ronan has had magic his whole life. crafting reality from dreams was practically a fucking art. anything he could imagine was his for the taking, his to hold in his hands and make real. and he'd gotten good at it lately, worked hard to master his dreams, to work with them and hold mastery over them so he no longer feared nightmares.
its something different to bend reality to your will. ]
C'mon, you little shit, [ ronan says to the sad looking potted plant on the table in front of him. he has one hand cradling it, the other is pointing threateningly. he's been at this a while and evidently quiet meditation has run its course. ] I said grow.
[ the plant does not grow. ]
DREAM SHARING
[ this is at least familiar territory. the power he should have here is still gone. a hole punched straight through his chest. but the impression of what should be there is strong enough to give this place form and personality
whatever he lacks in the waking world ronan has here. command and mastery. the landscape around him transforms into a forest - or at least the impression of a forest, something large and forest shaped is certainly what you're standing in - and a raven wheels overhead, her watchful eyes alert for anyone who doesn't belong.
and you don't.
the dream bird lets out a caw that draws his attention. ]
NETWORK
[ ask anyone: ronan lynch is not a texter. he's not a phone person, he's not much for communicating in any way that isn't directly face to face. but he makes due with what he has, and what he has is this awful little implant that ensures he's never really excused to leave something on read. ]
ronan lynch | the raven cycle
[ this should be simple.
ronan has had magic his whole life. crafting reality from dreams was practically a fucking art. anything he could imagine was his for the taking, his to hold in his hands and make real. and he'd gotten good at it lately, worked hard to master his dreams, to work with them and hold mastery over them so he no longer feared nightmares.
its something different to bend reality to your will. ]
C'mon, you little shit, [ ronan says to the sad looking potted plant on the table in front of him. he has one hand cradling it, the other is pointing threateningly. he's been at this a while and evidently quiet meditation has run its course. ] I said grow.
[ the plant does not grow. ]
DREAM SHARING
[ this is at least familiar territory. the power he should have here is still gone. a hole punched straight through his chest. but the impression of what should be there is strong enough to give this place form and personality
whatever he lacks in the waking world ronan has here. command and mastery. the landscape around him transforms into a forest - or at least the impression of a forest, something large and forest shaped is certainly what you're standing in - and a raven wheels overhead, her watchful eyes alert for anyone who doesn't belong.
and you don't.
the dream bird lets out a caw that draws his attention. ]
NETWORK
[ ask anyone: ronan lynch is not a texter. he's not a phone person, he's not much for communicating in any way that isn't directly face to face. but he makes due with what he has, and what he has is this awful little implant that ensures he's never really excused to leave something on read. ]
tell me about the dreams here