sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ BLUE (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
firstroar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ximilialog2021-11-02 06:24 pm
firstroar) wrote in ximilialog2021-11-02 06:24 pm
dreamwalk two | ota
CHARACTERS: Blue, any sleepin folks out there
LOCATION: Someone's subconscious
DATE: Late Oct/Early Nov, pre-mission things
CONTENT: Psychics gon' psychic, dreams gon' dream...it's free dream/memshare real estate
WARNINGS: none in the tl; tagged as needed
It happens one of two ways:
outside
inside
LOCATION: Someone's subconscious
DATE: Late Oct/Early Nov, pre-mission things
CONTENT: Psychics gon' psychic, dreams gon' dream...it's free dream/memshare real estate
WARNINGS: none in the tl; tagged as needed
It happens one of two ways:
outside
When he sleeps, Blue's subconscious stretches itself outward, instinctively drawn to things familiar to itself: Feelings, imagery, names...bonds already made or half-formed. It's in a Mu's nature to connect in this way, to be linked in thought and emotion, and this happens even in sleeping. The universe he hails from lacks much of the color and diversity and freedoms of others', but there are common lived experiences to be tethered to, for better or worse.
Peril and pain, longing and loss, hope and harmony...while Blue reprocesses his own volume of them, he unconsciously seeks out meaning in those notions which might flicker throughout the station in minds other than his own.
That means a routine recollection or predictable dream comes with something new this time.
inside
The door swings both ways, for when Blue is asleep, he can't consciously keep it locked, can he? So those who have even a passing capability to perceive matters of the mind or heart, be it magic or something more, could find themselves drifting out of their own dreamspace and into his own, where pastel marble floors mold effortlessly with sheer metal surfaces dappled with clouds that shouldn't hold any weight, let alone a person's.
It's where the sky is no sky, but a gaping field of stars not unlike the view outside a station window...save for the massive, red planet crowning the horizon. Beyond it, a pale blue dot no bigger than what Earth's moon would be glimmers in the dark. A lyre's strings are plucked from some unseen place, filling the place as one would fill a vast, empty room, and Soldier Blue stands at the edge of the horizon in his old, familiar vestments and headgear, absorbed in...something...until the shuddering of the dream's veil prompts him to acknowledge the presence passing through.
Red eyes turn to fix on the interloper, unsure of what they are perceiving yet.
This is still simply a dream, after all.
heinous!!
( he has yet to observe how openly people speak of them, but he has no wish to divulge his own. regret is... personal, for him. )
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You may hear another voice...a different one than that dream. It may ask you to do...unsavory things to others here. For your own sake. [as he says so, the distant whisper of the voice that petitioned Blue to sabotage others sounds, just barely audible.]
No one has...a solid answer about it yet. Though there are many guesses.
Be careful.
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would he sacrifice the people here if needs be? return to a place and time where sasuke calls him brother and wear that mantle well if he did? he has already borne cost beyond belief, to carve it out of himself again would be — survivable.
(is it enough, to survive? he no longer knows.)
he is a thing forged for war, and a violent end was the only one he ever saw laid out for himself. one thing the echo, one thing the answer. he knows he can kill, again, for his goal, but his heart is an anchor, weighted and wanting.
he does not reply to the statement itself. instead, he cants his head to one side. ）
My name is Itachi. You may find me beyond dreaming, if you wish.
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he nods just slightly, taking a step backward into the light which lingers behind him. there is more he wonders about, more he'd ask, but...not as an intruder.
the light goes with him, leaving Itachi to the sanctuary of his own dreaming as though there were never anyone else there before.]
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he has much to think on, it seems, and more care to take with the state of his mind. a good reminder and a warning both.
blue is one to watch, that much is certain. ）
not me casually dragging the thread along cuz i like it 6_6
when next their paths cross, the Mu sits on the ledge to one of the larger windows, his face dimly reflecting back at him in the reinforced glass. he seems smaller in the flesh, weighted by age and weariness that mars his youthful countenance.
his head lifts when he feels a gentle tug in his mind, and he looks away from the stars and toward the man whose dreams were on fire.
Itachi, he recalls, his expression shifting to something of regard.]
im down let's party
he is carrying a small plate of mostly plain food — dehydrated cabbage and rice, or what passes for it — intending upon returning to his room when he feels it. something at the edge of his awareness twinges the way the distant familiarity of chakra might, only it isn't chakra, it's —
blue.
the physicality of the man is just different enough that recognition was born of instinct rather than visual acuity. nevertheless, itachi does not alter his path. his mind projects wary, guarded tension and tolerant curiosity. he isn't hostile, simply untrusting.
he too is different in person. his right arm is bandaged to the tips of his fingers, and there is a barely perceptible hitch to his gait that suggests perhaps a like damage to his left leg. similarly, there is a weariness about him, a sense of being older than the oldest he will ever be. tsukiyomi is not merely a theft of time in other minds, but his as well.
blue gets a nod, and a gesture to the far side of the window ledge. ）
May I?
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Have the others...treated you well so far?
[his voice is quiet, but not so quiet as to be difficult to hear, especially in this solitary space. as he speaks, his extra sense takes in the state of mind Itachi brings with him. it's...strange how rare his particular countenance is here, when Blue would've expected more of it.]
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the truth is, he has no especial feelings one way or another regarding how he is treated. he recognizes kindness and cruelty, and is indifferent to each. if such things could sway him beyond logic, his life would have gone very differently.
he sits easily, drawing up his uninjured leg. ）
I have not felt otherwise.
（ it's a neutral response, no emotion curls and twists at the edge of it the way fire takes to paper. ）
Can you say the same?
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I think...it will be novel for a long time. Because humans here are different...from what I knew before.
[even this strange person did not immediately lash out with violence the way Blue would imagine or expect.]
