2019-06-11 - Yellow Suits And Dreams

Summary:

Dreamwalking in Kyles dreams gives Isis a bit of a scare

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Tue Jun 11 18:53:13 2019
Location: Paragon Investigations

Related Logs

None

Theme Song

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isis-marikkyle-gibney

Kyle Gibney is a tall man, and the bunks upstairs at Paragon aren't really designed for someone of his height. Maybe that's why he's curled up into a tight ball with knees drawn up towards his chest. His physical appearance seems to shift, depending on his mood. Nothing so severe as a shapeshifter or something like a werewolf, but in sleep his features seem less severe. His fangs and claws on hands and feet not so long, his ears not so pointed and his features not so sharp and feral.

The room is filled with the soft sounds of his breathing, air sucked in and then blowing out and then silence for a period before it starts again. He's wearing some borrowed sweatpants and that's it. His upper body is leanly muscled, a fact that's only emphasized by the lack of fat anywhere on him that's not from a strict workout regimen, but from lack of regular meals as his healing factor tries to keep him in fighting trim while lacking the fuel to do so.

Kyle's eyes dart about behind closed eyelids, a sure sign that he's deeply asleep. His hands and feet twitch a bit, sort of like a dog or cat might as they dream. Inside his head, the world is white. And cold. Snow blankets everything but doesn't hide the acrid scent of destruction. Fires, burning in the wake of explosions. Bodies, broken and smashed beneath rubble. Pain, as his body knits itself back together while he's dragging himself out of a mound of rubble and into that white world.


Not withstanding that Isis had told Nick that she would walk in Kyles dreams to see what she might find out about the mutant, she's curious - like a cat. Which might explain why the woman of middling height is curled on the end of the bunk, in the space the taller mutants body leaves, her feline features more pronounced with the way the shadows fall in what faint light there is.

It might seem strange that she's curled there but, as many have noted previously, Isis doesn't really have a concept of personal space.

Stepping into Kyles dream isn't all that hard. All she needs to do is sleep and find the right dream. When she does, it's a bit like stepping through a door - the world turns white, the breeze icy and the smell causes the feline-like mutants nose to wrinkle.

She's skilled at this, generally able to avoid detection but those with strong wills or lucid dreamers might sense here. Those, like Kyle.

Those blue/grey cat slitted eyes scan the terrain, fixing on the man as he drags himself out of the rubble. Her breath catches as she watches.


As things start to resolve themselves out of the white, the dream might come across as a bit unusual. It certainly doesn't look like a generic sleepers, even given how warped a dream tends to make things. This is a dream built on memory, and Kyle was little more than an animal here.

That they're in the wreckage of some sort of facility is clear, the extensive complex leveled and the thick fall of snow has started to hide it away. There's no definition to the rubble that can be seen. There are twisted sculptures of metal that might have been vehicles, hills of rock that could be concrete and rebar. Broken glass juts up like crystal teeth and bodies are laid open and bloody without faces though scents seem as sharp and distinct as fingerprints.

The figure that rises, pushing off slabs of rock is only barely recognizable as the man Isis sleeps next to. Where Kyle looks almost human while sleeping, here he's positively bestial. Fangs and claws designed for the hunt and the kill, body hunched over until that tall body moves on all fours with a fluid grace that should be impossible for something that can walk upright, facial features distorted into something animal-like and the blue of his eyes has gone shining gold with those cat-slitted pupils like her own. And she has his attention.

Snarling, he stalks towards her at an angle, starting a slow spiral, either trying to get her to turn or give him her back. His clothing, a single piece skintight outfit that looks vaguely institutional is wrecked and soaked in blood. Blood he leaves in a trail behind him as he closes in on the smaller woman.


Isis has walked many dreams in her short life, it had after all been her main purpose with A.I.M. What she's come to expect is that people often look different in their dreams than their waking lives - often a fantasy they play out as they sleep. The other thing she can determine is when a dream is just that and when the dream is based on memory.

Kyles dream - whilst it looks like nightmare, isn't.

Unsurprised that he's detected her, the feline-like mutant doesn't move except to turn to keep the tall man in front of her. There's no fear coming for her, just curiosity. Not quite animal, but not wholly human, she wonders what he is … the golden eyes though, now they're intriguing.

