Elsewhere In dreams

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder (Attunement) Complete success

Rarely did Max remember his dreams, so he generally assumed he didn't dream much at all. This one was likely to be similar, emotions and feelings the only remnants, an aftertaste of a bizarre experience his brain concocted. Tonight, traversing a dream world that only existed as far as the eye could see, Max's shape wasn't human. Maybe while dreaming, the wolf under human skin was closer to the surface, and it didn't feel odd or unnatural to dream that shape.

What would feel odd later, although in the moment perfectly sensible to the werewolf, was the fireman's helmet perched on his enormous head. Somehow staying on despite his flicking ears and incorrectly shaped head. He also wore firemen's overalls, fitting the bipedal werewolf's large frame by being just as large. The dream-wolf had been saved from wearing the boots, paws poking out of the trousers, his claws digging into the moist earth of the forest he stood in. The moss covered ground, gnarled roots popping up, wasn't familiar, obscured further by the layer of fog hugging the ground.

He held a firearms axe in one clawed hand, thoughts of fire management and breaching techniques floating around in his mind. Something important to hold on to, but in reality just a sign of how much he'd been focusing on his work as a volunteer fireman, prepping for the Associate's degree.

Carefully, the werewolf turned the axe around in his hands, claws scraping over the metal head and wooden shaft, before he curled a hand securely around the neck. Looking up, the werewolf scanned the forest, ears flicking and–by some dream logic–managing to not dislodge his helmet.

[Alexius]

CantripFace of Fear

It took Alexius a long time to find this dream.

He pulled himself out of the shadows of trees and roots and the dark corners of a mind. Wearing jeans, a button shirt, and a nice beige coat. All taken from watching other people in their dreams. It made him feel more... like a person to dress like this. To dress in something that wasn't that black blood stained tank top and worn worker pants. He looked around the woods, he had seen plenty of woods before in the space between was was and wasn't. His eyes slowly flicked around as a dull roar of everything settled into the background wail of silence. After a second his body seemed to shift, flickering between a range of aspects that were and were not his own. Dead skin, white eyes, deep cuts, army fatigues, expressions of loss and regret and anger and- The features faded away and he was just him again.

Whoever that was.

That was the fear of the soldier.

The one that had looked through one dream into Alexius.

Someone Alexius met but did not try to hurt. He wanted to meet that man again to see... to see whatever there was to be seen. But why a forest? The spirit had expected a city, or a war zone, or something else more on theme. Not a forest... or was a forest just fine? He had never been to a real war- at least he didn't think he had- all he knew were the twisted old nightmares of battle. His eyes turned a shade yellow at the memories of fear and he pushed the thought away until he felt calmer. He opened his mouth to call out but no sound came- he needed to focus.

He focused on how his new clothes looked, on talking with a woman on a park bench, talking to tha- talking to Priya... he focused on the things that were not Alexius and then tried to call out again.

“Hello?” His voice didn't sound as loud as he would like, almost as if he was just a tinny speaker instead of the person talking. But it was A voice. He was making sound and that was always a good sign.

[Max Kuryakin]

Strike (Preternatural senses) Complete success
Strike (Detect magic) Complete success

With the strangeness of the dream accepted even by a wolf's mind, the werewolf began stalking through the woods, axe in hand. Between the trees as he went deeper into the woods, he could spot the edges of buildings, bare bones, and little more than the model houses he'd both done training in as a soldier and a volunteer firefighter. A frame and walls. Some were more detailed, blackened sides showing they'd been aflame at one point. But none of them were in his way, and as he walked, he somehow knew that walking towards them would only mean they’d disappear.

Bowing over as he walked, he dropped to all fours, snout to the ground. He fastened the axe to his tool belt, hanging there and slapping against his rear leg as he walked. He roved over the grass and moss, nose sniffing for a trace of anything. Animals or people. He came up blank, picking up only the foliage of the forest and the faint smell of ash. Until... his ears flicked, bumping against the fireman's helmet, and the werewolf swung his massive head towards the faint feeling of something that did not fit into the dream.

A magic quite like any other, the scent of it floating towards him. He crouched, sitting upright, front legs curled in front of him as he took stock. It brought a sour taste to his tongue, an acrid smell in his nose. Fear, but not his own fear? The concept, in a magical sense. What it felt like to feel fear, but to push through it. The thundering of his own heartbeat, the whistle of munitions, and the blast of impact. Warm blood on his tongue. Not his.

He dropped forward on his front legs, turning his entire body to face the direction his senses told him to. The sound of a voice reached his sharp ears, and he pointed them forward, alert. His tail was still and stiff, expecting trouble. He drew his muzzle back into a soundless snarl, tasting the air on his tongue.

