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Post by matthew mcdermott on Apr 18, 2016 17:27:28 GMT -5
Her dream was a reality. Margot's dream did happen.
In some aspect of Matthew's life, he was that girl's friend and confidante. Her father was the one man in his life of whom could hold the title of father. There was no blood relation between Matthew and himself, but they were always willing to help and aid the other.
In some aspect of Matthew's life, he was driving that truck and he did indeed drown. He died that day and he awoke on an alien shore with telephone booths that could not send any calls. Outdated, out of commission, and out of any shred of hope or sanity.
In the reality of Matthew's life, he was already becoming one of those archaic machinations. The last memory he had was answering the door and being given a package by a run-of-the-mill postal service delivery man. The box was standard cardboard, yet the writing amongst most of it was in some form of Japanese language.
The box was opened and inside was, what seemed to be, some new kind of cellular device. It was rectangular, with a small screen and three oblong buttons just below. At the bottom was a raised bar, meaning it could be attached to a key chain, but why? why would a cellphone need to be hung out in the open for all to see and grab at?
Fast forward two hours later- Matthew was on his way home from the store. The skies above were gathering dark gray clouds and thunder could be heard from the south. His truck was as archaic as those booths, but he was proud of it. His father drove it, his grandfather drove, and his great-grandmother drove it.
The final part of this memory was being knocked off the Kent Narrows Bridge. The final segment of this memory was ten feet under and slowly sinking into the Chesapeake Bay. And so, Matthew's swan song has ended. Reality as he knew it was fading as he resurfaced from the waters off an unknown shore.
His groceries are gone. All that remains on his body are just his clothes, his bag and a fishing rod and box, but their importance is left to be seen. Slowly, the waves pushed him to the sand. Slowly and silently, he starts to regain consciousness.
matthew is waking up
margot has yet to be introduced
| i'll gravitate towards you; i will, in the now, hate you
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Post by CLAIRE LYON on Apr 19, 2016 16:19:11 GMT -5
 As if the Devimon attack hadn't happened not long ago, Walter had yet failed to keep Claire home. The woman was as stubborn as she was fearless, which was to say a lot. Her state of perpetual restlessness was causing the Lekismon a lot of grief at the moment, and he was spending his time not just accompanying her, but making sure the woman didn't keel over.
As much as he loved her, perhaps it was time to stop letting her do whatever she wanted. To be quite honest, he feared she would get herself killed herself one day and he wouldn't be able to stop her. Luckily, today she decided to walk the beach rather than anywhere overly dangerous- almost any of the wilds could be considered dangerous in the Digital World, but relatively speaking, this was a safe place for a stroll.
Claire sighed. Call her an adrenaline junkie, but she craved to be somewhere more stimulating than the beach on a summer's day. It was beautiful, to be sure, but the fairly friendly location provided little excitement to someone as experienced with the Digital World as she. Mostly, she knew coming here would get Walter off her back, at least a little, and it was still better than staying home- the thought of trying to explain her pain to friends and coworkers sounded more tiring than walking around like this.
What caught her eye was the sight of a human, seemingly without a Digimon. The woman straightened up with some difficulty, eyebrows raised. Without looking at Walter, she moved slowly and with some caution toward the drenched form- who knows, there might be hungry sea monsters about.
"Poor soul- wet and miserable. Are you hurt?" Icy blue eyes stared down at him with more unsympathetic interest than any real concern, delicate features remaining fairly neutral in expression.