Normally she wouldn't interact with a Dreamer. She'd just observe and learn at this point. That's not to be the case here, not this time. She has to be careful though, she needs to know what this memory is and not 'taint' with her presence.

"I only came to watch … " The emotion she radiates says she's not a threat but something he can … lean against.


A cold wind screams over the area, only seeming to emphasize that there is nothing here but ghosts. Ghosts and Kyle. And now Isis.

Her words get a cock of his head, but he doesn't stop moving, coming closer. There's no comprehension, no understanding, the reaction seems to be purely based on the sound of her voice.

Finally, Kyle's right up on her, his body wound tight and held low to the ground with his injured side turned away from her. The contrast of bright red blood against the white of the snow are stark. A growl rises up, a low, rattling sound and his lips pull back as he draws in a deep breath, taking in Isis' scent. It's the brush of her empathy that keeps him from his initial response of attacking her.


Isis shivers as the wind knifes through them but she doesn't turn her attention from the larger predator. When he nears her, she offers the back of her hand for him to scent and should he allow, runs it over his cheek into his hair where her fingers curl.

"You are hurt. We will see to that in a little bit." That's a statement, as her eyes wash over the tableau before them. "Show me what happened here …" Her voice is low, almost a purr, it might even be pleasing to the feral man at the moment. "Let me help you …"

What she means by that, could easily be misconstrued but this is where it gets harder for the young Dreamwalker. She can manipulate the dream and take them back but she needs him to give her the references.

"I'll be with you… and when we're done, I'll give you a dream that will be nicer …"


While Kyle's head dips down so he can scent her hand, his eyes stay rolled up to watch her face. There's the whisper of warmth from the tip of his nose followed by the wet heat of his tongue as it's dragged over the back of her hand. His head turns a bit into her hand as she curls her hand into his long, messy hair and then he's dragging her down, into the cold bite of the snow as he covers her body with his own.

He's no longer looking at her, though, he's looking at the facility he drug himself out of. The world seems to hold its breath. While the snow still falls, everything's gone silent. And then the snow starts to fall upwards, and the world runs sluggishly moves in reverse. Slow, and then faster and faster, until it's all just a smear and there's only Kyle, pinning her body under his as the world around them twists and changes.

When it comes to a stop, she's standing all alone in a hall that seems like something out of a horror movie asylum. It stretches out into forever with heavy, locked door after heavy, locked door with those tiny, barred windows that show what's inside.


Isis doesn't flinch as Kyle licks her hand, although there's the slightest hitch in her breath at the unexpected action. As he drags her down, she 'yowls' in surprise - as much for what he's doing as for the cold of the snow and the fact that it starts to soak through her clothing. Now she's really shivering.

The world spins and twirls as the mutant man responds to her request. The effect is different to others she's experienced - that's likely because the man is interacting with her.

Back on her feet, her clothes no damp, Isis eyes the corridor and the doors that line it. She can't help the feline growl that comes from her throat or the shudder that wracks her slight frame. For a moment she thinks she's back in her own dreams. Kyle will feel the dream slip slightly before Isis manages to stabilise it with her concentration.

"Kyle …" the words are soft still, slightly growly as the feline-like mutant deals with her demons. Instinctively she goes to the first window and peers in. "… show me … "


The tall man is huddled in a corner of the cell. Because that's what it is. No bed, a bowl of food and another of water that have been overturned and spilled over the floor. The floor and walls are covered in deep gouges and smears of blood. As Isis peers into the window his shaggy head comes up, those gold eyes meeting hers.

A moment later, alarms start to sound, echoing up and down as red lights flash and shouts of alarm bounce down the hard walls. And then the deep rumble of explosions, the tremble of it beneath her feet, and then the world is exploding around her as they rush towards that moment where she saw him dragging himself from the rubble.

Whatever happened there, he never saw it. He was trapped in a cell and kept like an animal.


Isis can't help the yelp as the alarm sounds and she frowns as the situation becomes clear. For the first time in a very long time since she's been walking in dreams, Isis panics momentarily - grabbing the handle of the door and trying to wrench it open. If she can, she throws herself at the man on the ground, covering him this time.

