Dreams that do come true can be as unsettling as those that don't.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

Wednesday, sometime, somewhere in Dream

Once upon time there was a beautiful princess. Her hair was the colour of jet and her skin was the colour of nutmeg, and each of her teeth were like pearls. Flowers grew where she walked, so that the fields around the tower that was her home was carpeted in blooms as white as snow. The princess was very happy, all save for one thing: her fear that one day the thorn of one of the flowers would prick her. Her servants combed the field for thorns every day, trimming the stems so that it would be safe for her to walk. But still the princess was afraid, and she neglected to notice that each month the forest encroached closer on her home, until one day, standing in her field of flowers, she looked up to see the trees looming around her, undergrowth thick with thorns. Frightened, she fled inside, and as she ran she began her first bleeding, and the blood that trickled down her thigh fell to the earth and stained the roses around the tower a deep and brilliant red.

Inside the tower the princess was afraid that she was dying, for her father had always insisted that royal blood was the most precious of all things and must never be spilled. Weeping, she showed the blood to her old nurse, who laughed and kissed her cheek and told her this was the secret gift of women, and now she was blessed. So the princess wiped her eyes, and was no longer afraid of bleeding. But the thorns of the forest came for her all the same.

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[nansekam.livejournal.com]

I had a name and I gave it up. I remember that.

Something's happened, something bad. Can't tell you what, though, cos I'm blind. Everywhere around me there's a smell of roses, and something underneath it like decay. Keep calling out, but there's no answer. Stumble until I find a building, run my fingers over the stone til I come to wood, to a handle, to a door. It's locked. Knock on it and knock on it, but there's no answer.

Can hear a wolf in the distance. But I think it's getting closer.

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

My Brother is dead.

I know nothing else, not where I am nor how I came to be here, not even my own name. None of that matters, only that my Brother is gone, one who I thought could not for all the times we nearly killed one another.

Long I have wandered, aimless, without direction nor care. I have heard the sound of others, but I avoided them. To meet only means there will be a parting...

I never got to tell him I loved him. Never got to say goodbye.

Now there are roses, so many roses... and there's a memory there too. Of the scent of roses, of roses turned black as night, and a new type of Rose, and it's right there, what I am forgetting---

But the rapping keeps the memory away. Push on through, go around the curve of the wall. There is a man, sightless, looking as lost as I feel, banging on the door.

"Do you need assistance?" I call in a tired but friendly tone from a distance off, so as not to startle him.

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

Catch myself on more edges of thorn and leaf than I am in habit of doing, and don't mark it my own carelessness, and the ground and vines are thick with roses, white and pale and then bright as a new wound. It's like wading upstream in its own way, I suppose.

Pale and dark, two men in the swamp of red and thorns, and I look curious to them both. Neither seems to be carrying weapons, which is fine enough of the moment. Pale one looks like he's seeing too much he can't name, and the other plain can't see.

"Here," I say, taking his hand and putting the white stones into it. "May do you some good, for sight."

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

The darkness across the sea grows more refined as we cross it, and there is a welcome mark of green on the horizon. It's a shadow-bramble green, but there's still more life to it than the sea and sky. There is a tower amid the brambles, and as we draw nearer to it we come to a bay, and a river feeding pouring out of it rather than feeding in, winding into the forest and its shadows.

"I can see us," the woman without a face says, sounding a little off-balance, for which I really cannot blame her or anyone, I guess. "If we get out here, then we can walk directly to the tower." And isn't that what we're here for?

I am not entirely glad to be in these woods, though. They look rather prickly.

[marbasthefallen.livejournal.com]

I was more than ready to ditch this odd band of dreamers, but CeeCee bounced on her toes, and begged me so prettily to go on an adventure, I was hard pressed to refuse.

So on we sailed across the sea to the lands of green and thorns. The China Doll announces she can see us and we can go straight to the Tower. So again, CeeCee and I tag along, following behind the group a pace or two.

As we walk, there is a sense of urgency, a sense of tension building up. I tilt my face to the breeze, catching scents in the air. Lush greenery, roses, the scent of decay and old blood and... and... inhale deep.

Fir needles, smoke and cedar, leather and musk mingling in a singular colonge. My grin widens, and my eyes glow in the shadow of the forest. "Luciennnnnnnnnn......" I growl softly. Oh, he is here. I lift CeeCee up to my shoulders and hasten my steps a bit.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

S'hard fer me not t'leave th'bloody boat b'hind...swear't's movin' slower'n a damned wounded jellyfish. I skim through th'water, breakin' inta th'air ev'ry so often so's'ey c'n see'm still'ere, otherwise doin' turns 'round't, checkin' b'low t'make sure ain't nothin' comin' up from under. Journey's slow, least t'me't is, but we make't fine. Girl steers th'boat nice'n easy into a bay, an'ere's an op'nin' inta a river. Come up fer breath an'I hear th'faceless woman sayin', "If we get out here, then we can walk directly to the tower."

