( OPEN ) MISSION 3.1 | time shifts, dreams fade, ripples blur the illusion

[soups]

CHARACTERS: Jiang Yanli & You
LOCATION: Jiang Yanli's Dreamscape
DATE: Throughout the mission
CONTENT: Having fallen into a deep sleep, Jiang Yanli's dreams and memories play out for others to see and take part in
WARNINGS: Possible violence, mentions of death, canon spoilers guaranteed to be mentioned. Look below for specific warnings for each memory.

⇢ LOTUS PIER: relatively tame, more nostalgic and wistful than traumatic
⇢ JIN CLAN CHAMBERS: a little more psychologically complicated; involves issues of loss of child (abstract) and abandoned motherhood
⇢ NIGHTLESS CITY: obvious death and undead yanli. totally lost in the dream sauce here. injury is highly likely.

If you want to talk out another memory to enjoy, PM me or hit me up at haseul!

Comments

( first memory -- lotus pier )

[soups]

⇢ LOTUS PIER

❰ yes, i'm reusing my simulation room prompt, what of it??

luckily, the first dream that jiang yanli is a happy one. perhaps to help ease her mind -- her brother is gone, with lan wangji gone right after him. then wen qing. it's only herself and lan xichen left, and it makes her soul yearn for the comforts and familiarity of home that much more. she knows that unless she fulfills her goal, it won't be possible...but the desire is still present.

the dreamscape naturally transitions from a vast black lake into a much murkier body of water. there are eventually a variety of water plants around you, with fish swimming under toe if you happen to look down. before long, a long, flattened boat appears before you, and you realize that you're in a vast lake system filled with lotus flowers. there are no buildings that can be seen, just mountains and water stretching in every direction. it's currently nighttime in the simulation, and the boats have accompanying lanterns that help to illuminate the sheen of the lotus bobbing so close that one can easily reach out and grab a few.

in her own boat, about 10 yards away, jiang yanli sits. her sleeves are rolled up, arms wet from dipping in and out of the lake. she's the happiest she's been in months, and she quickly paddles her boat over closer to the new arrivals. ❱

Do you like it? ❰ she asks with a childlike eagerness, face lit up despite the sun being down. ❱ Isn't it beautiful?

[droide]

[ Sleeping— and by extension dreaming— is still something new for Elthree. It is only because of the strange power of this place that she's experiencing it in the first place. She's seen a few of her crew mates' dreams by this point, so the rigamarole of the landscape coming into focus isn't unfamiliar. But once the scene settles into this peaceful lake scene, Elthree can tell this is...a little different than the other dreams she saw. Maybe she can finally have a chance to relax.

The first problem standing in her way is the fact that she is a very top heavy metal droid standing in a very narrow wooden boat. She quickly sits down so that she doesn't accidentally tip the boat over and sink into the lake. It's only then that she notices the other woman in the nearby boat. Her question prompts Elthree to really take a look around, and appreciate her surroundings. ]

It... [ It is beautiful, but Elthree is not one to hand out such high praise easily, especially not to a stranger. ]

It's certainly one of the nicer places I've been. What planet is this?

[soups]

❰ jiang yanli is used to the mechanical metals and chromes of the ximilia as a point of existence now. previously, the concept of such a fantasy could never exist within her brain -- but now, having been on a spaceship for months (give or take the timespan of the missions), these textures and scents of the future are commonplace.

it doesn't mean, however, that she's so familiar with a version of this environment being sentient and mobile, engaging her in conversation. however, this is a dream. and so many strange things might happen in a dream, such as a metallic person floating towards her in a lake boat. ❱

This would be Earth -- my Earth, anyway. ❰ as she's long since discovered one person's version of a place isn't at all consistent with everyone else's. ❱ Have you been to Earth before?

[droide]

[ Elthree will refrain from making her usual sarcastic remarks about how dumb it is to name your planet what essentially amounts to "dirt," because this woman seems kind and gentle, and she doesn't want to rock the boat-- literally or figuratively. ]

I haven't, no. But I've heard of it. I think it's somewhere outside my galaxy.