It takes long moments before she collects herself and makes a decision. "Show me where it started, Kyle …"

She's not sure she'll find the answers Nick is looking for but she'll find something. It's likely that neither of them will like what she finds.


The doors are normally locked, but Isis isn't just any part of the dream, isn't locked into the memory. When she rushes in, Kyle lifts his head and snarls at her, those elongated canines on full display but that doesn't stop her. She throws herself over him as the world comes crashing down around them and the world fades to black.

When she straightens, Kyle is still there, looking up at her. Still looking like something more beast than man as they float adrift in darkness but those gold eyes hold something new. Confusion. Then she makes her request and in a smear of color, Kyle is gone, leaving Isis in the dark. Then slowly, the lights come up. Where the dream earlier was in many ways rough and unformed, like a child might have placeholders for things they don't understand, this dream is more… normal.

It's a warm day in summer and a tall, gangly youth is unlocking the door into a nice suburban home. The height might have given away that the kid, no more than 16, is Kyle. But so would the slightly pointed ears, the silt-pupiled blue eyes, the slight points of fangs and claws.

The door closes behind him and it's only moments later that there's the sound of shouting within, the words unclear. What is clear is the door opening again and a man with an angry expression that bears a familial resemblance to Kyle shoving the boy out while yelling at him. The door is slammed in Kyle's face. Clouds slide in front of the sun, and rain starts to fall.


"I told you I'm here…" Isis murmurs, unable to keep the growl from her voice. That last part of the memory, or at least the lead up, has left her a little … raw. "We'll do it together."

Memory walking can be painful - not physically but emotionally. The Dreamer has to relive the experience and in Kyles case, Isis is beginning to suspect that there might be little pleasant in Kyles past.

The woman isn't standing near Kyle when the picture unfolds, she's observing again - from a slight distance. The hint of the man is there in the youths frame - not as muscular or toned, or as coordinated, but the promise is there.

When Kyles father appears and shoves the boy, Isis lets out a low growl, the claws in her nail extending on instinct. You're just observing she tells herself, though her slitted eyes glow. The man is marked in her memory - even though she's not likely to ever meet him.

"I'm here … " the feline-like mutant stalks to the boy - who really is only a couple of years younger than she is now - and slips her hand is, as the rain plasters her hair to her head.

"You were kicked out. Where did you go? How did you end up in that facility?"


The boy looks up at Isis from where he's fallen on his ass on the sidewalk. Rain has soaked his hair down and runs down his face even though it just started. Dreams are like that, jumping from piece to piece without the inbetween.

His hand closes around hers tentatively. Gently. "The Empire." He says, words clear. Cogent. Without the stumbling hesitation of the man she met.

The world shifts around them as he holds her hand, and now they're in a city, the streets dirty and clogged with trash. A panel van pulls up beside them and men jump out, their faces smeared suggestions because his memories of them are poor, or he never saw their faces.

Kyle is still looking up at her when they grab him. One jabs a needle in his neck and presses the plunger, and they drag him into the back of the van. The doors close and it drives away, taking Kyle with it.


Dreams are like that and often Isis has to sift through a 'scene' removing bleedthrough of other memories. Kyles are a little 'cleaner' - maybe because she's helping him. Or maybe the mans mind is nearly iron.

"The Empire." There's a feline cant of her head as she processes that, noting the words and how clearly he speaks. When the city resolves, her nose wrinkles in disgust "How did you live here?" That's not to Kyle but to herself. "Watch out …"

Isis told Kyle he didn't have to do this alone and she meant it. As he's dragged into the van, she goes with him - her presence there for the man to lean on though he might feel her growling as he's abducated.

"I'm here." Her hand is still his and she squeezes. "They took you to that facility? Or somewhere else?" She prompts, taking his memory and moving them forward.

Another mutant might hate themselves for putting him through this. Isis doesn't - but she doesn't like it, nonetheless.