Well grand, an'I guess'at's what we's'ere fer. But I wonder if'n any ovvem've noticed 'at'is river tastes'a salt, annat th'water's blacker'n deeper'n a river's gotta right t'be. Th'forest's th'ocean an' th'ocean's th'forest, both ovvem tangled up so tight t'gether't y'can't hardly tell th'diff'rence, an' mebbe'ere ain't no reason to.

An' parta me 'members another dark salt river ('r mebbe 't wuz th'same one), water'n m'ears 'n th'taste'a blood'n cold meat, an' m'second heart pumps black blood harder'n m'chest.

Th'boat crunches onta th'shore, an' th'folk start t'disembark. Me, I ain't so eager t'leave th'water 'n go back t'bein' cold an' skinny an' slow, so I hang about...an' somethin' catches m'water-eyes. Somethin' gleamin', way down deep 'n th'blackest parta th'water, where th'current's hardest an' th'bottom's far outta sight. Somethin' says, Here.

Bark 'n m'seal voice t'th'others 'n slap th'fins'a m'tail on th'water 'fore swimmin' out, right over. An'en I raise m'head inta th'cold air, fill m'lungs 's full'f air's 'ey c'n get, an'I dive.

[silence-excolo.livejournal.com]

We follow the river (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/405098.html?thread=10323818#t10323818) deeper & deeper into the woods, it's waters no longer clear & sweet. Dark things move in it's depths, matching the things moving in the woods. Dense & thick, the brambles & vines here & I pull my arms inward in spite of myself. The scent (tainted) here is strong, even with the roses crushed under foot & hoof. Poison, decay & blood.

We are not alone. It seems many have come to the tower today.

[chester-excolo.livejournal.com]

After exchanging our stories however short or poetical they may be we head off towards our destination. The women ride while I choose to walk. If have no idea if the horses of the fair folk share their weaknesses but I shall take no chances and besides I think that mayhap it may help to allay some of the fae woman's wariness of me if make such an effort to spare her the necessary presence of my sword while I can. In the end she may have cause to feel some gratitude that I have one on my person after all.

When we arrive we that we are far from alone, indeed it seems many have come to the tower today. I come up beside the fae horse, paw lightly on the guard of my sword which is politely on my far side away from horse and fae. "It seems we ain't the only ones as have something they gotta do here. Want me to go check on stuff up in the front rows?"

[danashee.livejournal.com]

I enjoy our short ride to tower, with my arms around No Hands waist to keep her from falling her warmth a gentle heat I can feel against me, her perfume of myrrh and other herbs still lingering in her hair.

The crowd in front of the tower forces us to stop much farther away from the entrance than I would like. I can see over all the various heads that the entrance swings open but no one is rushing to enter. Part of me wants to charge right through them. My sister...! The way to her is right before me, if not for this bothersome crowd. When our companion makes his offer to check on what's going on at the front of the crowd I nearly snap at him but close my teeth over it. It is a reasonable offer and perhaps if we knew why no one is taking the way so recently opened we can choose what next we should do.

"Very well, Sir Cat,go but return swiftly."

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

The path is wide, and my other companions fleet footed, and in no time, the trees thin out and part. Beyond lies a field of roses, white turning to red, and a part of me thinks the next colour they will bloom will be black. The tower lies at the heart of it, and for all the wrongness that I feel...

"Godmother." I whisper. She's in the tower, I know it. "Be careful friends, there is a being that would keep us from here." I warn as we start to pick our way towards the stone building. I take a good at the other people milling about...

"Dear Heavens!" I proclaim, not believing what I am seeing. "Is the whole of Excolo here?" Oh dear god, are we ALL asleep?

My saying the word Excolo aloud seems to have a ripple effect, the names resonating through them. I could say more, but main concern is my daughter. I look down to check on her...
but she has stopped fussing and whinning, and her expression seems far away. "Oh god, Rose... Rose!" I whisper in a panic, thinking her little body is failing her, that I failed her for not being to wake up, to feed her, to---
Father has come. Worry not, Mother. I am well enough. Her thoughts echo in my head, and my relief is so great I could weep. "Go ahead love, wake up." I urge her. Rose does not though, merely sighs and gives me that flicker of a smile. "Stubborn little imp." I whisper, touching her head, but glad she is being sustained, somehow.

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

The woods were a labyrinth and full of dreamers all carrying on in the same dream. I got a headache from the pressure to sleep to not be so aware of dreaming. I worked hard to stay awake but it was a constant effort. I wandered the woods for a time until I realized why the little silver flower brooch kept pricking me every so often. I took it off and it became a compass in my hand.

