daguerreologue: an imaginary conversation with an old photo of yourself, in which you might offer them a word of advice, or maybe just ask them if they thought you had done justice to the life they built for you.

✧ dead reckoning: finding yourself bothered by somebody's death more than you would have expected, even if they were only an abstract presence in your life.

✧ dolonia: a state of unease prompted by people who seem to like you too much, which makes you wonder if they must have you confused with someone else.

✧ endzoned: the hollow feeling of having gotten exactly what you thought you wanted, only to learn that it didn't make you happy.

✧ énouement: the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, finally learning the answers to how things turned out but being unable to tell your past self.

✧ etterath: the feeling of emptiness after a long and arduous process is finally complete.

✧ falesia: the disquieting awareness that someone's importance to you and your importance to them may not necessarily match.

✧ feresy: the fear that your partner is changing in ways you don't understand, even though they might be changes for the better.

✧ fool's guilt: a pulse of shame you feel even though you've done nothing wrong.

✧ harmonoia: an itchy sense of dread when life feels just a hint too peaceful, with an eerie stillness that makes you want to brace for the inevitable collapse, or burn it down yourself.

✧ heartspur: an unexpected surge of emotion in response to a seemingly innocuous trigger, which feels all the more intense because you can't quite pin it down.

✧ immerensis: the maddening inability to understand the reasons why someone loves you.

✧ inerrata: a kind of mistake you wouldn't take back even if you could.

✧ insoucism: the inability to decide how much sympathy your situation really deserves, knowing that so many people have it far worse and others far better.

✧ justing: the habit of telling yourself that just one tweak could solve all of your problems, which leaves you feeling perpetually on the cusp of a better life.

✧ kairosclerosis: the moment you look around and realize that you're currently happy, which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart, and put it in context.

✧ keep: an important part of your personality that others seldom see, that remains a vital part of who you are even if nobody knows it's there.

✧ kuebiko: a state of exhaustion inspired by senseless tragedies and acts of violence, which force you to abruptly revise your expectations of what can happen in this world.

✧ lackout: the sudden awareness that you're finally over someone, noticing that the same voice that once triggered a cocktail of emotions now evokes nothing at all.

✧ leidenfreude: a sense of paradoxical relief when something bad happens to you.

✧ liberosis: the desire to care less about things.

✧ lyssamania: the irrational fear that someone you know is angry with you.

✧ mauerbauertraurigkeit: the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends whose company you generally enjoy.

✧ mcfeely: to be inexplicably moved by predictable and well-worn sentiments, even if they're trite or obvious or being broadcast blindly to the masses.

✧ nachlophobia: the fear that your deepest connections with people are ultimately pretty shallow.

✧ nighthawk: a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night.

✧ opia: the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

✧ ozurie: the feeling of being torn between the life you want and the life you have.

✧ pâro: the feeling that everything you do is always somehow wrong.

✧ povism: the frustration of being stuck inside your own head, unable to see your face or read your body language in context, only ever guessing how you might be coming across.

✧ proluctance: the paradoxical urge to avoid doing something you've been looking forward to, stretching out the bliss of anticipation as long as you can.

✧ punt kick: a quiet jolt of recognition that it's time to become a better version of yourself, sensing that all the strategies that brought you this far are no longer working.

✧ rasque: a moment you instantly wish you could take back, feeling a pulse of dread right after crossing the point of no return.

✧ rubatosis: the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.

✧ scabulous: being proud of a certain scar on your body, even if it hurts.

✧ slipfast: the longing to disappear completely, so you can take in the world without having to take part in it.

✧ soufrise: the maddening thrill of an ambiguous flirtation, which quivers in tension halfway between platonic and romantic.

✧ tiris: the bittersweet awareness that all things must end.

✧ the whipgraft delusion: the phenomenon in which you catch your reflection in the mirror and get the sense that you're peering into the eyes of a stranger.

