Re: The Battle Royale S2 [Round 1: Grande Adventures]
06-14-2010, 08:45 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
Narcolepsy, although humorous at the right time, is very inconvenient for the narcoleptic. The ex-photographer had barely enough time to retreat to a corner before falling over, asleep.
For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then his surroundings started to change as his dream leaked out into reality. The walls and floor seemed to warp and shift and even whisper, though they didn't seem to have anything to say. Soon, a figure faded in, looking almost like the dreamer but not quite. He was shorter and seemed to be more solid. He wasn't blocky but shaped more like a stumpy human. He wore a headband that seemed less like a headband and more like a part of him. He held an air of confidence and strength. Most importantly, he didn't seem to be losing shape like his living counterpart.
Leaving an impression that he had dealt with this sort of thing before, the Dream scooped up his dreaming pal as best as he could and threw him over his shoulder before scanning his surroundings. Beyond the boundaries of the dream, he took in with distaste the macabre factory. Not even the worst nightmares came close to this. 'Course, the photographer's worst nightmares were more about his fears personified jumping out at him like so many Freddie Kruegers. Not a whole disgusting meat factory.
The Dream couldn't help but notice that there were some people on the other side of the room going out the door that led to some sort of grassy field. "Hey," he said, though it didn't seem they heard him. As they shut the door, he quickly walked over where they were, the small dreamscape moving with him. But when he opened the door, it didn't lead to the same field. There was a field, but it was a lot duller. Less natural looking. Also, there hadn't been an angel on the other side.
The angel stepped back in surprise, not expecting the door to open itself. The Dream squinted up at him, vaguely recalling one of the ex-photographer's memories. "Serious," he said.
Annoyance once more overcame surprise and the angel glared down. "Sirius."
"Right."
"Who are you?"
"You know that photographer guy? I'm his dream." This seemed to annoy Sirius more, though the Dream wasn't sure why. The door wriggled slowly and muttered.
Sirius decided to ignore this for the time being. There were more important things. "Have you seen that cowardly fool?"
"Which one?" the short being replied mildly. It wasn't helping his temper.
"The one who opens doors," he said before realizing how utterly stupid that sounded. This fight was just too ridiculous. He had to get out quickly. "...Jeremy. That was his name. Brown hair, casual wear."
The Dream paused for a moment. "I did see someone who was opening doors just a few seconds ago." Sirius wasn't sure whether he was being mocked or not and just settled for intensifying his glare. "He actually just went through this door."
"Oh really? And where did he go?"
"Hell if I know. I just opened the door and saw your pretty face."
Not improving his temper. At all.
Narcolepsy, although humorous at the right time, is very inconvenient for the narcoleptic. The ex-photographer had barely enough time to retreat to a corner before falling over, asleep.
For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then his surroundings started to change as his dream leaked out into reality. The walls and floor seemed to warp and shift and even whisper, though they didn't seem to have anything to say. Soon, a figure faded in, looking almost like the dreamer but not quite. He was shorter and seemed to be more solid. He wasn't blocky but shaped more like a stumpy human. He wore a headband that seemed less like a headband and more like a part of him. He held an air of confidence and strength. Most importantly, he didn't seem to be losing shape like his living counterpart.
Leaving an impression that he had dealt with this sort of thing before, the Dream scooped up his dreaming pal as best as he could and threw him over his shoulder before scanning his surroundings. Beyond the boundaries of the dream, he took in with distaste the macabre factory. Not even the worst nightmares came close to this. 'Course, the photographer's worst nightmares were more about his fears personified jumping out at him like so many Freddie Kruegers. Not a whole disgusting meat factory.
The Dream couldn't help but notice that there were some people on the other side of the room going out the door that led to some sort of grassy field. "Hey," he said, though it didn't seem they heard him. As they shut the door, he quickly walked over where they were, the small dreamscape moving with him. But when he opened the door, it didn't lead to the same field. There was a field, but it was a lot duller. Less natural looking. Also, there hadn't been an angel on the other side.
The angel stepped back in surprise, not expecting the door to open itself. The Dream squinted up at him, vaguely recalling one of the ex-photographer's memories. "Serious," he said.
Annoyance once more overcame surprise and the angel glared down. "Sirius."
"Right."
"Who are you?"
"You know that photographer guy? I'm his dream." This seemed to annoy Sirius more, though the Dream wasn't sure why. The door wriggled slowly and muttered.
Sirius decided to ignore this for the time being. There were more important things. "Have you seen that cowardly fool?"
"Which one?" the short being replied mildly. It wasn't helping his temper.
"The one who opens doors," he said before realizing how utterly stupid that sounded. This fight was just too ridiculous. He had to get out quickly. "...Jeremy. That was his name. Brown hair, casual wear."
The Dream paused for a moment. "I did see someone who was opening doors just a few seconds ago." Sirius wasn't sure whether he was being mocked or not and just settled for intensifying his glare. "He actually just went through this door."
"Oh really? And where did he go?"
"Hell if I know. I just opened the door and saw your pretty face."
Not improving his temper. At all.