Encounterlogs
Silvanuss Odd Encounter Sr Fayad 240728
Silvanus finds himself ensconced in a vivid dream, a luxurious fantasy of ancient Rome where he is a noble and powerful figure, surrounded by subjects and servants catering to his every desire. This dream, however, is not merely a product of his imagination but the result of a dream stalker's sinister efforts to feed off his energy. Unbeknownst to Silvanus, this seductive dreamscape is a trap designed to keep him in a state of passive bliss while his life force is slowly drained. As he indulges in the fantasies conjured for his pleasure, a figure with no face, a manifestation of the dream stalker, tends to him, ensuring his dream remains immersive and uninterrupted.
The situation takes a turn with the arrival of Astrid, who intrudes upon the dream in an attempt to thwart the dream stalker's scheme and free Silvanus from his enchanted slumber. Despite the dream's efforts to adapt to her presence, even creating a twin figure to confuse and distract, Astrid remains determined. She cleverly mirrors the actions of the dream's constructs to sow confusion among them and ultimately confronts the dream stalker directly in a climactic showdown. With a mix of cunning and resolve, Astrid manages to disrupt the dream enough to awaken Silvanus, effectively saving him from the dream stalker's clutches. The dream collapses, and Silvanus awakens in his hotel room, sweaty and disoriented, yet safe, thanks to Astrid's intervention. The ordeal leaves him questioning the reality of his experience, while Astrid leaves a white rose as a token of her visit, a symbol of the surreal encounter that Silvanus might dismiss as merely a dream.
(Silvanus's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Sat Jul 27 2024]
In the bathroom
This bathroom is kept in pristine condition. The floor is a series of
tiles that alternate between blue and white, and the tub is built into the
wall. Tub, sink, and toilet all are made with white ceramic, and the inside
of the toilet bowl is filled with water that's blue due to constant use of
pipe cleaning fluids. The whole area is lit by a ceiling fan, the blades of
which are made of some kind of whitened steel.
It is noon, about 104F(40C) degrees,
(Your target is attacked by a dream stalker who subjects them to their greatest fantasies in the dream world in order to keep their body passive while it's energies are fed upon. They need to, possibly with the help of allies entering their dreams, resist the temptation long enough for other allies to find them or for them to wake up.
)
Silvanus stretches, lazily, in the bath, before taking note of the time at a buzz from his phone. He rises from the water and moves over to the clothes he'd hung before sinking in, grumbling irritatingly beneath his breath against the heat. "...Even inside. I mean, this isn't a five-star hotel, but I'd think, this far in Mass, they'd have decent A/C." Slipping his shirt over his chest, he raggedly tries to dry his hair with a towel, gives up, and then puts the duffel bag into the armoire. He moves to trudge out to the main room of the hotel, seeking the comforts of the bed.
Bedtime at noon. The siren call of the sheets is oddly insistent today, in the heat. As Silvanus passes the bathroom mirror on Silvanus's way to bed, he catches the glimpse of something faceless in the reflection - but any further investigation would simply reveal the man himself, standing alone. An unnatural lethargy settles upon the hotel room.
His internal clock had been entirely askew. Part of his body still thought he was in Assisi, somewhere deep inside, but even that would mean bedtime would come at 8pm. What was he? 90 years old? Perhaps it was the heat, or perhaps just the jarring way in which he'd made his way to this new, odd, yet pretty town. As he passes by the mirror, he pauses, back-steps and does a double-take. A few rapid blinks attempt to clear his eyes as he moves to examine himself, lifting a hand to rub at his chin. "...Huh. Okay. Might need a shave in a few days...wonder if June can help me f-...." and then it hits Silvanus, some wave of exhaustion. "Fuck it. Bed time," and he turns away to try to make it to the bed.
As the world melts away, Silvanus falls asleep, fretfully, likely on top of the sheets considering the heat. A weightless creature alights on the foot of the bed, spreading a spindly hand against Silvanus' head - just as intended. No face. But just a trick of the lighth, of sleep, of a weary brain - Silvanus begins to dream of something very pleasant. A fantasy he's held for a long time overtakes him almost immediately as the spell of sleep spreads through his meat, his bones, his marrow and brains. What sort of thing would keep Silvanus placid out of longing or realization..?
Home is a strange thing. It certainly isn't, necessarily, a place. He's traveled all over the world, and felt equally at home in a pit in Assisi with a pickaxe in hand as he did in a lecture hall at Columbia, right near the GW Bridge. He hits the pillow, wearing so little, and probably would wear less if this weren't a hotel bed, and Silvanus's eyes just slam shut. And his dreams just start to unfold, strangely, oddly, not to any rooted place in the country, or even abroad, but some strange fantasy, of a world with towering spires and fantastical creatures and beautiful blonde goddesses...servants, domestic slaves, in some twisted, fantastical version of Ancient Rome. A villa just outside this twisted version of the ancient city, where he lorded over his own villa. Sitting in a throne, a gilded toga against his body.
Silvanus shifts in his sleep, kicking off what little else he was wearing, keeping his phone in a loose grip as his shorts fall to his ankles, catching on the post of the bed as he struggles to get comfortable, atop the sheets and in the heat.
