revivalproject | dreams and running

[Ronan had dragged Kavinsky along with him on the train for the simple fact that he wanted him there with him. It was honestly a little more complicated than that; this felt like a Gansey thing, where it would be the other boy with flames in his eyes, journal in his hands. And so Ronan felt like he had to go, but the idea of having an empty space next to him was even more unbearable than it would have been normally.

But Kavinsky hadn't even really argued about it. And so Ronan was saved from having to think too hard about a boy with a furiously orange car and a quest for a King. It was easy to let himself focus on the other boy instead; all knife-sharp and furiously handsome. Not that he'd know how to say the words outloud, but there are moments they linger in his eyes.

They find what's left of alien Target, and while it's picked through and ruined in some places, it's still something to explore, to rifle through for useful things. The kitchenware section is strangely devoid of knives, so Ronan flings forks at the wall in disappointment, crashes whatever passes for a shopping cart.

But eventually day shifts to night, and they find a stone building that seems safe enough to settle into.]

Hey. Do you want to see what it's like for me? I'm not sure if I can pull you in like you did. But I can try?

[There's almost a please there, even if he doesn't say it outloud.]

[Kavinsky might not have gone exploring on his own if it wasn't for Ronan. At least, not at the time they actually set off. He barely knew the city they were living in; why confuse himself with another one? But Ronan had wanted to go, so Kavinsky hadn't complained. Much. He'd just put on his sunglasses and gone along with him.

It turned out that travel and exploration was a little more interesting than he'd expected, and ending up in an alien department store was the highlight. Too bad there was little in it that was actually interesting, in terms of things they could bring back with them. He did, however, make a mental note to get Ronan a knife, even if he had to dream it himself.

When they settled in for the night, he kept his sunglasses on right up until Ronan asked him about dreams. At least, that's what Kavinsky assumed he was asking about.]

Yeah sure, why not?

[He took his shades off, folding them up and setting them aside.]

You need a little help?

[Or were they going to fall asleep naturally?]

[In honesty, Ronan is mostly just glad that Kavinsky seems to have been enjoying himself. He knows it's probably not the sort of thing that he usually gets up to, but he'd needed to have him with him. He hadn't wanted to be alone, and it had been nice to spend the day this way, all things considered.

Settled in with the other boy, a stolen blanket among other things making the space they've claimed a bit more comfortable, he smiles at the offer. He wasn't yet enough of a wreck to know precisely how Gansey felt about drugs and pills. And in either case, these were dream pills, both in purpose and how Kavinsky made them, and that somehow made them seem a bit different. He flopped down on his back, blue eyes looking over at the other boy.]

Sure.

[He wasn't sure if saying they made it easier was exactly correct- it was more that they made it faster to get there, he supposed. But in return it was like getting a metaphorical kick in the teeth. He didn't mind, though. Ronan was thinking that if they both fell asleep at around the same time, it might be easier for him to try and pull Kavinsky into the forest along with him. And he wants him there, wants to show him his dreams. He'd never imagined he could before.

He just hopes that he can keep things under control the way that Kavinsky could. Show him the magic and not the terror.]

[Mostly, he'd had a good time because he'd been spending time with Ronan. There was no tension between them, no insults or threats or past events hanging over them. They were friends and he wouldn't trade that for anything in the world. If Ronan never found out about everything that had happened, Kavinsky sure as fuck wasn't going to tell him.

Stretching out a little, he dug into his pocket for a pair of green pills, holding one of them out to Ronan. He needed to dream up some more of them some time, but he had enough to last for now. There were other things he needed to dream, too, but not when he was sharing a dream with Ronan. Somehow, he doubted the other boy would approve if Kavinsky casually dreamed up some coke. He'd stick with a knife this time.]

Sweet dreams.

[There was something potentially funny about that, considering what they were about to do, but he also genuinely wished Ronan good dreams. Kavinsky'd never seen his nightmares firsthand, but he didn't really want to. Not because he was afraid of them, but because he knew it would be stressful for Ronan.]

