windeity | RECOLLÉ INBOX

[ space is cold and dark, the air cuttingly chilly in your lungs. there's nothing in any direction except a moon unchained and drifting. it's derse-purple and directionless, but it does not stop. you have to go through the city streets (empty, the dreamer's towers and the city are empty) to reach an empty center of the moon.

inside at the heart is the form of the tumor that no one but dave and rose ever saw. two stone slabs before it, and the timer slowly ticking down from 5:22. it's slower than it should be, every tick of a second seeming to encompass minutes (hours, days). rose is nowhere to be found.

but there's a thirteen-year-old boy in derse dreamer clothes with a broken sword clutched in his left hand. there's no liv tyler at his shoulder; it's just dave, alone, quietly watching the countdown without moving a muscle at all. he does not remember that he is dreaming, and he does not remember that there was a timeline where he grew up with rose and roxy and dirk; he remembers bro and houston, he remembers sburb, and he remembers taking this mission and not wanting anyone else to ever have to.

am i dead or asleep, a voice whispers in his memory - but he doesn't react, and it isn't audible at all.

welcome to one of dave strider's more frequently recurring nightmares, john. ]

[It's creepy. Walking through the moon, a moon he doesn't recognize even is creepy and even moreso the deathly silence is alarming to him. He wants to pretend his footsteps aren't quickening with each movement to find someone (anyone, really) and understand where he is.

He roams the streets for some time and checks on the towers, but given he's unable to fly he can't fly up to see. He can only crane his neck up to stare. He shivers as he looks down, aware he's in pajama pants and a t-shirt and that space is lonely and cold and he finds himself winding in the center and approaching…a thing.

A bomb, more accurately, and he takes time to absorb what he's seeing. Time strung out. A young boy in purple garb he also doesn't recognize. A countdown to the inevitable and he hears that voice whisper like wind and he doesn't answer either.

He can't answer, because he doesn't know if this is a dream or a memory anymore.

Dave is alone and he thinks maybe that's okay because it's better than having Rose here, too, but at the same time it's scarier that Dave isolated himself in his nightmares. It's scarier that he's…waiting for death, just standing there and staring as the clock counts down.

"John, you’d make a terrible time player. Yeah you would have been willing to die for us - but I don’t think you ever made those offers with the completely finite knowledge it’d be permanent. And it isn’t always just being willing to die. You...have never been good with inevibility I think? And that’s a really, really good thing, because someone has to believe in somethin’ beyond paradox space bylaws. I am pretty sure though that the cyclical nature of time and death would have wrecked you."

…they were kids. All of them. And he remembers his conversation with Karkat about how Rose or Dave would be the ones to deliver this bomb, and he knows that he saw them again someday, but they went godtier. They didn't have conditional immortality.

"He woke up alive on Derse, and met with Rose. That was the end of the line for Alpha Dave. To my knowledge, he doesn't time travel after that, and he and Rose stay on Derse waiting for the bomb until you start the Scratch. But I can't see either of them because of the blackout lingering around Rose for whatever reason. Nobody knows what's up with that. Regardless, his job is to plot a course through the ring to find the sun. When he does, either he or Rose will deliver the bomb. I don't know which."

"But now they don't have dream selves left! Who ever goes will be risking their life for good, won't they?"

"That would be the logical extension of those facts, yes."

They were thirteen and standing at the end of the world, and looking at him he realizes Dave was hellbent on facing this alone and dying without any intention of coming back. Because it's what he had to do. It's what a Time player does and part of it hurts somewhere deep in his chest to notice how still and silent everything is save for that goddamn bomb.

Tick. Tick. Tick.]

…so this is Derse, huh? [He's eighteen and probably more scared than he has any right to be, but he keeps things casual and soft so he doesn't immediately alarm the younger Dave.]

[ it's casual and soft but it's jarring; dave doesn't react on the offense but shifts his sword to an easier position even as he simply turns his head. his eyes want to see thirteen-year-old john egbert; the heir of breath. an eighteen year old version of his best friend makes no sense.

at the same time, it's easy to ignore; time shenanigans are always occurring and he's lost in the nightmare, willing to accept the logic it throws even though there are certain logic loops that even asleep dave can't break.

john's age isn't one of those.

he frowns. ]

- You can't be here, Egbert. [ slow and soft-voiced, because he always speaks quietly, and it's younger-sounding because he is, currently, younger. john should be somewhere else; not in the blast range. prospit, maybe. ] You have to leave.

[Christ, he even sounds young and it's haunting in a way that causes him to pause. He's not qualified for this. He's not qualified to take care of a young girl too stubborn and protective of people who hurt her because they are friends, he's not qualified to take care of another girl who hates herself more than anyone else in the world could hate her, and he's definitely not qualified to be the person Dave Strider needs in this lifetime or the last no matter what Dave says.

