WHEN THE QUIET ENDED ☆ o, nightmare

[FRAGGLEROCK.]

( TW for parental abuse ; everything in italics is Fraggle's nightmare and isn't actually happening )

The night. It was cool, and comforting, and Fraggle found that he enjoyed it's company. Even when he wasn't able to sleep, he enjoyed just wandering around, taking in the cool air and the stars glimmering high above.

This night in particular had seemed as nice as any other, if not even more enjoyable. After all, Aesior had returned quite recently, and Frag couldn't help feeling rather at peace. He was happy, and he felt loved, and that was all he really needed in the grand scheme of things. So, when it came time for him to sleep, he didn't feel as though he would have any troubles. He didn't feel the usual sense of anxiety that came along with a sleepness night, and as soon as he settled down beneath his pelt, he could hear the sweet voice of the dreamworld calling him. Unbeknownst to him, however, that sweet tone was actually one of mocking, luring him in so that it could hurt him. He didn't know this, however, so it wasn't long before his blue eyes slipped shut, and he found himself getting dragged under.

---

When he opened his eyes once more, he wasn't in the same cavern that he had fallen asleep in. Rather, he was standing out on one of the rocky plateaus that made up The Golden Eye's territory. He had no idea of how he had gotten there, but he wasn't given much time to ponder before a familiar voice hit him. It wasn't familiar in a positive way, though. Instead, it was the sharp and mocking tone of Cleopatra, the feline moving over to him with a sneer on her face, "You came wandering all the way out here? You're just asking to get yourself hurt, at this point. Not that it would be much of a loss, really. You're just a piece of prey gone wrong." As Frag opened his mouth to say something, however, Cleopatra reached out, grabbing his face within her claws. He spat, struggling slightly as he did so, "Hey, hey! You're hurting me!" Her gaze just seemed to narrow then, a flash of fangs showing. He wasn't given a chance to escape, however. Instead, everything seemed to shift right before his very eyes.

When the world came into focus once more, Cleopatra wasn't there. In fact, he seemingly wasn't even in the territory of The Golden Eye, anymore. Instead, the territory around him was odd and vaguely familiar, with towering decrepit city buildings, overrun with green growth. His face was still being held still by claws, but they weren't Cleopatra's. Instead, standing in front of him was a lioness, towering above him with an expression of disapproval on her face. Her pelt was gold and seemed to gleam in the light, silver hairs occasionally mixed in as a sign of her age. His mouth opened once more, but the words and voice that left him didn't seem to be his own, "M... Mom, you're hurting me! Let go!" The lioness didn't budge, however. Instead, her voice just lowered into a deep growl as she responded, "Don't talk back to me. For God's sake, --------, you're a Kingmaker. Act like it!" The name she spoke was garbled and incomprehensible, his mind not seeming to process it properly. The other one, though, struck a cord. Kingmaker? What was that? Was it his last name? It felt like it, but... this wasn't his mother, was it? Wouldn't his mother be a rabbit?

So many questions plagued his mind, but it didn't seem like he would be receiving answers anytime soon. Instead, he was brought back into the present by the lioness's claws pressing deeper into his skin, drawing blood and causing him to cry out. Her voice was still cold as she continued, "You're going to be the king of this all one day, you know. So stop acting so meek and useless. Stop acting like some kind of little prey animal with your tail between your legs. Because if you continue to act like prey, I will TREAT you like prey!" With that shout, she threw Fraggle away from her, causing him to crash into the ground with a rough thud. Blood dripped down from his chin, and every part of his body ached. His "mother" loomed over him, gaze narrowed and expectant as she watched him from where he laid on the ground. In his chest, he could feel frustration building, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. The lioness opened her mouth once more, evidently getting ready to scold and belittle him again. He didn't give her a chance, though, crying out, "Shut up! Shut up, SHUT UP!" With that, he stumbled to his feet, leaping at her with his claws outstretched.