[Alexius]

Divination Cinder 7d6: Complete Success (4/3)

Alexius didn't view people the way others did. He viewed them as fear. Sources, collections, reactions all of fear. They were more than that, but in the end that was how his mind- in its own faded and broken way, categorized them.

He sensed the fear in the air... the Fear he had felt and knew. His prey- no his target, they were not afraid. But he knew them by it... sensing from stale fear was harder. He doubted he could find them just from a months old scent of that fear.

But he could get a direction.

Turning slow he felt where the sense was strongest as could be. Just more forest. The spirit started walking as he glanced around, his eyes flickering faintly yellow any time he looked in the werewolf's general direction.

[Max Kuryakin]

Strike (Preternatural senses) Complete success

Stalking closer to the spot where he could feel the magic coming from, the werewolf hunched down and crept forward, stepping lightly over fallen leaves and sticks. The ground was dryer than it should be, like a hot summer had gone on for too long, but the werewolf used earthy patches and stiff spots of moss to muffle his movement. Not that the thing up ahead even used ordinary senses to see something coming, but the werewolf had his habits and tactics.

As he moved forward, weaving in a pattern that would be hard to predict, taking his steps carefully to obscure his movement and his hulking shape, something ahead flickered yellow. Unnatural, magical, but only possibly a threat. He moved to flank the flickering yellow spot, approaching from the side, and seeing that it was the shape of a man, wearing ordinary clothing.

The scent coming from the man was distantly familiar. The werewolf knew it, but not well, muted in a way that told him it had been the human-shape that'd experienced it first. A flash of memories, vague dreamlike pictures of a training room and a flood of blood, but the werewolf shook them off, and along with the memories the helmet finally dislodged, clattering on the ground as the dream shifted away from a dream of a preoccupied volunteer firefighter and into something different.

Freezing at the clatter of the helmet hitting rocks and sticks, the werewolf pinned his eyes on the figure up ahead, eyes near glowing as he waited for a reaction.

[Alexius]

Alexius turned and watched a shape slowly approach. He knew that shape... he'd seen it before more or less. A lot of people were more afraid of wild beasts or rabid dogs than you might expect. The spirits eyes flickered at the animal's fur and mouth... it could be done better.

Foam and slobber, more matted and mangy fur, longer claws at mismatched lengths. That was how he would make it look... if he was trying to scare someone.

He watched the wolf... it was... not what he expected. Part of it was the fear but part of it was something else. He had never seen a Shifter before Max. He didn't know their minds.

He briefly had a flash of a small boy asking if they could take a dog home... and a large mean man kicking the animal away.

Alexius pushed it all down and focused on the now. On the things that weren't fear. The quiet.

“Hello.” he said somewhat awkwardly to the wolf, his eyes fading to brown again.

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder (Attunement) Complete success

Curled in on himself as tightly as he was, the werewolf hid well in the underbrush, but not well enough. Whether it was the helmet falling or something else, the man standing in the forest was looking at him. He was the source of the strange yellow light, but even as the werewolf watched, wary, the strange colour faded to brown, and the man offered a greeting that the werewolf understood.

But he didn't like speaking like this, mouth ill-suited for the complicated movements of speech, so the werewolf was quiet as he crept out of the bushes and approached the man. As he went, he rose to his feet, the bipedal werewolf drawing himself up to his approximate full height at 8 feet and change. He hunched a little, making him seem smaller, but not by much.

Then, bringing a strange long-fingered paw up to rub at his muzzle, he attempted to speak, the words rough. It was the gravel rough voice of someone who spoke little. “Who're you?” A demand from the werewolf, as he did not recognise the face, even if in hindsight the feeling of the strange magic rang of familiarity.

[Alexius]

Alexius watched toward where the scent was. The scent of stale fear. Stale... not current or even strong. But it had been there once and the shade could find it again... it was how he- the light in his eyes flickered as he seemed to grow a touch more pale... then the light dimmed as he regained himself once more.

When he glanced up the being he sought was before him. Alexius was aware that the creature looked different from how he had first encountered it but was unclear on the specifics, it was not how the spirit saw others though he supposed he hadn't had time crane his neck back before so perhaps taller?

The rough voice rolled like a wave over the ghost and he considered the answer.

“I have been called... Alex.” he said.

As soon as the name left his lips the young pale man seemed to shudder and ripple. Color came to his face and his hair was suddenly slicked back and combed. His clothes changed in the blink of an eye and he wore dated but work professional clothes. Button shirt, if a bit brightly colored, tucked into slacks, with a worn coat over it all. His voice seemed louder and more present as well.

Alex looked at the creature and noted the features of a canine- wolf rather, but all bundled up in the shape of a man. A costume? The spirit shook his head a moment as he remembered more of what he was. This seemed more like dream logic or something else.

