Content: Reala arrives and gets down to business hurting Paixaoans. NiGHTS is there too,and does some stuff. But that's really not nearly as important. =P
Setting: Muspelheim gate
Time: THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT. MINE IS AN EVIL LAUGH. MWAHAHAHA.
Warnings: Uh, blood? Snark? Sibling rivalry?
A soft noise of confusion, a sudden shifting against a ground that was entirely too hard; Reala sat up without knowing he'd laid down at all. He had been flying--why was he waking up? And in such a strange place, at that? Ugh, this place was too damned bright.... Where was he? This certainly wasn't Nightmare. He'd never seen anything like it in Nightopia, either.... It seemed a little too brilliant and strange. Not to mention full of what looked quite like Visitors. None of the normal residents he would expect to find in Nightopia, yet none of them seemed particularly disoriented.... It was like some strange shared dream? Perhaps a new part of the Night Dimension altogether.
Reala picked himself up with a disdainful huff, dusting himself off and rising into the air with a quick burst of golden sparkles. They left a fading comet's trail behind him as he joined the line of visitors, privately scoffing at their obliviousness; they hardly seemed to think he was odd at all. Truly a wolf along sheep, with not even a skin to hide him.... "Name, please?"
Such a mundane question. As though he were one of these fools.... "Reala." He smirked; there was no reason at all to not give it. He doubted this Visitor would know who he was anyway.
"Welcome to Paixao! Here's your journal, please enjoy your stay!" The gatekeeper smiled and offered him a deep red rectangle and some pamphlets that Reala hardly bothered to look at.
"Thank you very much." Reala's smirk widened, and he moved to take the offering, apparently overshooting; pale fingers closed delicately around the man's wrist, gleaming pink claws leaving furrows down the entirety of his hand. The man jerked back and cried out in pain as rivulets of pale, glowing blue blood spilled over the journal. Reala caught the journal and pamphlets as they were dropped, offering a mockingly cheerful wave as he turned to glide into the city itself. So they weren't Visitors after all.... Visitors, as he recalled, bled nothing but crimson. "I think I will."