Everything shifted once more. The plateau of The Golden Eye was back, and the lioness was gone. Instead, Fraggle's claws and body collided with Cleopatra, digging into her flesh and dragging her to the ground. Driven by his fury, he clawed desperately at her, digging his fangs into whatever he could reach for good measure. As he attacked her, his words came out in frantic bursts, "I'm not useless! I'm not prey! You're wrong! You're the one who's useless!" It was several minutes before he was finally able to calm, taking a shaky step back from Cleopatra's body. Blood stained his paws, which seemed larger and different than what he was used to. As Cleo's blood dripped down from his maw, he simply stared down at her corpse, his gaze wide and petrified. What had he done? He hadn't wanted to kill her. She wasn't... she hadn't been Cleopatra. And yet, the body in front of him was. The one that he had killed, with his claws, and teeth, and all the shouting... he was shaking.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. His heart clenched, and tears stung his eyes. His entire form trembled, and the world seemed to melt and break apart around him, eventually fading into nothingness.

---

When he awoke, Fragglerock immediately knew that something was wrong. The nightmare remained burned into his mind, and tears spilled over unimpeded, running down his cheeks as sobs racked his body. He shook and trembled violently, his paws raising to press up against his eyes. As soon as he felt them, though, he knew that they weren't really his paws. They were too big. In fact... all of him was too big. As he opened his eyes once more and looked down at himself, he saw that he was no longer the tiny rabbit he had once been. Instead, he was a lion cub. He looked to be around six months, with golden fur and those same bright blue eyes. It was identical to the form he had taken in his dream. The one that had killed Cleopatra. It filled him with fear, and it wasn't long before he was sobbing once more, curling up into a ball as he trembled and ignored the outside world. The entire nightmare had gotten to him, shaking him down to his very core.

Around him, various members of The Golden Eye were staring at him, not knowing what to do, or how to help him. Many had seen his shift from rabbit to lion cub, and some of them were simply shocked by how it had happened. Even those that hadn't seen could tell that the cub was Fraggle, judging by the red and white feathers that grew off of the cub's elbows, and the back of his hind legs. It wasn't long before one of the NPCs was crying out, looking for someone who could help with Fragglerock's sudden shift and breakdown. Arlo, Vincent, Aesior... pretty much anyone they could find.

( tl;dr: Fraggle went to sleep within the cavern, and began dreaming that he was out on the plateaus of the territory. Cleopatra approached him in the dream and started berating him, grabbing him by the chin before his dream shifted. He was then confronted by a lioness who seemed to be his mother, berating him in a similar fashion to Cleopatra and hurting him. He launched himself at her, but found out that he had actually attacked dream Cleopatra, killing her. After this, he woke up from the nightmare and discovered that he had shifted into the same feathered lion cub form he had taken on in the dream. He then started shaking uncontrollably and crying, with most of the people in the cavern staring, not sure what to do )

☆ — what of the meek, the mourning, and the merciful?

[aesior]

AESIOR OPHELES

✯ — got spirits in my head and they won't go

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Nightmares were much too familiar of an occurrence, a well known and hated thing truly. Although, tonight had been a different one, where he could rest and sleep, the presence of a soul allowing him to sleep in peace for once. Little did the grim know of events within camp until voices woke him up. These voices were full of concern, and they were far different from what he usually heard in his head. Cracking his eyes open as an NPC appeared before his nest, pulling himself to his paws groggily. It was then that he heard mention of Fraggle and his scent hit his nose. He was home. But something was off - his scent shouldn't be tainted by fear and it had a hint of a predatorial scent rather than a prey animal's scent.

