paixaorpg | Rain, Rain, Go Away [active]

Character(s): Fakir, anyone else who wants to brave the storm with him
Content: Fakir has a bad nightmare, then wakes up to discover real life isn't much better
Setting: Lady of Lords Soup Kitchen [F5]
Time: Late morning, nearly noon (He slept late)
Warnings: Lots and lots of water. And angry!angst.

By the time Fakir had finished his entry on his journal, it was getting late. He finished the rest of his soup and dragged himself over to the sleeping area. Most of the people staying at the soup kitchen had already gone to sleep, and a few of them were snoring loudly. Typically Fakir would’ve felt odd sleeping in such a common area, but after his long day he was too exhausted and sore to care too much. He flopped down on a cot that had been pointed out to him by one of the helpers, and slid his journal under his pillow and fell asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

It was not a very restful sleep. The entire night, Fakir’s sleep was plagued by nightmares. In one particularly vivid dream, he was caught in the ocean in during a terrible storm. It vaguely reminded him of the Lake of Despair, but it was much colder and much, much darker. He swam against the waves, his right hand aching, desperately trying to follow a soft red glow he could see in the water.

“Fakir!” screamed a voice near the glow. He squinted, and he could faintly make out a girl with deep blue eyes reaching her hand out towards him. He opened his mouth to yell “Ahiru!” and instead swallowed a mouthful of salt water.
The girl turned into a duck that quacked desperately for him, and then back to a girl, then to a duck again. He could hear a man’s voice laughing at his desperate attempts to swim to her.
He had to get to her…if he could just get to her, they could leave together…

Fakir jolted awake at the sound of a loud thunderclap and nearly tumbled off the cot. He sat still for a moment, taking deep breaths, trying to remember where he had gotten to. It took a moment to remember the events of the past day—the swim, the dark-haired man, the long walk, the strange conversations on the “journal.” He reached under his pillow and looked at it. His only possession here in this world…

He stood up and walked out into the common eating area, opening the journal and toying with it, frowning. How did these work, anyway? They were described as electronic, but he couldn’t see any way that the journal connected to a power supply…
A large drop of water fell right in the middle of the screen. He whipped the water off and looked up just in time to get another drop of water directly into his eye. He cursed softly as he rubbed at it. The roof’s leaking. Of course. How does it even rain here? We’re under a dome!

He walked over to the door, deciding to see what rain from a painted ceiling looked like. When some of the blond “background characters” noticed what he was about to do, they looked at him in horror and started to yell at him to not open the door. How stupid…it was just a little bit of rain!
When he opened the door a crack, a blast of wind tugged it out of his grasp with a WOOSH! Sheets of rain hit Fakir hard enough that they felt like small knifes against his skin, and leaves of cloth and metal swirled madly in the air as the wind pulled them along. Fakir struggled with the door for about three minutes, having to use both hands to finally force the door closed again.

Okay. I’m tired of Paixao. I want to go home now.