applesaucemod: (Default)
The Big Applesauce Moderators ([personal profile] applesaucemod) wrote in [community profile] applesaucedream2015-11-27 09:50 pm

Ain't Never Had a Friend Like Me



YOU GET THREE.


That's what the signs posted all over this enormous shopping mall say, anyway. The signs are impossible to miss. They're posted in every store, on every escalator, and even in the bathrooms. They're on the gates to the rides in the indoor amusement park and taped to the glass in the aquarium. Those three words appear over and over, standing as some kind of invitation to the dreamers…or is it a warning?

It could mean three of anything, really. The mall is empty aside from the dreamers, no shop clerks or attraction attendants to clarify the rules, nor crowds of shoppers to lead by example. Could it be three items from the shops? Three items from each shop? Or maybe it means three soft pretzels. It could even mean three sharks. It probably doesn't mean three sharks. No one knows!

Sooner or later, though, someone is bound to figure it out by accident. Everyone who finds themselves in this dream will get three wishes to do with what they please. They may find themselves a little more inclined than usual to phrase their desires in I wish statements, but there's no real indication until it happens that that's what they're supposed to do. Surely nothing can go wrong with that.


[OOC: Standard dream party rules apply: you and/or your character don't need to be a member of the community in order to participate, and characters will remember or forget the events of the dream at their players' discretion. Characters may make any wishes they like and have those wishes granted, but the effects of potentially game-breaking wishes (ones that would alter the setting of the entire dream, for instance) will be limited to the threads in which those wishes are made.]
biscuit_powered: (Asmodia | thoughtful | listening)

[personal profile] biscuit_powered 2015-11-28 05:15 am (UTC)(link)
Asmodia stands staring at the sprawl of brightly colored structures cluttering part of the massive building in which she finds herself. They're oddly appealing, in the way that most things without apparent rhyme or reason appeal to her, but they're also just plain weird. One has what looks like a great number of legless chairs attached to it by dangling chains. Another seems to be some kind of train track, but it's built on stilts so that any train sent along it would seem to meander through the air like a bird.

"What...is it?" she asks.

Biscuit shrugs as best a rodent can shrug. Ritual ground? he suggests.
Edited 2015-11-28 05:15 (UTC)
singthesong: (Horizon)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-11-29 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
Nearby, a somewhat familiar figure seems nearly as put off by these surroundings as Asmodia.

The Balladeer's arms are folded over his chest, shoulders tight with unaccustomed tension as he looks up at the booth. It's just a fair game. Sure, okay, it says SHOOT TO WIN on the top in big red letters, but he can see what they're talking about and they really are just water pistols. The targets haven't even got faces on them! This is a normal children's game. Everything is totally and completely fine!

"...god, I wish this weren't here."

And then, suddenly, it isn't.
biscuit_powered: (Asmodia | afraid | recoil)

[personal profile] biscuit_powered 2015-11-29 05:53 pm (UTC)(link)
It's machinery of some kind, that much Asmodia has worked out, and most of the things she's looking at seem designed to accommodate humanoid people, though to what purpose she doesn't know. Maybe it is magic? What purpose could there be to a machine that would spin people about in dangling chairs? It sounds kind of fun, but people don't build things this big or elaborate without a deeper purpose.

Her attention strays to the man nearby, and she watches him out of the corner of her eye -- it's that lying man from before, she realizes after a moment, and he seems caught up in staring at -- a fair game? That looks more familiar, even if having guns at a fair is unusual, and she's on the verge of an epiphany about the general purpose of this place when the booth in front of him abruptly disappears. She's immediately on alert, eyes darting about in search of the cause, tensed and ready for action. "Show yourself, mage!" she shouts when neither she nor the man is immediately attacked.

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omnomnom_feels: (calculating | interested)

[personal profile] omnomnom_feels 2015-11-28 05:29 am (UTC)(link)
It is frustrating -- no, it is unfortunate and poorly planned -- that the rules for this place are ambiguously written. Rashad has agonized over the question of what three things he is meant to get since he first arrived, and in the absence of clarification he has ultimately resolved to take nothing at all lest he be incorrect in his selection.