[Kavinsky produces his dream pills, and Ronan takes one of them from his fingers. A soft brush of touch, lips curving into a grin at the words. It feels almost like a little bit of a joke given his intentions here. But he's hoping it wont be a bad night, or at least- he's hoping that having Kavinsky there with him will steady things for him.]

I'll do my best.

[He slides the pill on his tongue, swallows and braces for the fall. He doesn't know if he's adjusting to it, but it's easier to get his feet under him this time. He reaches out through dreamspace, trying to leave a way for Kavinsky to find him. Lindenmere is so attuned to his desires that it's easier than Ronan really expects it to be. He wants Kavinsky to be able to find him, and so it makes it so that he can. It's not until he's getting his bearings that it strikes him how different the forest feels.

It's still the same sort of place as the forest back in Henrietta, but it feels different. Dangerous, but not dangerous to Ronan. There's magic in the trees and flowers, mist that floats low over a river in the distance. But Kavinsky might notice that this place doesn't seem to dislike him on principle the way the place back in Henrietta had. Ronan laughs soft, pleased, once he sees Kavinsky.]

So I guess that worked after all.

[It was easy for Kavinsky, but he'd been dealing with these dream pills for years; he had lots of practice with them, plenty of time to adjust. He made himself comfortable before he swallowed his own pill, hand brushing Ronan's again just for the sake of touching him before he closed his eyes.

It was like getting thrown out of a plane every time with these pills, and he might have designed them like that on purpose, being an adrenaline junkie. Instead of his own dream this time, he followed Ronan's pull and hurtled into his, instead. The moment he saw the forest, he was wary, cautious. He didn't know what he'd expected, but-

Actually, he did. He expected a forest that hated him, a forest that immediately attacked him, like the forest he'd stolen from for so long. But this place didn't lash out at him as he approached Ronan. Was it a different place? It felt different.]

Is this- [He almost asked if this was a different place, but he didn't think Ronan would know what he meant, if he didn't remember the 4th of July and everything that'd happened before that. Instead, he shook his head.] If you want someone to join you, I guess it's pretty easy.

[He didn't have much to compare to. He didn't know how hard it would be to keep someone out; he barely knew anything about joining other dreamers as it was. He just acted like he knew everything.]

[It's easier to appreciate the sensation of it the second time around, when he knows it's coming. But it still knocks the breath from him, has him hit the ground so hard he thinks he sees stars, has to stumble to get his feet back under him. But he doesn't complain; there's a certain thrill to the way it feels.

Especially once Kavinsky's here with him, and Ronan bites at his lip for a moment. He'd meant to show him through the forest that was his most recurrent dream, that he knew as well as he knew himself. But this was not that forest. Instead, it's a strange feeling. He's sure this is his first time here, but he's plagued by a sort of familiarity he can't exactly place. Like the forest he dreamed in back in Henrietta, but different in all the ways that mattered.

Younger, sharper, dangerous. Time wasn't a line here, after all, even if he hadn't realized it, didn't quite understand what that meant just yet.]

This isn't the same place as back home.

[Like he's answering the question that Kavinsky doesn't quite ask. That should probably be frightening, and from a certain angle it is, but something about this place doesn't feel like something he needs to be afraid of. It'd be like being afraid of his own reflection, something about this place felt like a reflection of his imagination- terrible and beautiful.]

But it's still-- I want to show you.

[There's a slight rustling from a few yards away, a small, skittish shadow that slips from behind one tree and into the lush shade of the trees, melting into the green darkness. Ronan doesn't seem to notice just yet, smiling at Kavinsky, something wild in his eyes. The air mists around them, not quite rain- just damp on their skin, not enough to actually feel wet. But it's an emotion as much as it is something tactile: happiness so big it tips into something else.]

Yeah, I can tell.

[There were some key differences, both things he could put his finger on and things he couldn't quite figure out yet. But this was Ronan's dream place, apparently, and Kavinsky trusted that it would be a lot like the other dreamer; wild, beautiful, and potentially dangerous. So when he heard something move, his gaze slid from Ronan to that direction before flickering back again.

