Chapter Text
The same old routine works for some people.
It doesn’t work for them.
A repeating cycle can bring comfort to some people.
It doesn’t bring comfort to them.
Maybe it was the monotony of it all. Never going anywhere, never able to strive for anything higher or interesting. Crushing limits, an overshadowing dread. Theyhated it. They really did.
It turned into wishing for a change. A good one, of course. No monkey’s paw, no horrible events. Just… a change. It coupled with that restlessness; increasing discomfort in their own skin, a sense of not belonging . But what else are you supposed to do but follow the same cycle until something breaks? They just circle and claw at their daydreams through the static.
There was no excitement, no joy, with existing. You simply do. It needed to change.
Somehow.
Dana’s hand sifts through the front pocket of their bag, retrieving keys as they near the mailbox. Long day, stiff joints. A few absent complaints as they fiddle, flipping to the right key for the lock. They usually don’t consider the mail they retrieve, unless there’s a key for the parcel locker. But if they don’t check the box, it’ll get stuck again from the postal service cramming junk in there, so…
They usually just bring it all home and throw it on the desk if nothing stands out. Their mother will eventually get to it – even if that takes her a few weeks to notice the growing pile. Occasionally the pile will also move, depending on the easiest access. Coffee table? Kitchen table? Desk? If something’s available, the junk mail will be left there.
There is, of course, a strange sort of… energy from one of the envelopes. As they sift through the mail while approaching the front door, one piece of mail catches their eye. Between the pieces of ads and junk offers, there was an aged envelope, sealed with violet wax. They linger, turning it over in their hand as they slow down, just in front of the door.
It’s addressed to them. No address, just their name. How in the – Who? Who would send this to them, and how did they even…?
Dana’s extra careful when unsealing the letter – preserving it, for some reason. Something seems to shift when the letter is finally opened. A chill rushes over them, but they shrug it off, ignoring the pressure in the air as they slip the parchment out to examine.
It’s a bit more underwhelming than the actual envelope itself. It was like a prize, an invitation. Two tickets enclosed, round-trip and only lasting a week. It’s… a little elaborate to be a scam. It’d be one thing if they had to purchase the tickets themselves, but here they were – prepared. A departure date and a return date. Flight number, destination– these sorts of things could be verified at the airport. They step inside to get a comment from their mother.
“Hey, gimmie a second opinion on this.” They say, waving the paper in front of them, pulling their mother’s attention from her work as they drop it in front of her. She studies the items, a pause when her fingers touch the weathered paper. Like a spark, something in the air changed again. Briefly.
“...Huh. I’d say this is real.”
A hand to her chin, and Dana merely crosses their arms, brow raised. “Really, huh?” Well, they had been asking for something exciting for… A long time, truly. “You interested in that, then?”
Surely, if their mother, the one who they rely on for smart choices, thinks it’s fine, then it’s gotta be fine.
“That date looks far enough out that I could put in vacation time. So why not? It could be fun. Just need to make sure we’ve got enough money for a hotel in case something’s iffy here, wouldn’t want to be stranded.” Their mother laughs, returning the letter to them.
It’s fine. It’s fine, yet there’s a feeling of unease in their gut. Anxiety, right? It’s only natural. Always natural with them. There’s time if their mother changes her mind, but they doubt it. They’re curious about it themself.
It’s fine.
They keep the letter close, near their laptop as the restless days tick by. If there’s appointments to be moved, schedules to be pushed back a week, those have to be done by then. Then there’s the packing. Their carry-on bag and the luggage to be in cargo, and they decide to keep their tech within their backpad with some extra clothes for padding, for the sake of their own sanity.
God only knows how much luggage planes tend to lose, so they’ll only briefly mourn a few pairs of pants lost. It’d be worse to lose their laptop, since they still want to draw even then.
When the eventful day comes, they’re rather wary of the airport and all its noise. They tucked the letter away into one of the bags on their body, the tickets in their mother’s hand as she talks to the front desk and leads Dana to the plane when it’s time to depart. The weight on their body is finally taken away when they reach their seat. They juggle with their headphones, deciding to overwhelm unfamiliar sounds before they come.
They shut everything out at this point, looking out the window. Unaware that this flight they were on was almost empty . Why would they pay attention to what’s beyond their seat, when they can instead stare out the window and daydream, give themself something to do while phone service is blocked off? They’re so used to reaching for online friends that they don’t know what to do when there’s no access, though they suppose flights aren’t supposed to be exciting. It’s just an expensive mode of transportation. Better than taking a ship like it’s still the 1800s.
They’re lucky the tickets were covered.
The hours that pass convince them finally to sleep off the rest of the flight. They close their eyes and try their best to get comfortable. It’s difficult, but not impossible. They’ve slept on road trips before. When you’re tired enough…
Your consciousness just slips away.
The dream is unusual.
Their dreams never come with an instant awareness. It’s coherent, not an amalgamation of morphing concepts. There’s none of that. Nothing’s shifting like that.
Dana stands alone on floating ground, a storm swirling around them. Separating them from the world. Colors flash a vibrant violet and despite a few startled steps back, they force their breathing to calm. Really, would freaking out and running do anything? There’s no escape in any direction, and it’s a dream . It’s not often they’re aware of that. It’s not the storm itself that feels like it poses any threat, instead the presence behind it that makes them do a double take. A presence that alerts them with glowing eyes piercing the veil, yet it makes no attempt to reveal itself right away.
It does, however, laugh. A gravelly voice, with more, higher-pitched voices giggling after it. Several beings beyond the veil, then? What’s keeping them from drawing any closer?
They take a few steps forward, trying to focus, see them better, or perhaps, to challenge. But the ground crumbles below, and with nowhere safe to stand, they stumble back and fall into the abyss.