Tittering and vying for Silvanus' affection, the women quite literally of Silvanus' dreams bring Silvanus food, dancing, some kind of exotic pet for Silvanus' approval - all hoping to be the one Silvanus selects tonight for Silvanus' bed. They ensure to play up each of their assets in turn, even as a youthful male courtier murmurs in Silvanus' ears that the realm is fine, the realm is fair, and there are no problems today to deal with. He can simply enjoy himself. As for Astrid, as Astrid enters Silvanus' hotel room - for whatever reason - Astrid witnesses Silvanus splayed out on the bed, back against the sheets, a spindly creature with ashen skin and no face lovingly caressing Silvanus' face. Five fingertips - no thumb - press against various parts of Silvanus' temple, and its attention seems wholly upon the prostrate, sleeping man.
Astrid actually happens upon the area Silvanus's body is in while she's slowly walking through the nightmare. She looks around in that side stream of the world much the same as some who had never seen it before. The nightmare is similar to something she was once partly used to, but not quite. She looks in the mirror as she's passing it, snake scales visible in her aura in the nightmare, all over her, and she tilts her head at that one. "Weird. But... something's not right, I feel funny... like..." She sighs, peering at Silvanus in the mirror, and she pushes on the mirror then, slipping right through it. Though as she goes toward the mirror and into it in the nightmare, the equal and opposite direction of movement is happening in the real world, where Astrid actually stops and reverses in mid push, hopefully before the ashen skinned beast notices her. "Okay no. I gotta go in." She keeps pacing there, then, looking at various doors as they open, trying to peer in to see which dream world he's in. "Come on, come on."
This isn't a dream, for how could it be? He is of noble blood, a line of Patricians stretching back to the founding of this great Noble City atop Seven Hills. Of course the realm is fine, Silvanus assures himself, looking up to caress the courtier along his cheek with a few fingers, before turning his attention to the dances of his servile slaves. Women of multitudinous beauty, dancing and exposing themselves for him. As is the Dominus' right - he is head of this household, noble Senator of Rome. And in the world above, outside his dreams, in his bed, he lets out a faint, gurgling snore that turns into something approaching a groan. He doesn't take note of Astrid's strange entrance. He's dead asleep. He's not even here. "Come...come..." one of the slave girls whispers, in a mimicry of Astrid's voice just outside of his dream, beckoning from his curule chair. Some exotic beauty, wide-hipped, fair, with large breasts spilling up and over her peplos dress. "Oh, Astra, tonight, again?" the noble Senator intones, laughing demurely at the girl that comes to beckon him up.
And in bed, he twists, groans, fingers curling into fists that bunch at the sweat-soaked sheets beneath Silvanus's back.
Astra, that's a close enough name to grab Astrid's attention. "Jumanji, mother buzzers.", she softly utters, stepping through the door to the Kingdoms. Not her home, she'd have no reeeal sway here. But she follows along to try to sneak up on good old Astra, as well as the rest, trying to stay out of sight of all for now as she approaches. At least long enough to figure out what's what.
Feeding upon Silvanus' emotions and his power, the predator seems to sense something is wrong. It shifts, raising its head, huge ears splaying wide from its misshapen, bulbous head, as it listens - but hears nothing, concealed within the nightmare and then in Silvanus' very dream as Astrid now is. But a nightmare this certainly does not appear to be. The lure of hedonism is a strong one, nearly as strong as Astra's hips as she sways up to Silvanus, making certain to show off what a wonderful mother she'd be to Silvanus' children. "Again and forever," she promises her lord. Astrid finds a nice column to hide behind, the manor house replete with decorative architecture and plant beds to hide within and behind.
How could Silvanus resist? She's, if not beautiful, then rustically sensual. Something earthen and worked about her appeal, the slave girl that he's transposed Astrid's name onto in some twisted version of Latin. She perhaps worked the fields before Dominus Gardener brought her into his house. Yes, that feels...right. Correct. Proper. His toga peeks at his groin in response, though rather than hide his shame, his sign of virility is a cause for celebration for all in the manor-house. The paterfamilias is healthy, and well, and it is his right to take of the beautiful girl that engages his attentions. He lifts himself up to a more rigid seat, spreading his thighs out and reaching to take 'Astra' by the hip in one hand. "Oh, is that true?" he teases, unaware of Astrid so closely hidden, so achingly mirroring the slave girl in appearance, behind a nearby column.
Most of the apparitions of a dream would know Astrid as Astrid anyway, not Astra, AT least if she were in her home town of Strongsville, Ohio, years ago. But this not being the case, she still retains the same name, just none of the abilities she'd have been used to. She considers something, and then nods, pulling off her sunglasses while she's still behind the pillar. She not only mirrors the slave girl very closely in appearance, but then also mirrors her closely in movement, intent on trying to make everyone around her think she's her clone's twin. When in truth, had this been Silvanus's own natural dream rather than some trap, there wouldn't have been an Astra, and she indeed would be his only 'slave' girl right now.
Twins they were! The beast caressing Silvanus' temple suddenly clenches as it tries to regain control. This was an unforeseen variable. An alien entity. How ironic. But twins. Yes, they could be twins. 'Astra' leans over, and performatively, attempts to grab at Astrid's shoulder, winking towards Silvanus. "We can show you that all you'll need is us," she entices. "Just relax and let us take care of you."