This led me to the center where a tower lies in a field of blood y flowers; Roses I think. There is a crowd milling around the tower and it looks as though someone has just opened the door. I think I see a familiar face in the crowd and wave tentatively.

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

Now that my worry over Rose has abated somewhat, I can focus on what's going on around me. Lucien and Miao seem to be stuggling with the roses, and ...

I feel the blood drain from my face as I look to the Tower. That thing is still here in Excolo, it must be, why else would it be here? I look around, to see if---

"Damien!" I gasp, realizing I am just as relieved to see him as I was to see Ares. I wave back and motion him over.

"What's going on?" I ask urgently, hoping of all the people here, he'll know. "How is this possible?"

[tess-thiess.livejournal.com]

There was a boat, but I do not need to cross water.

There was land, but I do not need to cross earth.

There was a sky, but I do not need to cross air.

There is a forest, and I am there.

There is a tower, and I am there.

There is an angel, and I am here.

There is a sword.

[simon-klavec.livejournal.com]

"You shall not pass. I am sent to bar your way."

Words seem familiar. Like something a brother told me, once. Like a speech I heard. Feel strange when they fall from my mouth.

"She kept here against you."

Feels like I was in one of those plays we used to do for church, or at harvest. Marching up and down with a wooden sword, blocking the hero's way. This isn't me, but a role I'm playing for someone else.

Smile for the camera Simon. Except I'm Azrael, but he doesn't bar the way with flaming sword in hand. Someone's playing games with me. With us.

"You shall not pass."

And playing badly, too.

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

It's dark, dark outside with the clouds and darker inside, but one of the guys at the door of the tower's going on and in and I catch up with him and the others, holding the gear high and it shines bright and golden, something small and beautiful and meant in all the shadows that sift in when no-one's looking and that's it, that's enough to see by. And there are stairs, of course, spiralling up, and this is something the likes of which I've never seen before, and I'm short on breath but I can hear myself trying to laugh as we ascend.

[mistresswanda.livejournal.com]

With the path cleared, I run up to the Tower, ignoring the winged abomination, and hoping that death in dreams does not equal death in life for Glass' sake. Rose gurgles as I sprint up the stairs, following the bobbing light up ahead, until I catch up with the clattering feet above me.

Valmont leads the way with Zann right behind, holding up a shining piece of metal, and she looks as if she's having the time of her life.

"Godmother's in there." I say, not knowing how I knew that, but I nod to a large wooden door in front of us draped in cobwebs. Rose squirms excitedly, almost with impatience. I brush away the strings of dust with my cape and manage to push open the door with my shoulder. It opens into a room of shadow, roses dried and dead on the vine. In the center, on a raised dias, stands a canopied bed, velvet drapes choked with dust.

"Godmother." I cry softly, seeing her in the center of the bed, still as death. Quickly I cross the room to the side of the bed. "Godmother, please wake up!" I beg quietly, shaking her shoulder a bit. I hear the others enter the room, btu I can't take my eyes off her. "You must wake up, I brought Rose, just like I said I would." Tears spring to my eyes as I look to the others for help.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

Down, down, down I go, into th'dark'n th'deep. Th'water clangs'n m'ears an' th'light fades away, but I c'n see jes' fine. M'eyes 're all fer th'shinin' thin' on th'bottom, th'shinin' golden beacon't's singin' m'name like a great whale. Shinin' so bright'at't hurts m'eyes. But fin'lly I reach't, tucked int'a crevice'n th'rock. Take't 'tween m'teeth, holdin't gentle, like't's an egg, an'en turn. Time t'get back up'n see what I have.

Yeh-Shen! Yeh-Shen! I am coming!

...th'hell wuzzat? Came thumpin' through th'water like a trumpet call, drownin' out th'sounds'a th'wave. I pause, hangin'n th'water, an'a massive shape passes overhead. Great shadow like a whale or a shark.

Yeh-Shen! Wait for me, Yeh-Shen!

....okay. Ev'rybody outta th'pool, 'm thinkin'. Wait ferrit t'pass me by an'en start pumpin' m'tail's hard's I can, rushin' fer th'surface.

[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

This is not how it is meant to be.

It is an old story, old as time, old as memory. The girl in the cave, her only friend a fish, until that fish is killed by her father's jealous second wife, devoured by her greed and her ugly daughter. And the first girl, the kind and lovely girl, she weeps for her fish until he visits her in a dream, telling her to wish upon his bones for her heart's desire, and it will come to her.

An old story. Old as the sky.