✧ tichloch: the anxiety of never knowing how much time you have left.

✧ tornomov: the weird hollowness of trying to imagine the distant future.

✧ yu yi: the longing to feel things intensely again.

#mobile tbt #((maybe..... a little treat for me?)) #((also i prommy that the formatting of these will not look apeshit)) #((or i will try at least VSGSHSJJSJAGAGAGGA))

[pakiramay]

She grows exhausted. This isn't right… At the death of THE EMPEROR: OUR HERO[?] weeps. The anger doesn't disappear. It only spreads. Malignant. A twisting stab of shame is nailed into her heart. She looks down and sees her hands are no longer her hands (she's holding a blade) (it drips with blood). She looks down and sees the face of THE CORPSE (she knows that face) (it drips with blood). 

OUR HERO[?] falls to her knees. She grows exhausted. This isn't right. THE EMPEROR: [Now dead; accomplished] The task is done. THE CORPSE: So why do you still falter? OUR HERO[?]: What are you doing here…? THE EMPEROR/THE CORPSE: Shame is wasted on creatures like you! THE CORPSE: You would do it again if you had the chance. OUR HERO[?]: This… isn't right. THE EMPEROR: Embrace your wretched truth — you've become the sort of miserable soul she would hate. OUR HERO[?]: You're supposed to be in his head, not mine…

SCENE 3: The set changes; it returns to a murky nothingness. Or perhaps, a blurry painting. Or perhaps, a memory best forgotten. Or perhaps, a memory that still chooses to persist.

OUR HERO[?] stumbles on with bloodied hands. Her body is eager to fly but when she jumps, she only falls. THE CHORUS erupts into applause. The young girl retreats behind the curtains. The actors follow. OUR HERO[?]: [Off-stage] This isn't right. I'm the one controlling the nightmares. They don't control me. THE THORN: You're covered in red. OUR HERO[?]: This blood isn't mine. THE THORN: You still carry the stain. OUR HERO[?]: This isn't right. THE CORPSE: Of course it isn't! This is your mistake. You taint everything with your blackened, bleeding heart. Look at the horrors you've created! Look at the hate you embody! Look at the hurt! The hurt! The hurt! OUR HERO[?]: I didn't want this… THE THORN: But you wanted to protect her, didn't you? OUR HERO[?]: … THE CORPSE: Protect her from yourself.

OUR HERO[?]— no, Triandra inhales (groans). She closes her eyes and flies back onstage. This isn't right. This dream is still his. These fears are still his. This is all his and she is the one with power here.

(On THE THORN: A flower begins to bloom.)

SCENE 4: After a brief intermission, we return to OUR HERO. The nightmare will not heed.

✧ / APOKALYPSIS.

WARNING. depersonalisation, derealisation. tbt.

#THREAD ✦ apokalypsis #cw derealisation #cw depersonalisation #cw death #((remember when we were like "oh yeah we can ping pong short replies to one another)) #((that was a fun time))

[pakiramay]

This prince's dream is strong— stronger than Triandra is perhaps capable of. She feels her power begin to stray from her, too large to be contained in her small, unbruised, unready hands. How much more could she hope to take? Constructing such a dreamscape exhausted her. But it was all in the name of the Realm of Nightmares; in the name of her beloved lady. While OUR HERO (the prince) would derelict duty, THE EMPEROR (the nightmare) would not.

It's too sudden and too subtle for her to notice, but something strange rises to her throat— anger. Anger that this prince had the option to wait, even in a nightmare, while all she had were her hands.

(THE THORN sets itself into her palm. It will only grow with the passing of time.)

SCENE 2: It continues.

THE EMPEROR: What do you wait for, boy? Does the word 'duty' mean nothing to you?!

