applesaucedream | The Shavings Off Your Mind are the Only Rent [Open to All]

The Shavings Off Your Mind are the Only Rent [Open to All]

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Picture a house. Actually, picture two houses. They're (almost) identical structures that share an uneasy coexistence, tangled together on a quantum level. One of the houses is Good: bright, cheerful, full of comfortable furniture and a pervasive feeling of safety. The other house is Evil: dingy, dilapidated, and haunted by the dreamers' greatest fears.

The good news - and bad news - is that travel from one house to the other is as simple as passing through a door. All a dreamer has to do is walk through a doorway, any doorway, and they'll find themselves in whichever house they weren't in before they crossed the threshold. Perhaps they'll step out of a beautiful library and find themselves in a threatening hallway - or perhaps they'll flee a menacing kitchen and find themselves in a perfectly safe dining room. That is the nature of the houses' entanglement: every door is a portal between the two.

There are, of course, complications. Dreamers in one house can't perceive the other; if you're in the Good house and looking through a doorway, the space beyond will look as nice and inviting as the space you're in now (until you step through that doorway, of course). Dreamers also can't really perceive one another if they're in the same room, but in different houses, though they might see a flash of movement out of the corner of their eye, or think they heard something.

Perhaps the greatest complications are the houses themselves. They have rather strong personalities, and they aren't very fond of one another. Each house will want to keep you if it can (keep you safe, in the case of the Good house, or keep you for itself, in the case of the Evil one). Dreamers may attempt to cross a hall and find the door that looked open and inviting a moment ago is now barred shut, leaving them trapped in the hall - or have doors suddenly close in their faces before they can end up anywhere unpleasant. Still, there's only so much either house can do, and even a locked door can be jimmied open or busted down.

Escape from the houses is possible, but the formal gardens beyond are similarly entangled, with neatly trimmed lawns and expertly plotted flower beds becoming overgrown tangles of nettles and algae-choked reflecting pools. An archway is as good as a door, as far as the gardens are concerned, and there are plenty of arbors and arches over the paths. Of course, dreamers may find that a sound arbor in the Good garden has collapsed in the Evil one… and heaven help anyone who dares to explore the hedge maze.

[ooc: y'all know the drill. ALL characters are welcome, regardless of whether they're in the game. Characters can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion.

Also, this dream party marks the aforementioned calendar freeze. For the next three weeks, the IG date will sit on July 3rd. Posts dated July 3rd or earlier are allowed and encouraged. The calendar will resume forward motion at a 4:1 ratio on Saturday, July 26th.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This seems a nice place. Not only is the room in which Aglet finds himself clean and homey, but it seems purpose-made for a Borrower. Low chairs and couches sport fringes that reach the floor, short carpet deadens the sound of his footsteps without snagging his feet, and there no signs of ~~other~~ vermin whatsoever. When he comes to a grate with openings wide enough to admit his body he pauses and peers inside, curious about the ducts and other spaces inside the walls. In such a lovely house, perhaps other borrowers have set up home -- or at least he can get into the sort of enclosed spaces where he feels most comfortable and scout out routes to other rooms. Adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag, he clambers between the bars and into the dim space behind. He'll get out his candle stub once he's inside and has his hands free, of course, and then he'll explore.

Only when he gets inside it's suddenly a lot darker than it looked from the room. Aglet balks, glancing at the grate to see why the light isn't coming through -- only it's changed since he climbed through. Now there's a filthy air filter covering the inside of the grate, held firmly in place by a metal mesh. "Huh?" he asks, reaching out to touch it. "But --"

But what he never says, because it's then that Aglet hears motion behind him. Whirling to face it and then standing stock still, he strains to hear. A skittering sound sends chills up his back, and he fumbles for his candle stub, hurriedly getting it out and setting it on the floor so he can light it with his flint and steel. The sparks reveal shapes moving in the darkness, and it takes Aglet several desperate tries before the wick lights, revealing that the space he so blithely climbed into is crawling with insects. He lets out a cry and steps quickly away from one right beside him on the wall, the circle of firelight making the others shy away...though nowhere near as far away as he wishes they would. Bugs he's seen before and bugs he can kill, but there are so many, and not all of them are the kinds that only eat plants or wood chips. Some he recognizes as the kind that eat other bugs...or meat.

How long Aglet is inside the wall he wouldn't be able to say, but by the time he emerges from a crack in the wall elsewhere he's lost both his candle stub and one of his shoes. "Get off! Get off!" he howls as he finds himself stuck partway through, legs kicking at awful crawling things while his upper half sticks out into another room as lovely as the first.