He is not taking things, then, but moving them. It is clear that everything in this building has its proper place. It is equally clear that things have not always been put in those proper places. This shop, for instance, contains entire bins of colorful plastic pieces mixed together, when clearly they should be sorted by type and color in the smaller bins provided.

He will remedy this problem.
rae_of_sun: (listening - sidelong)

[personal profile] rae_of_sun 2015-11-28 07:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Sunshine is ambling through the cavernous mall with a bag full of pretzels. She doesn't need this many pretzels. Honestly, the only reason she bought them all is because the ambiguous signage was pissing her off. She'd looked at the menu, looked at the paper sign taped to the display case, and then mulishly ordered four pretzels just to see what would happen. Having them delivered to her without objection had been anticlimactic, but also kind of satisfying. Did she just game the system? Or was this more like Mr. Cagney levels of obnoxious customer behavior?

Whatever. She doesn't know these people, and now she has more than three pretzels, so that makes this a... win? Sure, why not.

She's wandering past some kind of Lego village when she spots some guy rummaging through the bins with more focus than any grown man should probably be devoting to such a project. She slows to watch for a few seconds - long enough to realize he's attempting to organize the mess. Oh, gods. No one deserves that kind of punishment. What is this, new employee hazing? Sunshine sidles over, bag of pretzels dangling from the crook of her elbow, sipping at her lemonade.

He's still at it. Poor guy. She ventures, "So, did you draw the short straw, or what?"
omnomnom_feels: (calculating | blank)

[personal profile] omnomnom_feels 2015-11-28 07:57 pm (UTC)(link)
He has determined the system by which the pieces are to be divided, and while the enormity of the task is daunting, the activity itself is soothing. He is making things right. He is decreasing the entropy of this plastic brick emporium.

There is another person in the shop now. Rashad looks up from the small pile of pieces he holds in one palm, glancing the woman over. He does not recognize her. "Short straw?" he asks, head tilted curiously. "I did not see any straws."

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spiritofwinter: (hope)

[personal profile] spiritofwinter 2015-11-28 06:15 am (UTC)(link)
"...And now it's Minnesota." Jack feels a pang of regret -- if he's been picked up and moved again, that means he's left Greta behind. That means he's in a new city where no one can see him again. Worse, he soon discovers that he's not just trapped in some city this time. He can't even leave the mall.

He can be found walking along atop a railing on one of the upper floors, gazing down at the empty atrium in a funk. "I just wish I knew how I got here," he sighs -- and then he stops in his tracks, eyes going wide.

He knows now. It's a dream!

"But why do I know that?" he asks himself softly.


[OOC: Though Jack can normally be seen only by people who believe in him, I'm going to go ahead and say the rules are softened in dreams and people can choose whether or not their characters can see him in this setting.]
all_the_gifts: (apprehensive)

[personal profile] all_the_gifts 2015-11-29 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
Melanie finds herself in a bookstore, but it's nothing like Aziraphale's. This one is bright and tidily organized. She's not sure she likes it; it feels too open, too neat, too clearly meant for people who aren't her. She pads through the aisles until she finds the exit, but that doesn't provide much comfort. The space beyond is even more open, a soaring atrium with escalators stacked along one side.

What if there are hungries? What if there are crowds of normal people? She's not sure which would be worse. She spins around, head thrown back to check the upper levels, nose sifting the air. But the only movement she spots is a--a boy, balancing on a railing above her. That's not safe. She takes in his pale skin and nimble stance, and wonders for a moment if he's a hungry child, too. Her brow knits as she gapes up at him, but she doesn't speak. She's not sure if she should try to greet him, or if he'd know how to respond even if she did.
spiritofwinter: (hope)

[personal profile] spiritofwinter 2015-11-29 07:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Jack is looking around, taking in his surroundings with new appreciation. If it's a dream, that's alright, and now it's interesting -- and maybe it'll be a little fun, too.

The little girl below him is so quiet that Jack has no idea she's there until his gaze happens to sweep downward again. She's the first person he's seen here, and his brows lift as he takes in the way she's staring up at him. "Huh," he says to himself, after glancing back to see if there's anything behind him she might be looking at. He'll try not to get his hopes up, but it barely takes a moment's thought before he gives a little twirl of his staff to adjust his grip on it, then steps lightly and easily off the railing. A little breeze kicks up to break his fall, and he lands not far from her.

