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

[applesaucemod]

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.]

Comments

[eighth]

For a moment his hearts give a jump, but then he's disappointed, and he shakes his head. "I was just traveling with a Lucie Miller, but no Cole, no. Although we do have space bees. Could be she's from the same universe as me," he answers. Although plenty of universes have space bees. This one might too, he hasn't checked.

[apidae]

"Huh." Bee frowns thoughtfully, sorry at having given false hope, though at least he doesn't seem too broken up over it. "What's the TARDIS like? She's... a ship with a personality? Does she talk? Can I meet her?"

[eighth]

The Doctor cheers up immediately again at that. "Oh, I'm sure you'll get to meet her at some point. She has a body too, in addition to the ship part, so yes, she talks. She's about your size, actually."

[apidae]

"My size?" Bee laughs at the idea. "Seems funny for a ship to be so small, even if it is just a... piece. How big is she really - I mean, the ship part?" She hesitates. That almost seems like an impolite question, but... for a ship? This is entirely unfamiliar conversational territory. "Is it all right to ask?" she says a bit shyly.

[eighth]

"Well, the body is primarily just part of how she interfaces with the world. And I don't see why not," he answers. Well, if she was fishing for secret information about the TARDIS inner workings, but she clearly isn't. He's really just delighting in her excitement. "She's dimensionally transcendental, so the outside is the size of a police telephone box, but the inside is practically endless."

[apidae]

Her eyes go wide at that, trying to picture endless space fitting into a phone booth. "Like Mary Poppins' bag?" is all she can think to say. "That's amazing! I can't wait to see!" She takes a moment to drink more cocoa, still eyeing him excitedly over the rim. "Do all Gall- Gallifreyans? Do they all have ships like that?"

[eighth]

He laughs at her comparison and nods. He'd always suspected Mary Poppins was inspired by some Time Lady or other who'd interfered.

"No. For one thing, you have to be a Time Lord. And they're a pretty dull lot, with strict rules of non-interference. You're not supposed to go bouncing around the time stream like her and I do."

[apidae]

"Really?" She sips more cocoa, and angles her body toward him, eager for what sounds like a good story. "So you and she, you're... sort of rebels, are you?"

[eighth]

"Well, the term is renegade," he answers with a bright grin. "But honestly, I still think 'adventurer' is much more accurate. We know when to interfere and when not to."

Well, you know, mostly. There have been a few mishaps. But he doesn't like to dwell too long on them. Just try to do better next time.

"But we're talking far too much about me now. What about you? Where do you come from?" He sips his cocoa with raised eyebrows.

[apidae]

"But I like hearing about you," she faux-complains with a laugh. "You've done so much more than me. What's to tell?"

Even so, she acquieses easily enough. It's only fair. "Alabama," she says. "Just a little town. My mama was a doctor too, actually." She smiles. Not the same kind, obviously, but, just so. "A pediatrician. She was my teacher, too. And my granddaddy taught me to explore." She has the urge to sit cross-legged, but that won't do on a stool, so after a moment she pushes her cup aside and hoists herself up onto the table itself, pulling her legs under her. Much better. Now she's taller than him.

"He was an apiarist," she says proudly. "And mama loved Emily Dickinson. You know, she wrote so many poems about bees? That's where my name comes from."

[eighth]

The Doctor leans his elbows on the table, listening with interest, nodding and smiling occasionally. He quite likes her grandfather too already - it's important, to know how to explore.

"Of course. She read me 'To Make A Prairie' before she published it." Is he showing off again? Whoops. Oh well. "It's a good name," he adds.

[apidae]

For a moment, Bee thinks he might be joking. But why would he? He's a time traveller, after all, and what would she do with that ability? Certainly chum around with literary heroes, that's what.

"She read to you?" She stares, completely stunned. "That's - that's amazing! What was she like?"

[eighth]

"Very solitary," he answers thoughtfully. "That was one of the few times I met her. We mostly wrote letters. She declined traveling with me, unfortunately. You know, I'm sure I still have some of those letters, though..." He seems too lost in thought to notice her excitement at the moment.

[apidae]

She nods, rapt even as his attention wanders. Of course she's solitary. How wonderful, though, to have even a brief encounter with someone like that. And there must be more, countless more, that he's met.

"You asked her to travel with you?" she says curiously. Seems strange, plucking a great poet right out of her time. Hadn't she more poetry to write?

[eighth]

"Yes, but she didn't fancy it. Not everyone does. You'd think when someone offers you all of time and space, you'd take them up on it, but." He gives a shrug and sips more of his cocoa. Nearing the end of it now. "Bill Shakespeare though, there's a boy who loved traveling. And Mary Shelley, she came along for a few trips, too."

[apidae]

She's so delighted now that she actually snorts a little when she giggles. She covers her mouth shyly and says, "Now you're just showing off." Well, at least she noticed eventually, right?

She picks up her cocoa and focuses on it for a moment. "I can see not wanting to do it, though," she says after a moment. "Sounds... overwhelming."

She doesn't add that it also sounds wonderful. Not fair to add it, really, when he can't do it right now.

[eighth]

He merely grins at the accusation that he's showing off. Well, can you blame him? He isn't lying though, just bragging. Of course, William was just a boy when he came along with him and Charley. And he had still drunk Charley under the table. Literally.