There was a part of him that was a little envious. Their dream places were vastly different, though Kavinsky's was, maybe, safer. He'd gotten pretty good at keeping out the things that could hurt him. He'd only let them through once, and that had been his end. The part he was envious of though, was that Ronan's was more untamed, more visually appealing.]

'Course. We're safe here, right?

[He wasn't actually concerned, but he wanted to know if he should be. Even then, it was Ronan he wanted to keep safe. His own safety came secondary in dreams, as of arriving in this place and discovering a Ronan who didn't hate him.

Kavinsky focused on him again, taking in everything in his expression, gaze flickering down to mouth then back to his eyes, trying not to linger but lingering all the same.]

Yeah, I think so.

[This place felt dangerous, but not to him, which was a different feeling altogether. The forest in Henrietta might be less dangerous over all, but it was older, more particular, made him feel smaller. As ageless as the tides, and he was one spec under the stars. Ronan's saving grace was that he'd heard its whispers, known it was Latin-- the only class he studied at Aglionby like he might die without it. After a moment he corrects himself, smiling at Kavinsky playfully.]

Well. Safe-ish. More fun that way, right?

[And then the other boy looks at him, and Ronan feels warm under the weight of his gaze, the way dark eyes linger on parted lips and bright blue eyes. He flushes a little, has to look away as his pulse skips. He's still burning.

It's not that there has never been a boy he thought was attractive before. It's that it's never been something he'd really had to think about or allow himself to feel. It's always been stolen glimpses, feelings pushed down where no one would notice. But Kavinsky is like a fast car in the dark, a bonfire; not the sort of thing you can ignore. This is something that caught between his ribs when the scent of fire was on their hands, and now it lives under Ronan's skin. He's never really wanted before- but that doesn't make it less real.

Ronan walks, trusts Kavinsky to keep up while he tries to even his thoughts, which doesn't really work; his pulse is still racing. The air around them shifts from the mists of early spring to the warmth of summer. The leaves dark green and glossy instead of new buds on branches. Flowers bloom in shapes that seem otherworldly, the colors too vibrant, or the petals strangely shaped, or with hearts of golden light. Some on vines that move, curling snake-like and serpentine, or feeding butterflies that flutter with wings of sea glass and edges like razors. Some bear fruits with no earthly names.

Beautiful and dangerous and wild. There are more threatening things to glimpse further away, distant through the trees: shadows that exhale burning embers, a creature with blood-tipped antlers, time that folds and rewinds itself and burns, a tower that falls and decays under thorns and ivy, a field of hanging swords surrounding a crown. This place is like the best and worst of fairy tales, filtered through Ronan's imagination and uncertain desires.

He pauses and turns toward Kavinsky, holding out his hand, face still flushed. The gesture either an offer or a request: he still doesn't know what he wants.]

Were you any good in Latin?

[He laughed. Safe-ish was more fun than safe. He'd just wanted to know if he should keep his guard up or not. This was uncharted territory for him--maybe for Ronan too, who knew.

He followed Ronan without needing to be asked, trying to take in everything around them at once. He felt like his creativity was stifled compared to Ronan's. But that was something he could fix; it wasn't a too late sort of situation, or something permanent.

Everything around them was beautiful, something other, and he loved it. He loved it so much he almost reached out for the sharp-edged butterflies, thinking better of it at the last second. They might look lovely, but he didn't doubt for a moment that they'd cut him up if he touched them wrong or agitated them. The threat of pain wasn't always enough to deter him, but in this case it was.

When Ronan stopped, Kavinsky almost walked into him, so distracted with everything around them he was. Taking a quick step back, he focused fully on Ronan. He glanced down, didn't hesitate before sliding his hand into the other boy's. With his free hand, he made a 'so-so' motion.]

Passable. Why?

