somakemelaugh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
somakemelaugh) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-10-08 11:53 pm
somakemelaugh) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-10-08 11:53 pm
open
who: Undertaker, Ciel, whoever!
what: Memory swaps!
when: Oct 9 - 23
where: Undertaker and Ciel’s apartment, various locations around the city as needed
warnings: Sadness and possible gore and Undertaker being an adorable idjit
For Ciel
Dreams these days are random for him, born out of the weirdness that goes on in his head and in his daily doings in the city and often combining to make something too far out of reality to confuse him into thinking that he might be awake and doing something out of the ordinary, as some dreams are wont to do. But sometimes, they’re quite the opposite. Sometimes, they’re terrible and fill him with the kind of horror that his customers - living or dead - might have experienced shortly before they found their way into his funeral parlor back home.
This one is much like that, for wholly different reasons. For instance, the face looking back at him as he stares into the mirror, adjusting a tie over a suit that he hasn’t worn nor seen in decades, is one he recognizes and does not. Clear of the scars he now carries, eyes visible and a startling blue, hair shorter and decidedly more blonde than gray, it’s a face he hasn’t seen in well over a century.
Somewhere behind the scene, watching it from his current body in resigned unhappiness, he goes tense as a familiar voice calls to him in the memory.
”Ah, there you are, Cedric! We’re waiting for you!”
The view turns as the man in the mirror looks away from his reflection. From an open doorway, another man stands, smiling, clearly excited. This man is younger, with dark eyes and hair of the same yellow cropped close to his head in an almost military cut. He wears a darker suit and looks quite sharp as he shakes his head. Then a look of shy nervousness briefly darkens his features.
”I was starting to think you’d changed your mind.”
The laugh that comes from the man in the memory is not Undertaker’s own, and it is all at the same time. He approaches the younger and puts a hand on his shoulder. The nails are flesh colored and short and the scar on his pinky finger absent like the rest.
”Oh, Thomas, you know I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ll be out in a moment. I just want to…”
Undertaker turns away, unable to watch anything more, and it’s then that he realizes he isn’t alone in this. Away and to the side stands Ciel.
It isn’t the first time that he finds himself glad for the hair hiding his eyes, but now it’s for a whole new reason.
what: Memory swaps!
when: Oct 9 - 23
where: Undertaker and Ciel’s apartment, various locations around the city as needed
warnings: Sadness and possible gore and Undertaker being an adorable idjit
For Ciel
Dreams these days are random for him, born out of the weirdness that goes on in his head and in his daily doings in the city and often combining to make something too far out of reality to confuse him into thinking that he might be awake and doing something out of the ordinary, as some dreams are wont to do. But sometimes, they’re quite the opposite. Sometimes, they’re terrible and fill him with the kind of horror that his customers - living or dead - might have experienced shortly before they found their way into his funeral parlor back home.
This one is much like that, for wholly different reasons. For instance, the face looking back at him as he stares into the mirror, adjusting a tie over a suit that he hasn’t worn nor seen in decades, is one he recognizes and does not. Clear of the scars he now carries, eyes visible and a startling blue, hair shorter and decidedly more blonde than gray, it’s a face he hasn’t seen in well over a century.
Somewhere behind the scene, watching it from his current body in resigned unhappiness, he goes tense as a familiar voice calls to him in the memory.
”Ah, there you are, Cedric! We’re waiting for you!”
The view turns as the man in the mirror looks away from his reflection. From an open doorway, another man stands, smiling, clearly excited. This man is younger, with dark eyes and hair of the same yellow cropped close to his head in an almost military cut. He wears a darker suit and looks quite sharp as he shakes his head. Then a look of shy nervousness briefly darkens his features.
”I was starting to think you’d changed your mind.”
The laugh that comes from the man in the memory is not Undertaker’s own, and it is all at the same time. He approaches the younger and puts a hand on his shoulder. The nails are flesh colored and short and the scar on his pinky finger absent like the rest.
”Oh, Thomas, you know I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ll be out in a moment. I just want to…”
Undertaker turns away, unable to watch anything more, and it’s then that he realizes he isn’t alone in this. Away and to the side stands Ciel.
It isn’t the first time that he finds himself glad for the hair hiding his eyes, but now it’s for a whole new reason.
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"It's pretty common, in both humans and animals." He offered, while listening just the same. He wished Roy was in this world, if anyone could think of something the Undertaker could wear that wouldn't get in his way it was his former partner, the rockabilly genius. The young man stayed quiet as he listened to the older speak. There was much to be learned from just listening.
"I'm inclined to agree." He spoke, something in his tone almost sounded like he understood, but more his tone was because now he was wondering if Bruce had actually thrown him a funeral when he died, or did he have him buried and forgotten in favor of a suit in a glass case.
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"I'll admit to a bit of curiosity about all of this. I've had it happen to me before this instance, but with the Earl. We were in close proximity at the time, in our sleeping selves, and we've come to an understanding. We're both from the same world. Yet here I am, with you now, and we share none of those things. What could have made this happen, if not some random choice we haven't seen?"
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"I assume random choice, although, I have at least met every person whose memories I have seen since this began, so maybe there is a connection there. Considering I was at a hotel tonight I know my body is no where near your or the Earls. Wherever you both may be." He just didn't see the Earl in the area where his favorite dive bar was. Though the amount he had drank would explain why he hadn't woke yet, he only slept long when he was drunk or to exhausted to care about the terrors.
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He lifted his head again, eying Jason with a grin. "What about you, then? Were yours just as easy to pass over, or were they more personal?"
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"Looks almost like your curious technology. I've never seen that in a dream."
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"Yeah it does." He blinked some, his eyes going right back to the Undertake. "Like it's set on repeat. It's strange."
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As if his mind knew the Undertaker was one for a laugh, the sound of water falling could be heard. It was a steamy shower, luckily the shower hid any bit's that no one needs to see. Jason was washing his hair, humming to himself as a voice came from the other side of the shower.
"Yo, Jason! Got a second?"
The sector beside the Undertaker groaned. "Of course you get to see this."
In the dream Jason starts to speak before sniffing something in the air. "Really? This couldn't wait until I'm... Roy, this is crazy but do you smell napalm?"
The curtain is ripped back and a red head is holding a weapon blasting fire in on Jason, who doesn't burn but does panic before running as they yelled back and forth at each other.
[ A and B ]
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He couldn't help a chuckle at it. "My. Your ideas of fun in this world are quite different than what I've come to know. Do you and this man do this often?"
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