As soon as there is life...

[Pierre Antoine Giroux]

I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more

"I'm fine." He feels the blisters but doesn't really register them, doesn't think any more of them. They will go away, like the emptiness. Step. Step forward, step again, breath in, breath out. Blink. Repeat. He's on auto pilot, his mind still trying to settle back into the world.

"Cold," he repeats, like a parrot. "Very cold. Fire isn't cold. Fire is hot. Fire burns. Ashes." These statement sound fine in his head, but they don't actually go through his head, they rip out straight from his thought center into the world without checking in anywhere, and he sounds demented. Stepping forward. Walk.

Door. Doors? He can't tell, his vision has gone wonky, or maybe he just closed his eyes- yeah, he closed his eyes when they saw the plaque, shining in the torchlight, so maybe it was two doors again. "Riddle?" he asks- he doesn't want to read it himself this time, doesn't want to see the next challenge until he has to.

[Christina Ann Robins]

:::::::::::::::::

“Desire is greater than fear. Like fear, it consumes you-- but it lets you live with yourself."

:::::::::::::::::

"Fire is not cold," She agreed, suddenly glad that she didn't get burned like Antonie had. "And they do make ashes, but not anymore." Of course they still do, but Robin was talking metaphorically, the fear was gone. It was not real, and Robin was just now getting that herself, and hoped Antonie understood what she meant. " But the tone of his voice worried the girl, and she continued to step forward, eyes staring vacantly ahead.

Robin's ears twitch at the sudden sound of his voice, and a plunge of concern panged throughout her. "Are you...?" Alright? She wanted to ask, but then they stopped, Antonie explaining that they had come to the next door in a single word. But then the word processed, riddle. Great. Great. Great. Not again, Robin would absolutely refuse to step through anymore doors unless they sounded relatively easy.

"I don't know if there's a riddle," Robin said pointedly. Ironically, there was none. The plaque was empty, a shinning copper with no words placed upon it. There were still two wooden doors, two unknown adventures to be taken aplace, "Maybe..."

"Congratulations!"

Robin almost fell over. It took her a second, but she quickly grasped that the voice was unthreatening. Apparently, the twisted people who had set this stuff up where shaking it up a little. Maybe perhaps for the illiterate? In reality, the master-mind had decided on a voice to make it seem more welcoming, more friendly-- to have the two drop their guards-- but Robin didn't know that.

"You have passed the two previous tests! You, now, only deserve the very best! Beyond these two doors lay your greatest desires, your greatest comforts, your greatest mire."

Mire? Robin wondered dryly.

"So step inside-- no strings attached! You have finally met your greatest match! Go ahead, and enjoy the view-- your treasure lays inside for you!"

[Pierre Antoine Giroux]

I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more

"Not anymore," he echoed again. No more ashes, just hot fire. Burning fire. Fire that burns. Breath in, breath out. Blink. "No riddle?" he begins, but then the voice comes out, the voice of dreams and lies and fire coated in sugar and candy. He never heard it in the lie-world, but he knows it, it's the hiss of the sizzling ashes, only now it speaks in the language of man, not of fire.

"Liar!" he yells out. He begins to say more, but finds himself unable to find the words. "Ash-voice, ash-voice," he mutters, "don't come back again."

But his fingers still ache, empty of power, and he knows on a basic level he has to go through this door before he can be whole again. "No," he mumbles, "not alone."

[Christina Ann Robins]

:::::::::::::::::

“When your desires are strong enough, you will appear to possess superhuman powers to achieve.”

:::::::::::::::::

No more doors... how to go through no more doors? Robin would seriously be permanently scarred of seeing doors with plaques on them now, and she was thinking furiously--looking for some loophole, some way-- to get her powers back, to get their powers back without going through the door. She knew from experience that these doors could hurt you physically, and staring concerned at the spot where Antonie stood-- she knew that they could hurt you mentally. Her greatest desire...

Although great, great to have everything perfect again-- to see her mother...

It scared her.

Who was she to bring the long-dead back to life in... in some fantasy? Who was she to live in a paradise?

