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]

photo JulyDreamPartyImage01_zps8d9e51ff.jpg

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.]

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She'd been asleep, but now she's here - an unfamiliar room, and not a very nice one. A cellar, in fact - barrels of wine and jars of strange, unlabeled liquids filling up dusty old shelves. The only light is a harsh worklamp positioned over a table against the far wall. She wanders over - carefully now, this is not a good place for bare feet - to take a closer look, and-

Oh! She shuffles back in quick horror, her hands clasped over her mouth. Someone has been working on a mask. In another circumstance she might think it beautiful craftsmanship - the painting so lifelike, such a good approximation of skin tone and texture. But it makes her almost sick to see it. The mask is a too-perfect likeness of her own face.

The brown tones of her skin, every shape and curve of her features perfectly rendered - no slits to see through, only closed eyes, even lashes, rendered perhaps with horsehair. She doesn't want to get close enough to see or touch.

Her back finds a wood pillar, a weakening support - it shifts slightly when she runs into it, and she can feel the head of an old nail jabbing at the small of her back. She steps forward quickly. Got to be more careful. Better yet, got to find a way out.

She skirts around the table, its singular light so like a grotesque invitation, seeking out an exit. Even a small window will do. As she gropes through the lengthening dark, she can't seem to take her eyes off the mask, terrified by its deathly stillness, the accuracy of it.

Finally, her hand finds the half-rotting bannister of a staircase leading up, oh thank goodness - she's about to turn away, casting one last fearful glance at the mask-

Its eyes are open.

This time she can't help letting out a scream. The mask's eyes - her own eyes - are staring coldly at her from the table, like at any moment it could get up on an invisble body and start toward her, or like its mouth could open and speak.

She turns away in terrified anguish, hurrying up the stairs so fast she almost trips several times, finding the door at the top, stuck fast with swelled wood. She throws her little body against it harder and harder until, finally, it bursts open and she stumbles out, free, heart still pounding, breath still coming hard and fast.

Edited 2014-07-07 18:58 (UTC)

The Doctor jumps a little when a young lady suddenly bursts into the room. He'd just been pottering about, exploring. Well, beginning to explore. He hadn't actually made it out of the room yet. It's a cozy little kitchen, and he'd been looking through the cupboards to try and figure out the year.

This is immediately abandoned the moment the girl joins him, of course. "It's alright, I'm here," he reassures after barely a moment of looking at her fright, and he runs over to the door to see what's chasing her.

...There's nothing, actually. Just a regular, well-lit staircase, no sign of disturbance, no sound of footsteps or growls or yells or anything. He closes the door anyway, before turning back to the girl to make sure she's alright.

"Okay, I've got you, you're safe now," he says calmly, reaching gently out for her shoulders to steady her.

"I-" Bee turns to look with him, even though there wasn't anything chasing her, strictly, just... unbearable horror. The staircase is different now! Lit, carpeted... "I don't understand," she says, bewildered, as he closes the door. "That wasn't where I came from..."

Well in any case, she's terribly relieved there's someone else here. She turns back to him and answers the steadying gesture by stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him, glad for the comfort. "Thank you," she whispers.

Hugs! The Doctor gladly and protectively wraps his arms around her, stroking her hair for a moment and giving her a comforting squeeze. "That's alright," he answers, pulling back after a few moments to give her a warm smile, his hands resting on her arms to not pull back completely.

"You look like you could use a hot cup of something. Tea? Cocoa? I'm sure we can find something here," he says. She only seems to have had a bit of a fright.

Oh, he hugs very well. Bee immediately feels better - and that she's finally found a stranger who's exactly as affectionate as she is upon first meeting. Usually she keeps these impulses under wraps, but it seems she doesn't have to here. He pulls back and she smiles broadly up at him.

"Cocoa sounds wonderful," she says a bit shyly. "Sorry, it's just... I saw something down there, something awful. I like it much better up here."