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Post by Juliette Rhydderch on Apr 19, 2016 21:44:21 GMT -5
◄ WHEN SHE WAS JUST A GIRL, SHE EXPECTED THE WORLD It was nice to not have to worry about running for your life every few moments. Once in a while, Julie and Grace needed a break from reality and a moment to rest. That was why she chose the beach. Beaches in the UK were okay at best, but the beaches here were amazing. The sun was just the right temperature to lightly bronze her otherwise deathly pale skin. Even Grace was looking a bit browner than usual, not that she minded. They were enjoying the sun and building a sand castle when Julie decided to grab an ice cream cone. Curious Grace wanted one too, even though she had no idea what it was. The two of them took off and returned to see an interesting site. A man was washed ashore and the sight made her gasp. A woman and her Digimon were already on the scene, but Julie decided to join the two anyway. "Oh no, is he alright?" She asked the woman beside him, assuming she was his company. Grace frowned at him and gave him a quick sniff. "He's not dead..." Her frown deepened when she looked around at the place he landed. "...Which is perfect because I'm going to kick his butt for ruining my sandcastle!" Julie sighed and chided her companion. "We have better things to worry about," she whispered while giving the woman and her Digimon companion a sympathetic look. He had landed in their area, but it was their fault for claiming base so close towards the sea. "Should I go get help?" Julie asked?matthew mcdermott & CLAIRE LYON  |
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Post by matthew mcdermott on Apr 19, 2016 22:19:02 GMT -5
Although he was face down, his ears weren't covering the sand beneath his body. He had collided with something- something heavy and feeling just like the tropical dust. He could feel, but he couldn't move just yet. His body ached and his head felt like it was going to split in half if a feather simply brushed across his scalp.
There were voices, but Matthew could barely hear any of them. One was loud and the others soft. The simple fact he felt pain and the rough sand meant he wasn't dead. Then again, perhaps death has a way of tricking the mind. Deep thoughts such as that were to be explored later. For now, Matthew's eyes began to move beneath closed lids and he slowly began to lift himself.
Realization set in, and his stomach began to react. He started to cough as he pressed his knees down; a hand darted to his mouth as sea-water escaped his system. A cup full was regurgitated, and it felt so wonderful to breath. His chest was heavy and Matthew leaned back, eyes hazy but his vision returning.
Two women had surrounded him and...
"... What the fuck is that?" He managed to wheeze out, his head backing up as he pointed to the strange rabbit-like humanoid. Was it even part rabbit? The pink fur and ears seemed to allude to such. Realization was starting to hurt even more as he turned his gaze to the other woman. At her side was, honestly, something realistic.
A small white pup with a golden ring about its neck. It seemed built like a Springer Spaniel. Only it talked. It had talked and Matthew knew it.
It was like being struck by lightning, this sense of some bastard realization. His memories were covering themselves with thoughts of I must be dead, but he bit his tongue. Matthew crawled backwards towards the water, for no reason other than instinct. "I'm dead aren't I?"
What the hell was going on? His head was frozen in place. Only the sand, these four entities, and the trees and grass beyond were in his sight. If this was hell, why did it seem so...
Peaceful? Calm? Serene.
welcome to critical decision making
your words will have no impact, i assure you
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Post by CLAIRE LYON on Apr 20, 2016 16:07:38 GMT -5
Claire hardly gave a sideways glance at the arrival of the younger girl, merely shrugging lightly. "I haven't the faintest idea. All I've gathered is that it would seem he's a poor swimmer." Walter shot her a look of disapproval and moved with the girl's Digimon to examine the man further.
As the man started to splutter and cough, Claire stepped back quickly, expression switching to one of pain momentarily at the sudden movement. It was worth it, though- a second of pain was better than getting her clothes wet with a stomach full of seawater.
Claire raised an eyebrow, realizing what his surprise meant, but Walter was just slightly offended at his first words. "Excuse me, sir, I am not a 'that'. My name is Walter, and I'm a Lekismon at the moment." The rabbit straightened up and returned to Claire's side, head lifted.
His tamer managed a light laugh through her pain, easing her regular, slightly guarded stance slightly. A little girl, her childish Salamon, and someone who didn't even know what a Digimon was- the two posed no threat at all to them. It was almost disappointing. "Ah, Walter dear, I'm not sure this fellow knows what a Digimon is."
"You're not dead," she said in reply to his question, eyebrows raised. "but you might be soon, if you don't get out of that water. Things much bigger than you or I lurk the shores, sometimes underneath the very sand we stand on." Unfortunately- at least for these two- that wasn't a joke.
"Claire speech."
"Walter speech."
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Post by Juliette Rhydderch on Apr 25, 2016 21:26:35 GMT -5
◄ WHEN SHE WAS JUST A GIRL, SHE EXPECTED THE WORLD A poor swimmer seemed like an understatement, but a good explanation for his condition. She nodded and looked the boy over. She was about to put her first aid skills to use when he jolted which caused her to jolt back.
