Many things in one's dreams are often symbols of their own sort. Analyzing one's dreams is actually a practice among psychiatrists and others. Some think of it as a science in itself, others believe it is just for fun, much like horoscopes. What do you think?

Alistair was worried. He was hiding in the house, trying to make sure that he didn't get caught. In his shirt was a small loaf of bread and a small canteen full of well water. It had taken a lot to get out to the well, and he cut through the kitchen in order to get as close to the basement as he could. With his one eye missing, it was hard to see. It wasn't painful, but the dry air made his eye socket a bit dusty sometimes, and there would constantly be dirt in said socket from being in the basement. He just learned to keep his eye shut, and then when he got a bit of fabric, he wrapped that over his closed eye until he could get an eye patch. He was hungry, and others were hungry, too. He was a room away from the store room, where the basement was.

Francis was lurking around somewhere, and God knew what would happen to him if the redhead were caught by the owner of the house. So, he picked up a few more things—a small packet of tea cookies, and just for the hell of it, a bottle of wine. There were makeshift cups down in the basement, so they could enjoy the bottle by the cup, or just drink out of the green glass.

Alistair was currently sitting behind the cupboard, peeking around the corners to make sure that he wasn't being watch. He looked up, down, left, right, then started moving with slow and low steps. The years of sneaking around during hide and go seek payed off, as he was absolutely stealthy. He reached the dining room, hiding under the giant table. Again, he looked up, down, left, right, then repeated the looking about before he started slowly moving again. He stood upright when he heard the sound of feet, crawling back under the table, wine bottle in hand and goods tucked into his shirt. From under the lace-draped table, he could see feet...but they were small ones, so he didn't have to worry. The owner of the small feet was singing something in his native tongue.

"Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai..." He sang, humming over the words he forgot. He didn't linger very long in the dining room, heading to the kitchen for whatever reason. Alistair didn't think that Matthew was safe to talk to, only because whenever he did, Francis seemed to pop up out of nowhere.

As soon as he was out of sight, Alistair made the move again out from under the table, looking around yet again. He was so close to the store room, so close to safety. With one final dash, he was back in the store room, lifting up the rug to go down the trap door, down into safety.

Down in the basement, there were plenty of candles. There was a window that was usually open to let in the air and relieve the stiffness of the old air. There were faces that greeted him when he came back, quiet tones reaching his ears. "Alistair, you've come back!" One said, her blond hair and red ribbon visible in the low light. There was another girl in the basement, her long braids dirty from the time down there.

"Did you see anyone up there? Did your brother come back?" She questioned, standing much shorter than the other girl, whose name was Emma, and Alistair.

"He didn't come back...thank God." Alistair sighed, untucking his shirt to gracefully catch the food stored there. "But I got bread, tea biscuits, water, and a bit of wine." Emma took the bottle from his hands, looking at the label in the dim light.

"I'm surprised you got this...it's a really old French wine..." She said quietly, brows furrowed ever so slightly. "I can't even read the date on it...Alistair, if he finds out you're the one who took it, who knows what'll happen when you go up there next."

Alistair only shrugged, pulling out his pocket knife and started cutting up the bread loaf. "I'll ask for some cheese next time, then. That'll go over well, wouldn't it?"

"Alistair, you know we won't die down here. I've been here for a year without food, and I was fine." Emma crossed her arms over her unraveling sweater, the white sleeves dirty.

"You were also as thin as a pole. You appreciate the food, though. I don't like seeing anyone getting thin like that." The man sighed, handing bits of bread to Lilli, who gladly accepted the bit of food. "Just drink your wine. Give some to poor Feliks while you're over there. He's probably got to be a bit better..."

Feliks was a bit of a different story. He had arrived roughly here, fighting and screaming though in all reality, he was one of those guys who was a bit...more feminine, as some would say. Something happened to him, and the use of his lower half diminished as the days went by. So, while Emma was down there, she took care of him, then with the arrival of Lilli two months later, the three of them lived in their dark residence. Alistair became the 'head of the basement', taking care of all three of them.

Feliks also spoke of his boyfriend back in Lithuania by the name of Toris, hoping that he was alright. He said that the other 'Would be like, totally worried if he knew what was going on.'.

"I'll make sure he gets his fill, alright?" Emma sighed, taking a bit of the bread for herself and for the Polish man. "He's been sleeping an awful lot here recently, though. It's worrying me."

"He has?" Alistair offered the canteen to Lilli, sitting himself down on an overturned metal bucket. "Do you think he's sick with something?"

"No, I don't think so at all." Emma huffed, gently shaking the other awake, speaking quietly as he woke up. There was only one pillow in the basement, and that went to Feliks. There was a couple blankets and a beach towel that had been left by someone else, along with a pair of broken glasses and a hat of some sort. Lilli said it looked like her brother's, but it didn't smell of cinnamon and nutmeg like that ht did. "Are you alright, Feliks?"

