Smashlication

[zombnambulist]

Out-of-Character Information

Name: Sarah
Are you over 15?: ya
Time Zone: PST
Personal Journal: unij
Reliable Method of Contact: yunisverse
Other characters in the game: Hajime Tanaka
Link to slot request if 6th, 7th slot: nah

Tegaki: no
Anything Else?: Grad student. Irregular tagging hours resulting.

In-Character Information

Name: Madotsuki
Game/Series: Yume Nikki
Teacher/Student/Other: Student...?
Canon Point:
Age: 12
Grade Level/Class Taught/Job: Seventh grade
Dorm or Living Arrangement: Dorm

Personality: On her own, Madotsuki is a very small, fragile, powerless little girl. She can't affect anyone, or anything. She is nothing, a worthless speck of existence that lives in silence so as to hide from those who are something.

It's only natural, then, that she would take full advantage of her own power in the world of dreams--a world of her own making, under her absolute control. This is the place where she's the only person who matters, and all else are the figments of her mind that need to obey her will. She could not possibly care less what anyone feels about her, because as far as she's concerned, they're not even real. They exist to augment and decorate her scenery, and entertain her as she sees fit. If she decides on passing whim that she'd like to stab you, it's going to happen, and there's no debate on the matter. All forms of resistance or backtalk is treasonous mutiny.

That said, she does not wish to be worshipped or hailed in any regard: she enjoys silence and solitude. Noise and excess activity irritates and repels her. All she truly desires is to be something powerful, more powerful than anything else, and so she expects behaviors to go accordingly. The strong are feared and the weak are afraid, and in her dreams she has nothing to fear and all the strength she can imagine. This translates into a complete duality between her dream and waking selves. Rage and volatile temperament are replaced in conscious flesh with fear and trembling timidity.

Her temperament is as irregular and shifting as dreams themselves, her thought process frequently contradictory as she goes from one thought to the next. Once she decides how something is, that's how it is, until she decides it's not. Her mind works through loops and roundabouts to its final end, but so long as her circuitous logic makes sense to her she sees no particular reason to explain it. What little conversation she's like to make comes out in fractured sentences and vague half-sentiments, voicing her thoughts for her own sake of clarification and without regard for whomever else might attempt to comprehend.

Backstory: There was a little girl, and bad things happened to her. The sorts of things don't matter, exactly. She won't think about them, so neither should you. The important thing, here, is the effect they had on the little girl, who decided her best option was to hide in her room, and never leave. She locked herself in and refused to go near the door. Her room had all she needed--some video games, a desk, and a bed.

Her bed was the most important part of her room, because there, she could sleep. When she slept in her bed, she wasn't in her room, or anywhere else in the world where bad things happened. Sleeping took her through doors that lead her to places far away from everything she knew. There, she was in her own world, where she was in charge, and nothing hurt, no matter how freakish or terrifying they became. No matter how the world warped and twisted around her, she was safe--even if it became too much, she could escape with a simple pinch of the cheek, and she'd be back in her room. She could write down the events in her diary, remind herself that they were all hers, hers to control and decide what scared her and what didn't.

The more she wrote, the less afraid she became, and the greater control she kept over the world in her mind. She figured out how to control things, to do what she wanted, to have power and capabilities like no one else ever could outside of her room.

The world showed her monsters and blood and darkness and screams, angry things from outside of her room, but here she faced them, explored them, knew she could not be touched. It made her brave, it made her victorious. All so long as she stayed asleep.

Different doors took her to different places. One leading to a school made no shocking difference, and its sights and sounds and noises and effects hardly registered amongst all else she'd seen. What did leave an impression, however, was when she woke up, and was not in her bedroom. A different room, a different place, the same place she'd dreamed of. So what was the dream?

Anything Else?: The real Madotsuki is a perfectly normal, defenseless, weak young woman, but when she sleeps a mental copy stalks the halls of the Academy, with all the power of dreams at her fingertips. She collects various effects to use as she wills. Some only can change her appearance (her hair, or her weight--girls her age do get terribly self conscious), others affect the world around her (it wouldn't be right for her to take out her umbrella unless it starts raining) while others seem to be everyday items (a bike, a flute, a knife). The truly dangerous ones affect the people around her (the cat-girl mutation that lures people closer, or the stoplight that traps all in a game of Red Light Green Light). Then again, there's some that are merely demented (a disembodied head oozing bloodily across the floor, or hair being replaced by poop).

Simply put, her powers begin and end with where her imagination wills them.

In-Character 1st person sample:
Dear Diary,

I woke up somewhere else today. I think that's what happened. I thought a school could have erasers, so I found one, and then I went back. But it wasn't back. It was here.

Is it still a dream? Pinches lead here. There's a door. I won't look. Who knows.

I don't like it. There's a bed, but there's too many. Door's locked. I'll go back to sleep to hide, and hope.

In-Character 3rd person sample: Everyone used that one word wrong. They'd missed the point. The definition had been stated, right in front of them, at the start, but they all missed it, missed what was right in front of them.

The start of an idea, the burying of a concept deep within the subconscious, an inescapable notion insidiously planted within the very psyche.

She stared at the door. It was locked. No one could get in. The room had changed, the windows and walls had reshaped themselves, the beds had doubled, but she was still safe. Because those sorts of things didn't happen when she was awake. Reality's structure oppressed her, but if she knew one thing, it was the chaos that made up unchained thought. She trembled and ached, felt the weight of the sheets and the sag of her eyes, but she had to be asleep.

A dream within a dream. That she knew.

It had been a stupid movie in the first place.