But...more common in nature...despite being from different places.
[present company politely excluded.]
no subject
he turns to study the stars as well, as if drawn by the motion of his companion. perhaps it is his experience with genjutsu that lessens the impact of what he sees — there is a certain remote beauty to space, but he is not ignorant of the faint chill emanating from thick viewscreen glass, either. stars are only magnificent until the proximity scorches you to ash. ）
Then I am glad you can have that peace here.
（ what does it say about the others, that they are so readily accepting of what the man had called psionic abilities? he cannot fathom a world where the sharingan is anything more than tolerated. ）
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it says quite a lot, really. at least...as far as Blue's concerned. he's found that he can do very little but think about these kinds of things now. it's far more time granted him than he expected to have, and much, much more than the breakneck pacing of the mission on Braccia gave him to consider.]
Some have posited...that it's by design. That so many of those here...their natures mesh well, or...well enough to suit.
I'm not so sure. [his brow furrows slightly behind his bangs.]
The full nature of this place...its operators...it still hasn't been revealed.
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（ it's his first real acknowledgement of it. what the man said did not haunt him, but it did bear considering, and itachi is prone to deep deliberation before action. ）
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The true purpose of our being here...may not be clear for some time.
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（ he is silent a moment, observing distant nebulae.
then: ）
I've heard mention of 'orbs'. What do they feel like, to you?
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I've yet to stand before one. Touch one. And if I have connected to it... [he shakes his head just slightly.] Then it resonates in a way my psionics cannot yet understand.
Two are said to be contained...here in the north wing. Yet the door is shut, and when I press my will outward in that direction...
It is like a sheer wall, dark and indistinguishable from the rest around me...blotting out sense of any mind which may reside there.
[he goes quiet for a minute or so.]
I know nothing of 'magic,' but it is said to be real here and for some others now here. And it is said...these orbs are some variant of it, both powerful and dangerous. One had corrupted an uncounted number of innocents, and another seemed poised to do the same, yet...these are the things that are said to be harnessed to make those changes in our own lives.
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where power exists, it is misused. that is, after all, why so many fear his clan. ）
How would you describe this corruption? Were you in psionic vicinity to those affected?
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No. I only...have the words and memories from those who were there. That happening...I came to be here after it.
[and he's partly grateful to have missed that particular mission; he knows what a mind feels like when it suffers, when it dies...but he doesn't know what it means to shift so dramatically into a monstrous state like that.
he doesn't want to know.]
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（ but if one corrupted, and one seemed ready to — that track record is enough to suggest that it will inevitably occur again. he drapes his bandaged over his drawn-up leg in casual repose, though doing so puts his back to the viewing window. ）
How susceptible are you to the effects of a like corruption?
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his eyes stay downcast for a beat longer as he considers the question.]
I wonder... [but he doesn't know for sure.] Mental contamination...it isn't uncommon where I come from, but I have grown to know its like.
Perhaps if it is a similar effect, I can avoid it.
[but if it's unknown to his senses, who can really tell?]
Have you seen it before? [he looks to Itachi's face.] A human, corrupted.
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（ there are many forms of it in his world. whether it is a slow, spiraling, self-inflicted descent into the morass like orochimaru, or something more directly insidious like danzō and his embedded sharingan — stolen from his clansmen after the slaughter — or the impure resurrection of the nidaime hokage, or the curse of the uchiha themselves.
it can mean all that, and more. ）
If you have a means to strengthen your defenses, you should consider it.
（ most people would find it more difficult to fight against mental intrusion more than physical strength. the power it took alone to enter one of his dreams is not something he would trust in anyone, and it is one wielded dangerously by an enemy.
but now that he has encountered this man both dreaming and in the living world, the suggestion is also made with consideration for the fact he seems truly gentle. kindness does not easily withstand the infliction of cruelty on others, and, once corrupted, it cannot be rebuilt. there is an echoing whisper of something very much like distant sorrow — the lonely howling echo of a cold wind scouring the glacial bones of a bleak tundra — there and gone in the span of a heartbeat. yet, perhaps most clearly, it was not for himself. ）
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instead of thinking on himself, his focus shifts:] Will you tell me? What your world is like.
[even if he has the means to impose himself to pull that information doesn't mean he will.]
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( it is said with no sense of apology to it, but not unkindly. itachi has always been dangerously self-aware of more than himself. if he were to speak on his world and another from it were to follow him, what secrets may he have given away? he would never forgive himself for endangering another from konoha, incidentally or otherwise.
equally as much, putting himself in a position that may garner pity is unconscionable and he will resist it violently if necessary. what he has carried is still his to carry. death did not prise that burden from his hands, nor grant him absolution.
even for those familiar with a place torn and ravaged by war and blighted with strife, who may offer understanding more than quiet, dawning horror — he would not lay the realities of his home across their shoulders when they are perhaps more burdened than he. a boy, young and terrified of fire, desperate for his life, wearing a prisoner's garb may well be in the latter category. )
It holds no relevance here.
( his regret may have brought him to this point, but the nature of it is not for others to know. )
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either way, the door is shut, and Blue doesn't take umbrage at it. he instead lets his gaze linger on Itachi for a moment longer before it returns to the window, seemingly content in silence.
for him, it's never really silence, after all.]
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the ring had been removed during his medical treatment, and he has carried it in a pocket rather than put it on his left. its absence feels strangely — heavy, in that moment, and his fingers twitch, curling against his palm, folding over a lifeline burnt and severed.
silence is easy to endure, welcome and more comfortable by far than conversation, but there is no reason to stay. he gives it a few moments, and then: ）
Thank you for your time.
（ with that, he stands. there is no wasted motion to the effort, a dancer's easy grace. blue gets an acknowledging nod, and then itachi continues on to the dormitory. ）
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