"Oh dear..." remarked Julie as she watched him clean out his stomach. She winced and turned her head away as he continued. Grace looked on with disgust but fortunately held her tongue. Julie blinked in surprise at his outburst. She looked around to see what he was talking about and his eyes landed on the Lekismon beside the young woman. A look of pity crossed her face when she realized this was his first time in the Digiworld. She too had an outburst similar to his, minus the swearing of course. Julie did not like the woman's warning and lifted her leg as if she could check to see what was underneath the sand.
"Right," she agreed. "Let's get you somewhere safe..."matthew mcdermott & CLAIRE LYON |
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Post by matthew mcdermott on Apr 26, 2016 11:34:06 GMT -5
"Ah, Walter dear, I'm not sure this fellow knows what a Digimon is."
His expression faded at that certain word, and failed to correct itself. Matthew's eyes fell to the ground and his lips fixated into a straight line. A sudden rush of cold crept up his spine, yet he only took a deep breath. He had heard this word before; Digimon. He heard it, but he didn't speak up just yet.
"Things much bigger than you or I lurk the shores, sometimes underneath the very sand we stand on." He agreed with her, and stood up to remove his effects and look around. His jacket was in the process of being neatly folded, and soon tucked away into the main compartment of his bag.
His heart was un-accepting of such a fate, yet his mind was beginning to adapt to such a thing. Perhaps it was delusion taking effect, but Matthew's change in appearance startled even himself.
"A Digimon? That beast is a Digimon?
You mean to tell me I'm trapped in a child's game? Surely, you jest. I'm dreaming." The finger point was obvious, as were the cold eyes falling upon that rabbit and the pup. He shook his head and turned his back to them, gazing out at the endless span of ocean. There was just sand and water before him.
Behind him was life- false and becoming of a comedian's last resort. "If there is something beneath the sand, then it can gladly swallow me whole. If I die, I'll just wake up from this dream.
I'll wake up in a hospital bed, wet and cold but-" Eyes narrowed, and his right hand raised to be looked at. His fingers curled in and out, his hand becoming a fist. Matthew turned around, lifting his head to speak again but never shifting his gaze.
If this is a dream, then why am I aware of it? Why aren't they... To dream lucidly meant the dreamer had the ability to be able to control nearly all aspects of the dream in which they are cast. The sands could become whirlpools, the ocean could drain itself, and the characters...
"If this is a dream, and I'm not truly dead, why did you disagree with me? I'm aware this is a dream, so why do you not leave me alone? I control you, don't I?"
i find relief that i can't control any of your actions
to be king of my own dreams is droll and lacking
| i'll gravitate towards you; i will, in the now, hate you
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Post by CLAIRE LYON on Apr 27, 2016 15:43:21 GMT -5
An expression of mild surprise appeared on Claire's face, almost confusion. "Child's game?" Ah, right- she spent so much time here it was easy to forget sometimes that was what most people thought of Digimon. She chuckled- that wasn't a problem, really. He would learn, one way or another.
Watching the man try to reason out the situation and make sense of it was at least somewhat amusing. Truly a classic sort of reaction, not at all unlike her own when she was starting out. Though, it would have been more funny if there were some sort of powerful or giant monster- that's when the best reactions really came out.
Walter's mouth turned down- he knew that expression, and always hated the situations that usually soon accompanied it. Hopefully, Claire's current injuries would prevent her from displaying her usual demeanor.
When he'd seem to have finished his little rant, the woman cleared her throat. "Ah, but this isn't a dream. Much better than one though, if you ask me." She paused, noting the girl's offer to get him somewhere safe, but interestingly enough, the wet and lost man in front of them implied he wanted to be left alone.
"Digimon might be made of data, but they're very, very real. I have the scars to prove it... Although, if you want to be left alone- without protection or a Digimon of your own- in a area teeming with monsters, it'll be entertaining to watch you run like a rabbit from the predators." The rabbit gave a soft snort of mild offense. "Pardon the expression, Walter."
"Claire speech."
"Walter speech."
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Post by Juliette Rhydderch on May 1, 2016 20:18:05 GMT -5
◄ WHEN SHE WAS JUST A GIRL, SHE EXPECTED THE WORLD Poor thing... a part of her wanted to reach out and comfort him to the best of her ability, but the other part told her she was being foolish to ever think that. He didn't need to be coddled, she believed he needed to be told the straight facts. It was a good thing this young woman was here: Julie wasn't sure she was able to provide him with what he needed.
