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Illyanas Odd Encounter Sr Ritsuka 241130

Illyana found herself plunging into the depths of a nightmare, an experience that began with a peculiar fatigue pulling her into sleep despite the day's earlier activities. Within this dream, she was confronted with scenes that mirrored her deepest fears and past traumas—a dungeon filled with elements of BDSM, a stark representation of her recent assault, and the presence of a figure, Takashi Renjiro, who seemed to orchestrate the torment that unfolded. Despite her initial weakness and vulnerability, marked by her inability to access her inherent powers or escape the confines of the room, Illyana's resolve hardened. Faced with vivid memories of past violations and torments, including the loss and harm of loved ones, she refused to succumb to despair. The turning point came when, consumed by a mixture of fear, anger, and a deep-seated survival instinct, Illyana's inner flame of defiance reignited, propelling her towards a confrontation with her captor.

In a climactic shift within the dream, Illyana's defiance transforms into outright resistance. The narrative arc bends towards her reclaiming power over her circumstances, as she manages to channel her inner strength, culminating in a fiery explosion that obliterates Renjiro's presence. No longer the victim within her nightmare, Illyana turns the tables with a display of fierce, elemental energy, burning away the remnants of her captor and the oppressive setting he had constructed. The scene shifts dramatically as Illyana, now enveloped in flames that obey her will, confronts a final manifestation of her tormentor. With a chilling composure born of her newfound dominance over the dreamscape, she exacts vengeance. The nightmare, once a prison of fear and submission, becomes a stage for Illyana's triumphant assertion of will, as she declares her refusal to be subjugated. The story culminates with Illyana waking in her own bed, safe yet forever changed by the ordeal, a symbol of resilience and the complex interplay between vulnerability and strength.

Meanwhile, Ritsuka's experience juxtaposes the theme of unseen threats lurking within supposed sanctuaries. While she enjoys a moment of peace, the illusion of safety is shattered by an invasion of her home and the ominous advance of a dark mist. This external menace, paralleling Illyana's internal struggle, signifies the pervasive sense of insecurity that can invade even the most sacrosanct of spaces. As Ritsuka is overtaken by the encroaching darkness, the narrative hints at the intertwining of personal and communal vulnerabilities, suggesting a broader commentary on the fragility of safety and the shared endeavor to confront and overcome the shadows that haunt both individual lives and the collective psyche. The intertwining tales of Illyana and Ritsuka, each marked by their encounters with darkness—whether in the mind's eye or the heart of one's domain—speak to the universal quest for autonomy over one's fate and the indomitable spirit required to face the abyss and emerge not unscathed, but undaunted.
(Illyana's odd encounter(SRRitsuka):SRRitsuka)

[Fri Nov 29 2024]

In the master bedroom
This room isn't overly large, though it uses its space to the upmost.
floored with a mid brown laminate, it offers a splash to the room that compliments the rest of the decor; slightly reflective, and chosen to refract any light that strikes it.
The walls have been painted in a subdued cream, the off-white tone offering a cast to the room that suggests warmth and size to the structure, the base-boards contrasting to throw off a defined outline.
With storage enough to satisfy two residents, the room is left largely open-plan with a charcoal rug sitting in the center, from where a bed is allowed to oversee the room in all of its glory, complete with a hot pink, rolled back throw.

It is morning, about 38F(3C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.

(Your target has been singled out by a dream stalker who's invading their dreams. They cannot be woken, but their allies may be able to go into their dreams after them to help them fight off the invader and survive the nightmare.
)
Having already banished a spirit in the early hours in Arkwright cemetery with Colton Moore, Illyana had decided to get on with her day; She spent some time in a venue that was sanctified to Alabaster, the eidolon the cult, Vengeance of Ubaste has as their intermediary with the egyption goddess Bastet, had visited various locations for stock taking, book keeping and work, and then decided to return home for some much needed rest. Suffering feeding sickness from a hostile encounter with a demonborn a week back, she is weak, and so these periods of inactivity are very much needed to gather her strength before returning to the world at large. Doing little more than laying on her bed and texting, that's when she blinks, the morning's events having caught up to her, which leads us to now.