There's a furrow of his brow as she keeps hold of his hand. As she keeps with him as the van drives off. As though going through tunnels, it's bright, then dark, then bright, then dark, and between one and the next the scene has shifted. They're back at that facility, something about the texture of the walls and the scene out the windows making her sure of that.

Kyle's hand is still in hers, his eyes on hers but now he's in hospital scrubs, fastened down to a bed. Not with the standard leather cuffs that you see in television shows, but thick steel and he's hooked up to an IV. The clarity in those blue eyes starts to fade, and the dream around them shifts. Objects loose their definition, computers becoming little more than metal boxes, hospital equipment lumps with occasionally flashing lights. People in scrubs with caps and masks and gloves come in, a stream of them on fast forward, jabbing him with needles over, and over until the blue shifts towards gold and then he roars in pain and rage and the dream starts to crack around them.


"I told you, I'm here." Isis sees the frown and squeezes his hand. "We want to help you but we need to know …" It might be apologetic from anyone else.

As the next scene solidifies, Isis growls low. It's not like the growls Kyle or Nick gives, but it's dangerous. Not that she does anything about it - her will is strong and this needs to play out.

As the stream of people flow through, Isis looks around. She knows they don't have much time - before her ability is exhausted or before Kyle breaks more. Anything she can, she notes. Logos, words, symbols. Anything that Kyle might have been able to recognise in this state.

As the dream starts to crack, Isis finally manipulates it … the scenery shimmers and warps and changes.

They're sitting on log in a wooded area on the bank of a stream with crystal clear water. Wood and leaves fill the air with fragrance and birdcall sounds in the distance. The feline-like mutant is silent, still holding the mans hand.


Words are hard in Dreams, the letters usually mixed up and twisted about and there doesn't seem to be much in the way of logos or iconography. At least not that crops up in Kyle's head. Instead, over the hospital-like loudspeakers a voice seems to drone on and on, slowly counting up to nine, and then repeating. "One. Two. Three…"

Just as things are starting to fall apart, Isis catches a flash of yellow. A boxy suit. It's only there a moment, but it's sure to make her heart race.

And then, like turning a page, everything is different. Kyle sits with her looking much like the man she's sleeping near. His head turns, looking over at her with confusion. His bestial traits aren't near so bad as when she saw him at the beginning in the snow, but they're far more prominent than 16-year old Kyle.


The Empire. Nine. Yellow Suits. The latter causes Isis to 'mrrow', her heart beating a tattoo in her chest. The memories associated with that imagery are … recent.

"I told you I would bring you somewhere nice when it was done." The growl in her voice is still there. As Isis speaks, Kyle will catch the pointed teeth that protrude from her top jaw and for the moment she's more cat than woman. A representation of how she see's herself, perhaps?

"Will they come after you? The yellow suit?" she asks, moving closer to the man and rubbing her cheek against his arm. Personal space? It all belongs to Isis.


It takes a while, like talking to someone that's suddenly woken up from a dream, for her words to get to him. In this case, for his mind to shift back to where words are more than noise. When he speaks it's soft and slow. "Maybe?" He shakes his head. "It was… a while ago. Years. They haven't." Of course, Kyle was under the care of the Canadian Government and then lying low in the wilds and recently New York City. If they found evidence of him without the big Canadian brother? Maybe they would come for him. But with it years back, they don't seem to be actively looking.

The tall man looks down at her hand in his, thumb with that dark, dangerous claw sweeping over her delicate skin. He brings it up to breathe in the scent of her skin, and then his tongue licks over it, like he did earlier. His brow stays furrowed.

Finally his blue eyes shift over to hers. "Where are we?"


"Maybe they won't." Those blue/grey slitted eyes watch as Kyle licks her hand but she doesn't try to pull it away. "I will walk your dreams with you again …" she says with finality. He doesn't need to speak, at least for now.

"Somewhere I imagined." That's the answer she gives to the 'where'. "The place I go when I need to … be … in my dreams. You can wake up you're ready or go wherever you want. I thought you needed somewhere to recover."

They can sit here for a while. Sooner, rather than later, Isis will have to leave the dream and Kyle probably needs to get some better sleep.

Back in the waking world, Isis has uncurled from the ball and moulded her smaller frame against Kyles larger one.


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