She was still unsure of how this world works. Sure she advanced her companion into its Armor Champion state, but that was earned by both of their near-death experiences, and the girl has had a lot of them. What's a failure like have to give to a new person like him?
The girl listened to the conversation the woman and the man were having and was grateful Grace decided to not intervene. The man seemed in denial. That he was dreaming and that none of this was real. Sure he thought that. They all thought that at first. She was sure even this competent woman beside her was was dubious to her situation. But at the end of the day, when the sun was setting and the realization that you weren't dreaming was settling in your system, it was time for you to wake up and move.
"You control nothing but what happens now," she said quietly and walked a little closer to the group. "You were brought here for a reason... I don't know why, she doesn't know why...and you obviously don't know why. Time will tell-- it will always tell. But instead of sitting down in self-denial, you should get up and find out why you're here and if you want, find out how to get home."
She felt a small nudge to her leg and she looked down to see Grace smile up at her in pride. The girl has never said more than five words at a time on most days. She spoke the truth, but she still felt embarrassed about it all the same.
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Post by matthew mcdermott on May 2, 2016 12:52:06 GMT -5
"Ah, but this isn't a dream. Much better than one though, if you ask me."
She was lying. She had to have been.
There is nothing better than a dream, nor was there anything worse. To be the master of one's own dream world was dreadfully boring. The simple thought of death could become so real in just a trimmed hair's width of a second- microscopic, but acknowledged.
The swift razor blade would sever a vein and that dream would be real. One's body would lie motionless on the floor of their choosing, and all because of a simple thought. They'd wake up paralyzed and choking, glad it was fake but still checking their body for any cuts and their sheets for drops of blood.
Such a thing would be akin to a Necropolis. One's own house would be their cemetery, and their grave the bed in which they laid upon.
But what is a dream if not the desires and events found in a single person's day or week? None of this made sense. Matthew was on his way home from the grocer. It was a regular Tuesday in June. Summer weather was becoming terrible to handle, and the shop needed a fridge stocked to burst. The first few days of his work week were simple and not even close to being memorable.
Some mother wanted a wooden raptor for her child, or perhaps it was a father wanting a train-set for his daughter. Either way, nothing special happened except a problem here, but a resolution there. Maybe that wasn't even the order. "---without protection or a Digimon of your own- in a area teeming with monsters, it'll be entertaining to watch you run like a rabbit from the predators."
Her words prior were lost during his attempt to reason this entire event. If this were a dream, the pace was terribly slow. Dreams had a way of speeding things up and cutting out certain parts that were meaningless. Matthew heard every spoken letter. Matthew felt every grain of sand and ounce of water. Matthew saw, and Matthew felt.
"You control nothing but what happens now," The way they spoke was vastly different. Their tones were distinguishable, unlike the false world's denizens. The younger girl continued to speak, but his right hand continued to stare at him. Oh, he could hear her; "--Time will tell-- it will always tell. But instead of sitting down in self-denial--"
The only tools on him was that fishing rod. On it was a hook, fresh from the shop and ready to tear into the mouth of a rockfish or get caught in the claws of a blue crab. Did such things even exist here? That rabbit-beast was not an animal proper, nor was that little pup. For the smallest of seconds, he gave each of the four a careful glance and swung his bag onto the ground.
"I know how to get home. I won't sit here and listen to your inharmonious chorus. None of you are real and I can fucking prove it!" He was gone. Reason wouldn't work, a touch would just be a breeze on his skin.
His bag was still the same. The bulk of it was facing the two women and creatures and, on their left side held his rod. It was funny how he never noticed this until just now. The weight of such an object would've made him sag to his right, but...
The hook was seated on the lowest rung, tightening the fishing line all the way. His left hand removed it and he stabbed his right hand. The hook dragged itself down to his thumb, yet he felt nothing.
His hand was presented to the four. "Look! No blood- I'm dreaming. I'm..." He did not feel the liquid creep down his hand. He did not feel it travel along the underside of his arm. He didn't feel, but he saw the sand dye itself the very shade of blood.
and so i mark myself, but not for death
let my legacy die in this godforsaken world, so that i may save you bastards
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Post by CLAIRE LYON on May 3, 2016 16:02:35 GMT -5
Claire gazed at the younger girl with amusement. An interesting way to put it to be sure- she herself hesitated to believe in such things as fate or a higher purpose. The pink haired woman seemed to imply that was part of it- Claire supposed it was possible, but more likely, like most he simply came here by accident, possibly freak accident, due to his odd placement in the water.