[soups]

❰ the boat bobs in place, floating very slowly on its own in the direction of the slight ripples in the lake. she pulls the paddles back in and hugs her knees, rolled up sleeves sinking down her arms to touch the bottom of the boat, slightly damp now. it's been a while since she's worn robes, and there is something comforting about the return to tradition. ❱

I'd never considered anything so vast as a galaxy before I was brought to the Ximilia -- and now I've seen several. ❰ which is still surreal. it probably won't ever fully feel normal. much like there's nothing much normal about talking to moving metal in a boat (at least not for her). if this wasn't a dream, perhaps she'd be more nervous about it, at least internally. ❱ Is that who you are? The Ximilia?

❰ which likely sounds like an ignorant question. but the spaceship that has consumed her emotional state colliding with her tradition and nostalgia as a symbol of her war of identity? sounds very thematic and plausible in her dream. ❱

( second memory -- jin clan chambers )

[soups]

⇢ JIN CLAN CHAMBERS

❰ if you enter upon this dream, you'll find that the atmosphere is very quiet. despite the room being walled, it's built much like a gazebo -- it stands alone, and with ornate looping designs in place of true wooden structure. it isn't a fortitude, but instead a place of respite. the decorations aren't at all humbled. they sparkle with gold and sleek varnish, obviously immaculately maintained. the air smells of peony and the freshness of nearby mountains.

the furnishings of the room are minimal. there is a day bed, canopied, but it isn't so large as to be slept in regularly. it's much more likely to be a place of rest, where one may go to collect themselves or heal, prescribed silence and fresh air. strewn across the floor are various handmade toys -- a drum, animals carved of both wood and polished stone. gifted kites flap quietly against the paneless walls.

other than this, the only consistent movement and sound comes from the doorway of the structure. jiang yanli stands, bouncing softly on her toes and then solely from her arms. she holds something bundled in her arms, which is the recipient of her constant small shh shh shh sounds. the bundle is wrapped in brilliant yellow and gold silks, her wardrobe set to match, and occasionally shifts in her arms.

when she catches sight of another person in the room, she looks up with a smile on her face, cautiously whispering, ❱ He is sleeping. ❰ as is the suggested atmosphere. there is a soft light coming from hung lanterns, but it does little more than illuminate the floor and cast shadows. what can be seen through the walls and doorways is all pitch black, not even a star to suggest they're still a part of the universe. ❱

[callada]

[This place is beautiful. This, Rosinante thinks, has so much more elegance to it than the sheer luxury his brother always prefers. Yes, it's still ornate and gilded but it's not tacky, not over the top with opulence.

But Rosinante is no architect or designer so his appreciation lasts a moment before his eyes are drawn instead to Yanli. So this memory is hers? He approaches quietly, even before her whisper, because quiet is his nature so much of the time.

When he realizes she has a baby, his eyes go wide, then his expression softens.]

... Is he yours?

[he whispers, then crouches down so he's closer to level with her shoulder rather than looming twice her and the kid's height.]

[soups]

❰ there's a surreal feeling about being here. her memory recalls everything aboard the ximilia, but the contradictory thought enters her brain -- haven't i always been here? haven't things always been like this?

it makes no sense, logistically, that her entire existence has occurred in this single, encapsulated room, which is why she has enough sense to not trust that feeling, and thus not be perturbed by the familiar face that is suddenly there, even though this space seemed previously impenetrable. ❱

Yes. ❰ her gaze falls from rosinante to her son. sometimes she can see the physical form of her baby, but other times she can blink and he's not there. the movement never stops, but the vision of jin ling fades in and out depending on how far into the dream she's been taken. for now, his rounded face is visible, eyes wide and cinnabar mole between his faint eyebrows glistening with freshness. ❱ Jin Rulan, my only son.

[callada]

Wow. He's beautiful.

[His smile grows, and it's hard to resist reaching out and holding one of those little hands but he doesn't want to wake the boy up and stress out his poor mother.]

I don't see kids around a lot at work. Not... happy ones, that belong somewhere, anyway. Not babies.