He seizes THE BRANCH from the floor and shoves it into OUR HERO's hands. Blood from a wound (that's not supposed to be there) on THE EMPEROR's palm drips onto the wooden surface. THE BRANCH twists slightly. Fires rise from the ground, roaring despite the rain that howls above them. The scene turns red and angry. The acrid smell of death turns into the singe of smoke and dust. THE EMPEROR points his finger like he would a blade.

THE EMPEROR: You stand in silence, as though you've earned the luxury of waiting. Hah! This is your mistake — hesitation will make you a dead brat!

He raises his sword, readying a strike. THE ARMY cheers behind them, though the sounds are distant and lilting, as though it were being played on off-tune instruments. Or, perhaps, being played without second thought. THE BRANCH quivers in OUR HERO's hands.

THE BRANCH/THE THORN: See where your tender heart has led us? Your people cry out: OUR HERO, you are not fit for such a title. OUR HERO, you mock the values you claim to uphold. OUR HERO, where is our salvation!

✧ / APOKALYPSIS.

WARNING. depersonalisation, derealisation. tbt.

#THREAD ✦ apokalypsis #cw derealisation #cw depersonalisation #((this was such a bitch to format why did i ever think of using our tumblr links as a part of the thread)) #((JKDSFHKDFGJHSDFJKSDF)) #((also sometimes i worry only I will understand what i'm writing but like fuck it idk. that's the beauty of cryptic shit))

[pakiramay]

Darkness is a good way to set the scene, though Triandra's hand is amateur. She paints too much night into the stillness. The memories grow vague. The lines are blurry. Her prey won't see anything tonight. She frowns to herself. A young nightmare she still may be, she values her lady and her duty too much to allow for any sort of failure. Juvenile wings carrying her, she takes to flight, and lands center stage. 

If he cannot yet see his fear, then she will open his eyes.

AT RISE

[Enter THE EMPEROR]

THE EMPEROR emerges from the night. His face is obscured, but his aura is immense. The storm blows through his cape, giving way to the illusion of wings. Following his entrance, the rain turns into the beat of war drums. Darkness comes together to form THE ARMY— thousands of marching men, waving banners with an Emblian sigil. Whatever walls or windows that had been containing our young hero melt. No shelter for the weary! The flames of the hearth bloom into a wildfire. It roars. THE EMPEROR speaks with a booming voice, and addresses OUR HERO's thoughts directly.

THE EMPEROR: You are a fool to think these were the heavens, child! There is no paradise for men! There is only the rot we tread upon — I shall bury you beneath it!

THE EMPEROR brandishes his sword. It glints with a foul crimson. The drumming grows louder. THE ARMY raise crossbows, raise spears, raise shields. When they cry, their mouths are gurgling with blood. The sound is nails against metal.

NARRATOR: The glorious burden is yours, Son of Askr! 'Tis your birthright — and so seize it with calloused hands. Long have your people sung a song of enduring war, watered a field of gladiolus. Now, it is your time.

THE EMPEROR kicks something towards OUR HERO. It's a branch.

THE EMPEROR: [Spoken mockingly] Well? What is OUR HERO's response? NARRATOR: OUR HERO must make his choice...

✧ / APOKALYPSIS.

WARNING. depersonalisation, derealisation. tbt.

#THREAD ✦ apokalypsis #cw derealisation #cw depersonalisation #((i have so many thought but like i cant fit them in the tags)) #((all i can say is. lets keep going and see where we land kjASDHFDJKDGNHKJGDK))

[pakiramay]

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET. roleplay sentence starters of the 1984 film. feel free to edit according to scenario / pronouns. tw: violence, death, murder, horror, gaslighting.

some dream, judging from that.

it was so scary.

it seemed like he was still in the room with me.

it was the worst nightmare i ever had.

as a matter of fact, i had a bad dream last night myself.

up yours with a twirling lawnmower.

i couldn't go back to sleep last night.

so, what did you dream?

did you have a nightmare, too?

i'm so glad you guys could come over tonight.

glad we don't live here, huh?

it worked like a charm.