"It's up to you," Robin didn't even look at Antonie as she spoke, instead staring straight ahead at the wall where the doors lay, voice clenched. "You decide. Is getting our powers back worth it? Because I can't leave you here to go get something that I can live without. If you don't want to go, then I won't force you. You... decide."

[Pierre Antoine Giroux]

I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more

Eyes darting left right left. No escape, no where to run but back into the dark, back through the fire and the flames and the ashes. Forwards, who knows? More fire, more flames whooshing into the sky, more ashes, or more families, powers back, heaven?

He shivers in his wet suit. His greatest desire at this moment is to get out of here, far away from this place of dreams, to see his tormentor- but will that be revealed to him?

"Together," he says. He gives Robin a blank, questioning look. "Not alone, not one by one."

[Christina Ann Robins]

:::::::::::::::::

“Somehow facing a monster of any kind seems less fearful with a friend of any kind."

:::::::::::::::::

"Together?" Robin arched an eyebrow, still staring straight ahead. Weren't there two doors? But what the hey? Who honestly was going to tell them no? And the prospect of not being alone when facing a greatest desire sounded very... "Together," Robin affirmed, nodding tersely. "We'll do this door together, and no one can tell us no."

Your greatest desire.

Loophole!

Robin grinned and turned to Antonie, and f it was possible, a light bulb would've popped over her head. "So, this door contains our greatest desire, right?" Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Robin continued, "So if our greatest desire at the moment is to continue through this door without anything trying to stop us, or even better-- to simply reach the end of the cavern... wouldn't it have to grant us that?"

Robin didn't know if she had the willpower to make herself feel like that, but she would certainly try.

[Pierre Antoine Giroux]

I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more

Together. Together is good. He smiles, his eyes a little less empty now, a little less soul-less. Together and out, together and far far way from here and it's nightmare.

That's a good name for this place, the Cave of Nightmares. Together and out of the Cave of Nightmares. Yes.

Robin turns to him and expresses her idea, and he nods vigorously, reaching his hand out to her again. If he had enough presence to do so, he would have said that yes, that should happen, and that was how he felt right at this moment, he wants nothing more to get out, for the perfect world that the door promises would be just as horrible as the one he left. He forces out a "Yes," and takes a few steps toward the door. "Now?"

[Christina Ann Robins]

:::::::::::::::::

“I never paint dreams or nightmares. I paint my own reality.”

:::::::::::::::::

"Now," She confirmed, accepting the hand. "Together... if we concentrate hard enough..." And the door in front of them swung open with a creak. "...we can do this. We can win this. We can beat this." Now-- speaking more of to herself than to Antonie, she closed her eyes, opening the door and concentrating.

My greatest desire is to face this mind-bender. My greatest desire is to get my power back. My greatest desire is to get through this cave. My greatest desire... m-- no. Concentrate. My greatest desire, my greatest desire, my greatest desire...

Step. Step. Step. Move through the sand. Move through the door. Face this. You can do it. Concentrate, Robin. Concentrate.

My greatest desire is to face this mind-bender. My greatest desire is to get my power back. My greatest desire is to get through this cave. My greatest desire... And when Robin again opens up her eyes-- there is light.

(Sorry it's short, gtg)

[Pierre Antoine Giroux]

I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more

The door swings open as Robin speaks- Pierre, the real, functioning Pierre, buried underneath the fear and the terror, might have said that the moment just needed a sound track and they could put it in the next Inception type movie or something witty like that. But that Pierre had retreated a long time ago, and at the sight of the door opening had crawled back into his turtle shell again. There was only this shell of a man, barely human, barely alive.

And he walked forwards again.

Through the door. Another corridor- no nightmares, not yet. Breath in, breath out. Step, step. Blink. Walking forward, clutching at Robin's hand because God knows he isn't letting go of reality- or what he thinks is reality- until he can unlock the world once more.

The sand is cold under his feet, and he shuffles forward quickly. The room is empty, safe, good. Forward. He can see the wooden door, he can see it, just a little further-

But wait. There's a desk. What is a desk doing in here? Before he can stop himself, he's turning toward it, dragging Robin along with him. There's a photo frame on the desk, face down against the wood, smelling of sawdust. His hand is moving out to turn it over, no no no i don't wanna see yes yes yes i do his head pulling his heart in two different directions and then he turns it over.