Bee's staring out the windows, admiring the gardens, wondering if she can find a way out to them, when the slightest little sound catches her attention. She straightens up, holding very still and listening carefully. She can still hear it - there is definitely some small creature in distress. Maybe a mouse? She creeps around the room, peering at the perimeter's wainscoting, when she sees it: a flash of movement from the grate! Oh - it's a person!

She wants to be delighted by the smallness of him, but now is not the moment. He's in trouble! She crouches down quickly, cupping her hands beneath him.

"I'm here, little one!" she says softly. "It's all right. Grab onto me."

Aglet still has the presence of mind to register fear as a bean he's never met before suddenly looms large above him, but something pinches his leg hard and that's all it takes for him to grab onto her hand without a second thought and pull as hard as he can, twisting his hips and finally feeling himself come free of the too-small gap through which he had to climb. "Oh God," he says as he lands in her palms, shuddering, leg bleeding.

Bee frowns in immediate concern when he tugs himself free - something was clutching onto him, perhaps trying to eat him? She doesn't want to imagine what. Instead he moves slowly, trying not to jostle him, away from the grate and sits herself down on the floor, back against the sofa.

"Oh, darling," she murmurs. "You're bleeding." She doesn't want to get too close to him or prod around without being able to see better. And poor thing, he's so afraid. "Can you tell me how bad it is?"

"I am?" His breath catches and he makes a convulsive effort to sit up and look. The leg of his homemade trousers is damp with blood, and he reaches for it like he's going to pull the fabric up when he remembers where he is and turns his head to stare up at his rescuer's face.

"...Um," he says. "I. Oh. You...you don't seem surprised."

"By what?" She blinks at him for a moment of genuine confusion. "Oh, you mean your size? Well there's time enough for that later; right now we'd better make sure you're patched up, hadn't we?" She smiles at him, she hopes encouragingly.

"Well, yeah," mumbles Aglet, not sure what to make of it. Maybe she's seen other borrowers? Or maybe people come in all sizes where she's from, or maybe she's just weird in the head.

Still, he's not going to turn his nose up at help, even if it's more direct help than he'd like to accept from a strange bean under most circumstances. He starts to roll up his trouser leg, but soon finds it isn't happening. "Hold real still so I don't cut myself," he requests, getting out his knife to cut the fabric off.

Bee complies, holding her hands as steady as she can make them while he does his work, chewing her lip in consternation. She's not sure how to help such a small person - some neosporin and a q-tip would be really optimal right about now. Maybe there's a bathroom - but given the nature she's observed so far in this house, she's a little nervous to go exploring, especially with a wounded charge.

"What's your name?" she asks after a moment.

"Aglet," he replies as he carefully cuts a slit down the leg of his trousers so he can peel it open...and hopefully stitch it back together later, when he's washed the blood out. Waste not, want not. He even wipes off the blade of the knife and puts it away properly before going on; he may be injured but he can tell already it's not something worth risking the loss of a good knife through carelessness over. It doesn't seem so bad at all now that he's in this bright room, away from the creatures in the wall. He'll be okay, he decides.

"It's not that bad," he declares with relief when he finds a long but shallow cut rather than the puncture wound he'd been afraid of.

"That's good," says Bee, echoing his relief. She hesitates, wondering if he likes being held, or if he'd rather have autonomy. Probably the latter. She realizes with a little internal jerk of surprise that she can't predict as well as she might normally do. Her ability seems... dulled, perhaps because of something to do with him? Or the house? Or that it's a dream? Odd, but not too concerning just now.

"Aglet," she says gently (what a sweet name). "My name is Bee. Would you like me to put you down?"

"Like the bug?" asks Aglet. "That's a lot more sensible than most bean names -- sorry, most human names. And, um...yes, if you don't mind."

This whole interaction is just surreal to him. Since when do beans react to seeing borrowers with polite introductions and immediate offers to put those borrowers back on the floor where they found them? On top of the handful of others he's met over the months, it's almost enough to make him think Aunt Euphony might have wrong about beans in general...but Aunt Euphony's never been wrong about anything else.

"You've seen borrowers before?" he asks, jumping to the obvious conclusion.

"Just like the bug," says Bee, tickled by his appraisal. She lowers her hands carefully to the floor and tips them at a slight incline, so he can slide down at his own discretion.

"Is that what you are?" she inquires with interest. Borrower sounds familiar - little people, like in fairytales. She smiles at the thought. "I haven't had the pleasure. But I've already met so many interesting people - human and otherwise - since I came through the Rift... a little one like you doesn't surprise me that much."