And in an effort to confuse the gray skinned beast even further, Astrid leans right back just a split-second after seeing the start of Astra's lean, and she mirrors her in a near literal sense, reaching to grab Astra's shoulder at the same time. She watches Astra's lips very closely, and following along with them, she says in just barely missed timing, causing a very slight echo, "We can show you that all you'll need is us," trying to be just as enticing. "Just relax and let us take care of you."
Twins? A complication. There's a strange static that crosses Silvanus's features. There shouldn't be twins. Astra was singular amongst his serving staff. Wasn't she? She-...she wasn't, no, that wasn't right. She was a twin, her sister one of equal beauty. A good plebeian family, a gift, from his noble wife, who was, of course, off in her own villa. To give him time, to give him space. "O-of course," comes Silvanus's halting reply, eyes flitting back and forth between 'Astra' and Astrid, brow smoothing over as his dream-addled mind cannot, truly, comprehend any meaningful difference between the two. "...Of course, Astra, Astrid." And he rises, aping 'Astra' in reaching to Astrid's shoulder, his other hand remaining on the dreamling's hip. "How could I ever get through one of these miserably hot days without the two of you? Gems of the domus, you both are." He tries, then, to pull Astra into his lap, her 'rightful place', after all, his toga straining not to part around his groin. "...Y-yes, of course," Silvanus falters, turning his eyes to Astrid. "Relax...I can relax. Come..." he lifts his chin, shaking his head to dismiss some of the servants. "...Take care of me."
Plushness descends upon Silvanus, his crotch enveloped by Astrid's delightful rear - truly the best way to 'hide' one's arousal as she plants herself firmly into Silvanus' lap. Hidden from Silvanus' view, Astra glares at Astrid with naked rage that melts into a pleading expression, hand out as if to grab Astrid's own appendage. "Let us work together," she insists to Astrid, a hint of desperation in her tone as it proposes an..alliance, of sorts. Should Astrid grasp at Astra at all, or make contact again, Astrid would be granted a trickle of power from Silvanus, a hint, a taste of the life force being bled out of him. As Astra's behind works to encourage vigor in Silvanus, it seems to be going somewhere, after all, and it seems the monster is willing to share in order to not lose a meal entirely.
The ENTIRE villa shudders for a moment, as if experiencing the aftershocks of a distant volcanic eruption, perhaps in some distorted version of Pompeii, several miles away. It shakes and rumbles as, outside the dream, Silvanus twists and writhes in the bed in abject discomfort, slowly encroaching upon some sort of psychological agony. But the plush, warm embrace of this incredibly appealing, 'lowly' little slave girl and her equally delightful 'twin sister' soon quell the tremors and Silvanus is happy to let 'Astra' take the lead, to both encourage and guide her sister, and to, as promised, take care of him. His arm slings about Astra's waist, some fingers toying at gilded cords tying her peplos dress together in a vague, lazy attempt to untie and expose her from the navel to her ankles, entirely. But the Dominus, here, in this dream, does not seem particularly in a rush. In fact, his eyes lift to Astrid, brow raised, equally awaiting an answer from her. "Yes, Astrid. Come here, girl."
had to go about it smoothly, pretend she was going to help the gray skinned beast's efforts. More importantly, she had to get close enough to her hijacked Manor manifestation. As she's grabbed, she grabs right back, intentionally trying to annoy the gray skinned beast further, mocking her enraged glare with a matching glare, and then she beams a smile. She even uses her same method of guess-lip-reading to say, once again nearly simultaneously but not good enough, "Let us work together." She lets Astra go on first, wiggle around a bit, and then she looks in Silvanus's eyes, sliding an arm gracefully and tenderly across Astra's chest...
(OOC: If you have a favorite anime fight scene music, hit play on it now.)
...It was a trick! Astrid quickly turns further in the moment of the juice up, and in the instant she winks at Silvanus, she also tries to slink her arm up against Astra's throat, yoink her off the man's lap, and right into an over the knee 'back buster' move.
Jarring, to say the least, if only because Silvanus had been expecting a beautiful menage-a-trois that has, instead, descended into some sort of wrestling match? It's unclear, but he, too, lunges for Astra as she's wrenched from his lap, trying to pull her back from her 'sister'. "Astrid!" he chastises, trying to wrest Astrid's arm away from the girl's throat. "What is wrong with you?"
Moaning, Astra grins as her chest is rubbed against by Astrid's grasping hands, but it quickly devolves into a shriek as the slave-girl manifestation gets lifted up, her back about to be broken against Astrid's knee as she flails weakly in the air. The surroundings waver as the dream struggles to maintain integrity. The court erupts in shocked gasps and terror, the manor devolving into a panoply of fantastic butts on display as most of the courtiers begin to run away at the display of violence. The creature considers for a long moment and then removes its fingers from Silvanus' head, permitting his dream to come back under his own control as it leaps off the foot of the bed and scurries towards the mirror in the bathroom, clambering up with misshapen, too-long limbs and attempting to flee into the nightmare.