"Hello?"

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thelastintheworld: ([shadow])

[personal profile] thelastintheworld 2015-12-04 03:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Below, a unicorn enters the atrium as silently as falling snow.

This is not the first time the Unicorn has walked in the dreams of humans. She knows this for what it is. But she did not intend to come here, and now she cannot find her way out. It makes her nervous to be trapped in this great structure of metal and glass, even if this is not the waking world. There are no men here, which is good, but she couldn't leave as she would an ordinary dream, or even break the windows with her hooves. What does it mean?

It didn't have to be SUCH an unpleasant dream, she thinks to herself, moving quickly towards the light of a different window. Men can dream of forests, or rivers, or other things. The thought pulls at something fragile in her chest, and she lets it go again.

There are some plants in pots, at least. She stops beside these, leaning in to breathe the smell of a live green thing.
spiritofwinter: (mischeivous | snowball)

[personal profile] spiritofwinter 2015-12-05 09:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Jack would have missed seeing the unicorn if he'd happened to be looking up instead of down. He almost misses seeing her anyway, she's so quiet and he's so caught up in his own thoughts, but when he catches the movement of something white and graceful on the floor below his attention is abruptly arrested by the sight of her. For a few seconds he just stands and stares, heart thudding. Will she run away if she sees him?

He doesn't want to lose sight of her if she leaves the atrium, so he comes to a decision. He'll send her a little hello -- better yet, a little invitation to play. It's the work of a moment to conjure up a snowflake and send it drifting down, aiming it to land on her nose.

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wildmage_daine: (profile - investigating)

[personal profile] wildmage_daine 2015-11-28 07:22 pm (UTC)(link)
The second sign Daine spots catches her attention and holds it. There's no mystery, here, just some sort of menagerie below her feet. She can feel their minds, and while they're a bit slower and simpler than those of most of her friends, they're still more interesting than the shops she can see.

It seems as if she ought to be paying admission, but there's no one at the ticket booth, and no one challenges her when she heads down the escalator and into the exhibits.

There are a few alligators lounging by an artificial pond; they don't even seem to realize they're captive. Moving onward, she soon finds herself in a great, clear-walled tunnel that carves through an enormous tank of water. It's teeming with a variety of fish, sharks, and rays. There are sea turtles, too, and - to her surprise - an octopus. She's heard of them, but never spoken to one before, and she's pleasantly surprised to discover that it has a sharp mind. More to the point, it understands cages.

"I've never been in a menagerie like this before," Daine tells it, her hand pressed against the thick glass. "It seems all right, but..." she shrugs. Even a nice cage is still a cage, and she can't fault the octopus for being bored half-witless. "I wish you didn't all have to stay cooped up in here."

Further down the tunnel, a crack appears in the plexiglass.
lonelyghost: (it's there)

[personal profile] lonelyghost 2015-12-01 09:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Cole is already there when Daine arrives, he had his hands pressed to the glass, listening to all the fish, feeling the weight of water, waiting to wash down, to drown. Some of them want to be free. Some of them are happy here. The water only wants to drown. That is what water wants - or rather its only choice, in such quantity.

Cole wants none of these things. Something strong here wants him to want, wants him to wish, but it isn't safe. He learned long ago not to want, or at least not to answer himself. What he wants does not matter.

But what she wants-

He turns slowly to look at her. She doesn't see him, just like everyone else. She feels what they feel, like Asmodia, but with everyone, not just Biscuit. And she wishes. Wishes aloud.

"Don't," he says softly, gently, stepping forward and reaching out to her. "We cannot wish here."

Too late. His eyes shift to the crack in the glass.

"They will be all right," he says, and reaches out as if to touch, though he won't, because he will have startled her. "We must go."
wildmage_daine: (attack from above)

[personal profile] wildmage_daine 2015-12-03 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
Daine starts at the interruption. Odd's bobs, where did he come from? She could've sworn no one else was in the tunnel a moment ago. She gawps up at the pale young man and his enormous hat, bewildered by just about everything he's saying. He's not talking sense, and then he seems to speak for the People - or is he only presuming?