It is not quite morning anymore, no, in reality it is in the middle, but at Illyana is somewhere safe. Somewhere where nothing should come to hassle her, nothing should interrupt a sense of peace. The Syndicate could, but today, it is not the syndicate. The clouds outside are grey and appear stormy, but they, too, do not reach here. Instead, Illyana suddenly finds herself sleepy. There is a weariness that draws her and embraces her tightly, and soon? Soon her own body falls to reset, eyes close slowly, a phone beeps but slips away if reached for, the world, once bright, disappears behind the blackness of closed eyes... and the sweet rest of sleep.

The first image is beyond awareness, there is a black haired man, looks kind of mid, unwashed black hair that's five centimeters long and styled with gel anyway. Definitely hazel-brown eyes. There is a chat, but those first moments are vague and difficult to grasp, and it is only moments later that the brain connects and allows for Illyana to realize that she is in a dream, and for control to return to her. Whether she had previously visited a dream-world or not, she finds herself alone, weak, scarcely clad inside of a room. A cross with chains stands on one side, several options of whips lie on a table somewhere nearby. An old mattress lies in another corner and there is a wooden- horse like thing with an upward set triangle body of wood. It's a BDSM fetishists wet dream. Or for Illyana perhaps, a terrible terrible nightmare. There are no wounds on her body, nothing out of place, except that she was weak... and scarcely clad. A camera seems to hang from one corner, as if ever observing, but at the least, Illyana knows that this is, in the end, a dream. Her brain clicks that in place, and there is something frightening to it. She feels... watched.

Eyes fluttering open, Illyana glances around. There's an experimental usage of power; The attempt to generate heat. It's a dream, and she feels week, but Illyana will not submit. Even poorly clad, and with a distinct weakness she'll not give in: Illyana has given in before, and this, though terrifying and laced through with potential danger is something she will not allow. So she internally goes through what she has to hand. She's a monster yes, but she's also a woman, and if she has no access to heat, light, gravity or those gifts from her demonic heritage, she's at a disadvantage. This is also a dream, and through dream worlds and nightmares, pathing doesn't work, and shadow walking is likely to not- It has before, but that was a different situation. Right now, what's issential is to assess what she has, what she can use, and how much autonomy she has within this dream world- If dream world is what it is. Illyana will not be violated. She will not bend or bow. She will not break, and so, though she hates to do it, Illyana lets the monster out. The calculating cruelty and cold indifference of monstrosity that she usually keeps bound deep within. - This is not just a nightmare, but a deep seeded fear, especially after the events of the previous week and the assault that befell her in the pulse fitness center.

Defiant to the very last, Illyana tries... and tries. She tries to heat, but the air feels no different, she tries to control gravity, and it, too, proves no effect. Light. There is no light either, it all feels... odd, as if it was something ripped from Illyana's very soul being here in this dungeon. Trying to path, and joyously, it seemed to work at first! But the only place Illyana pathed into is... well, this little room, full of BDSM equipment. The Shadows form around herself, try to pull her in to let her escape... but they do not move her.

There is no escape. There is no escape.

The memory of the violation hangs on Illyana's mind, and here in this dream, it almost grows vivid. It is a soft push that encompasses the room with a barely existing visualization, of it happening again, of the same being here with her, using these objects on Illyana. It does not truly happen, and she finds herself exactly where she was supposed to be...

Looking or searching through the room, the whips, and a set of paddles could be used as makeshift weapons, if it has to come down to it and one of the walls looks... off. There are thin lines at each side, it is a door, but no immediately visible way to open it. The camera watches Illyana and it never seems to fade, oppressive, domineering... and why does the lense look like a more familiar face? Takashi Renjiro? No it is a lense... but then why?

The air is not too warm, but leans towards a colder temperature, just enough to be a little uncomfortable. The bed, under a blanket, is bloodied in the middle, and it does not take much to understand what it is meant to imply.

There is no escape. There is no escape.