Astrid is easily redirected from Astra by Silvanus, letting her twin flop with a thud onto her back, with know actual back busting yet. Instead she points back at Astra, looking Silvanus dead-ass in the eyes. "I took a bus from Strongsville, Ohio to just outside this Manor about a week and a half ago and nobody here had ever even seen me before. I shouldn't have a twin, and because of what I know, I know this is gonna hurt next time I come back to this manor. Someone's hard-messin with you, and the problem for them is... I'm FROM where we're at. This is my domain. Not like I'm queen or nothin but, you'll get it some day." After her explanation she lifts her right foot up and then stomps back and down kinda hard in an attempt to cuntbust her clone and put Astra out of commission for a while.
Terror. Fear. Violence. None of these things should have a place in his Domus. Save for the whip when one fails orders, or the hand against the backside when one misbehaves, Silvanus's house is a place of pleasure, peace and belonging. That the servants and slaves go shrieking off into depths of the manor is a shock to the system. He shakes his head vigorously, tries to get his hands around 'Astra' as Astrid slams her down against her knee, but everything is now out of place. His arousal dissipates, his brow breaks out in heat-stroke-induced sweat, and the walls start to bleed, to melt, slowly, as if like candles beneath too hot a flame. "Astrid, ASTRID!" Silvanus pleas, eyes up at Astrid. "...Calm down, girl. Easy. Let go of your sister, -please-." And then it all goes to shit.
Silvanus loses his grasp on 'Astra', watching as Astrid takes the dreamling away, slams her down and goes about trying to kill her, or at least immobilize her. Nothing Astrid says makes sense to the Dominus, as he sputters, stammers, and tries to regain control of the situation as the walls continue to melt and the floor beneath him shakes. "...Wh...what is Ohio? Who has ill-will towards me? WH...what..." Something like clarity slips into his eyes, for just a moment, and much of the formality and stiffness leaves his voice as he manages to look around, terrified, and then up at Astrid, having fallen to his knees. "...Astrid? What the FUCK i...why are you in my hotel r-" and then it ebbs away again.
Without active maintenance, the dream collapses, ejecting Silvanus back into the real world - he's covered in sweat, surrounded by damp sheets. How distressing. There's nothing left for Astrid to visit violence upon this afternoon - it seems the dream was one crafted entirely by Silvanus' mind, unlike any sort of stable dreamworld, despite whatever Astrid believed about its similarities to something that may exist out there. Floating in nothing, Astrid finds her nightmare form coalescing back in the hotel room. The angry light of afternoon streams in through the shades, heating up everything in Haven's horrible, unrelenting wave of oppressive, humid heat this summer. It can't be much below a hundred degrees at this hour.
As the entire pantomime seems to shatter and melt away into nothingness, his tormented, sleeping body is thrust back into the real world. There he's managed to twist in tormented sleep such that he's kicked his boxers half down to his knees, rolled up in the sweat-soaked sheets like a poorly-made burrito, one leg hanging off the edge of the bed, the other across his chest. There are faint red marks across Silvanus's chest, as if he'd scratched himself in his sleep, and the poor mimicry of a toga that is his ruined bed sheets is raised above his groin, as if some lingering element of both the allure, and the violence, has seeped from his subconscious, into his nervous system to signal 'arousal'. He's fast asleep, his breathing rapid and aching.
Astrid takes a step in closer to Silvanus and pokes at his chest, intending to give him back what life force from him may have been syphoned off to her through Astra. "Hotel room! Hold on to that thought. You're in a hotel room right now. You're in my home earth right now. This world, dreams, nightmares, fantasies." She spreads her arms out to the sides with her elbows tucked near her ribs, continuing to toss that monkey wrench into the works. "I'm from here. I lived in Strongsville, Ohio, and I'd take buses to this area, another manor too, even an old castle that had a severe renaissance fair vibe." She doesn't actually realize that they've been ejected until she finds herself talking to herself in the mirror. Then she actually does do the two directional cha cha and slip through the mirror into the real world, into the physical hotel room. "Guh! What? Where am I? What happened?" She shakes her head a little and looks around. "Ugh... Happens when I try to visit home and end up somewhere else, every time, can never figure out what happened."
Some semblance of some woman's voice echoes oddly in his mind, and beyond the door frame blinding the bathroom from the main room of the hotel, Astrid can hear Silvanus groan. There's a choking little rasp of in-breath and a tired, strained voice that says "...nghn! Huh?! S'anyone there? Wh'a's happ-..."
Astrid smirks at Silvanus's stirring form, checking briefly around the hotel room from the bathroom. She sighs quietly and leaves a single white rose tucked into the upper left corner of the mirror. She touches on her charm then, using the moment to slip into the nightmare once mare, and climb up the walls to precisely one floor above Silvanus, leaving him to think it was all... just a dream.
It's a painfully slow process, his body and his mind made sluggish by the unbearable, miserable fucking heat of this place. But eventually, slowly, he does manage to wake up, his head clearing enough to squint, lift a hand to rub his eyes, and peer in utter, abject confusion about his hotel room. And then down at himself. Hard as a rock, sweating like a pig, and caught in the sheets. "...Ugh," he says, in complete disgust, engaging in the slow, arduous process of peeling the sheets off of his body and rises with a snort. His stance is unsteady and he's got a hand down the front of his boxers, half-trying to fix them in place, though finding them, too, stuck to his skin with too much amount of sweat. "...Fuck me. Now I need to call housekeeping AND find a laundromat?" Silvanus says as he wanders into the bathroom to, hopefully, wash off the nightmare.