i told you you'd be feeling better.

all day long i've been seeing that guy's weird face…

you dreamed about the same creep i did.

there's something out there, isn't there?

i'm going to punch out your lights, whoever you are.

what the hell are you doing here?

what's going on here, an orgy or something?

i think we should get out of here.

don't leave me alone with this lunatic.

why is she so bothered by a stupid nightmare anyway?

morality sucks.

i knew there was something about you i liked.

you feel better now?

who do you think you are?

who did this?

we're trying to reach her now.

but nothing was found at the scene.

what the hell was she doing there?

look, i don't want to get into this now.

how can you say i don't take her death seriously?

honey, you were tossing and turning all night last night.

did you sleep?

i'll sleep in study hall.

i'm not going to hurt you.

where's your pass?

screw your pass!

it's only a dream!

everything is all right now.

and then what happened?

what did he look like?

did you get a look at him?

i don't expect you to believe me anyway.

you know, i probably could have saved her if i'd have moved sooner.

you think i did it?

don't fall asleep in there.

but i heard you. you were calling me.

i'm sorry for scaring you.

i saw your light was on.

will you shut up and let me in?

get inside before somebody sees you.

so, i heard you freaked out in english class today.

oh god. i look twenty years old.

do you believe that people can dream about what's going to happen?

do you believe in the bogeyman?

i've got a crazy favor to ask you.

a lot might depend on this.

i won't screw up.

this is just a dream. it isn't real!

i just asked you to do one thing…

call me if you need anything.

you mind telling me what's going on?

you know, i took the night shift so i could get some peace and quiet.

we have reason to believe that there might be something very strange going on here.

there's an unsolved murder and i don't like unsolved murder.

the killer's still loose, you know?

you're saying somebody else killed [ name ]?

i'm going to get her some help.

it's not you i don't trust.

is she asleep or awake?

i brought something out from my dream.

where did you get that?

i'm holding the damn thing right here in my hand.

i don't think you're crazy.

that's just not reality, [ name ].

feel better? you call this feeling better?

you knew about him all this time and you've been acting like it was something i made up?

what if they meet a monster in their dreams?

they turn their back on it. take away its energy, and it disappears.

i'm into survival.

you're starting to scare me.

did they put him away?

you sound a million miles away.

if he gets me, i'm pretty sure you're next.

why would anybody want to kill me?

you can't bring somebody out of a dream.

whatever you do, don't fall asleep.

how can you listen to television and hear your records at the same time?

i'll give you a hand.

i've never seen anything like this before in my life.

listen, [ name ], i've got a proposition for you.

i'm going to go and get the guy who did it.

it's my nightmare he comes to.

that's what i've been telling you all along.

if you see anything funny, call me.

come out and show yourself, you bastard!

where are you, [ name ]?

can't you catch me?

i'll kill you slow.

i know the secret now.

this whole thing is just a dream.

i take back every bit of energy i gave you.

it's going to burn off soon, or it wouldn't be so bright.

i feel like a million bucks.

did i keep you awake last night?

i believe anything is possible.

what's going on with the window?

#ASK MEMES ✦ ooc #((huehuehuehue)) #((i would appreciate some context for some of these but feel free to just throw me whatever)) #((i'll do what i can!))

[pakiramay]

No matter where you go, everyone seems convinced that these are unsafe times and everyone wants a little extra security— some want it directly in their hands even. It's no shock then that there are rumors of an arms dealer smuggling weapons through the port. If left unchecked, something could happen between civilians or worse, all these weapons could be used to outfit a nearby noble's independent army, giving an opportunity for a more widespread assault. Finding out where these weapons are coming from and who they're going to might be in the continent's best interest then. 

Reality is not so different from nightmares, sometimes. That is to say, mortals steep deep in fear even outside the empire of their minds. Triandra notices this particularly at the tollhouse. The men there search the merchant crates like animals, digging through the wood until their fingers pincushion with splinters. Words are exchanged like daggers, sharp with the intent to bleed. Accusations are thrown about. The smell of unease is ash in the air. One would be careful not to breathe it in.