Giving a short chuckle that could possibly be interpreted as condescending- cut short with a small wince of pain, curse that Devimon- she turned her attention back to the strange man, who seemed to have descended further into denial.
"My, my," Claire murmured softly, eyebrows raising. She had half a mind to run him through with her blade if only to see his reaction. Even should the little girl decide to intervene, she was sure that she and Walter could make short work of them all.
But it appeared she wouldn't need to- at least, not yet- as the man promptly bled himself from the hand at that moment, droplets of blood turning the sand red.
"We're not real, hm?" Icy blue eyes followed the droplets as they fell. "Well, it matters not to me whether you believe this is a dream- regardless of if you trust our words now or later, eventually you will know just how real this world is. I pray that you find the proof you need in something as trivial as that wound on your hand rather than the receiving end of a weapon-" she touched the hilt of her sword. "or, as I mentioned, as someone's lunch." Somewhat of a lie, really- it would be more entertaining for her, of course, to see someone learn their lesson the hard way.
Walter sighed with exasperation- humans. Always so stubborn, despite their mortality. It was no wonder Digimon protected them, they seemed to need it, and the sooner this man either found a partner or learned to use a Spirit, the better- otherwise, time was ticking on his life. "I assure you, I am as real as you are, Mr..?"
"Claire speech."
"Walter speech."
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Post by Juliette Rhydderch on May 12, 2016 0:58:23 GMT -5
◄ WHEN SHE WAS JUST A GIRL, SHE EXPECTED THE WORLD "...Did he just..."
Grace spoke for Julie and all the human could do was nod in reply. The man stabbed himself in the hand to prove his point. Or attempt to prove his point. This was the most extreme case of denial she's ever seen, and if she was squeamish she would have excused herself at the sight of his blood.
But she stood there and stared at him with half bewilderment and have annoyance. She said her peace and there was no need to say more. The girl wasn't much of a talker anyway, and the woman beside them seemed to be more than capable of handling the situation...even if she did seem a bit odd to the duo.
"I wish you luck," was all the pinkish-haired teenager could say. What else could be said? He was delusional and their words did not seem to cut threw to him-- the blade barely did the job. "You'll find your way here..."
Was that an empty promise? She's been here for quite some time and she had yet to find her way. Encountering Grace helped, but she had no idea why she was put here. She hated violence and this place was filled to the brim with it. Violence was everywhere, given, even in her own home. However, it was different when she was fighting for her life every day versus listening to wars and rumors of wars on the tele each evening.
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Post by matthew mcdermott on May 12, 2016 20:14:13 GMT -5
It felt so good, the source of life and pain trickling down his own hand to the salted ground beneath him.
It felt so good, to hear those words finally ring into his aural chambers and settle into nests.
It felt so good, to feel reality once again.
His eyes grew wide and his breath shook. He took half a breath, and exhaled twice the amount. A small bead of sweat curved down his cheek and was soon followed by another. Inharmonious chorus? No, the conductor's baton was hitting all the right notes, and his orchestra was beastly.
It was the audience of whom was in denial. All along the pews and in all the chairs were people. All of them wore masks of the same kind except for one. He was younger than the others. He was so young and so stupid, that all he could do was tremble and hold his ears. All these people would turn to face him, conductor and orchestra included.
He trembled, nobody to cover his face and accept the show for what it was. Some may think that removing the mask was in acceptance, but nobody cared who you were when you were simply a witness. To see something was vastly different from actively becoming part of it.
The catalyst, the event horizon, the aftermath... It meant nothing if you were simply looking at it. And here Matthew was, young and stupid, and never wondering if someone handed him a Mask, or if someone took one of theirs off. Why bother checking? Sooner or later, they'd nudge him and that's just what happened.
"I pray that you find the proof you need in something as trivial as that wound on your hand rather than the receiving end of a weapon-" He glanced at the sword, and then to his bag. Matthew had nothing but the fishing rod and whatever he stuffed inside that thing. "or, as I mentioned, as someone's lunch."