Silvanus sees a flash of something faceless in the mirror, but then everything returns to normal. As normal as Haven gets.
The situation takes a turn with the arrival of Astrid, who intrudes upon the dream in an attempt to thwart the dream stalker's scheme and free Silvanus from his enchanted slumber. Despite the dream's efforts to adapt to her presence, even creating a twin figure to confuse and distract, Astrid remains determined. She cleverly mirrors the actions of the dream's constructs to sow confusion among them and ultimately confronts the dream stalker directly in a climactic showdown. With a mix of cunning and resolve, Astrid manages to disrupt the dream enough to awaken Silvanus, effectively saving him from the dream stalker's clutches. The dream collapses, and Silvanus awakens in his hotel room, sweaty and disoriented, yet safe, thanks to Astrid's intervention. The ordeal leaves him questioning the reality of his experience, while Astrid leaves a white rose as a token of her visit, a symbol of the surreal encounter that Silvanus might dismiss as merely a dream.
(Silvanus's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Sat Jul 27 2024]
In the bathroom
This bathroom is kept in pristine condition. The floor is a series of
tiles that alternate between blue and white, and the tub is built into the
wall. Tub, sink, and toilet all are made with white ceramic, and the inside
of the toilet bowl is filled with water that's blue due to constant use of
pipe cleaning fluids. The whole area is lit by a ceiling fan, the blades of
which are made of some kind of whitened steel.
It is noon, about 104F(40C) degrees,
(Your target is attacked by a dream stalker who subjects them to their greatest fantasies in the dream world in order to keep their body passive while it's energies are fed upon. They need to, possibly with the help of allies entering their dreams, resist the temptation long enough for other allies to find them or for them to wake up.
)
Silvanus stretches, lazily, in the bath, before taking note of the time at a buzz from his phone. He rises from the water and moves over to the clothes he'd hung before sinking in, grumbling irritatingly beneath his breath against the heat. "...Even inside. I mean, this isn't a five-star hotel, but I'd think, this far in Mass, they'd have decent A/C." Slipping his shirt over his chest, he raggedly tries to dry his hair with a towel, gives up, and then puts the duffel bag into the armoire. He moves to trudge out to the main room of the hotel, seeking the comforts of the bed.
Bedtime at noon. The siren call of the sheets is oddly insistent today, in the heat. As Silvanus passes the bathroom mirror on Silvanus's way to bed, he catches the glimpse of something faceless in the reflection - but any further investigation would simply reveal the man himself, standing alone. An unnatural lethargy settles upon the hotel room.
His internal clock had been entirely askew. Part of his body still thought he was in Assisi, somewhere deep inside, but even that would mean bedtime would come at 8pm. What was he? 90 years old? Perhaps it was the heat, or perhaps just the jarring way in which he'd made his way to this new, odd, yet pretty town. As he passes by the mirror, he pauses, back-steps and does a double-take. A few rapid blinks attempt to clear his eyes as he moves to examine himself, lifting a hand to rub at his chin. "...Huh. Okay. Might need a shave in a few days...wonder if June can help me f-...." and then it hits Silvanus, some wave of exhaustion. "Fuck it. Bed time," and he turns away to try to make it to the bed.
As the world melts away, Silvanus falls asleep, fretfully, likely on top of the sheets considering the heat. A weightless creature alights on the foot of the bed, spreading a spindly hand against Silvanus' head - just as intended. No face. But just a trick of the lighth, of sleep, of a weary brain - Silvanus begins to dream of something very pleasant. A fantasy he's held for a long time overtakes him almost immediately as the spell of sleep spreads through his meat, his bones, his marrow and brains. What sort of thing would keep Silvanus placid out of longing or realization..?
Home is a strange thing. It certainly isn't, necessarily, a place. He's traveled all over the world, and felt equally at home in a pit in Assisi with a pickaxe in hand as he did in a lecture hall at Columbia, right near the GW Bridge. He hits the pillow, wearing so little, and probably would wear less if this weren't a hotel bed, and Silvanus's eyes just slam shut. And his dreams just start to unfold, strangely, oddly, not to any rooted place in the country, or even abroad, but some strange fantasy, of a world with towering spires and fantastical creatures and beautiful blonde goddesses...servants, domestic slaves, in some twisted, fantastical version of Ancient Rome. A villa just outside this twisted version of the ancient city, where he lorded over his own villa. Sitting in a throne, a gilded toga against his body.
Silvanus shifts in his sleep, kicking off what little else he was wearing, keeping his phone in a loose grip as his shorts fall to his ankles, catching on the post of the bed as he struggles to get comfortable, atop the sheets and in the heat.