"What?" Daine frowns, trying to look at him with her mind for traces of wild magic. It's the wrong sort of focus for noticing the rapidly spreading crack in the glass, but the sound of it reaches her, and she blinks in dawning realization. "Oh," she says, foolishly.

There is a sharp crack, and the glass shatters. Water pours into the tunnel, and Daine has just enough time to take a deep breath and seize the man's arm before it knocks her off her feet and tumbles both of them back the way she came.

She can't shift completely without losing her hold on him, but most of her body twists into dolphin shape, her one human arm still gripping his. The current is too strong for her to drag the man against it - nor should she, she realizes, because it's not just water but fish and sharks and at least one sea turtle spilling into the tunnel as well (despite the chaos, she's aware of the octopus sensibly wedging itself into some rocks and waiting for things to calm down). She lets the water take them, doing her best to keep them both from being buffeted against the walls or ceiling.

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andhiswife: (it's not okay)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-11-28 08:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Greta didn't know there could be buildings this large. It's not tall - not by the standards set by most of the buildings in Manhattan - but it sprawls. She feels as if she's been walking for ages, and she's yet to pass the same shop front twice. And she hasn't even left this floor, yet - there are others above her. It's a wonder the roof doesn't fall in.

She pauses outside some sort of jungle-themed restaurant and eyes an animatronic crocodile uneasily. It has another one of those signs taped to its back. What do they mean? "Three what?" she mutters to no one in particular. "I wish I knew what you meant."

And then she does.

"Oh. Oh." Her expression shifts rapidly from startled to indignant, though it's hard to say whether she's more annoyed with the circumstances or with her own self, for not knowing better. "But that's--!" she directs her glare to the ceiling, as if to give the Rift a piece of her mind, but what would be the point? She can't change any of this.

Ugh.

She resolutely clamps her mouth shut, then sets off at a brisk walk. She has to find her friends and let them know what's going on. Otherwise, there's no telling what sort of trouble they might unwittingly get themselves into.
jane_eyre: (watchful)

[personal profile] jane_eyre 2015-12-01 09:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Somewhere, a Hot Topic is burning.

Jane moves quickly. She has no idea how she set that establishment aflame, but this is no time to wonder about that. Certainly not when there are so many questions to be answered.

Such as: what is this horrible place? Everything is so bright and ghastly. She's never seen a house like this, if it even is a house. She can scarcely conceive of any of it. Perhaps she doesn't need to. She has a distant memory of being transported to a strange world before, long ago - it was brief and dreamlike, difficult to recall. But she recalls that the best thing to do was to keep moving, and not ask too many questions.

So she hurries through broad corridors and down immense, unadorned staircases (giving those nightmarish moving steps a wide berth). She passes by many shops with strange window displays and confusing names (a 'Doctor Martin', for example, who seems to be some manner of cobbler).

Finally she sees another person - sensibly dressed, at that - walking in her direction. She stops, lifting a hand in shy greeting.

"Excuse me," she says, "but I don't suppose you know what this place is?"
andhiswife: (this isn't awkward at all)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-12-01 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, there's someone, at least. Greta doesn't believe she's seen the young lady before, but she's been wandering by herself for long enough that it's good just to see another face. Better still that the woman's manner and dress rather remind her of home, though it does give her a pang - both because she misses it, and because she wouldn't wish her own Rift experience on anyone, let alone someone else from long ago.

Still, there's noticeable relief in her tone when she replies, "No idea, I'm afraid. I think it might be a mall." Going off the other woman's (completely understandable) baffled look, she adds, "It's a sort of..." She makes a few unhelpful hand gestures. "... Big, indoor marketplace. But this one is much larger than I would have expected."

She huffs out a breath and looks around in general consternation for a moment before returning her attention to the lady. She ought to warn her about the wishes, but first things, first. "I'm Greta," she offers, extending a hand hopefully. "Greta Baker."

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singthesong: (Poppies)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-11-29 02:44 am (UTC)(link)
Leon Czolgosz would absolutely hate this place.

It's kind of a weird first thought to have, but the Balladeer's rarely seen such monuments to blatant consumerism, and he does sort of live in New York City. He spent most of his life among those people; it's not weird that his thoughts jump back to them sometimes, right?

Welllll, it doesn't matter. He's pretty sure it's all a dream anyway.