“Nice to meet you.” Alex said, seeming to chew over the feel of the words.

[Max Kuryakin]

Staring down the man-shape in front of him, the werewolf considered the spectre before him, because that was what this was, he thought. The glow of eyes, the subtle fade. It was familiar, and the werewolf knew what it meant. They were hard to touch, elusive. He didn't like it.

But he was given a name, and along with it, the spectre took on a form that appeared more real. Although outdated, a part of the wolf thought, the one that relied on logic and knowledge, rather than instinct and wisdom. As the spectre continued, polite and inoffensive, the werewolf settled into a crouch, folding his digitigrade legs comfortably as he braced his arms on his knees. He idly curled his paws together, then flexed them open.

“Alex,” the werewolf repeated, just as roughly as his first words as he cocked his head to the side, large ears flicking. “Why're you... here?”

[Alexius]

Alex watched the wolf calm a bit, leaning back in an odd motion that the ghost couldn't place as human or animal. Falling back on haunches... guess it was a mix of sitting down and leaning back. It left the monster in a position fit to leap forward or simply rest and some part of the spirit's mind pictured a perp behind a questioning steel desk getting ready to lash out. It didn't feel like on of his memories and he quickly placed it to one of the dreams he'd been frequenting lately. The rumbling voice drew Alex's eyes back up. Why was he here?

“I... don't know. Went where it felt... I am just wandering. Brought me here.” he said.

It was hard to explain why he felt like this was the right place to go without tapping into his other nature. He went somewhere where he hadn't hurt someone. Simple as that. However the more he considered the reasoning the less reason mattered. The more he felt like he should be influencing the dream... the dreamer... feeding himself on terror. His eyes were slowly turning yellow again but he blinked a few times until they faded. “Why do you dream of the woods.” he asked to distract himself from the line of thought.

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder (Attunement) Failure

The ghost had no answer, and the werewolf snorted out a breath at the vague non-answer. A wandering spectre with no purpose, and that was a curiosity the werewolf wasn't interested in. The human would be, if he wasn't buried beneath layers of instinct and feeling, content to inhabit fur, claws, and teeth in this dream world. The human would pry into the words the spectre used, but the wolf only considered the interloper in his woods.

So the following question, to the wolf, was uninteresting. Wasn't it apparent? The woods were his. “They're mine,” he answered simply, swivelling his ears and watching the strange spectre who did not know why he was invading on the dream.

Human logic may have been able to make some theories, but the wolf didn't work with theories and inferences. Only threat assessment.

[Alexius]

Cinder Nightmare 7d6: Complete Success (4/3)

Alex watched the wolf observe him. At the simple statement that the woods were his the ghost just half shrugged and nodded along. “Fair enough.” he said.

He didn't need much deeper insight. Dreams were weird, how people saw them were weird.

The ghost looked around the trees a bit, unaware his influence was beginning to seep into the dream. Shadows grew a bit longer... a touch darker... things formed in the underbrush to watch and skulk the new shadows.

Alex looked back at the wolf. “... Would you say you are a good person?” Alex asked. He wasn't sure why he asked it but he knew it was an important question. Important to whom? He frowned as he thought on it.

[Max Kuryakin]

Aspect
Cinder (Attunement) Partial failure
Strike (Detect magic) Exceptional success

The werewolf felt the shiver of magic, ears pinning to his skull as he hunched his shoulders further. It crawled uncomfortably over his senses, and he bared his teeth as he swung his head around, observing the shifts in the forest. His ears swiveled forward, pointing straight ahead as he turned his head to look at the spectre, feeling the magic coming off of the figure.

So the werewolf was not all that interested in the question. He was more interested in why a trespasser was tainting his dream with magic. It had not become a threat yet, but the magic tasted familiar on his tongue, the werewolf flicking the appendage out to catch more of the nuance to it. It was foul tasting magic, so the werewolf bared his teeth in discomfort, ending in a sneeze.

“Mm. Some have,” the werewolf rumbled out, bringing a paw up to rub at his nose. “Are you good? You stink of foul magic.”

[Alexius]

The creature seemed to be responding to something, all the body gestures reminded Alex of a dog on edge. Brief memories of a bulldog behind a chainlink fence and the difference between its greeting barks and the one time it truely meant a young boy harm... Alex nodded when the werewolf said some had called him good. So good was something decided by others? He considered that when the werewolf turned the question around and leveled an accusation of foul magic. Alex frowned and his brow knit together at the statement. He considered it...

His nose dripped bright red blood as color seemed to drain out of him his eyes turned a bright yellow then vanished in a blink. The spirit rubbed at the red on his face and looked at his hand before shrugging. “I don't know what I am... but I leave stains sometimes. I am sorry if I am affecting your dream.” he said. He still looked concerned, almost troubled, but not by what he had done. That was a fact of his existance.