[And he certainly never thought of himself as a baby person, but it's sort of incredible, isn't it? Tiny tiny little life, right there in his mother's arms.]

[soups]

❰ his small form makes soft sounds, the gurgles and hiccups of a sleeping baby. her rhythmic bouncing slows as he sinks further into deep sleep, eyes staying closed as her own comforting noises fade. ❱

He is happy. I hope he is. ❰ she gives him one more warm smile before she carefully pushes him from his place tucked against her bosom, blankets still cradling his frame enough so that he feels still. ❱ You may hold him if you like. He's quite a heavy sleeper.

[petsthedog]

[Shinjiro's wandered through a number of dreamscapes before this one, including his own. There is no fear or pain or bloodshed here, only the peaceful stillness of a mother and her child, and yet to Shinjiro, it's like being punched in the gut.

This woman gently shushing a bundle in her arms is a mother, with a kid she needs to take care of and she's here. Here on this mission, part of a team that's risking their lives right now and does so over and over. He doesn't know how far in the past this is, but ... he can't shake the feeling it's not far enough. That there's some kid out there waiting for his mom to come back.

Shinjiro's stomach hurts. He stares at her, forgetting to respond for too long, eyes somewhere else. A Japanese mother instead, inside her crushed house, and her son left to watch in horror. She shouldn't be here, is the thought that rolls around and around his mind. It's not worth the risk. His breath shakes on the way out, nearly a wheeze.]

H...h-he's cute.

[soups]

❰ the presence of another person is sensed long before he speaks up -- aragaki, her previous savior. the young man stares at her with unfocused eyes until he finally voices her presence, and her smile flickers into place at the compliment to her child. voice low, ❱

He is Jin Rulan. Using the characters to mean 'like an orchid'. ❰ there's a pang of sadness as she remembers her brother describing it to her, having given her son his courtesy name. another person not here to share this memory with, long lost to braccia -- or just to the whims of space itself. ❱ His being cute was foretold, I think.

[petsthedog]

[He shifts his weight, awkwardly. It's so strange to be here, to listen to a mother telling him the thoughts that went into naming her child. Shinjiro knows how to write his own name, of course, but he's never particularly thought about the characters' meanings. For the first time in over fourteen years he wonders what his own parents had in mind, naming him. ...Probably not the person he became, anyway.

He ends up just continuing to stare a bit, finding himself frustratingly blank when he searches for a response. The sense of I should not be here is eating at him, and he surreptitiously scans the room, searching for any sign of a doorway that doesn't belong.]

Suits him, [he mumbles at last, just for the sake of something to say, even though he doesn't really know what a baby has to do with a flower, honestly. A moment later, some of his actual curiosity slips out, despite his best intentions not to be nosy.]

How uh ... how long ago was this, anyway?

[soups]

❰ jiang yanli's eyes shift upward, like she's trying to decide if it's been thirty minutes or an hour -- measurements of time she's had to get used to, on board the ximilia. instead, she's calculating the surreality of the situation. how does time work here, when this is so obviously a dream but feels so real? when she's been pulled from time, revived, given a new chance, what does that mean for how time passes...when it truly feels like she was only holding him in her arms like this months prior, despite knowing someone who has seen him as a young man? ❱

It's hard to say. But it feels as if it was only yesterday. ❰ which is true, in this dream (that's still what she knows it to be, currently). a part of her brain could easily be convinced that she simply woke up in the middle of the night to care for the son she put to bed hours before. her tiny bounces slow, as his eyes settle their flickering under their thin lids. the soft smile on her face slips slightly, focused on even his smallest of movements to make sure his visage stays in her mind. ❱ In truth, I'm sure this was some time ago, for him.

SAD TIMES AHEAD

[calmness]

[xichen's surprised that the room he finds himself in, though he is not sure how he finds himself here for a moment, is familiar. lanling is growing to be a place of comfort, though something tells him he will not find the friend he's grown used to searching for here. nor beyond the darkness beyond the entryways.

he turns, arms tucked behind his back and sees a figure he's come to find more familiar in the time spent on missions and on the ship. jiang yanli is holding her son, gently shushing him as he sleeps.

xichen had seen jiang yanli with her son during his visits, had seen the boy in lanling when he visited and then less as his custody seemed to nearly completely transfer into another uncle's care. the scene brings about a sense of heartache for the losses that were suffered by so many, stirs up a sense of guilt because so much could have been avoided if xichen had been less dismissive of mingjue's concerns and less prideful in his own judgement.

he offers a soft smile.] He looks peaceful.