"...I'm fine...just tired. You shouldn't be so worried about me. It's not like it's a big deal or anything. Everyone needs a little sleep." Feliks said with a small smile, trying to get himself up into a sitting position against the wall. He was weak in the arms, so by the time he did get up, his upper arms and shoulders quivered. "Ah...I feel like an old man..."

"You certainly don't look it, though. You're quite handsome." Emma was so kind and gentle when she was taking care of others. She had said that she was a nurse before she wound up here, and Feliks was a journalist. Lilli was young enough that she was still in school, just making it to her high school years. "Do you want a little bit of wine? Alistair brought it down from upstairs." She didn't bother to tell him that the others could be in danger because of the feat. "He's also got bread and a few cookies."

"I could take a bit, thank you. Not much, though. I need to watch my girlish figure." He chuckled, a smile tugging weakly at the corners of his mouth as Emma uncorked the bottle, taking one of the cloudy glasses and poured a bit of the red liquid into the bottom, allowing Felkis to drink his fill. After, she took some for herself, then passed the cup along to Alistair who had a few sips, then asked Lilli if she wanted some.

"I've never had wine before...my brother said I wasn't old enough for it." She frowned, looking at the cup with a questioning look.

"Well, it's worth a try, isn't it?" Alistair gave her a reassuring smile, watching as she took the cup. "It's not really what you'd think it'd be. It's not grape juice, that's for sure." As Lilli took a sip, her expression twisted and she handed the glass back to Alistair. "Don't like it?"

"It's not grape juice at all...I don't know why you like it...It burns my throat." She coughed, reaching for the canteen instead. "I'll stick to water for now."

"Sounds fine to me."

The ride out to the place was actually a long one. Arthur stopped for directions once or twice since he wasn't too handy with his own directions. The people he asked were a bit odd: A Dutchman selling fresh tulips at a gas station. He had strange amber-colored eyes that glinted in the light, Arthur noticed, and he was smoking a pipe with a bit of a sweet smelling tobacco blend. He told Arthur that taking the gravel roads would be easier than just wandering through the dirt back roads.

The other person he met in his travel was a kind looking woman with long brunette hair who was working outside her home. When Arthur gave her the address, she gave him a look and picked up her laundry quickly, saying that he shouldn't mess with such a place. She looked a bit upset, which was more than a bit odd. Arthur did end up getting to the house in the middle of nowhere, finding that it looked a bit worse in person.

The doors and windows were starting to look cloudy, and the weeds even looked like they were dying. Arthur got out of the rental car he borrowed and looked the place over, walking to the broken fence with its doors wide open. "Wow...this place is...a shit hole."

"Oui, but it's my shit hole to renovate." A voice called, making Arthur jolt and look for whoever was speaking to him. "It's not often that I see people around here...What are you up to?"

"Oh, um...I'm just looking around. I'm a surveyor. I'm looking for a good place to look at the land." Arthur lied. Hopefully the man bought it...the man looked familiar, too... "...You're not Francis Bonnefoy, are you?"

"I am, actually. You're missing the little...'Second', after the name, though. The original Francis Bonnefoy was my Great Grandfather." He reassured the other. He wore a pair of ragged jeans and a white t-shirt with a bit of dirt on the front. "You're actually in the wrong place for surveying, though. There's a better spot back down that road."

"Ah...well...thank you anyways..." Arthur nodded, pursing his lips. "Have you seen anyone else around here? My brother came out here a few days ago, and I haven't seen him for a long while."

"Would you like to use my phone to call him? Maybe he's just out soul searching?" Out in the middle of nowhere? Fat chance. Arthur nodded and accepted anyways, following the man to the house, not noticing the small changes that were happening. The grass got shorter and greener as he neared the house. The doors and windows were suddenly repaired, and the windows gave a light glow as if there were small lamps or candle lights behind the glass. Francis had disappeared, and the sky grew dark. Arthur was mystified when he realized he was standing on the front porch of the house, alone.

"Shit..." he looked back to his car, which was gone. He didn't have his phone, and his clothing...it was different. White button up shirt, slacks and polished leather shoes and a vest of sorts. There were small items in the vest. A little bottle of medicine, a lock pick set, and a small bottle of a sweet smelling perfume. He remembered the scent. It was the scent that was in the wardrobe in the sitting room. He also noticed that the small gold chain and the emerald hung around his neck, safely tucked into his shirt. He couldn't lose it now...it would be dangerous to, he decided. With a gentle hand, he took the doorknob in his hand, turning slowly. The door creaked open slowly, nice cold air rushing past his face. There was no going back now.