Shifting to the center of the room, Illyana makes sure that there are avenues to move on all sides: She cant use her abilities-- Oh god she's human. She's human and weak. That blood, the equipment around her-- Illyana wont think of them as toys-- She won't entertain the idea. She's weak, but still, she doesn't have to give in-- She won't. -- But she should-- She deserves it, and she's confused She's being watched and she cant do anything. So heart pounding and only half-aware, she closes off. She doesn't give in: Oh no. Never that. But she simply shuts down, and she sinks to a fetal pose in the center of the room. There are no tears, but Illyana closes her eyes. She is trapped and needs space. But she will not give in. The desire is strong, but so too is Illyana's beligerence. Illyana is stubborn, furious, trembling with fear, but this cant hurt her-- Novel couldn't. It was just a setback. The only thing that could hurt her was Gonthorian, and she escaped; She took Gonthorian's rage and his fire. So even here, she has options. Nikolai told her so. Nikolai told her she was a vicious little bastard. KOnstantin told her she was a surviver. Emmanuel promiced her that if she broke free, she could be safe-- But this is not safe. So Illyana rocks. She closes her eyes and she focuses on her desires-- Her wants-- How much she hates. How much she is going to hurt the person who did this to her. This is a dream. It's not real. And even if this filth wants her to give in, that wont change. This is in the mind-- It's in the dream. And Illyana will not give in. So she sits and she waits. She remains there, eyes closed and does... Nothing. She's in the fetal, yes, but that does two things. It outwardly shows subserviance, but it gives a smaller profile for the camera to focus on- Less for it to see and enjoy. Her heart is pounding. Her eyes are closed. She refuses to see what this room could offer-- Only what it will, and she will not give in. She won't! She won't! She won't! And what ever comes through that door will see that; Illyana refuses to be weak. She won't!!!

Stillness and silence reign... For how long? The truth speaks only of a couple of seconds, but here, where there is suddenly only silence, it must feel horrendously slow. There is no escape. No escape. BUT SHE WON'T GIVE IN. Curled up, defenseless... but SHE WON'T GIVE IN. Fire encompasses her body once more, once more, she is burnt by Gonthorians flames, a vivid image, a painfully true feeling... But she wasn't there anymore. Not in the creepy room, not where whips and paddles lie. Everything burns, body burnt dark and the weight of a massive paw set upon Illyana's form. Crimson scales, it holds her locked to the ground. There is no escape.

Other familiar faces, Jade Violet, people Illyana cares for... and children. So so many children... and him, again.

He looks at Illyana, eyes cold, and far more sinister. Just like she remembers. Just like she remembers? He smiles to Illyana as he takes a dagger and removes finger by finger, eye by eye, from child and friend alike. And Illyana is stuck in place. She can't do anything. It is all *his* fault. Takashi Renjiro. He gauges Jade's eye and throws it to Illyana with a laugh far too joyful. There is no escape.

There is a small flame that burns in Illyana's charcoal burnt chest... a little flame that is dim and threatens to extinguish, if allowed to. Hatred. All that is good within her. The fiery flame that won't let her give in. It feels tangible. It feels real. It feels like defiance. It feels... like it can grow.

From the edge of her vision, there is the hazel eyed man again. Black hair unwashed. Watching with obsessive eyes, watching with eyes as black as the void of nothingness, a smile that touches upon a shiver, of one who loves to see Illyana suffer in more than just the emotional way.

The world shifts; The world shifts and then there is Gonthorian. The red dragon burns, but this time... This time there is nothing to burn. Back when the Firestarter burned her, there was innocence. There was hope. There was love, and care, and a wish for a better world. But now... Now those things are dreams: They are fleeting little memories. They are dreams that will never be-- They can never bee-- And Renjiro made a mistake. If he wanted to break her, he could have used Illyana's loved ones alone. He could have used children. He could have used anything other than Gonthorian, but he did... Renjiro thought to try to break a broken thing; He thought to destroy something forged in the fires of Gonthorian-- A person who survived the Hand, Gonthorian and who survived him. Renjiro made a mistake and that fire sparked in Illyana's soul. Because GOnthorian isn't fear-- He was. Long long ago, but that fear has had time to grow. The spark became a candle flame. That flame became a fire. The fire became a pyre and what burned was Illyana's hope. It became an inferno, and the inferno is hate. It goes beyond hate and just as with Renjiro's experiments, he hasn't engendered fear. He created fear yes. He created agony and suffering. He caused pain, but Illyana did not survive Gonthorian without pain. She was burned from within. She changed-- She grew to accept pain. She learned to eat pain. She learned to take the desires of others and weaponize them. She learned to feed on the anger and lust and fear of others, but also on her own. And she used that to grow stronger-- Illyana is not done. Her lips peal back and Renjiro hears four simple words. Those four words that prove to the chinese man how wrong he was in trying to use the Firestarter to break her. Illyana's lips pull back, her teeth white, her expression cruel. "I... will... kill... you!" she tells the faximily. And then that too breaks. Illyana notices the people that Renjiro is harming. It hurts Illyana. It brings Illyana pain, but the demon enjoys the pain. The angel suffers from it, and the demon loves it, and thus the cycle continues. Fear, joy-- Pain, contentment-- dread, revelry, and Illyana is a very very broken thing. She reaches deep within herself. She pulls on that flame. She rips it from within and her eyes meet Renjiro's. She sees him. Illyana notes him, but there is little human left. He has been feeding the monster that Illyana truly is, and she tells him, even mid torture of everything she loves-- Each thing she holds dear-- She hisses. She snarls, and then she stills. Illyana calms and she smiles at Renjiro. A cold thing. A callous thing. A violent thing born of all the fear and rage and incandescent wrath within her. Illyana tells Renjiro: "Die." And she will not give in! She does not give in! She cannot give in! So she does what fire does. Illyana consumes everything in her path. The red mist of rage falls...