If he was, maybe they wouldn't be here. Maybe they could have figured something else out. He knows that isn't true. He doesn't understand paradox space and timelines the way Dave does, but he knows.

He takes a moment to assess him, the Derse dreamer, the not-yet Knight of Time, and he feels a shiver run up his spine again as his fists clench at his side.]

Not yet. [He finds his tone matching Dave's.] I think we have time.

No, [ more firmly but no louder, his fingers curled tight and white around the hilt of a broken sword only remembered - but of course it's broken, all his swords are broken, except when he cycles them through time to when they weren't, and when his specibus wasn't - ] No, you have to leave.

[ because it's a bomb, and they don't aim, and: ]

You can't die here.

I'm not leaving, Dave. [In fact, he takes a step closer to look at this thing.] And no one is going to die here. Not today. Do you believe me?

[It's hard to imagine that in real time this hadn't terrified Dave, too, but he knows Dave and how Dave views himself. Like things don't matter. Like he himself doesn't matter and he thinks about conversations of stars and worth and feelings and castles and it's another mess that gets tangled up somewhere in his gut.

But this can't be about that now. This is about his best friend still haunted by things they faced years ago.]

[ dave opens his mouth to answer, but he isn't the one who speaks.

there's another voice, thirteen and eminently confident in a way dave never is, that says: ]

You don't have to listen to him. He's not really here. [ and it's rose, and dave automatically shifts towards her, but there's a quiet intake of breath when he actually looks at the thirteen-year-old version of his sister. derse dreamer, too young, black lipstick -

and perfectly white eyes that feel like a punch to the gut.

this, too, is another part of a typical nightmare.

dave says nothing other than: ]

Rose, [ and he doesn't know how to end that; it's broken and unsteady for a moment because he knows what those eyes mean and they terrify him as they always do.

she's standing on the time quest bed with him, and she reaches out to grip his chin, forcing him to keep his gaze level on her.

she asks, like she always does: ]

Are you dead or dreaming, Dave? Try to remember.

[He recognizes her voice. He recognizes it immediately and freezes up, turning to face Rose and also shifting a bit like he's going to get between the two of them. He knows better. He knows Dave will default to Rose because he always has and John instinctively knows that without the details of the inbetween. Rose is also thirteen and he's out of place and he wants to scream at his friends for making a choice to make a sacrifice.

It had to be done though, of course. The white eyes are spooky and he doesn't quite understand, but he keeps his voice level even as she touches Dave's face.]

Dreaming. [A sharp tone to cut through the bullshit, to bring them back to focus.] She's just as here as I am, Dave. You have to...[What...?] Please? [Listen. Ignore Rose. Talk to him. Something.]

[ dave nearly turns to look at john, but rose's grip is firm. his right hand shifts to her wrist, but he doesn't force her away; he is not in the habit of forcing any of them away at the onset, even though he's tense and uncomfortable and he does not want to look her in the eyes. ]

I don't - [ confused, but even and monotonous again. ] - Rose...

[ rose: ] Shall we start with an easier question? Very well then. Am I dead or dreaming, Dave?

[ white eyes. dave answers: ] Dead. [ quietly and without thinking, fingers flexing. ]

[ rose: ] How did I die, Dave? [ he tries to shift away again and her grip tightens. dave goes still. ] Focus on me.

[ how did rose die. the bomb - no, she's dead, that happens later, so it can't be the bomb - ]

- I didn't save you. [ - if rose isn't here he didn't make it in time and he didn't save her.

rose smiles at him brilliantly, and dave still can't quite look away. she says, cloyingly sweet in a way that sets his teeth on edge: ]

That's right. And why didn't you save me?

[No.

This is wrong.

All of this, everything Rose is saying, it feels wrong and there's a low growl in his throat before he moves, immediately grabbing her wrist and attempting to yank her off of him. Dead eyes and evil Roses and he doesn't even have time to think about how he feels protective suddenly or how he hates that this is what Dave thinks, that this happened, that...everything.

Everything is wrong and he snarls again.]

Shut up, Rose. For once. Just shut up. [He glances back at Dave again.] Would she ever really question you on that? Think. Think, Strider. Would Rose ever question any of us on something like this?

[ would rose - ? every nightmare version of her asks him the things he never wants to answer and tells him the things he always thinks about. he shakes his head, mutely, but it isn't a no.

there's a strangled protest from dave, but john is stronger than both thirteen year olds and rose doesn't struggle. she just asks again, her voice coming from every direction overlaid a thousand times (rose's voice, dave asking am i dead or dreaming, dirk asking it back to him once, but it's mostly rose at a thousand different ages): ]

Are you dead or dreaming, Dave?

