dreaming

[makes_you_tick]

Sawdust and wood chippings are spread across the ground, and the smell of wood and fried treats permeates the air. Despite the fact that the midway has been stomped down by hundreds of feet, and despite the bright, shiny lights everywhere, the entire carnival is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. No one is here, not a single child or parent. No one's at the booths or in the trailers. The ferris wheel moves in the distance, empty of passengers.

The way out is hard to discern. All that can really be seen beyond the rides, in the fading light of day, are the shadows of a gray, rolling landscape.

A single jet flies overhead, filling the sky with sound for one short moment.

[ooc: Feel free to have your character wander in and interact. :3

ETA: Okay, so apparently it's a good time for my migraine to resurface. Awesome. I'll be slow but I'll still be replying. Just...slow. >_>; ]

Comments

with the neon burning bright

[tothelibrary.livejournal.com]

"...Well, this is seriously creepy."

Dawn shoves her hands into her pockets, looking around with the detached kind of concern only dreams can bring.

"I've never had circus dreams before. That's Xander's thing."

[ ooc: I WILL HIT YOU WITH FAITH LATER /too drugged to brain two characters at once right now. ]

with the neon burning bright

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

Down the way, one of the trailer doors swings open with a loud creak. Clearly, it needs some WD-40. Bright red, see-through fabric flutters out the door, apparently held on by some sort of bar near the top.

[ ooc: <333 ]

with the neon burning bright

[tothelibrary.livejournal.com]

If there was ever a sign...

Dawn follows the red, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. "That color's a bad sign. Hello?"

If no one's here, there better be corndogs. Make the trip worth it.

with the neon burning bright

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

The entire interior of the trailer seems draped in these red pieces of cloth, only broken up by the occasional orange-gold. On one end of the trailer is a an honest-to-goodness crystal ball. The light in this tiny place is dim, but it does seem to catch what little there is and throw it elsewhere.

The other end of the trailer should have a bed or something, but- well, it just keeps going. A veritable hallway of red and gold.

my boy builds coffins for better or worse some say it's a blessing some say it's a curse

[adamantined]

Claire steps out of the House of Mirrors, her reflections moving away from her just as she moves away from them. She can taste cotton candy and popcorn as clearly as if she were eating both, smell the wood chips and sawdust and the grease from the Ferris Wheel. Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath - in, out - swallowing hard while she steps down from the stairs she's found herself on, hands in her pockets and her guard up more than its usual one hundred and ten percent.

The last time that she entered a dream so quiet and abandoned, all other dreams had seemed tame in comparison, but Claire is a different sort of person these days, and there's nothing in this landscape that at all feels familiar. Save for the lingering quiet and the unending feeling that someone is watching her. Above her, the jet pierces the sky with a roar, and Claire turns her face to look up at it, pressing her mouth into a thin line.

my boy builds coffins for better or worse some say it's a blessing some say it's a curse

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

Things fall to silence once more, and the lights actually start to go out, one by one. All except for a few on the midway, which seem to be pointing toward some sort of stage. It was where they usually had the jugglers and the knife-throwers, when they weren't wandering around (or in Edgar's case, slicing up cops).

There's a bit of noise, feet scuffing on the ground. People appear out of thin air, looking see-through and half-there like phantoms. They float toward the stage with interest in their eyes.

my boy builds coffins for better or worse some say it's a blessing some say it's a curse

[adamantined]

Claire knows better than to just mindlessly follow a crowd. She's not so lost in the dream itself this time around to be completely subject to its whims and fancies, and she doesn't feel like she is personally dreaming, just wandering, moving in and out of things with a phantom sort of awareness. Contrary to popular belief, Claire isn't an idiot, but she follows the throng of wavering not-people anyway, figuring that there's a purpose to this, even if it's one that she's not going to like. From experience, she knows there's no immediate way out of this situation until it presents itself, so she sets her face hard and closed off, crosses her arms and narrows her eyes and approaches the stage with none of the childlike curiosity and wonder that her half-formed peers appear to have.

my boy builds coffins for better or worse some say it's a blessing some say it's a curse

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

Sylar's standing on stage, looking bored as he juggles items in the air above him with his telekinesis. Things keep getting thrown in there from some unknown source- right now there's four knives, a couple of juggling pins, a torch, and a shoe.

As soon as he notices Claire, he smiles brightly at her. He sends all the items into the crowd- of course, the crowd vanishes before the knives have a chance to hit flesh rather than the ground. They were never really there anyway. Sylar hops off the stage and walks slowly towards her. "They said they were going to cut a girl in half later. Didn't think it'd be you."

[justcautious.livejournal.com]

This is not a dream Chris would have willingly. Or really, one that he would be likely to have at all. He has vague memories of Blackpool when he was six but otherwise...carnivals of this sort are out of place.

It feels dreamlike, but maybe it isn't one, as it isn't his. Maybe he's been brought somewhere new. But, then, where is everybody?

"Hullo?!" he shouts out and the sound of his voice is almost frightening in the thick silence. Chris has watched a lot of horror films in his life and he is now convinced utterly that something is going to jump out at him. He tries to put on a brave face and fails utterly.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

There's a wind that picks up, fluttering around him for just a moment and carrying more smells from down the midway.

Along with the wind is a voice, but it doesn't seem attached to anything. "Hello," it says, plainly. "You don't want to be here." It's hard to tell whether that's a question or a statement.

There's a carousel close by, carrying it's horses round and round in a circle. But it seems a little wrong without the music behind it.

[justcautious.livejournal.com]

Chris jumps quite literally when he hears the voice, and he looks around himself anxiously. Apparently, it's just a voice... Maybe all the sounds have been taken away from what they belong to. The carousel, after all, is---

A merry-go-round?