Dream Memory : The Sapphire

"Ber, I don't think we're going to get out of here any time soon." It had been a week since Tino and Berwald had found themselves in the basement the Bonnefoy manor. They were dressed in seemingly dated clothing. Late forties, early fifties clothing by the looks of it. Their son, Peter, was curled up against Tino's chest, fast asleep even though he was hungry. Berwald was trying to find a way past the windows, unable to move the trap door.

"We have t' get out somehow...there's got t' be a way out..." Berwald said quietly, staring out the small window. The glass was cracked, bits of blood from someone else's fist trying to break it. "Mathias must have gotten out somehow...He came here looking for Lukas, and they're not here. They must have gotten out, Tino."

There was a rumbling sound on the trap door, claiming the attention of the Nordic couple. Peter still slept as the trap door opened and a figure stood at the top of the ladder. In a quick flash, Berwald was grabbed up and was being dragged off by his foot, grabbing at the floor in an attempt to resist. "Berwald!" Tino screamed, watching helplessly as the trap door closed, Berwald gone. Peter awoke to the Finn's screaming, some of his 'mum's tears dropping into the other's golden hair.

"What...what just happened? Where's Dad? Daddy?" He called, looking around the dark and dreary basement. "Where'd he go? Did he leave us down here?!"

Tino shook in fear, having got a glimpse of what was at the top of the ladder. A creature with eight eyes, the body of a man and half the body of a spider. Hours later, a piercing scream could be heard from the other end of the manse, then more rumbling at the trap door. Peter was next, but there was no screaming. Tino was alone. There was no doubt that the creature had killed Berwald, and Peter was gone. Sadness. Cold. The basement grew cold, bits of ice grew around the Finn as he curled up with his knees to his chest, freezing the basement even more as he slowly vanished, leaving behind a clear and dark sapphire.

Peter in the end, had been turned into a small rabbit. Matthew kept the rabbit as long as he could before the poor thing died of starvation. It wouldn't eat, and the rabbit cried every night until it slept with Matthew in his bed. None of Matthew's pets lasted long. They were always too sad to live for some reason.

Alistair woke with a jolt in the middle of the night, already sitting upright in the dim moonlit basement. Through the window, he could see the faint outlines of two people in the garden. Two more spawned, then a smaller one. They were all looking over the rickety crosses that littered the back yard, speaking in soft tones. He assumed that they had all died here, their spirits turned a light blue color.

"I've seen them all before. They can't leave. They all used to be a family." Emma said quietly, looking out the other window with a sigh. "...I hear the Finn, Tino, crying sometimes. He always cried out for his son and husband, Berwald." She sighed and shook her head slowly, leaning on the stone wall after she was done viewing. "...Berwald didn't want to leave his family alone. He didn't think that they should have looked for their friend Mathias and his lover, Neils."

"...That's quite the love story. Their poor kid, though..." Alistair said quietly, pursing his lips as he watched the spirits fade. "Who else was down here...? And how do you even know about that?"

"My friend Lars told me that it's like being psychic. I can feel who's been here and what's around. It's odd. They talk to me sometimes, and they tell me things. There was an Austrian man who was here not long ago. He and...a few other people were here. There was a German man as well...He and Neils were here at the same time. Mm...There was also..." She trailed off, trying to focus a bit more. "Too many people. I can't tell you how many have been lost in the house."

The thought of so many people being down here was disturbing. Like knowing how many people slept in a hotel room before the next person. "Everyone that was in here died, right?"

"Well, I wouldn't be seeing dead people if they didn't." Emma sighed, turning to look at Alistair again. "I hope you get out of here. I hope we all do." She paused for a minute, pursing her lips. "...If only one of us can escape, let's send Lilli out. She's got more of a life than all of us. She's got all sorts of things she probably wants to do with her life."

"We should. Honestly, I think my brother'll be able to live without me. They still got Owen, so..." He shrugged, turning away from the window. "...If we're going to pass down here, I think that it's soon enough to say that you look beautiful. I only wish I could have met you in a better place than this." Alistair chuckled.

"You know...If we do happen to get out of here, I'll have to look you up. I'm sure we could work something out sooner or later." Emma offered, tilting her head to the side. "Maybe we could have our own little date down here? We've still got cookies and wine down here," She snickered. "And we've got the moonlight..."

"Even better." For the rest of the night, they drank the bottle of wine and ate a couple cookies until they fell asleep on each other, Emma's head rested on Alistair's shoulder. He slept a bit more sound knowing that someone was sleeping next to him, and the warmth brought him a bit of hope. He'd have to go out again and get more water. Hopefully he'd be alright to go upstairs the morning after...