[ his right hand raises to his chest, towards his heart, and he still doesn't know.

try to remember.

what were you wearing? there's a hazy flicker of purple to white, but his clothes straighten back into derse dreamer's clothes almost immediately.

rose (not rose) says to john: ]

You know, he would kill you.

[ that at least jars dave enough to say: ] Rose, please.

[The amplified Roses also creep him out, and there's a voice mixed in that he's heard exactly once in a memory and he's shocked into silence for a minute. She asks, and he sees the flicker and he grounds himself, grip on Rose's wrist tighter still.

But then she speaks and he raises his own voice just a hair.]

I said shut up! [And there's a push to separate them and he immediately summons Wrinklefucker like he's ready to fight, anything to make it stop because it's a scary place to be trapped and Dave's a child and John isn't the leader, he isn't the hero, this isn't.

It isn't.]

Dave, focus!

[ it's hard to focus when his sister is still talking to him and saying all the things he always says to himself. rose still doesn't move to attack, but she says, chiding: ]

Tell the truth, Dave. Wouldn't you?

[ kill john. would he. dave looks away, because he knows (how does he know - ?) the answer. ]

- Yes.

[ rose: ] You've always been the least loyal out of the four of us. Why would you kill him?

[ and the answer is, of course: ] - If that's what had to happen -

[ he sounds sick to his stomach. he looks wrecked, but it's reluctant and honest, and yes, he knows he would kill them, each of them, and he'd want to kill himself.

there are other voices.

yuri, who john never really knew, and dave at seventeen, answering quietly:

"That's part of what's really driving you crazy, isn't it? That you didn't hesitate."

"Yeah. I was surprised for maybe half a second but as soon as I got the message, I just...went. I didn't even consider doin' anything else."

"If you'd stopped to think of another way out of what you were doing, if you'd hesitated, do you think you still would have been able to follow through?"

"...Yes. I would've been able to."

dirk, whose voice john may actually remember, in a half-remembered fight:

"It doesn't say anything bad about you that you could."

"Yeah, it does!"

because that was something he had never, ever wanted to know about himself, and the knowledge cannot be erased - he flickers again, and there's the unmistakable sound of a sword cutting through flesh and bone.

dave flinches.

"I know exactly how much force it takes to sever a head from a body, dude."

- how does he know that? try to remember. ]

- But that's - I wouldn't want to -

[ rose: ] But you would?

[ and the answer is still: ] - Yes.

[ rose: ] Dead or dreaming, Strider?

[ dave: ] I'm - [ he can't remember. he thinks...? ]

[It doesn't bother him the way it should. It should, it worries him in ways he can't grasp but all he knows is that this has to stop.]

I'm so sorry. [It's quickly thrown over his shoulder to Dave before he moves, Wrinklefucker flickering into a hammer he doesn't know the name of (Vrillyhoo, one that even a thirteen year old Dave won't recognize) and he charges with a sweep of wind that he shouldn't have, swinging the hammer straight at the dream Rose.

It's a dream. This is a dream, this is a dream, wake up, this isn't real--]

You have to believe me, this isn't real, you need to wake up, get us out of here--

[This isn't where either of them should be and he hates that even when they wake up these will be the thoughts circling Dave's head. It's all he can do to swing again if he has to, fighting invisible voices and dead Roses and trying to do anything to prove that this isn't real.

The sound of blade against flesh makes him flinch.]

It's a dream.

[And he glances at the countdown one more time.]

[ the countdown has gone haywire. it speeds up and slows down, reverses and fast forwards, and dave chokes on air when the hammer hits rose, reaching out for her. no matter what she says, he can't take the image of her going down. he knows he could kill her, but it feels like a failure again, because he's -

she still speaks, there and not there, broken and not broken: ]

How many?

[ and dave knows what the question is. his hand is still at his chest, and john says it's a dream and dave thinks -

how the fuck can he be alive if rose isn't? ]

Dead. [ he says like a prayer. blood blooms on the front of his shirt, it's the record tee again and jeans, and dozens of bullet holes, and yes; that happened. it's on his fingertips when he pulls his hand away and dave doesn't make any noise but he bites down on his lip and tries to remember -

no. that didn't end it. there was - white suit, sword to the stomach - he bites through his lip - wrong dave.

too-fast flickers of different clothes and different wounds; the bright green suit and another fatal stab wound; outfits he remembers and deaths he recalls or deaths that could have been. he burns to ash and he's sixteen and it's swords again and -

seventeen and outfits john can actually recognize, and every moment dave regretted with a death attached. branching timelines that never happened and every mistake he ever made turned fatal.

dead or dreaming? ]

- Doomed - [ dead? ] What color -

[ it's murmured and manic and his hands aren't shaking but he thinks they should be. he's too used to the pain to flinch, but unsteady enough to stumble backwards, hand to his throat, bringing it away, but there's too much remembered blood.

rose's voice again, but calmer and a memory. they're both still thirteen, and there's the sensation of houston heat.