The sleepiness was gone at that moment, stumbling over numb paws for a moment before he was on his way at a well-meaning trot. Halting in front of the child, he blinked in surprise. This was Fraggle's nest alright, and the lion cub before him seemed to be like Fraggle with the feathers. Inhaling his scent as his mind processed things, he brushed past the bystanders with a raspy squeak aimed towards Fraggle. He still couldn't speak, it would never be something he could recover in this body, but he had gained the ability to squeak after harsh use of his voice and throat. Stepping closer, he would extend his neck to try to touch his nose to Fraggle's head and lay down beside his nest, he wanted to comfort the child, and the only way he knew was through physically holding the child. He was unsure of what else to do, shuffling closer and lifting a paw, attempting to place it on top of Fraggle's own, crooning quietly.

space

✯ — MALE. THE GOLDEN EYE. MEDIUM DIFFICULTY. REF. LANGUAGE GUIDE. — ✯

#psychosocial.

[Grimm]

[align=center][div style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; max-width: 65%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Once there had been a time he may have put forth uncontested agreement, assured of the gentle comfort, that delicate weave of particular security. Long since dorment had those memories gone, buried beneath years reduced to ash, thick and cloying against his tongue. Better that it was reduced in such a fashion, disappointment a given he knew to expect.

The world bore an agenda he may barely parse, however. Alleviated, in incriminates of such meagre proportions unknown the loss of each in due turn, old hate bound in the haze of the past, details ruined, sentiment all he had left. To the others may he ascribe the cause, a comfort elusive found in a place once deemed inaccessible. No longer alone, quelled the doubts that plagued weary heart.

Cool the stone, painted in the silver spill of reflected light, among the glittering points of countless stars bright beacon the moon. Slow the turn of vision, lines drawn, lips slow in movement that produced no sound. Late the hour, too much so to further whittle away the time allotted for rest. Turning in for the night bore no appeal, small the hope carefully tended, understood self inclined. Too many the questions that built, traced his tongue where it lay still between clenched teeth, awaited only the first for the torrent to rush forth.

Such why swallowed each, lids closing, tense as chin fell. Never expected the manner they had chipped away at walls erected and maintained over years, exploited minor imperfections within, but beginning the begrudging hope. Fault his own to a partial degree, understood in a fashion he wished may be rejected, to do such denial, a refusal that may tighten his defences. Sigh light on his lips, head turning, slither of lavender exposed peering into open mouth caught in the veil of shadow. Beyond his better judgement he had come to care for them, though few he grew willing to admit to, the tether that kept him here.

Old bones protested his rise and subsequent motion, a pale shade observed by few as the familiar cavern was traversed, at times halted by a simple desire indulged. Across some his gaze wandered, particular the peace derived from the momentary study of their peace obtained in slumber. Sudden the halt, a stuttering jump, heart taking up a quickened rhythm, averted eyes. Understood too far his response, a muted anger that played against his chest, worked between his ribs as though serpentine had it become, a stranger still for the most part. Why was it merely looking upon Aesior, features lax, slight the stir of nest material with each slow breath, a match to his fuse.

Alone left the grim, another deemed necessary to visit before his own nest may cradle his tired body, sorely missed as teeth closed and each breath seeped between. Too slow, always was he, grown rigid as voices rose, uncaring of those who responded with anger at the abrupt rousing. Quick and garbled, together running, numerous those speaking. To him, it seemed, frantic tones sharp and with a note that seemed to plead he follow, paws reaching, pulling at him. The desire to withdraw, return to his perch beyond the mouth of cavern rose, refusal scouring his throat. Finally the voices thinned, a particular one coming through.

Something was wrong with Fragglerock.

Those few words enough, aside brusquely brushed aside those that crowded about, pace quickening, paws tangling, each breath fire searing his throat. Barely known the child, at arms length kept for his own peace of mind, a cruel and baseless reaction to one innocent, needed guidance yet received only harsh criticism. Lips shifting, peeled away from clenched teeth. Oversight would be corrected, the lagamorph deserved better than he may give, but his poor imitation of care was better than nothing. Or, at the least, Vincent bore hope that it would be taken in such fashion.