The Doctor nods at the second bit. "I try to pace it for what they prefer," he answers. It's not uncommon for him to save the universe once or twice while his companions are asleep or taking a bath or something. And sometimes he needs a breather too, of course. "And the TARDIS is very good at taking care of everyone's needs."

[apidae]

"That's good." Bee grins. "She sounds like a good ship."

She goes quiet for a moment, sitting and studying him. "I wish I could see your patterns," she says finally.

She almost can't believe she's said it. She never just comes out and mentions the patterns, not without some provocation or a direct question. It's something about him, she supposes, that she trusts his curiosity and his enthusiasm, and his apparently immense knowledge, trusts him not to judge or become alarmed at the idea. She chews her lip and tucks her chin down, nursing her cocoa with diffidence.

[eighth]

"Best there is," he agrees, finishing off his cocoa. When Bee speaks up again, he looks up in confusion and curiosity. What is he, a quilt? "My patterns?" he asks gently, since Bee seems to feel awkward at having mentioned it.

[apidae]

She finishes hers as well and sets it aside carefully, all actions to delay the answering. She has to get this right.

"It's something I can do," she says. "Only when I'm awake, I guess. It's not working right now. I've... I've always been able to do it. I guess do isn't the right word, I don't do anything, or see anything. I just... know. As soon as I meet a person, I know... how they came to be."

So difficult to explain. But somehow she's not so nervous now as she was trying to run it by Spike. Maybe a renegade time traveler will understand.

"Not just... where they were born, or what day they came to town," she says. "Everything. What it was like growing up. Things that molded them. Choices they made. Changes they went through. Pain they suffered, things they fear, what they want, what they wish they hadn't done. It's... it's a little overwhelming. I think I've gotten better at it since the Rift. Or it's gotten easier. Something."

She hunches her shoulders and presses her palms down on her crossed ankles, a little pose to draw herself inward. "I don't usually tell people. They don't like knowing that I can see every little thing. I try not to look, and... I don't see it all at once, some things don't really make sense until I really focus on them... but it's hard, sometmes. Some things are so important that they're impossible to avoid." She finally looks up at him again, searching, nervous to see his reaction. "I don't want people to hide from me. But I can't really turn it off."

[eighth]

The Doctor listens with rapt attention until she's finished, nodding occasionally. He doesn't answer immediately, but he looks sympathetic, neither scared nor repelled.

"I understand how that would be hard," he answers slowly, uncertain how to communicate his understanding.

He shifts a bit, frowning, then sits forward, clasping his hands. "When I tell someone I can travel in time, they're usually excited, like you. Disbelieving, quite often, at least at first, but eventually excited. But at some point they start to realise the sort of power this gives me over them, or over anyone."

"Any of the things you just mentioned, I could find out about them at the flip of a switch. Perhaps not what it was like for them, but I could make a pretty good guess. I could also change it, without them ever knowing. I could mold them, if I really needed to." The Doctor is currently nervous about how Bee will take this as well.

"It's difficult for people, to know you hold that kind of power over them. And you can't really know whether they'd be happier not knowing, or if you should even the playing field by at least letting them know what you can do. You just have to hope that people trust you enough to know that you wouldn't use it against them." He smiles gently at her, encouragingly.

[apidae]

Bee gazes at him as he talks, at first a little surprised by his response - not questions or speculation or even particular consolation, but commisseration. How unusual. It makes a good deal of sense though, the unwieldy power he holds over others - in truth she had indeed not yet considered the darker implications of his capabilities, and it does give her a little turn to think of it. The nobility and good intent in him is clear, but such immense power is difficult to ignore.

She gives him a small nod when he's finished, considering all he's said. "I suppose so," she murmurs. Encouraged by their somewhat shared predicament and his willingness to discuss it, she offers something she's never told anyone with a shy smile: "To be honest I think it's kind of wonderful. Sometimes it's a terrible burden, and it's difficult to bear, but... every once in a while, it's beautiful. Just being able to see all the little pieces that make up a person. I wish others could see themselves the way I do. Or at least understand." She curls over into an almost yoga-like position, dropping her chin into her hands, looking at him with bright eyes. "I bet yours are fascinating."

[eighth]

He smiles wider when she admits it's also wonderful. Of course, that's how he feels about time travel as well.

"Overlong and far too complicated, probably," he answers. He wonders just how much she'd be able to see. And he wonders if she'd even be able to see anything with the TARDIS. Given she's a being who generally exists across all across time, including her own personal timeline, it should be hard to make out any sort of cause-and-effect for anything before their arrival in this universe.

"You said you'd be able to do it all your life, though? At least I didn't start traveling in time until I was a few hundred."

[apidae]

"I don't know for sure when it started," she admits, "but it's as long as I can remember, so." She shrugs, then she grins broadly at him. "A few hundred? You weren't kidding about being older, were you?"

She reaches out on an impulse and ruffles his hair. She can't help it, it just looks so - rufflable. And she suspects he won't mind.

"You're looking well for being such an old man," she says jokingly.

[eighth]

The Doctor laughs when she ruffles his head, several curls bouncing in front of his eyes. "I moisturise," he answers cheekily, running a hand through his hand to get it out of his eyes. He doesn't mention that that was only his age when he left, and he's been traveling for a long time since then. A very, very long time.