Aglet half slides, half scrambles down her hands to the floor, stumbling a little once he's on his own two feet. Now that he's not thinking about it so much, the cut doesn't bother him like it did. If he were to look at it, he might even find it's hardly bleeding anymore.

"Uh huh. There are probably borrowers where you come from, too; you just wouldn't know about them. I...I don't think I'm very good at hiding anymore," he confesses, thinking of just how many humans he's let see him by now.

"I'm sure that's not it," says Bee kindly, sitting back. "It must be difficult to get by in such an unfamiliar place all on your own. I wouldn't have been able to do it without help. And anyway, it can be nice to meet new people. I love meeting people - and there's so many interesting people to meet here, thanks to the Rift."

"The wall was full of bugs," blurts Aglet. It sounds like an excuse to his ears, especially since she's already giving him a pass -- but he doesn't really want a pass. A borrower is better than that. He shouldn't let beans see him, but this time it really wasn't his fault.

"Is that what hurt you?" Bee frowns in sympathy. She has nothing against bugs at her size, but she can't imagine how terrifying they must be to someone so small. "Well, there you are, you couldn't stay in there." Poor thing, he seems really uneasy being seen. She doesn't exactly want to let him out of her sight though, injured and lost in a house full of unpredictable dangers. "Do you have any friends in Manhattan? Anyone who helps you?"

Aglet shudders and nods. A few bugs he can handle given a decent weapon, but there had been more in there and bigger than he's ever seen at once before now. Is that what all the walls are like in Manhattan? Jennifer made it sound that way, but he doesn't see how the beans tolerate it when the ones back home would gas a house for so much less.

"I live in my friend Jennifer's apartment," he replies. "That's where I came through the rift, and I just...never left, I guess."

Hang on. "...And I don't remember coming here," he says, things suddenly clicking. He's hopeful as he adds, "Does that mean this is another dream?"

"It is," she confirms with a smile. "I confess I've never had one of these before. Is it always like this? I mean... dangerous?" She pulls her knees up and wraps her arms around them, resting her chin on her forearms and peering down at Aglet curiously. She hasn't met a Jennifer, but it's good he has a friend.

"Sometimes," confirms Aglet. "Sometimes they're nice, but sometimes...I mean, Jennifer and I died in one once. And you don't know what kind of people you're going to meet."

Not that anyone's attacked him yet, but he hasn't entirely given up being afraid of strange beans.

"Oh, dear." She frowns at the thought of dying in a dream. Everything else here is so realistic, she can't imagine death would be any less horrifying. "I'm sorry to hear that. But I'm sure if we just stay here, we'll be all right. The house only seems to make trouble when you're on the move, I think." She tilts her head at him, wondering about the last thing he said. "Have you ever met anyone who wanted to harm you?"

Aglet looks sheepish. "Well, no. Not yet. Aunt Euphony always used to tell me about what happened to borrowers who got seen by beans, though, and none of it was ever good."

Bee hums thoughtfully. She can understand that. There are certainly a lot of bad people out there, enough for borrowers to worry over.

"I'm sure she knew what she was talking about," she says with a sage nod. "And that it was to protect you. But you're on your own now, aren't you? You might have to start trusting a few of us beans." She grins, tickled by his adorable slang. "We're not all so bad. And those of us who've come through the Rift, well, we've got to look after each other, haven't we?"

Bee's never met any harmful rifty-beans either, as it happens.

"Jennifer's alright," acknowledges Aglet. "And you seem alright, too. I guess I just never expected beans to take it very well, not even beans who've been through the rift."

He looks thoughtful, and it finally occurs to him to try to learn a little more about her beyond the fact that she's a bean and she's nice. "What kind of place are you from?" he asks.

Bee smiles, pleased to see him relaxing a little bit. "A place a lot like this one," she says. "Well. The waking world, I mean. No rifts or rifties that I know of, but otherwise, I haven't noticed any strong differences."

She scoots back a bit, moving carefully, not wanting to cause undue vibrations or startle him at all. She slips down onto her stomach, resting her chin in her hands, her legs kicking slightly behind her. She can be very like a child, when she feels complacent and calm enough.

"To be honest I rather like it here," she says. "Having come through. It's an adventure."

Aglet nods. As far as he can tell his own world is a lot more like this one than like Jennifer's, but hers is the only one he's heard about for comparison. "I never really wanted adventure," he admits readily, taking the opportunity to also make himself comfortable by sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I mean, other than borrowing, that was enough. We'd gone to live with some of my cousins, or else I don't think I ever would have left the house where I was born."

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