[Ronan squeezes his hand softly, and there's something in his eyes. A glimmer like this is more than just the dreaming, something he wants to show him. He doesn't know if Kavinsky's dreams don't talk to him, but he wants... He's not sure. But he knows he wants something, to let him reach out first and hear the whispers that fueled Ronan's uncharacteristic attention when it came to his lessons.]

You should say hello.

[Someone else, some where else, and it might have been a joke or teasing, but the way Ronan looks at him is soft and earnest, like honesty; like it means something. And it does, of course. Ronan knows that neither of them had someone to teach them, to explain how this works. Kavinsky is clearly better at the practical act of it: dreaming what he wants, bringing back his desires and not the terror. But Ronan was good at this part, the magic and the understanding. And he wants-- he wants to show him. He wants to give him what he can.

Because this place isn't the same as the forest he dreams of back in Henrietta, but it is a place like that. And it knows him, even if Ronan doesn't quite understand how. The curls of his hair teased in the breeze, and he holds Kavinsky's hand like either invitation or reassurance, trying not to focus on the warmth of the contact, not wanting to distract himself. But just- the companionship, the belonging, the sense of having someone here with him that made him feel like this.]

To...the forest?

[Alright, so that wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever been told to do, especially not after dreaming people and a dragon, but. He wasn't used to communing with his dreams. In and out didn't usually give a lot of room for conversation, but that had been the forest that hated him. Aside from that...he occasionally dreamed of things that spoke to him, but not the dream itself.

He almost would've thought Ronan was pulling his leg, but the other dreamer looked so sincere that Kavinsky couldn't imagine this was a prank. So, he cleared his throat, licked his lips, and said in his best attempt at proper Latin-]

Hello.

[He didn't know what he expected to get in return, but Ronan clearly expected something, so Kavinsky would hold onto some kind of hope.]

[Kavinsky says hello and the trees whisper in reply, not like a breeze, the rustling of leaves, but words shaped in Latin. The trees speak Latin. There are other words, another language, but Ronan doesn't understand that one yet himself. The trees call Ronan the Greywaren and seem to accept Kavinsky on the basis of being important to him, and Ronan squeezes the other boy's hand, bright and warm and so clearly pleased just to have someone else that could understand.]

It's why Latin was the only class I cared about. Because it's the only one that matters here.

[This is Ronan from before the compulsive class-skipping, but Aglionby had always been a struggle for him, hard to focus when so little of it actually felt important. He just still had a mother and a father, had Gansey and Declan and Matthew, had kind words and reassurances and gentle encouragement that felt less like fucking ashes. His chest wasn't yet a yawning hole of black venom and helpless anger.

He grins at Kavinsky, like this is a secret only they know, a little breathless from the sheer fact of having someone else to tell.]

[The trees actually answering him blew his expectations out of the water. He wasn't usually impressed by things, but this impressed him. He was a little in awe of the forest, and he wondered if the one back in Henrietta would have answered him too if he'd addressed it in Latin. He'd never tried. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind.]

Have you always talked to your dreams?

[Had it always been Latin? Why was it Latin? Kavinsky tried so hard not to be envious or jealous of Ronan, but he had so many more things than K'd had. He had a family that cared, dreams he could talk to, trees that spoke Latin. But he was also sharing those dreams and trees with Kavinsky, and that made up for the envy he felt.]

I never talk to mine.

[Or at least, the few times he had, his dreams had never replied.]

[Ronan can't help but be slightly pleased with the other boy's reaction. Just the fact of being able to show him something like this, when he'd shown Ronan how to control it, to bring back something he wanted. And he wanted to give Kavinsky something, show him what his dreams were like.]

Mm, sort of? I didn't know how to talk to the trees at first. So I'd.. talk to Orphan Girl, and she'd talk to the dream for me, I guess.

[It's sort of difficult for him to exactly articulate. There was something about the forest back in Henrietta, and this one too- it felt strange in a way that he couldn't put his finger on, didn't know how to explain yet. He doesn't know why it's Latin, just that it is. He steps in closer, looking up at the other boy when he says he never talks to his dreams. It feels heartbreaking for a reason Ronan wouldn't know how to say.