Since none of this is real, the shops aren't especially interesting. He stops for a few minutes in a guitar store, but that's it. No need to fawn over things he can't have. That's how he ends up down in the aquarium, elbow-deep in water and grinning as he stretches out his arm so that a passing stingray glides smoothly beneath his fingertips. The sign said pet! He's petting! This is totally allowed and no one can stop him.
wildmage_daine: (otter calm)

[personal profile] wildmage_daine 2015-11-29 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)
A rather damp scampering sound heralds the arrival of a rather damp otter. Don't ask how she got that way; it's not important. Also, don't go downstairs.

Daine's not expecting to run into anyone, and when she spots the Balladeer at the stingray petting pool, she pulls up short with a little squeak of alarm. Once she recognizes him, she relaxes a little. At least it's someone she knows.

Hullo, she says, her breezy tone coming across as just a bit forced. Everything's fine!
singthesong: (The One With The Colors)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-11-30 07:23 am (UTC)(link)
The Balladeer was too absorbed in watching the stingrays to notice the squeak of an otter, but he looks up at Daine's voice.

"Oh, hello!" He straightens, keeping his now-dripping arm above the tank to keep from soaking his shirt. That tone did sound a tiny bit forced, but he's not one to immediately leap to a bad conclusion. "Been swimming with the fishes?"

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literatimariano: (Inconspicuous with book)

[personal profile] literatimariano 2015-11-30 12:29 am (UTC)(link)
Jess is here, but he has no idea how or why. However, as he is brand new to this, he also doesn't think to question it.

It's really eerie here. He's never been to the Mall of America, but it's fairly obvious that's where he is, though he's not sure not why he would come here, especially while it's so deserted. That doesn't stop him from sniffing out the nearest bookstore and having a look around, though. It's his go-to plan.
andhiswife: (oh dear)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-11-30 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
Greta sweeps across an atrium, glancing up at the higher levels for any sign of other people. It isn't until she drops her gaze that she spots a young man in a nearby bookstore. She doesn't recognize him, but if he's here at all, he ought to be warned. Into the bookstore, then.

"Er, pardon me," she starts, lifting a hand to get the lad's attention. "You're, um... you are from Manhattan, yes?"

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eliotwaugh: (in his comfort zone)

[personal profile] eliotwaugh 2015-12-02 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Three of what? That's needlessly vague, and at first Eliot wonders if this is some sort of flash mob street art nonsense, but the mall is nearly empty. It's a little frightening, to be honest--such a large space that's meant to be filled with people, and yet it's so quiet he can hear his own footsteps despite the carefully-engineered insulation. A dead cathedral to middle-American capitalism. Gives him the creeps.

Eliot has a vague sort of idea where he is, from a half-remembered church trip in his wee years and, more appropriately, from one of those Mighty Ducks movies. Where is this place again? Wisconsin? Some awful state like that.

Well whatever the signs mean, they sure as shit don't mean three drinks, because Eliot's settled himself in a sushi bar on the third floor and is plowing through dream sake like there's no tomorrow.
erratic_hematic: (oh yup)

[personal profile] erratic_hematic 2015-12-03 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
Spike has never been to the Mall of America, but he definitely knows a mall when he sees one. Without the crowds its a slightly strange experience, but not an unpleasant one. The variety here is amazing and there's just so much to look at. For a while he wanders in and out of shops looking at things before he notices Eliot knocking back sake like a pro.

He wanders in and takes a cup for himself. "Hey, where's the fire?"
Edited 2015-12-03 01:11 (UTC)

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jane_eyre: (curious)

[this is happening after the thread with Greta]

[personal profile] jane_eyre 2015-12-02 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)
She is dreaming. She is dreaming, and she is dreaming like this because she has been brought to an American city in a strange future. Again. She recalls that this happened before, very briefly, and then it was over, like a mercifully ending dream. She will wake up there, even though she did not fall asleep there.

All this is flitting about her head because she had the audacity to wish aloud for understanding.

Her curiosity always did get the best of her.

And where is Ms. Baker? She can't recall leaving the woman, who was kind and eager to help. As in a dream, things have shifted, and she is alone again.

Feeling rather desolate, she wanders anew, searching for nobody in particular, nonetheless hoping somebody decides to show themself.