"Die." It is such a very simple word by itself, which a meaning that outweighs so much, and here, it is just the gunpowder thrown at a flame that is awakening within Illyana. The flame grows with every single ounce and level of anger and hatred, for those she must protect, the dread... There is no escape. No... there WAS no escape. A burst of fire all too familiar fills Illyana's chest and rises, it is holy, tunneled through emottions that lean to her own hatred, and here, in this dream, it entraps Renjiro, burns his skin and makes his form melt into an ugly pile of meat until it turns black and... exploded. Blood, gore, it all sprays all around. It hurts the children, which... blink. There are no more children. There is no image of her friends, there is the feeling that Illyana saved them, but the flame lingers around the burnt pile of an exploded Chinese and the fire does not stop as it draws back to Illyana and burns the scarlet dragon's paw, only for the creature to turn to ashes.

Illyana was back in the room, alone, now quite bared. With the whips and the paddles, with the bed and the cross and chains. But she was no longer alone, no longer powerless and defenseless. No longer... weak. No, this is a dream, after all. Here, there is no feeding sickness, and now, she was no longer alone here either. The door that has been shut is open, and sitting on the side of the bed is that man again, who looks all too fascinated at Illyana. His hands are busy finishing a business he finds himself doing, and Illyana can feel the slight burn of hands that had touched her. HIS hands. There was no escape. There is now. She is no longer weak... she is strong... because SHE... JUST WON'T GIVE IN!

Eyes opening slowly, Illyana takes note of the room once more. The door is open. The door is open and she could easily run. She could run... She could run... She could-- KILL!!! Illyana is not helpless. Illyana is a monster, and she feeds on lust. She feeds on fear and rage. And this man is a meal. He is not a person. He is less than a person. He is food. He is pathetic. Illyana's humanity has gone, and what remains is the monster. And the monster sees /food/. Illyana's eyes widen-- It's not surprise. It's not fear-- It's a lust of her own, and that lust is not physical. It is emotional. It is the need to afflict this meat with pain. Illyana's aura flares bright. The temperature rises, and everything that comes into contact with Illyana blazes into flames. Illyana's eyes are no longer green, but deep wells of fire, and as though she were beneath a waterless ocean, her hair floats out behind her. Sparks dance and her skin glows. Illyana is not human. Illyana's body might look like it, but her mind is not. Her thoughts are not. And this insect-- This ant. This pathetic little piece of meat wanted to hurt her. But /it/ not he, IT, will now suffer. She moves-- It's inhuman. It's fast. It's a blurr of motion and the chains from that cross snaps. It touches Illyana. It burns with her fire, and even then she does not stop. This man is not Renjiro. But Renjiro will die, and this man is in her way. He is between her and her enemy. So she smiles-- Angelic speed-- Demonic strength, a blending of power, monstrosity and brutality. Illyana does not like things hurting her. So now she will not just hurt, but she will break her /victim. Illyana's lips turn up as the fire burns. She toys with that chain. She fingers it. She pulls it taught. Her smile widens. The titanic weat of gravity settles in a burden upon this meat, and Illyana moves to wrap the flaming chain around his neck. She pulls it tight. She grips both ends and her intent is not just to choak. It is not just to harm or hinder. Illyana's desire is to burn... Kill... break-- And everything she touches will burn...