But Yeh-Shen would not follow that story. Yeh-Shen was stolen from me by these folk with their tales of towers and princesses, with their skin turned to stone and their blood in my water, the blood which clogged my gills and filled my stomach. They left me, alive and needing to die, in that fouled pool, circling and crying for Yeh-Shen and my death.

It took much time for me to dig my way through the blood-thickened mud, through the roots and worms, until I tasted the salt of the river. But time has no meaning here...we are young as our years here and old as time. And now I am here, nourished on blood, filled with the salt, my mouth as great as a cavern, and I feel her, my Yeh-Shen. She is suffering pain that was not meant for her, pain that these others have brought with them, and rage floods me, flashing in my eyes.

Movement catches me. Movement of a silver-spotted seal with a golden toy in its mouth, rushing for the surface. Movement of one of them, one of those who brought time and pain and wrongness here. I send bombing water through my gills and my mouth gapes like a void, and I rush after it. If I am to be nourished on blood, let it be their blood, now and forever.

[chester-excolo.livejournal.com]

I head for the group at the gate but events move swiftly and outpace me. The roses rise against us and I have to fight for every inch of ground. Then The mage takes the roses and they quiet once more. I reach the gate to see one of them fall and take the gate's guardian with her. Several people head into the tower and I follow them, one paw resting on my sword in readiness for whatever I should find at the top of the stairs.

[leah-pontarlier.livejournal.com]

The water answers me slowly, too slowly. The answer comes back as the blood rises to the surface. A fight! The seal-woman is fighting a huge fish. I pull my hand back from the water as if it hurts. Maybe I should go down and help her. Maybe I should stay and wait up here for her. I don't know that right choice is!

I don't know what to do.

[lord-icelus.livejournal.com]

So the silly bitch got herself some loyal friends. No matter. There are still many tricks I can play.

The skies open, because if we're to have a dramatic showdown the sky should reflect that, shouldn't it?

All fairytales are about dragons, in one way or another. In the tongue that first named me the word comes from δέρκεσθαι, to see clearly. Dragons are what we know wait for us in the dark. Dragons like me.

And so I come as a dragon, but not of scales and teeth. That is wrapped underneath something else. Something to make Nanshe's own people turn on her. I come as what each of them love best, and they are going to watch Nanshe try to put a sword through me.

I smile as I approach the tower.

[goddessnanshe.livejournal.com]

I walk out into the storm, and I'm glad to see that the roses are dead. I move my hand, and they are cleared away. I'm not strong enough to pull down the woods, not yet, but this I can do. There is wet grass and wet grass alone under my feet, and from the north comes a dragon. I raise my sword. I could make myself armour, but it needs to be like this.

Overhead thunder rolls.

[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

My golden fish is dead.

I weep for him, for I know that he suffered in a way he should not have had to, but he made choices and so did I, choices that were given as a gift. I will not be ungrateful for any gift.

I do not hurt anymore. I am cold.

My eyes should be next.

Yes, but my hand is too numb to hold the knife, the knife which seems so terribly heavy now. And I think that my friend has strength enough now, strength enough that she woke and she walked from here, and she smiled at me. I was so very glad to see her. She was never meant to sleep in such a way. "You will not undermine her sacrifice, Lucien Constantine," she said to the golden-haired man, and I was glad to hear that too. The sacrifice was my choice. It was not my golden fish, killed by the malice of others and offering his bones to me...it was an offering of me, by my own decision, the only offering that I could make.

The golden-haired man, the one who carried me though I cried for him to stop, who tried to stop me, he wept over me. I wonder why, for I do not know him.

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

Stumble down the stairs with everyone else and stand there staring at the chaos of the yard. Rain pours from the sky and I fumble out an unbrella from my pack. It is bright red and reminds me of a flower. I squint out from under it and can barely see Nanshe as she strides out to meet her opponent.

I can't really see them but I can hear the music. It is gorgeous and wild and and that's what she's fighting?. But I know she must do this. Things are not what it seems. This is how it defends itself. A shapechanger that turns tinot whatever it needs to. I hug the unbrella handle to my chest unable to move. If I move I will break. I will...I don't know what I'll do, but it will probably be the wrong thing and Nanshe will lose and we will all be trapped here unable to wake.

But the music tears at me. And I shake. Soon I will have to give in to it. to go to it. Because if it is for real, and it dies and there is no more music ever. Then I will die too.

[marbasthefallen.livejournal.com]

This could rate as the most fun I've had since being released from Lucien. I would like nothing more than to jump into the fray, cause more chaos and damage myself...

but I do have to keep CeeCee safe.

So she remains on my shoulder as I keep circling the tower in almost lazy circles. Between the two of us, we both generate enough body heat to keep the rain from being a nuisance.

"Enjoying the show?" I growl to my daughter, wondering how much longer this will all take before the Dream Goddess triumphs. I almost wish I had popcorn...