He was troubled trying to hold two idenities at once. Alex was a good kid learning to be more observant, learning to help people, and learning who he was. Alexius was a spirit of terror that haunted dreams and fed off of the fear they generated... To wonder what he had done to the dream was to touch on Alexius' persona... to touch it was to realize and be. Yet Alexius itself did not question its ability or influence. It simply was and did. To considered it by any degree was an act of Alex. Being both at once was difficult like pulling in two directions at once. “What does foul magic smell like?” Alex asked trying to lean more toward his curiousity and away from the fear.

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder (Attunement) Complete success

The spectre flickered and changed, the werewolf's ears pinning back again, but then human logic finally connected, a spark of insight and memory. The flash from before came back, and the werewolf had the frame of mind to think it over. He'd met this spectre before. It had been a nightmarish vision, the coppery smell of dried blood, a dream twisted into a nightmare of violence. Now, the spectre seemed more aware of it, less of the confusing jumble that dream had been, what he could remember.

So when the werewolf was given an apology of sorts, the beast blew out a breath, releasing tension and nodding his big head. This was different from then, so he would take the spectre at his word, for now. Still, even with some human insight connecting for the wolf, the question wasn't one the werewolf knew how to answer. It smelled foul. Hadn't he said that?

“Bad,” the werewolf tried. “Different... between people and... type.” He shrugged his big shoulders, body language easing slowly.

[Alexius]

Alex nodded at the description. It wasn't a lot to work with but honestly the spirit got vague better than precicse sometimes. Different between people and type? That made it sound, to Alex, like dreams. Those could varry in a hundred hundred ways, though by the time he was done they were all nightmares. He? Not he... Alexius... Alex... he was still holding a bit of both in his head and it was causing him to flicker a bit still. He pushed the two apart and settled more as the inquisitive young man. He looked at the werewolf.

“Different from the last time. Dream and shape... are you often this when you sleep?” Alex said.

He wasn't sure what he had expected coming back here but it hadn't been woods and beasts. At least not in this way. The curl of the shadows around him had a song... they were singing for not-him. For the man who wasn't there. Alexius. Alex ignored the song of terrors and focused on the beast's long muzzles. Where the words were likely to come out.

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder (Attunement) Complete success

Was he often...? The werewolf shook himself, not an answer so much as a full body shiver. Wild magic and human mundanity warred momentarily before the werewolf's shape blurred and changed. It was not the physical shift, but a more dreamlike blurring from one thing to the other. In a dream, the pain of a shift didn't exist unless the nightmare dictated it, and Max blinked sluggishly as he knelt on the ground, wholly human now. The fireman's trousers of his uniform, a thin, black t-shirt on his chest.

Bracing a hand on his knee, Max rose to his feet, his other hand coming up to touch his head. The werewolf's perspective was a bit of a blur, but he could pick up the threads. There'd been a question before his mind had changed from werewolf to man.

“Wh- what did you say?” Max checked, stuttering a little as he tried to get his wits about him, dropping his hand and brushing imagined dirt off his trousers.

[Alexius]

Alex watched the change with interest. The shift in shape, was there a term for that? before a man stood in front of him. Oddly, the spirit was fairly sure he wouldn't have been aware of it if he was as he had been before. The hungry ghoast he sometimes was would have focused on the presence of this dreamer heedless of shape, but with his currently perspective the appearance of things was far more real to him. What was a wolfish beast was now a man looking a bit confused and dusting himself off. Alex just shrugged at the question and repeated himself.

“Are you often a wolf when you sleep?” he asked.

His tone showed little interest one way or the other. Like he was checking in for the time of day. This was interesting to him but he was still having trouble expressing the emotions people took for granted. They were they but felt so pale and faded, like he was mimicing the vibrancy everyone else just... had. The only feeling he had that could match that passion came along with glowing yellow eyes and a malicious hunger. Better the pale shades of interest and curiosity than that malevolent gluttony.

[Max Kuryakin]

If Max hadn't had that feeling of being stuck in a dream, where the woods were just a little off and unreal, he'd take this whole situation with less relaxed bafflement. Sometimes it was nice, sticking to the wolf in a dream, where he didn't have to think so hard because wolves acted on different social graces.

“Sometimes, maybe...?” Max answered, trailing questioningly off as he wondered what the point of the question was. He didn't have a habit of remembering dreams, only vague shadows when he woke up before it faded. He speaks, pointing out, “I don't really remember, when I'm dreaming.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, he pushed it off his forehead, feeling strange standing there in only half of his firefighting gear and disoriented from having the mind of a wolf just a few moments ago.