Tittering and vying for Silvanus' affection, the women quite literally of Silvanus' dreams bring Silvanus food, dancing, some kind of exotic pet for Silvanus' approval - all hoping to be the one Silvanus selects tonight for Silvanus' bed. They ensure to play up each of their assets in turn, even as a youthful male courtier murmurs in Silvanus' ears that the realm is fine, the realm is fair, and there are no problems today to deal with. He can simply enjoy himself. As for Astrid, as Astrid enters Silvanus' hotel room - for whatever reason - Astrid witnesses Silvanus splayed out on the bed, back against the sheets, a spindly creature with ashen skin and no face lovingly caressing Silvanus' face. Five fingertips - no thumb - press against various parts of Silvanus' temple, and its attention seems wholly upon the prostrate, sleeping man.
Astrid actually happens upon the area Silvanus's body is in while she's slowly walking through the nightmare. She looks around in that side stream of the world much the same as some who had never seen it before. The nightmare is similar to something she was once partly used to, but not quite. She looks in the mirror as she's passing it, snake scales visible in her aura in the nightmare, all over her, and she tilts her head at that one. "Weird. But... something's not right, I feel funny... like..." She sighs, peering at Silvanus in the mirror, and she pushes on the mirror then, slipping right through it. Though as she goes toward the mirror and into it in the nightmare, the equal and opposite direction of movement is happening in the real world, where Astrid actually stops and reverses in mid push, hopefully before the ashen skinned beast notices her. "Okay no. I gotta go in." She keeps pacing there, then, looking at various doors as they open, trying to peer in to see which dream world he's in. "Come on, come on."
This isn't a dream, for how could it be? He is of noble blood, a line of Patricians stretching back to the founding of this great Noble City atop Seven Hills. Of course the realm is fine, Silvanus assures himself, looking up to caress the courtier along his cheek with a few fingers, before turning his attention to the dances of his servile slaves. Women of multitudinous beauty, dancing and exposing themselves for him. As is the Dominus' right - he is head of this household, noble Senator of Rome. And in the world above, outside his dreams, in his bed, he lets out a faint, gurgling snore that turns into something approaching a groan. He doesn't take note of Astrid's strange entrance. He's dead asleep. He's not even here. "Come...come..." one of the slave girls whispers, in a mimicry of Astrid's voice just outside of his dream, beckoning from his curule chair. Some exotic beauty, wide-hipped, fair, with large breasts spilling up and over her peplos dress. "Oh, Astra, tonight, again?" the noble Senator intones, laughing demurely at the girl that comes to beckon him up.
And in bed, he twists, groans, fingers curling into fists that bunch at the sweat-soaked sheets beneath Silvanus's back.
Astra, that's a close enough name to grab Astrid's attention. "Jumanji, mother buzzers.", she softly utters, stepping through the door to the Kingdoms. Not her home, she'd have no reeeal sway here. But she follows along to try to sneak up on good old Astra, as well as the rest, trying to stay out of sight of all for now as she approaches. At least long enough to figure out what's what.
Feeding upon Silvanus' emotions and his power, the predator seems to sense something is wrong. It shifts, raising its head, huge ears splaying wide from its misshapen, bulbous head, as it listens - but hears nothing, concealed within the nightmare and then in Silvanus' very dream as Astrid now is. But a nightmare this certainly does not appear to be. The lure of hedonism is a strong one, nearly as strong as Astra's hips as she sways up to Silvanus, making certain to show off what a wonderful mother she'd be to Silvanus' children. "Again and forever," she promises her lord. Astrid finds a nice column to hide behind, the manor house replete with decorative architecture and plant beds to hide within and behind.
How could Silvanus resist? She's, if not beautiful, then rustically sensual. Something earthen and worked about her appeal, the slave girl that he's transposed Astrid's name onto in some twisted version of Latin. She perhaps worked the fields before Dominus Gardener brought her into his house. Yes, that feels...right. Correct. Proper. His toga peeks at his groin in response, though rather than hide his shame, his sign of virility is a cause for celebration for all in the manor-house. The paterfamilias is healthy, and well, and it is his right to take of the beautiful girl that engages his attentions. He lifts himself up to a more rigid seat, spreading his thighs out and reaching to take 'Astra' by the hip in one hand. "Oh, is that true?" he teases, unaware of Astrid so closely hidden, so achingly mirroring the slave girl in appearance, behind a nearby column.
Most of the apparitions of a dream would know Astrid as Astrid anyway, not Astra, AT least if she were in her home town of Strongsville, Ohio, years ago. But this not being the case, she still retains the same name, just none of the abilities she'd have been used to. She considers something, and then nods, pulling off her sunglasses while she's still behind the pillar. She not only mirrors the slave girl very closely in appearance, but then also mirrors her closely in movement, intent on trying to make everyone around her think she's her clone's twin. When in truth, had this been Silvanus's own natural dream rather than some trap, there wouldn't have been an Astra, and she indeed would be his only 'slave' girl right now.
Twins they were! The beast caressing Silvanus' temple suddenly clenches as it tries to regain control. This was an unforeseen variable. An alien entity. How ironic. But twins. Yes, they could be twins. 'Astra' leans over, and performatively, attempts to grab at Astrid's shoulder, winking towards Silvanus. "We can show you that all you'll need is us," she entices. "Just relax and let us take care of you."
And in an effort to confuse the gray skinned beast even further, Astrid leans right back just a split-second after seeing the start of Astra's lean, and she mirrors her in a near literal sense, reaching to grab Astra's shoulder at the same time. She watches Astra's lips very closely, and following along with them, she says in just barely missed timing, causing a very slight echo, "We can show you that all you'll need is us," trying to be just as enticing. "Just relax and let us take care of you."