OH BOY

[soups]

❰ something feels contented and right about lan xichen suddenly being present in this dreamspace. being someone from her own world, it makes things feel more...real. complete. as if perhaps this is instead a reality that she can comfortably sink into, not a dream that shifts more the less sure she feels about it all. ❱

Perhaps it's truly a sign of this being a dream, that he isn't fussy. ❰ her rhythmic movements continue as he settles deeper into sleep. it's still a vivid memory that jiang yanli has, relieving a handmaid who had attempted to let her sleep while handling her son with colic. despite being afforded other jin clan members to help take care of her son, it never sat right that she not take the brunt of the responsibility. ❱ For as long as I can hold onto him, I hope that he remains undisturbed.

[calmness]

[xichen watches jiang yanli rock her son, bouncing him along. he had not seen jin rulan as a babe often, but when he had it had been in the company of m-- jin guangyao and the nannies that followed the child, each trying to calm the truly fussy child.]

From my understanding, fussiness is normal. Even Wangji was a fussy baby once. [xichen had been young at the time, memory barely formed, but old enough to remember attempting to carry the baby who would only quiet in his small arms as he teetered along to deposit him in their mothers care at least once.] Children calm down in the care of their mothers.

[soups]

❰ the image of lan wangji as anything but stoic, even as a newborn, brings a laugh to jiang yanli. ❱

Even Hanguang-jun has had his moments of difficulty in his youth. ❰ she isn't totally aware of the particulars of the lan's family matters, and it is never in her place to pry into the histories of others. all she knows is that she'd never seen a female relative of the highest members of the lan clan, which tells her enough as it is. jiang yanli looks back to the bundle in her arms. ❱ I do remember he would often cry in the arms of Jin Zixuan. It flustered him so wildly. He would pass him off so quickly to a handmaiden...not out of malice, but because he had no want for him to ever be upset.

❰ jin zixuan's softness was always masked under some kind of bumbling nature, or even a disposition one would think was malicious. even in fatherhood, he'd never come out of the habit. maybe the reason that he wasn't also present in this dream was the guilt carries in her heart about the goal she means to achieve.

it's hard to think about. with a quick breath, jiang yanli's face turns from her son's closed eyes to lan xichen, her own eyes holding back the presence of tears. ❱ Please tell me, Zewu Jun. What does my son look like as you've seen him and I have not?

( third memory -- nightless city )

[soups]

⇢ NIGHTLESS CITY

❰ the ruckus of the battle can be heard long before you walk into the dreamscape. once you arrive on solid ground, the sights and smells may be overwhelming. the sky is dark, the air filled with the scents of grime, blood and death. swords clang, bodies go flying. if you don't move out of the way fast enough, a glossy-eyed man may take a swing at you. the blackened veins that decorate his face are immediately noticeable if you take the time to look.

pandemonium is ensuing, and it's hard to tell how many sides are actually battling in this fight. it's why so many swings and jabs are taken at you -- you'll have to be deft and nimble to survive more than a few minutes if you aren't openly defending yourself.

likely, you'll stick out like a sore thumb amongst the traditional outfits and war-torn chinese clan members that are on the attack. it's how jiang yanli picks you out of the crowd, eventually latching onto your arm with a scared face and pleading voice. this deep into the sleep, this entire battlefield is a never-ending reality to her. ❱

You can't be here. ❰ her whole body is shaking, but...that's likely not the most notable thing about her at the moment. her current ensemble is stark white, robes pristine in how they've been pressed and put on. however, the blank canvas has been tarnished with a bright red bloom that springs from her chest, a gaping wound right above where her heart would be. it still drips, eternally fresh. ❱ Please, you have to leave.

gently touches!!