He doesn't have the words for the fact that Orphan Girl is a psychopomp, he just knows that she makes it easier for him to bring things back, that she saves him from his nightmares, whispers to his dreams when he can't.]

Do you want to?

[It's a question, but it's also an offer, or an invitation. They're here together.]

Who the hell's Orphan Girl?

[The name was pretty self-explanatory, but he didn't have people or creatures he talked to in his dreams, so he didn't know what he should be imagining. It sounded like Ronan had created a middleman for his dreaming, as it were; something to make it easier. Kavinsky had never done that sort of thing. When he wanted to take something back, he dreamed as fast as he could, in and out like a thief. When he was just fucking around, he dreamt for longer, but it was just him doing whatever he wanted.

He almost asked 'do I want to what' before remembering what he'd just said.]

Maybe. What do you talk about with a dream?

[An actual dream, not someone like Prokopenko, though he was still a dream, too.]

She's-- she might be around here somewhere, actually. If you want to meet her?

[He's not entirely how to explain her. She's like an orphan from the industrial revolution with goat legs and pointy teeth, she has a fondness for fried chicken and is always a coward. For a long time she was the only friend he had that wasn't his brothers. She's a dream. And she lives in his dreams, horrible place that can be. But she's usually here somewhere, if he's aware enough to look for her; as stable as the trees themselves, as if he'd dreamt her as more than just a piece of a dream.]

Mm, it depends on the dream. Sometimes I can ask for something, or let it know that I like something. Back in Henrietta it was harder, and it wouldn't always listen, but this place feels- I dunno.

[It felt less like asking someone who was only marginally interested in his existence.]

Different. But in a good way, I guess.

Yeah, sure.

[The only other dream thing of Ronan's he'd ever encountered had been the night horrors, and you couldn't exactly 'meet' those so much as kill them. He'd like to see a dream thing whose purpose wasn't to maim and kill.

He made a face for a moment.]

Asking for things works for you? [He told his dreams what to do--or he stole from them. Those were his only two options. He hadn't asked for something since he'd been a kid.]

The place in Henrietta didn't like me.

[He didn't see the harm in admitting to that much. If Ronan had had trouble with it...that made Kavinsky feel a little better, actually.]

[So he does. Ronan calls her by name, which is literally orphan girl, and the sulky shadow in between the trees that had been trailing them resolves into an odd figure. Furred legs that end in hooves, a cable-knit sweater and a cap pulled down over her blonde hair. Young, with fear in her blue eyes, like she doesn't trust the dream not to suddenly change around them.

She looks at Kavinsky with a look best described as wary, but she hasn't immediately called him a thief, at least. She looks rather uncertain about the whole situation, but like she's willing to tolerate him until there's a reason not to.]

Say hello. What is this place, anyway?

[She seems frustrated at the direction, but she smiles in what might be a attempt at nice... The pointed teeth don't help, though. But she says hello, to the other dreamer, then takes Ronan's hand as she tells him he doesn't remember yet. She's an odd creature, as strange as Ronan and less human, less acceptable outside of a dream as she weaves around him leaving impressions of her hooves in the soft grass.]

Yeah. I didn't know how to control my dreams until you started to show me, so most of the time what I brought back was what I'd ask for. She makes it better.

[He stared at Orphan Girl for a long moment after she finally appeared. Not staring at her like she was a sideshow attraction, but the same way he'd size up anybody. She wasn't what he'd been expecting. She was small and frail-looking and weird. Kavinsky even crouched down to be closer to her level, watching her as she moved around Ronan.]

You've really got to come up with a better name for her. [Said to Ronan, before he offered a small wave to Orphan Girl.] Hey. [She reminded him of a kid, and he really didn't know what to do with kids.]

So she like...helps focus your thoughts or something?

[He didn't know how a dream could do that, or anyone, for that matter, but he wasn't dismissing it.]

dreams and running

~ kavinsky

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