Triandra blinks. Oh. It's easy to get lost in the details…

The dökkálfar sees little point in following the whims of the Academy, but does so anyway. If it means nothing to her, then it stands to reason that doing it won't change much. Through this forest of fear, she flies, inspecting crates and ticking off scrolls of inventory. It is in performing this meaningless duty that she meets a fellow classmate— one who had arrived with them on this trip.

Triandra stares at her. This lady is strange. Her ghastly appearance aside, there's something deeply familiar about her— not in the sense that she would call Plumeria or Lady Freyja familiar, but… perhaps closer to how that quiet normality of sorrow was familiar. Hovering slightly closer, Triandra finds that she smells like ash.

She closes her eyes. There are hot flashes of crimson. Triandra cocks her head. "You must have a lot of terrible dreams."

@galercin :3

NIGHTMARE TIME

[reason +1]

#THREAD ✦ nightmare time #((WAHHH MIRAE ILY)) #((also i hope im doing the title thing right LOL))

[pakiramay]

plotting (ooc)

hi hello everyone!!! i didn't expect to be back with a new muse but, well, life just finds a way, i suppose. i'll get straight to the point: i'll only be able to take on a limited amount of threads due to my schedule, but if you're interested in working out a dynamic between our characters, i'm always down! it can be something we work on in long term ^^

anyways, i'm really only interested in one mission board prompt: authority +1. triandra is a black eagle, so she's free to take it on with anyone.

i'm honestly more interested in exploring how she interacts with others than i am in taking on the current mission board, especially now while she's still new. i particularly want to explore her dynamic with characters who are either afraid of her powers or seek to use it themselves. if you're interested in something like that, hit me up!

my tumblr dms are open. again, if you already have my discord, feel free to use that as well.

that's all for now! i'll see you all around

#TULOG MUNA ✦ ooc

[pakiramay]

PAKIRAMAY — Triandra from Fire Emblem: Heroes, affiliated with The Officer's Academy.

note: i updated the pages! please look through them again hehe <3

about | stats | mun+guidelines | interview | <3

A FEW THINGS TO NOTE:

her canon does not yet follow the events of nihility & dream; that is to say, for all she knows, freyja is still dead, and she’s still working with líf and thrasir to bring her back (even though the latter two aren’t??? acknowledged at all in the tt+ which makes me angry but Whatever Whatever It’s Fine Hmph)

triandra is a dökkálfr, and her non-human features are rather prominent (cough, wings, cough). while most people will realize she's a fairay, they might not realize what her powers are at a glance.

triandra has very awful memory. just absolute horseshit. she also disassociates a lot. she’s not very grounded (pun not intended) and it reflects in how she interacts with others.

it also reflects in my writing so! if disassociation, depression, and depictions of memory impairments (do i call it that idk) are uncomfortable for you, please let me know.

triandra is the physical embodiment of nightmare. people who encounter her will find that they may have more night terrors, or perhaps even grow to become more anxious and unnerved.

she may also trigger a number of detrimental psychological effects, depending on how healthy someone’s mental state is. it can cause (among other things) hallucinations, psychosis, panic attacks— really, it’s up to your discretion how much your muse can handle her overwhelming presence. i will never force you to write this into an interaction if you don’t want to, just know that this is something i believe just happens with her.

of course, this is also something people can grow used to over time.

as she has the ability to essentially manifest in people’s nightmares, she also has access to one’s deepest and darkest fears. note, however, that this ability won’t come up in writing unless plotted for. that is to say, i won’t force her into your muse’s mind, nor will i make it so that she just magically knows all these details about them except for the instances that you allow me to do so. essentially, i won't force triandra's powers on anyone.

#PINNED ✦ ooc