one: it's home [He acclimated fast to this being a dream that was different from normal dreams. He had many nights for 3 years passing through dream bubbles and interacting with dream worlds in ways that one normally wouldn't. So all of that wasn't bothering him. No, it was the general state of everything.
He keeps it all nicely bottled up inside for him, as any doctor would tell you is healthy to do, and decides to just...wander off by himself. He could follow the important folks and see what was being said, but he was never one to abide strategy meetings, even if it was for his own good. They'd probably eventually tell them all what to do, and then Dave would do it. It was always as simple as that for him.
It seemed his meandering led him right back to the home he had claimed as his own, just enough landmarks to point him there. It seemed to mostly be leveled, and he kicks around the rubble, not really looking for anything in particular since he hadn't anything he cared about here--Wait, what's this?
He crouches down and pulls out a scrap of faded red cloth from some ash and dirt, a section of a clock gear on it. It was dirty and singed, but it was definitely his dumbfuck godly-but-not-godly-anymore pyjamas from home, mangled because they were nothing but normal clothes now.
That seemed to have done him in. He doesn't make a sound or even a different facial expression outside of Too Stoic, but he somehow gets even paler and starts shaking without realizing it, the feathers around his neck standing on end. It was too much, having to face the destruction of all things again, facing inscrutable foes, having to fight again after having finally convincing himself back home he would never have to again...
He remains crouched, shuddering while white-knuckling a piece of fabric in his hands, unaware of anyone, or anything, approaching.]
two: the stairway to the stars [Gathering himself back up from his mini-break down, Dave turns and continues on his way out into the waste. He's not sure why he goes that way, aside from it being the opposite direction of his destroyed house. It barely registers in his mind as water starts accumulating at his feet, only until it's up to his shins does he pay it any mind, yet he just keeps going because he apparently has no free will currently and he has no gumption to fight against it right now. Someone could name him Insufferable Prick at this moment and he would just accept it with relish.]
Hello, I'm Insufferable Prick, Prick for short. I'm a dumb feathery asshole who just loves water-logged underwear so I'm going to keep on walking until it's more water than it is fabric. [He rambles to himself as he goes, until he realizes someone as compelled as him has waded up behind him. He just turns and looks at them, realizing what he had just accidentally introduced himself to them as.] ...S'up.
[If you'd like to continue on this journey with Mister Prick, you can discover the stairs ~together~.]
three: leviathan [Dave was on the very last ship in the graveyard, perched on the bowsprit.
Wait, he shouldn't think of it as perching, that's too bird-like. Except, he totally was perching, like some fucking bird, but if you asked him what it was he was doing he would answer, "Definitely *not* perching." But he was. And he's looking up at the sky, watching the giant creature list around slowly in it as the creatures in the water sang.
Anyone was welcome to join him, even perch beside him, especially if you also weren't a bird-creature so that way he wouldn't feel like he actually *was* "perching" (which he was).]
It's almost familiar...
[He muses to himself, or whoever chose to join him.]
four: wildcard [If you want a unique starter, feel free to hmu through PMs or plurk! Or feel free to right your own prompt for me to respond to, I'm open to just about anything!]
Dave Strider / OTA / Harpy
[He acclimated fast to this being a dream that was different from normal dreams. He had many nights for 3 years passing through dream bubbles and interacting with dream worlds in ways that one normally wouldn't. So all of that wasn't bothering him. No, it was the general state of everything.
He keeps it all nicely bottled up inside for him, as any doctor would tell you is healthy to do, and decides to just...wander off by himself. He could follow the important folks and see what was being said, but he was never one to abide strategy meetings, even if it was for his own good. They'd probably eventually tell them all what to do, and then Dave would do it. It was always as simple as that for him.
It seemed his meandering led him right back to the home he had claimed as his own, just enough landmarks to point him there. It seemed to mostly be leveled, and he kicks around the rubble, not really looking for anything in particular since he hadn't anything he cared about here--Wait, what's this?
He crouches down and pulls out a scrap of faded red cloth from some ash and dirt, a section of a clock gear on it. It was dirty and singed, but it was definitely his dumbfuck godly-but-not-godly-anymore pyjamas from home, mangled because they were nothing but normal clothes now.
That seemed to have done him in. He doesn't make a sound or even a different facial expression outside of Too Stoic, but he somehow gets even paler and starts shaking without realizing it, the feathers around his neck standing on end. It was too much, having to face the destruction of all things again, facing inscrutable foes, having to fight again after having finally convincing himself back home he would never have to again...
He remains crouched, shuddering while white-knuckling a piece of fabric in his hands, unaware of anyone, or anything, approaching.]
two: the stairway to the stars
[Gathering himself back up from his mini-break down, Dave turns and continues on his way out into the waste. He's not sure why he goes that way, aside from it being the opposite direction of his destroyed house. It barely registers in his mind as water starts accumulating at his feet, only until it's up to his shins does he pay it any mind, yet he just keeps going because he apparently has no free will currently and he has no gumption to fight against it right now. Someone could name him Insufferable Prick at this moment and he would just accept it with relish.]
Hello, I'm Insufferable Prick, Prick for short. I'm a dumb feathery asshole who just loves water-logged underwear so I'm going to keep on walking until it's more water than it is fabric. [He rambles to himself as he goes, until he realizes someone as compelled as him has waded up behind him. He just turns and looks at them, realizing what he had just accidentally introduced himself to them as.] ...S'up.
[If you'd like to continue on this journey with Mister Prick, you can discover the stairs ~together~.]
three: leviathan
[Dave was on the very last ship in the graveyard, perched on the bowsprit.
Wait, he shouldn't think of it as perching, that's too bird-like. Except, he totally was perching, like some fucking bird, but if you asked him what it was he was doing he would answer, "Definitely *not* perching." But he was. And he's looking up at the sky, watching the giant creature list around slowly in it as the creatures in the water sang.
Anyone was welcome to join him, even perch beside him, especially if you also weren't a bird-creature so that way he wouldn't feel like he actually *was* "perching" (which he was).]
It's almost familiar...
[He muses to himself, or whoever chose to join him.]
four: wildcard
[If you want a unique starter, feel free to hmu through PMs or plurk! Or feel free to right your own prompt for me to respond to, I'm open to just about anything!]