"We've already established that all of your dreams are packed with enough homoerotic symbolism to lift Freudian theory from the ashes of discreditation."

"yeah thats a given but i didnt even dream about puppets this time"

"Are you serious? I'm clearing my schedule. This is a major breakthrough."

"i know
it was so much more relaxing and enjoyable
it was about me dying repeatedly"

- that's right, this is better than the alternatives and he starts to kind of laugh hysterically. ]

[He's horrified by the way she's hit and she doesn't go down. Vrillyhoo disappears and he's left grasping for air, trying to summon another weapon but it's Wrinklefucker and Dave

bleeds. And he can't do anything but stand by and watch suddenly as every single death flashes in front of him. There are outfits he does and doesn't recognize and Dave at various ages and this is what it means to be a time player and he hates this, there are too many things he can't fix and

they're doomed. Both of them.

There's blood and there's Rose and there's John and there's conversations he doesn't know and he tries to yell but finds his throat has closed up, all he can do is reach with a feeble hand to try and stop the bleeding, patch up wounds, fix bullet holes, something.]

Stop. [It's muttered, and he tries to be louder, and Dave laughs and John sort of just. Snaps.] Wake up already, this isn't how it was supposed to go.

[It's still quiet. He can't raise his voice and he looks at the bomb once more and realizes maybe there's a way to fix this.

With Wrinklefucker in hand, he moves, dashing past a bleeding, broken Dave and he slams into the countdown clock, repeatedly hitting it with his hammer and knowing this will probably kill them both, and yet he doesn't care. This has to stop.

And somewhere in the waking world John starts screaming all of the things he can't bring himself to scream in the dreamscape.]

[ - it’s not the order to stop that gets him but john going for the bomb and dave flings out a hand and stops time.

exploding into the sun burns and that is a pain he’d spare the others every time without thinking, eyes wide and hands shaking but he keeps the seconds locked down.

he can’t move. he can’t move or he’ll drop the freeze.

let go or don’t? ]

John, you can’t. [ can’t die can’t stop can’t - what is he supposed to do? there’s another option, he just has to remember it - but the first thing to come to mind is a blade to the gut.

john hadn’t liked that last time. ]

Please. Not both of you.

Edited 2017-10-18 22:22 (UTC)

[He can't stand this, and he doesn't want Dave to get stuck in this cycle--but time stops.

What the fuck. He sees that blade and he shakes his head, voice catching in his throat.]

Just do it! [He can deal. He doesn't want to, but that's the only option, isn't it?]

Edited 2017-10-18 22:28 (UTC)

You’re upset, [ dave says and it sounds dizzy, like he has a concussion or he’s half asleep but it registers enough that he doesn’t let time move. ]

Yes, I am, but that is not going to change if we stay here. Look at me. [He's getting somewhere, maybe, and he's stuck.] Who am I?

[If Rose can play mindgames, so can he.]

John. [ dave drops his sword and holds out his left hand. it’s still covered in blood. so is he, actually, and it’s not clear how he’s standing. ] - do you trust me?

[Every instinct is screaming at him, but at the same time he tries to move on the automatic to take Dave's hand.

He seems to have a horrible guess how this is going to go, but...he nods.]

You know I do.

Even with what she said? Idiot. [ okay. okay, his focus is all over the place and there’s discordant clocks and gears, but one thing is clear: don’t let John die. ] She wasn’t wrong.

[ “that’s how this ends. but i might be able to skip us past it.”

who had he said that to? he doesn’t remember, but he’s coughing blood and he reaches for the future on the other side of the nightmare. past the explosion, that happened didn’t it - ? ]

- how does it end? [ he’s uncertain and lost and - ] What color are they?

[He's just going to carefully take Dave's face to look at him. At least his eyes are blue even if they're flickering back and forth to gray like he can't decide if he's supposed to be the thirteen year old or the eighteen year old, but he's grounding him to focus.]

It ends by ascending. [He's assuming, reaching because he has no idea how else they could have become gods.] You need to do something, you need to be somewhere else before that bomb goes off and on the other end all three of us live. That's what you want, isn't it?

[That's what happened, even if he cannot figure out the in betweens.]

[ it is. it is, but he's focused on something stupid as fuck. ]

- What color are my eyes?

[ dead or dreaming. and even though they're probably pure white behind the shades, if john takes them off, it may be okay to lie in this instance. ]

10/21 timetravel action (the timetravel is ooc forward dating)

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