Twins? A complication. There's a strange static that crosses Silvanus's features. There shouldn't be twins. Astra was singular amongst his serving staff. Wasn't she? She-...she wasn't, no, that wasn't right. She was a twin, her sister one of equal beauty. A good plebeian family, a gift, from his noble wife, who was, of course, off in her own villa. To give him time, to give him space. "O-of course," comes Silvanus's halting reply, eyes flitting back and forth between 'Astra' and Astrid, brow smoothing over as his dream-addled mind cannot, truly, comprehend any meaningful difference between the two. "...Of course, Astra, Astrid." And he rises, aping 'Astra' in reaching to Astrid's shoulder, his other hand remaining on the dreamling's hip. "How could I ever get through one of these miserably hot days without the two of you? Gems of the domus, you both are." He tries, then, to pull Astra into his lap, her 'rightful place', after all, his toga straining not to part around his groin. "...Y-yes, of course," Silvanus falters, turning his eyes to Astrid. "Relax...I can relax. Come..." he lifts his chin, shaking his head to dismiss some of the servants. "...Take care of me."
Plushness descends upon Silvanus, his crotch enveloped by Astrid's delightful rear - truly the best way to 'hide' one's arousal as she plants herself firmly into Silvanus' lap. Hidden from Silvanus' view, Astra glares at Astrid with naked rage that melts into a pleading expression, hand out as if to grab Astrid's own appendage. "Let us work together," she insists to Astrid, a hint of desperation in her tone as it proposes an..alliance, of sorts. Should Astrid grasp at Astra at all, or make contact again, Astrid would be granted a trickle of power from Silvanus, a hint, a taste of the life force being bled out of him. As Astra's behind works to encourage vigor in Silvanus, it seems to be going somewhere, after all, and it seems the monster is willing to share in order to not lose a meal entirely.
The ENTIRE villa shudders for a moment, as if experiencing the aftershocks of a distant volcanic eruption, perhaps in some distorted version of Pompeii, several miles away. It shakes and rumbles as, outside the dream, Silvanus twists and writhes in the bed in abject discomfort, slowly encroaching upon some sort of psychological agony. But the plush, warm embrace of this incredibly appealing, 'lowly' little slave girl and her equally delightful 'twin sister' soon quell the tremors and Silvanus is happy to let 'Astra' take the lead, to both encourage and guide her sister, and to, as promised, take care of him. His arm slings about Astra's waist, some fingers toying at gilded cords tying her peplos dress together in a vague, lazy attempt to untie and expose her from the navel to her ankles, entirely. But the Dominus, here, in this dream, does not seem particularly in a rush. In fact, his eyes lift to Astrid, brow raised, equally awaiting an answer from her. "Yes, Astrid. Come here, girl."
had to go about it smoothly, pretend she was going to help the gray skinned beast's efforts. More importantly, she had to get close enough to her hijacked Manor manifestation. As she's grabbed, she grabs right back, intentionally trying to annoy the gray skinned beast further, mocking her enraged glare with a matching glare, and then she beams a smile. She even uses her same method of guess-lip-reading to say, once again nearly simultaneously but not good enough, "Let us work together." She lets Astra go on first, wiggle around a bit, and then she looks in Silvanus's eyes, sliding an arm gracefully and tenderly across Astra's chest...
(OOC: If you have a favorite anime fight scene music, hit play on it now.)
...It was a trick! Astrid quickly turns further in the moment of the juice up, and in the instant she winks at Silvanus, she also tries to slink her arm up against Astra's throat, yoink her off the man's lap, and right into an over the knee 'back buster' move.
Jarring, to say the least, if only because Silvanus had been expecting a beautiful menage-a-trois that has, instead, descended into some sort of wrestling match? It's unclear, but he, too, lunges for Astra as she's wrenched from his lap, trying to pull her back from her 'sister'. "Astrid!" he chastises, trying to wrest Astrid's arm away from the girl's throat. "What is wrong with you?"
Moaning, Astra grins as her chest is rubbed against by Astrid's grasping hands, but it quickly devolves into a shriek as the slave-girl manifestation gets lifted up, her back about to be broken against Astrid's knee as she flails weakly in the air. The surroundings waver as the dream struggles to maintain integrity. The court erupts in shocked gasps and terror, the manor devolving into a panoply of fantastic butts on display as most of the courtiers begin to run away at the display of violence. The creature considers for a long moment and then removes its fingers from Silvanus' head, permitting his dream to come back under his own control as it leaps off the foot of the bed and scurries towards the mirror in the bathroom, clambering up with misshapen, too-long limbs and attempting to flee into the nightmare.
Astrid is easily redirected from Astra by Silvanus, letting her twin flop with a thud onto her back, with know actual back busting yet. Instead she points back at Astra, looking Silvanus dead-ass in the eyes. "I took a bus from Strongsville, Ohio to just outside this Manor about a week and a half ago and nobody here had ever even seen me before. I shouldn't have a twin, and because of what I know, I know this is gonna hurt next time I come back to this manor. Someone's hard-messin with you, and the problem for them is... I'm FROM where we're at. This is my domain. Not like I'm queen or nothin but, you'll get it some day." After her explanation she lifts her right foot up and then stomps back and down kinda hard in an attempt to cuntbust her clone and put Astra out of commission for a while.