"Oh?" he asks with a frown, setting about finding and making the cocoa. "What did you see? Is there something I can do?" For a moment he looks like he's ready to spring into action, before he remembers that he's actually already doing something for her, and he should finish that first.

"It..." Now that she's in the relative safety of this new room, with this comforting stranger, she feels a little silly having been so frightened. Still though, the memory of the mask is quite close, and she shudders a little. "It was very strange. I saw a mask on a table, but it was my face." She fidgets with her skirt, looking around the kitchen. "It looked at me."

The Doctor continues making the cocoa for them, having put on a kettle to heat some milk, and bustles around finding the cocoa, some sugar, some vanilla extract. He can't find marshmallows, but he does find a pack of lovely biscuits, so he puts some on a plate.

"No wonder you were frightened," he answers, frowning a bit at this news. Maybe she just imagined it, or maybe there's something very sinister going on, could be either. "I can have a look later, or we can go down together, if you want," he offers. It sounds scary, but he can't imagine she wouldn't want to know why it was there in the first place.

On the contrary... "No, thank you," says Bee, shaking her head vigorously. "I don't ever want to see if again, if I can help it." Anyway she's convinced now it was just some trick of the dream - not anything requiring investigation.

She valiantly ignores the idea that she does not like the idea of placing her own subconscious under investigation, a bit ironic, perhaps, given what she can do.

Speaking of... she can't see anything about him. Odd. He's kind, that much is obvious, but beyond that it's all... murky.

Wait a moment! "I didn't introduce myself!" She claps a hand to her mouth, mortified at having forgotten something so basic. "My name is Bee!" She sticks her hand out at once, determined to make up for lost time.

The Doctor nods understandingly. He'll have a look later then, just in case. But it doesn't seem urgent, so the cocoa and comfort is definitely first priority. He's poured and almost finished mixing it now.

He grins warmly at her embarrassment, and shakes her hand happily. She seems like a very sweet girl. "I'm the Doctor. It's nice to meet you, Bee," he says, smiling while turning back and pouring a dab of milk into each mug of cocoa, cooling them down a little. "And here we are!" He picks up the mug and hands it to her with a grin.

Bee grins and accepts the mug gratefully. "Thank you so much," she says. "Doctor."

The Doctor. Seems important. She sips the cocoa (delicious!) for a moment, eyeing him over the top of the mug.

"Is this my dream or yours?" she asks eventually. Seems an odd question, but somehow she expects he'll take it in stride.

He sips the cocoa too for a moment (his is perhaps a little heavy on the vanilla), and looks up in surprise at the question. It takes him a few moments.

"Oh, of course!" he exclaims after a second. "A dream, that makes sense." He nods thoughtfully. "You know, I honestly don't know, I haven't had any proper experience with it. I only recently found out that was a thing that happens here. But this place doesn't seem particularly familiar." There was one other dream that seemed unusual, but he didn't know about shared dreams until after it.

"Nor to me," she says. "I think... it might be both of ours? Or maybe... someone else's?" The whole thing is pretty strange. But she might as well go with it. She's already come through a rift in spacetime, what's a little shared dreaming?

Bee moves to the rather tall kitchen table and pulls out a stool, which she has to hoist herself up onto, setting her cocoa down and resting her elbows beside it. She's feeling so much better now that she has a good hot drink and a friend. She quite likes this man - he's so interesting, and he has such wonderful enthusiasm. She wishes she could see more about him - that'll be the dream, she suspects, higher brain functions not operating normally while asleep or something - but then, she could ask him. Like a regular person. He seems the type that wouldn't be shy to answer her either.

"So... I hope you don't mind me asking," she says. "But who are you? I mean, I know you're a doctor - or is it the Doctor? What do you do, really?" He leans forward a little, resting her head on her arm. "I'm very curious."

"Apparently the Rift brings in lots of people for shared dreams sometimes. There might be more people running around in here," he answers, doing the same, having a seat next to her.