Difficult to tell when paths had converged, his vision briefly touching upon Aesior, supposedly the only one who bore enough sense to approach. Maybe he lacked it, study of the youth he soothed with rasping vocalisation unknown, an interloper. The fine strands along his spine rose as scene was processed, tip of his tongue weighed beneath sharp retort, swallowed as crimson met gold. Soft the quills that nestled at crook of elbow and knee, adornment of only one.

"Fraggle…" Confusion laced quiet tone, unsure the movement of vision between child and grim, answers sought he already bore needed only acceptance. Closer he stepped, mouth working though he lacked words to offer, finally allowing his lips to seal shut once more. Before would he come to a halt, allowed his weight to drag him down, lost as his thoughts turned over, tried to find anything that may be applicable to the situation. "Is okay, we're here, you're safe." Finally he spoke in a hushed tone, refraining from reaching forth even as the desire built, wanting only to wipe away the tears that accompanied each sob.

[CLEOPATRA THEMA.]

[FRAGGLEROCK.]

Shaking. Sobbing. He couldn't stop it. He was scared. Scared of himself, frightened of what he could do. If he could really take on the form from his nightmare, then what was there to say he couldn't kill Cleopatra, as well? His sobbing only seemed to get worse as thoughts crowded his mind, making him frantic, and breathless. The sound of NPCs shifting around him fell on deaf ears, and he didn't seem to finally react until Aesior grew close, and a nose was touched to his head. His blue gaze darted around for a moment before it landed on Aesior himself, the boy's entire body seeming to relax in the presence of the mute feline. The other served as a reminder, really. A reminder that he was in the real world, and he had others around to support him. That horrible lioness that had been in his nightmare... she wasn't his mother. She wasn't his parent in the slightest. The closest thing he had to a parent was Aesior, Arlo, and Vincent. They truly cared for him, and took care of him as parents would. They were real. The nightmare... all that it had entailed... wasn't. The form he was in now might've been real, but that didn't mean anything. After all, people discovered they had shapeshifting nearly every day.

His sobbing didn't entirely cease simply due to Aesior's presence, but it did slow down significantly. Before long he was able to speak once more, although each word was slightly forced, and shaky, "I'm... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to worry everyone. It was just a nightmare." A terrible, terrible nightmare. One that he was sure would haunt him for a long time. Yet still, he didn't feel quite as hopeless as he had just a moment earlier. Indeed, that all-absorbing feeling of darkness and depression seemed to subside even more as Vincent approached, his own comforting words proving to be a boon. Swallowing thickly as he looked up at the other, Frag hesitated momentarily before he nodded, muttering, "You're... you're right. I'm safe. I'm safe..." He then glanced down at himself, stretching out the large golden paw that wasn't being held by Aesior. He slowly spread out the individual toes, watching as still small but still very dangerous little claws emerged, gleaming in the faint light of the cavern. He swallowed down bile that rose in his throat then, images of blood pouring over those same claws flashing in his mind. He couldn't... he shouldn't be thinking of that.

Instead, he turned once more to look at the rest of himself, glancing over the colorful feathers, and warm-looking pelt. It wasn't long before he spoke up once more, face still damp with tears, "I don't... I don't know how I shifted into this. I just woke up, and I was... different." If not for the nightmare, he probably wouldn't have even thought of it as a bad different, just a disorienting one. There was quite the difference between a tiny rabbit body and a growing lion cub, after all. Still, it seemed as though he was stuck with it for now, considering he didn't seem able to shift back. He'd try more later, but... merely thinking about going back certainly wasn't doing the trick.

The presence of Cleo wasn't lost on him, but he didn't say anything to her, seemingly not even able to look in her direction. He was too afraid of triggering another flashback to the nightmare, and what he had done to her within it. There was no way he could do such a thing in the land of waking, but it still lingered on his mind, weighing down his soul. It made him feel like a monster, no matter how much he told himself that it wasn't real. That Cleopatra was right there, still alive.

☆ — what of the meek, the mourning, and the merciful?