He had already been devoured by her blade; she struck harder than that other girl. Another glance upward, and he noticed the expression across that rabbit's face. His own smoothed itself, a disgusted smirk hiding a smile. The soft whisper of the younger girl's companion was ignored, as all of Matthew's attention was focused on both the brimmed and the broad.
"I assure you, I am as real as you are, Mr..?"
"McDermott. Matthew Aaron McDermott." With another deep breath, he straightened his posture, left arm behind his back and against his waist. His right hand was wringing itself before his eyes, the blood dancing and swimming across his flesh. "I offer my sincerest apologies for what just happened... You see, I was on my way home from a local grocer and I-" "I wish you luck. You'll find your way here..." He shut his mouth, eyes glancing to the pink-haired woman. Shaking his head, his eyes closed and he rested his arm at his side, balling his hand to a fist.
"I was hit by a truck and fell off the bridge and into the ocean."
It felt so good. To have someone remove their mask and to have someone else offer you a spare. Such is reality and fantasy.
and so where the angel comforts and relieves, the devil will only strengthen and amplify.
this is a universal truth, and you have shown me such
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Post by CLAIRE LYON on May 14, 2016 21:02:17 GMT -5
After an odd change of expressions, a name finally left the man's lips- Mr. Matthew Aaron McDermott. The way he'd been behaving so far, Claire wondered if she'd have to remember the name for much longer. It would not shock her at all at this point to see Jaws himself- in Digimon form, of course- rise from the ocean at the scent of blood on the beach and tear away at poor Mr. McDermott.
Well, at least for now he was coming to his senses and telling them what exactly he was doing washed up on shore- not that it made much sense or difference. Coming to the Digital World rarely did.
The confusion newcomers worked their way through was almost nostalgic.
Luckily, when it had been Claire's turn, she'd had Walter to explain things to her. The blonde's entrance to the Digital World itself had been intentional and controlled, thanks to already familiarizing herself with Digimon and her Digivice beforehand- although, privately she remembered the weeks of hesitation, before she finally got the courage to take that major step. Ah, what a silly girl she'd been back then! If only she'd known that it would be the best decision of her life.
Others, like Matthew, often didn't get the chance to enter manually. Off a bridge? Now, no wonder he was so shocked, and explained why he'd thought he'd already passed on. "... I see," Claire said, pondering his story for a just a moment. A glance was given to the younger girl, who seemed to have given up on speaking to Matthew, at least for now. Not a bad option, but she'd stick around a while longer- the woman wouldn't admit it, but her injuries were beginning to ache again.
"People commonly enter the Digital World though electronic malfunction," she pondered. "But if that's the case, you must have had your Digivice with you- something that looks like this, perhaps?" She removed the Digivice from her belt, holding it out to show him.
"Claire speech."
"Walter speech."
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Post by Juliette Rhydderch on May 25, 2016 0:59:30 GMT -5
◄ WHEN SHE WAS JUST A GIRL, SHE EXPECTED THE WORLD Juliette couldn't think of anything else to say at this point. The older woman seemed to have everything under control, and the fact that this guy was so much in doubt as to injure himself turned the girl off. She tried her best to help in most situations, but she had her hands tied with this one.
What was to be said with a person who was in denial with reality? Technically, considering this place as a reality was a bit of a stretch. They were in the digital world and the term 'reality' was subjective at best. Julie truly did not know what to say this this 'Matthew' character, and it wasn't just for the lack of experience either: She was just an awkward girl.
People often mistake her kind words and compassion as an act of being friendly, but that wasn't the case. The girl was as much of a loner as this woman who's vibes told her she'd rather be alone than face this situation either. It was because Julie was alone so often did she not have the capabilities and, daresay, confidence to handle this situation.
She mentioned a 'good luck', but what good would that do? No one helped her transition into this world until after week of exploring and getting lost. She's never even heard of 'Digimon' or anything along those lines until she was sucked in without warning or care.
"There are people who have been in the same condition as you are in. I suggest you find them and learn what you can from them." Kind of like the woman he was speaking with. She gave her and her companion a nod, and the fellow a slight wave before she removed herself from their confusion and from being the awkward third wheel who had no business helping someone when she too was lost in this digital world.
--Julie out--
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