"The Doctor, yes, though I am also a doctor," he answers with a nod. He considers the question for while, sipping his cocoa. "I guess you could say I'm an adventurer. An explorer," he answers. "I travel around, meeting people, solving mysteries, usually getting into trouble." He grins. "What about you?"

"Sounds exciting!" she says, thoroughly charmed. "I'm just a beekeeper. No real profession, or you know, life path. But I'm young for that. Mama told me not to worry, not even if I made it all the way to thirty and still didn't know, because your whole entire life is an adventure." She stretches out her arms, an awkward little fidget, then laces her fingers back around her cocoa. "How old are you?" she asks curiously.

"That sounds wonderful. And your Mama sounds like she had the right idea," the Doctor answers excitedly. There's nothing "just" about being a beekeeper. Something people have observed a lot about him, is his real interest in just about anyone and anything. That's why 'meeting people' is such a big part of the adventuring.

"Oh, a lot older than thirty," he answers vaguely. "Are you keeping bees here in the city?"

"Yes!" she says, delighted by his interest. "Well, soon. Actually I think... today's the 3rd, isn't it? We were going to find a colony today. Daine and I. She's a friend of mine. I'm very excited about it. I'm going to keep them on the roof of the Rebel apartments. Are you with a faciton?"

The Doctor nods with interest listening to her. Daine... Hadn't the TARDIS mentioned a Daine while telling him things? He wonders if it's the same Daine.

"Oh, no, I get by just fine on my own. But I'd love to come see your bees! You know, I think I might have some in the TARDIS..." But there's probably plenty colonies that already need looking after, so Bee doesn't need his help finding some, when the TARDIS is already taking care of theirs.

Bee's eyes widen a little at this strange reference. What on earth does that word mean? He says it almost like it's something she should know, but it sounds wonderfully foreign.

"What's the TARDIS?" she asks, bright and fascinated.

"My ship. And also my best friend," he answers matter of factly. "She's here too. In New York, I mean, not in the dream. At least I think..." He pauses for a second and feels around for her presence. "No, she's not in the dream. At least not yet." It doesn't occur to her that he's probably being confusing in a lot of ways at the moment.

"O-oh." Bee tilts her head, thoroughly confused, in fact. She's not sure what to make of his moment of apparent thought, but perhaps he's some sort of telepath? Doesn't seem outside the realm of possibility. She's much more curious about the nature of this friend of his. "She's a ship? What kind of ship?"

"The kind that travels in time and space. Well, usually. We're a bit landlocked at the moment," he answers with a frown. It's very troubling, actually. Not necessarily that he's forced to actually remain in the same place (though that is sure to get tedious soon enough), but the amount of pain it has been causing her. It's not the first time, and it surely won't be the last, so he has no doubt they'll get out of it, but that doesn't make it any more pleasant.

"You're a time traveller?" Bee's mouth actually drops open. She's so thrilled by this information that it takes her a solid moment to notice he's gotten a little melancholy.

"I - I'm sorry. That must be hard." She reaches out and lays a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "I can't even imagine, after being able to go just... anywhere. Really anywhere. That must be incredible. And then being stuck here."

She frowns. She's only thought about coming through the Rift as a nice thing, in that she rather likes it here. But she's only human. It must be a trial for greater, freer beings, feeling so trapped.

That line of thought leads her quickly to a question she is rather excited to ask.

"Are you... you're not human, then?" she ventures.

The Doctor smiles warmly at her sympathy, and also at her excitement. He doesn't want to dwell on it, not when he has such lovely company. If he could, he would definitely enjoy taking Bee for a trip or two somewhere.

"I'm a Time Lord, from the planet Gallifrey," he answers, awaiting follow-up questions with a smile.

Don't squeal. Don't squeal.

"Gosh!" she says, just shy of squealing. "You're an alien? I've been hoping to meet an alien!"

She sits back, taking him in more fully. "But you look so human! Are you a lot like humans or can you look different? I-"

She covers her mouth, feeling self-conscious and shy. "I have a lot of questions."

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