Chains should really not be something that could be on fire easily, but here, they alight with a mix of infernal and angelic flames. The room turns on fire, the man gasps when his business starts to burn, too, and that moment, is enough for him to finish his business. Enough to both finish and for him to find his neck choked by flaming chains. The food screams and screams and screams as the flames begin to melt his face off. His lower melts and melts, and then turns to charcoal the same way the man's body changes whole. The bed is on fire, but the flames do not hurt Illyana, they do not flicker her skin with pain, no, these flames are hers and hers to do with as she pleases... The wooden horse burns, even the other equipment burns... and the man's screams linger and trot even once all of him, was no more than a semi-molten charcoaled figure of burnt flesh. The flames flicker along awareness, beyond the door that has opened, ashes to ashes and dust to dust... This dream was now for her to play with, for today, for this moment, for as long as she wills it... and to leave as she now wills it. The master of the dream... was no longer in the dream, he could no longer hold Illyana captive in this nightmare, no, now this scape was hers to play with.

As the man burns-- As he smoulders and suffers, Illyana smiles; It's a beautiful thing. HOrrifying in its innocents. She choaks and she whispers with a lover's caressing purr, "Scream for me..." And yes. Though this was meant to be for the man's enjoyment, it is Illyana who is turned on: Lightly clad as she is, it is obvious that this has her blissful. She is arroused. Her nipples are errect, her thighs are damp, and the dream is hers. The dream burns, and then, Illyana wakes with a start.

Illyana wakes as her eyes open. She is back at home, back in her own bed. She was safe... No one else was here and it all... was just a dream. A nightmare.

(Your target has been abducted and is being held hostage by a supernatural criminal out to trade them for something or just use them as a shield against the factions. Your target must attempt to find a way to escape, or simply survive until they can be rescued by their allies.
)
Ritsuka is just spending a couple of moments texting on her phone. She seems to just plain be at ease today, the recent paranoia has faded and she seems to manage to just relax again and to move forward again. There is a few vibrations of her phone and she even manages a smile. So much for the disadvantages to her decision, because, as it turns out, it is all just so much easier now. All of it. And tomorrow, she intends to do a little bit of shopping, too.

It's ridiculous how it keeps happening. It's, perhaps, a reminder that no matter what you do, what happens to you, how secure you make yourself... you are *never* safe. Not in Haven, which is ironic. With Sanctuary, this should be the safest little town on the planet. And yet... and yet. Today's episode of Haven Horror TM is Home Invasion themed. And whose home? Why, Ritsuka's home. In the heart of her shrine house, where the spirits should keep her safe, where the Kami protect her as much as she reveres them.

What should never happens has a bad habit of happening in Haven. Especially to those whose luck always finds its extremes. The mist comes, more quickly than it normally does... but not that familiar mist that Ritsuka's come to know. No, no... this mist is dark, like smoke, and it grasps for her neck, ripping her phone from her hands. It's a deliberate loss of agency, as the smell of chloroform (IE, no smell at all) fills her nostrils, darkness coming slow thanks to her blood. But, limbs start to fail, her body starts to turn on her, and Ritsuka can see herself being lifted, moved, through the house with doors sliding and swinging open for them.

The last thing Ritsuka hears before the darkness finally takes hold is the sound of stone against stone and the clatter of a bowl and rice falling onto the floor.

Ceryn is just wandering the outskirts of the town, as he seems fond of doing. Walking the line between the modern and the eternal, nature and civilization. He may find the walk pleasant, with rustling leaves in a light breeze, while those dark stormclouds bring the smell of petrichor, yet refuse to let loose their tears. Not yet, anyhow. A rustle in his satchel might catch his attention, growing more and more frantic until Ceryn gets the message - something wicked this way comes.

In the woods, a dark, stormy, unnatural mist carries Ritsuka through the trees, snaking through the trees before burrowing into an easily missed little crevice, between an overgrown boulder and the thick soil. Deep, deep, into the darkness... a twisted, malevolent presence.