[blackfire]

（ there, writ plain in the waltz of a battle's tired melody, he is no more out of place than a tree in the wood. itachi is deft, graceful and as dangerous as any who press him — yet, when attacked he does not retaliate, preferring to deflect and gain distance in a flicker of motion too fast for most eyes to follow, or by employing a wind technique that batters his opponents back like a storm wind. but there is an inherent wrongness to it, jagged edges of a puzzle that do not properly align. chakra is not cultivation, after all. what he does is not meant for this world.

his clothing has that same sense of wrongness. a touch too modern, a touch too foreign, lacking in that innate elegance. it's nearer a martial artist's duan da than the richly stylized hanfu, in any case.

when she takes him by the arm, he turns halfly, the gesture registering as attack before the plea that follows — if not for that, he might have tried to land a scything kick to her midsection, and has in fact pivoted his balance in anticipation of doing so, the body reacting before the mind.

but the tremulous voice does reach him, and he shifts just enough to be a notable standing down.

(the hole in her chest does not bother him nearly as much as it should. he has known stranger things. kakuzu alone is capable of fighting on past destroyed organs, and hidan, with this level of damage, would simply laugh.) ​

a dream. he has seen several by now. and yet only two have felt at all familiar. he studies her, impassive, blood flecked across one cheek to match the vivid red of his eyes, and then: ）

Who are you?

is touched gently!!

[soups]

Such a thing makes no difference now.

❰ because in this moment, it's very hard to hold onto the thought of personhood. she's in a dream, but also a spirit caught between freshly dead and moving onto the world of the ancestors. her name is hard to fully hold onto at the moment. she remembers a scream very clearly...perhaps her name is Jie. but for now, her identity doesn't matter when there are people to find and save from this chaos.

jiang yanli's grip tightens, eyes shifting through the motions of battle again before landing on the stranger, the hapless intruder. ❱

This is not your fight to be involved with, so you must escape while you can.

<3!

[blackfire]

（ she must be the dreamer. there is no other explanation — he is foreign here, and as such she has seized upon him. not to rebuff his presence, but to warn him away, for the sake of his own safety.

such things make no difference is quite a terribly shinobi thing to say. ）

It's all right.

（ giving reassurance does not come easily or naturally to him now. he has to reach back years, for when he would say such things to his brother when he was still young. ）

This is a dream. If I am here, I am meant to be here. The fighting does not trouble me.

jumps here

[hannyas]

[ it is almost a palpable sharpening of senses that yamato feels upon entering the dream — their observation haki registering all the movement on the battlefield, making them casually sidestep an incoming attack, lift up an arm and block a sword with armament haki like it's second nature.

(it is. yamato has trained to be a soldier, in the image of the samurai they admire most of all. a battlefield is where they belong.)

and though yamato doesn't stick out so much for their clothes, the kimono with torn sleeves and geta and large nio-daisuki around the waist, it is surely their height — a full 8'8" and the orange-red horns on their head that mark them as an outsider... enough for yanli to notice them with ease.

as soon as she speaks, yamato shakes their head adamantly. ]

No, of course not! You're hurt! Please don't worry, I'll save you!!

[ it's what kozuki oden would do, after all... never leave a lady undefended. ]

[soups]

❰ at that height, she may not even be grabbing their arm -- perhaps a fold of their hakama pants. their otherworldly appearance doesn't fully register as abnormal to jiang yanli, more concerned with the immediate concern: the ongoing battle. ❱

Please do not waste the effort on a life already lost. ❰ her own mortality is one thing that she's positive of, in this situation she's so sure is reality. her body and soul aren't at all her worry.

to punctuate this, her grip tightens, gripping fist shaking in emphasis. ❱ If you're a warrior come to right the wrongs of this world, it isn't me who must be saved tonight.

[hannyas]

As long as you breathe, your life isn't lost!

[ but her grip is tight, and desperation clings to her words, and yamato can't help but listen. ]

I don't know if there's any wrongs I can right... but I will try! What is it you want me to do?

[ alongside saving her, which she doesn't want them to do, but yamato isn't going to listen on that front if they can help it. ]