Terror. Fear. Violence. None of these things should have a place in his Domus. Save for the whip when one fails orders, or the hand against the backside when one misbehaves, Silvanus's house is a place of pleasure, peace and belonging. That the servants and slaves go shrieking off into depths of the manor is a shock to the system. He shakes his head vigorously, tries to get his hands around 'Astra' as Astrid slams her down against her knee, but everything is now out of place. His arousal dissipates, his brow breaks out in heat-stroke-induced sweat, and the walls start to bleed, to melt, slowly, as if like candles beneath too hot a flame. "Astrid, ASTRID!" Silvanus pleas, eyes up at Astrid. "...Calm down, girl. Easy. Let go of your sister, -please-." And then it all goes to shit.
Silvanus loses his grasp on 'Astra', watching as Astrid takes the dreamling away, slams her down and goes about trying to kill her, or at least immobilize her. Nothing Astrid says makes sense to the Dominus, as he sputters, stammers, and tries to regain control of the situation as the walls continue to melt and the floor beneath him shakes. "...Wh...what is Ohio? Who has ill-will towards me? WH...what..." Something like clarity slips into his eyes, for just a moment, and much of the formality and stiffness leaves his voice as he manages to look around, terrified, and then up at Astrid, having fallen to his knees. "...Astrid? What the FUCK i...why are you in my hotel r-" and then it ebbs away again.
Without active maintenance, the dream collapses, ejecting Silvanus back into the real world - he's covered in sweat, surrounded by damp sheets. How distressing. There's nothing left for Astrid to visit violence upon this afternoon - it seems the dream was one crafted entirely by Silvanus' mind, unlike any sort of stable dreamworld, despite whatever Astrid believed about its similarities to something that may exist out there. Floating in nothing, Astrid finds her nightmare form coalescing back in the hotel room. The angry light of afternoon streams in through the shades, heating up everything in Haven's horrible, unrelenting wave of oppressive, humid heat this summer. It can't be much below a hundred degrees at this hour.
As the entire pantomime seems to shatter and melt away into nothingness, his tormented, sleeping body is thrust back into the real world. There he's managed to twist in tormented sleep such that he's kicked his boxers half down to his knees, rolled up in the sweat-soaked sheets like a poorly-made burrito, one leg hanging off the edge of the bed, the other across his chest. There are faint red marks across Silvanus's chest, as if he'd scratched himself in his sleep, and the poor mimicry of a toga that is his ruined bed sheets is raised above his groin, as if some lingering element of both the allure, and the violence, has seeped from his subconscious, into his nervous system to signal 'arousal'. He's fast asleep, his breathing rapid and aching.
Astrid takes a step in closer to Silvanus and pokes at his chest, intending to give him back what life force from him may have been syphoned off to her through Astra. "Hotel room! Hold on to that thought. You're in a hotel room right now. You're in my home earth right now. This world, dreams, nightmares, fantasies." She spreads her arms out to the sides with her elbows tucked near her ribs, continuing to toss that monkey wrench into the works. "I'm from here. I lived in Strongsville, Ohio, and I'd take buses to this area, another manor too, even an old castle that had a severe renaissance fair vibe." She doesn't actually realize that they've been ejected until she finds herself talking to herself in the mirror. Then she actually does do the two directional cha cha and slip through the mirror into the real world, into the physical hotel room. "Guh! What? Where am I? What happened?" She shakes her head a little and looks around. "Ugh... Happens when I try to visit home and end up somewhere else, every time, can never figure out what happened."
Some semblance of some woman's voice echoes oddly in his mind, and beyond the door frame blinding the bathroom from the main room of the hotel, Astrid can hear Silvanus groan. There's a choking little rasp of in-breath and a tired, strained voice that says "...nghn! Huh?! S'anyone there? Wh'a's happ-..."
Astrid smirks at Silvanus's stirring form, checking briefly around the hotel room from the bathroom. She sighs quietly and leaves a single white rose tucked into the upper left corner of the mirror. She touches on her charm then, using the moment to slip into the nightmare once mare, and climb up the walls to precisely one floor above Silvanus, leaving him to think it was all... just a dream.
It's a painfully slow process, his body and his mind made sluggish by the unbearable, miserable fucking heat of this place. But eventually, slowly, he does manage to wake up, his head clearing enough to squint, lift a hand to rub his eyes, and peer in utter, abject confusion about his hotel room. And then down at himself. Hard as a rock, sweating like a pig, and caught in the sheets. "...Ugh," he says, in complete disgust, engaging in the slow, arduous process of peeling the sheets off of his body and rises with a snort. His stance is unsteady and he's got a hand down the front of his boxers, half-trying to fix them in place, though finding them, too, stuck to his skin with too much amount of sweat. "...Fuck me. Now I need to call housekeeping AND find a laundromat?" Silvanus says as he wanders into the bathroom to, hopefully, wash off the nightmare.
Silvanus sees a flash of something faceless in the mirror, but then everything returns to normal. As normal as Haven gets.