Maybe he is still in the City. This thought cheers him up, somewhat. Maybe he can make things go back to normal. Bracing himself--he's a Detective Constable, after all, not a girl!--he heads carefully toward the carousel. To investigate!

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

It turns out there is a bit of music, after all, but it's too quiet to generally be heard over the movement of the machinery. It's a classical piece- Tchaikovsky, to be specific- but it's playing wanly over a boombox someone's placed in the middle column. The horses are surely meant to look menacing or majestic as they're in mid-whinny, but like nearly all carousel horses, they mostly just look like they're in pain.

There are a few drops of something red, here and there on the turning platform. It probably wouldn't take much to figure that one out.

[placeholder]

[lady-wandering.livejournal.com]

She can recognize the trappings of a carnival from the curse months ago, but there's something... off about this one. It's empty to begin with, no people, not even in the ride turning in the distance. It's unnerving.

She doesn't know how she got here, but in the City, that's a disturbingly familiar sensation. Still, there should be someone about, shouldn't there?

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

Re: [placeholder]

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

The jet's noise fades to the sound of a drum in the distance- four beats and then a stop. Four more and then stop. It's really very faint, and overpowered completely by the slam of a trailer door.

Sylar walks out of it, a towel in his hands as he dries his hands off. He looks like he's about to head out on some sort of business, but he sees Romana out of the corner of his eye and stops short. He looks her up and down. "Sorry, but the carnival's closed," he says politely. There's a bit of emphasis on the last word. "What are you doing here?"

[lady-wandering.livejournal.com]

"Mr. Sylar?" Romana's only met him briefly, but she's confident in her recognition.

"I wasn't aware there was a carnival here in the City, and I certainly didn't intent to wander into one. So I suppose I'm not sure what I'm doing here."

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

"Me neither, considering this isn't the City," he says with a rather confused smile. "This is my world. My universe." He looks up at the stars that are struggling to appear in the night sky dominated by the carnival lights. "Somehow I didn't expect it to be yours, too."

He shrugs, closing the door with telekinesis as he stepped more towards Romana. "You don't want to stick around here, in any case. It's a ghost town."

[eastwick-bitch.livejournal.com]

Wait, wait. She's seen this one before...maybe. Killer clowns could be here. Or just killers. Nancy smiles in reckless delight. Her eyes move from one attraction to another. Which to try first?

That jet makes her lose her cool in a second. Her eyes roll upward to glare in the direction of the offending sound. She knows what that craft is, but it's source and proximity... Logic hasn't returned between her ears. Maybe it never will. The stillness after the jets passing allows her glee to return. In her wake, she wills balloons loose for the hell of it to watch them drift away.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

The wind kicks up and the balloons starts to dance as they rise, circling each other. When they get high enough to pop, some sort of glitter or confetti rains out of them, floating slowly in swirls down to the ground.

[eastwick-bitch.livejournal.com]

She watches the specs flutter in the air, her head tilted to one side like a cat. Her lips pucker together to blow them around more. It's more effective then breath with the aid of magic. Gravity takes over once more after long.

Well, that was fun. There has to be more things to take to pieces. In her mind she's thinking balloons. They can be easily destroyed. If only there was more, if only she was capable of doing more. Maybe. Maybe Sarah's bind was only for their world.

"Come out, come out wherever you are." Balloons can't answer, but she's asking. There could be carnies.

i just need a little guidance show me your teeth

[stacked]

Faith's been a lot of things in her life. Killer, slut, hero. Tinker tailor soldier spy. But she's never been a fan of carnivals. She doesn't want to be here; it's too different. Too familiar. There's got to be an exit, somewhere. Escape hatch, whatever. Not like she's ever had the pride to stand her ground.

"Fuck this." She scuffs at the dirt below her feet with one boot; it's red under the black, wet. Just like home. "I'm out."

i just need a little guidance show me your teeth

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

"But we bought our tickets already," says Sylar, although he's no where to be seen.

The lights start turning off slowly, one by one. "Should've known better, I know. But we can't miss the big show now."

i just need a little guidance show me your teeth

[stacked]

Faith's shoulders draw up at that voice, hand stealing down to touch a knife that isn't there. "What can I say? Never been good with promises, babe. You know that."

The dark's better, anyway. Good for hunting. Good for fighting, for killing and fucking and the words she can't ever say because they'll turn to dust in her mouth. A dim flare far off in the distance shows her eyeshine, the animal inside closer now. Show me your teeth, baby.

"Come on, Gabe. Still playing the invisible man?"

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

This dream was decidedly less scary than the ones she had been in tonight. Solitude wasn't something Blair feared, unlike blood or the chance that she might lose someone she loved. Wandering through the deserted circus ground, she was attracted by an empty trailer.

Out of curiosity, she touched the glass to check for dust --but the sound of a jet flying overhead startled her. All of a sudden her heart was pounding too hard and she bit her lower lip in an attempt to calm herself.

She decided this place scared her after all.

[makes-you-tick.livejournal.com]

"Don't worry, he's not really here," Sylar says, suddenly behind her. He's looking up to the sky in annoyance. "Just an echo."

It's another couple seconds before he really gives Blair a good look, and his eyebrow raises. "This isn't your kind of place," he notes, holding out a hand in case she wants to take it.

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

Blair jumps a little in her skin, but the sight of Sylar comforts her. Sure, Claire has warned her of his past, but meeting him in person, she can't believe that this man was once a serial killer. He would be the last person on Earth to be a serial killer, she muses.

"No, it isn't." She takes his hand out of courtesy. "I didn't know you were in a circus."