It's a picture of him, a bit older, probably, he has a goatee, surrounded by family- just family, and a big sign in the background saying 'CLASS OF 2013, GO PIERRE,' just like he always wanted his graduation to be-

"NO." He throws the frame as far as he can, gritting his teeth as the glass shatters against the stone. "No more lies."

[Christina Ann Robins]

:::::::::::::::::

“As much as John wanted to do it-- he couldn't. He had been blind. Blind-- and now granted sight. He had seen sunsets and valleys, the color of his skin and lover. Yet, when they told him to press that little button, the one that would take his sight away again-- or not press it, and his girl would die--his fingers refused to move.”

:::::::::::::::::

This was an omen. There was nothing better to explain it.

"And when Robin opens her eyes again... there is light."

It blinded her for a moment, and her head ducked into her hands as she shielded her eyes. What was this? What was this that was so... white?That was the only way to describe it. White, all around. What was it? Then, blinking rapidly as the world came into view—it almost took Robin’s breath away.

And then there was light.

Growing up—Robin didn’t know what light was. The girl didn’t understand the point of a lamp, she thought they were for decoration—didn’t know what darkness was either. All she saw was a bunch of neon lines that outline shapes, weather, and people around her. Heck—she didn’t understand why people were called brunette, or why others called her blond—because for her, everyone’s appearance was always changing different colors. There was no depth, there was no constant color—there were no paintings of sunsets, only vibrant streams of energy that occasionally popped up instead of stars, or the sun. Explanation to why Robin loved comments and eclipses so much. There was no light in her world, the backboard to her painting was black. She saw through walls, didn’t understand the term ‘invisible’, and had no care in the world for looks. TV didn’t make sense in her head, all it was-- was a bunch of swirling energy signatures.

So now, Robin realized what everyone had always been raving about in the past days when the complimented a painting, or watched the sunset. The girl could see the shadows on the wall, and the color of the ceiling. It wasn’t transparent; she couldn’t see through it—it was solid. Eyes wide, she glanced down at her own skin to see the tans and the creases in her fingers—and the dull sheen of her fingernails. Reaching to touch her hair and pull the braid around to the front of her vision—it wasn’t just a bunch of blue lines—it was a gold. Many golds and yellows, something she had never seen before. Looking up, at Pierre’s worried but somehow blank face—the girl saw what he looked like, really looked like, for the first time.

This… this was her greatest desire?

Robin couldn’t stop turning around, trying to look at everything.

Was this what she wanted most in the world?

She didn’t notice when Antonie pulled her off to the side, into another room. All Robin could do was stare, unable to speak—until a glint of sunlight from a window caught off a full body mirror propped up against the wall. Mirrors before had meant nothing to her. They were smooth, sharp when broken—but now. Is that me? Robin shook her head slightly, eyes wide and unblinking.

The person in the glass mimicked her.

A ringing of glass hardly registered in her brain, a determined shout nothing more than a whisper which was nulled by stun.

She felt her hand go slack in Antoine’s and she pulled away—attention already diverted. The window. The window. The window—and the sun, in it’s full vibrant beauty coloring the sky a deep orange mixed with all the other colors of sunlight. Raised over a seashore, waves lapping at the pure white sand—foam gliding over the damp soil.

Robin took one step toward the window-- mind totally blown into oblivion-- knowing that this couldn't possibly be real, this place, but not caring--was this it, was this it, is this what they speak of, tell me! Her tounge was dry and heavy in her mouth, stalled by the sudden choking in the back of her throat. So many questions, was this all real? Was this what she had been missing?

The world remained silent, and Robin couldn't find the words.

A painting on the wall—a potted plant in the corner—a bookshelf filled with countless leather clad books—the mirror—a pure black piano silhouetted in a corner—light streaming from a turned on lamp—the shadows on the wall almost scared her—the girl knew she should look away, close her eyes and run out of here as fast as possible-- but... but... it would all go away again. Even if she got her powers back, Robin knew she would never see like this again--

desire.

And quite suddenly, Robin had forgotten why she ever wanted to leave, and why she cared at all.