Face Your Nightmares [Zachariah]

[ZACHARIAH DAWSON]

[ireland]

A heavy darkness. Cloying, stifling, the kind of darkness that slid close along the skin as if it were trying to find a way inside, some crack in the armor so it could worm its way into the body. The darkness pressed in close upon the dreamer, weighing on his limbs, the faint sensation of movement on his skin but only black before his eyes. It was a darkness that was less like an abyss than a cave, hot and stifling, deep down within the earth where the air is thick and difficult to breathe.

A low rumbling began as the darkness pressed ever closer. Faraway at first, low, more like to be felt in the chest and the soles of the feet than truly heard. Ominous in the way it raised the hair on the back of the neck and sent a shiver up the spine.

The rumblings intensified as the darkness pressed ever closer. It clogged the dreamer's mouth and nose, thick and difficult. Then, without any visible change, the darkness began to harden, forming a box around the dreamer.

The uncomfortable warmth leeched out of the air until it had become distinctly chilly. The walls around the dreamer took on a metallic feel, icy cold to the touch. The darkness cleared slightly until the outlines of the walls could just be made out. There was just barely enough room in the box for the dreamer to sit, if he so chose, but it was far too cramped to allow for lying down or even spreading his arms. The corners were airtight, the ceiling low over his head. No hinges or obvious weaknesses presented themselves.

The rumbling died slowly away, leaving the dreamer in the dim, cold, silent twilight to decide what to do.

Choose an option and RP your decision. Most decisions will have a significant impact determining whether you succeed or fail.

Your choices...

• Try to break down one of the walls.
  
• Search for a weakness; there has to be an opening somewhere, right?
  
• Call out and see if there is anyone nearby who might be able to help.
  
• Just wait to see what happens.

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[ZACHARIAH DAWSON]

It was almost pathetic how claustrophobic he truly was. He had never liked the dark, even as a child. But it wasn't until he was well into adulthood that he truly became afraid of it. It was a byproduct of his claustrophobia, he believed. And all of this, was a byproduct of an incident that had happened so long ago, it should have been a distant memory in the older angel's eyes by now. His days of a soldier had been many. Many of them happy ones, some sad, some frightening. But none of them were as distinctive as this one. Fears. Everyone had them. Some were born with them, many acquired them over the years. Especially those who had some sort of traumatic experience. Some became afraid of the opposite gender, or became paranoid. The blonde, having gone through something horrible enough for his own mind to want to block it out, suffered from extreme claustrophobia. So when he found himself awake in a tight, metallic box, you can imagine his reaction.

He couldn't see anything either. His eyes were useless, so were all of his other senses other than touch. And he didn't want to touch anything again, the metallic texture was unnerving. It was cold and slick, like a fresh sheet out of the factory. He contemplated trying to rip through it and beat this damn fear that had kept him from going in his own basement for years.

He couldn't grasp entirely what was going on, he didn't know where he was, or even, when he was. He was afraid, but he knew that after centuries of avoiding it, that he had to get over it, because this was just ridiculous. Zach snarled, his large hand curling into a wrecking ball sized fist. He took a swing at the metal and hoped for the best.

---

words: the lowest it's ever been. 8l
choice: try and break down one of the walls.

[ireland]

The dreamer’s strike didn’t even dent the cold walls of his prison, implacable in the face of his anger. A vibration rang through the walls from the point of impact, sounding a low tone like the last echoes of an enormous bell. It soon faded, however, and the walls stood firm around the dreamer. The air grew ever colder, what warmth had been left in it leeching out slowly but surely.

A faraway, rhythmic sound began. It grew slowly louder, and soon resolved itself into the sound of footsteps coming steadily closer. The step was crisp and precise, shoe heels clicking faintly against the hard surface of the ground. Any more controlled and it would have been a military march, but it was not quite so stiff as that. As the footsteps drew closer, the dreamer would hear the faint sound of a man humming. The tune was cheerful enough, a stark contrast to the dark, cold surroundings. The humming continued to grow louder, punctuated by the footsteps, until the latter stopped just outside the walls imprisoning the dreamer. The humming trailed off as well, and for a moment, there was only an expectant silence, as though the newcomer were waiting for something.

After a moment, a man’s amused voice spoke from just outside. ”How are we doing in there, Admiral Dawson? Comfortable, I do hope.” The voice would be horribly familiar to the dreamer; an echo of the past he would likely just as soon forget. The footsteps began again, allowing the dreamer to hear as the man began to walk in a leisurely circle around him. ”I’m glad you’ve finally woken up,” the voice continued, its tone matter of fact, ”I was beginning to worry we’d never get to have any fun. You wouldn’t disappoint me like that, now would you?”

Choose an option and RP your decision. Most decisions will have a significant impact determining whether you succeed or fail.

Your choices...

• Continue trying to break out with force.
  
• Try to reason with the speaker.
  
• Threaten the speaker.
  
• Stay silent.

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[ZACHARIAH DAWSON]

Even if his punches did nothing, it did not keep the massive man from throwing a few more, each more powerful and forceful than the last. Zachariah Dawson's temper was beginning to flare, his frustration steadfastly growing with each punch thrown. He ignored the ringing noise that occurred with every punch. only pulling back after he was sure he had broken several of his fingers from the indestructible metal. He cringed, though he didn't actually feel any pain. All he could feel was that could, unnerving touch of the metal that his fingers had abrasively hit each time he tried to break himself free. He pulled back out of frustration, almost afraid to touch the metal again. He couldn't bring himself to try and break free for now, as it was evident that it did nothing.

Soon enough, he forgot all about his frustration and his most likely broken hand. All he could hear now were the footsteps and the whistling of someone who was both close and far by. He wanted to scream or bang on the walls for help, hoping somehow, someway, they could help him. As he approached the wall, he slowly brought a fist to bang on the wall. Before he could, he heard the footsteps stop. The whistling came to a halt. The blonde angel had a feeling that there was someone on the other side. No. He knew that there was. But for some reason, he didn't feel like screaming. Or banging on the door. And once he heard that voice, he knew why. His blue eyes widened, his knees buckling and his hands immediately began to shake. He fell to his hands and knees. "N-no.. It can't... IT CAN'T BE." he muttered under his breath. This wasn't possible, he was supposed to be dead. Unless you could somehow survive being stabbed in the heart and then being decapitated with a large sword. But there was no mistaking that voice. The casual way he spoke when he addressed him by name and rank. "Y-your s'pposed to be d-dead.."

Zach dry swallowed, shakily running his fingers through his hair. He felt sticky, suddenly wrapped in a big blanket of fear. The owner of that voice had done things to him back in his soldier days that could never be undone. He was the man who had essentially ruined his military career due to the mental trauma he had inflected upon the blonde angel. What he had done was far beyond any orders he may have been assigned. What that man had done to Zach was enough to drive any sane person in the same direction the blonde man now walked. The blonde angel tried to catch a breath and stand up, but found that he was frozen where he was. Too afraid to move. Logical and sentient thought had suddenly become lost to him. All he could do was remember the awful torment. The pain. The fear that he had been put through. He thought that after he had slaughtered the man that that had been the end. Oh, how wrong he had been.

---

words: 519
choice: stay silent.