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.]

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Well. He definitely isn't shy about his angelic identity at all. The TARDIS raises her eyebrows and tilts her head to examine his wings, noting that they're a different color and considerably smaller than Gabriel's. Not to mention messy, though not quite in the way Gabriel's were after his fall, just... unkempt. Someone should probably groom these.

Perhaps he's a different species of angel? If they were in the waking plane, her sensors could tell her if he's even from Gabriel's universe, but as it is she's not going to jump to any conclusions. She can judge Aziraphale on his own merit without risking Gabriel's safety.

"I am," she replies, lowering her eyes back to his. "Though not new." Regrettably so, and it shows in her tone of voice. "I'm a space and time ship, but stranded here."

"A space and time ship," he says, feeling a bit like an echo chamber, but unable to hide his deep curiosity. "I can't say I've ever, er... met anything like that before. Or seen one. I would never have expected such a thing to look like you."

This is rather odd. He puts his wings away after a moment - no sense keeping them out - and comes a little closer, peering thoughtfully at her. "Do you have a name, or do I just call you 'the TARDIS'?"

Usually she rather enjoys people being curious about her, but this has the distinct taste of someone examining an object. She's all too familiar with being looked at like that, and detests it. Seeing no reason to be polite and hide that fact, the air between them ripples with her displeasure.

Raising her chin in defiance, she answers distinctly peevishly, "That is my name, or I would not have given it as such. 'TARDIS' when addressing me," she adds, lest he be as obnoxious about it as Gabriel was when they first met. Though perhaps that is unavoidable, with angels. "And I will thank you not to refer to me as a thing."

Aziraphale takes a quick, instinctive step back when he feels the little wave of negative emotion - it might look a bit silly from a distance, him towering over her but backing away like a nervous cat. His impression is that she is quite powerful, in spite of her size and appearance, and that she very much intended for him to feel her distaste.

"Oh, I - of course," he says, a bit abashed. "Terribly sorry. I, er. Well." He stammers awkwardly for a bit. He's not used to being the stunned party in an introduction. "It's just, where I come from, ships are things. I've never met one before. Not sure of the, er, etiquette. Very pleased to meet you, though, ma'am." He gives her a - hopefully - winning smile. He has a rapidly growing list of questions - how does she maneuver through time and space looking like that being at the very top - but she doesn't seem to like questions.

"Where do you come from?" he settles, eventually. That seems... safe enough.

At least he has the good sense to have an appropriate amount of respect for her irritation. She's not terribly impressed by his stammering, but if he really is just accidentally rude like he seems to be trying to say, perhaps he can be taught. As off-putting as she finds this encounter so far, she's not willing to dismiss such an interesting being as quickly as she would a human.

Even when said being asks yet another unpleasant question. This time, admittedly, it isn't his fault. "A planet you most likely have not heard of," she replies, still rather stiffly, though she's reining in her palpable annoyance for now. "Are you from Earth? Also, the etiquette would be to treat me like you would any other sapient being." Since he seems to need that clarification.

"I'm... sorry to have offended you," he says, not without some caution. My, but she is prickly. Then again he supposes she must have to put up with this sort of thing a lot. She's not quite right, though, he can't treat her like any sapient being - it's clear now that she requires, or deserves, more respect than what he tends to give out. He feels, uncomfortably, that he may be speaking to a superior entity. With an awkward little shift of his weight, he adjusts his behavior accordingly.

"I am... of Earth," he adds, hesitating around the question. "Not exactly from it. Been living on it for a while though." He laces his fingers together, attempting to compose himself. "I've been alive since roundabout the Beginning, and... never have I come across any- anyone - like you. Or anyone from another planet, for that matter. Other planets aren't exactly within my purview." The cosmic jury had still been out on non-Earthly life where he was from. Dear, dear, this is all happening very fast.

"Would you..." He pauses, chewing his lip. Have to put exactly the right words in exactly the right order. It's like talking to Michael or Gabriel, any of those upper-tiered bureaucrats, everything has to be precisely measured out for fear of wrath.

"Would you be willing to tell me a little about... yourself," he says finally, delicately. "I'd be... very interested, and very pleased, to know more."

That is definitely a lot better. His respectful caution does a lot to mollify her, and she can't help feeling familiar pity at the fact that his universe, like Gabriel's, sounds so bereft of life and diversity. Having no experience with encountering new forms of life isn't an excuse to treat someone like a curious artifact, but it perhaps explains it a little.

Her expression softens a bit at his request and she neatly folds her hands behind her back, her posture as well as her psychic presence appearing rather less forbidding now. "I have spent a lot of time on my universe's Earth as well," she begins, to create some common ground. "It's my pilot's favorite planet. But we have traveled the rest of our universe too, for a few thousand years now, and other universes besides. Many planets are inhabited there, as well as most time periods." She's curious to see if that will impress him as much as it did Gabriel.

Aziraphale is not so much impressed as completely blown over. He stares at her, stammering out, "Other... universes?" He can't quite get his head around the notion. "Gracious," he adds, rather inadequately. "And if you've already been traveling for a few thousand years, then... you might older than me, you and your pilot, but how is that possible?"

He shakes his head a little, like he's trying to shake something loose, and sits down heavily on the lip of the fountain. "Do you have... another form?" he asks after a moment, a little encouraged by the increased calm of her psychic presence. "I mean, I imagine you can't do your traveling like this."

Oh dear, apparently that was a lot more impressive than she'd expected. Not that she minds, exactly; it's always nice to be capable of surprising even a fellow ancient and powerful being, and he can probably use the lesson in humility. She doesn't entirely hide a brief, amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she settles against the fountain next to him.

She gives him a moment to work through the realization that the multiverse is larger and more incredible than he'd previously thought, before answering his newest question. "There have been TARDISes in humanoid shape, but yes, this isn't my usual form. I constructed it to gather physical experiences and to communicate with corporeal beings, who tend not to be able to relate to my true form." She tilts her head, considering him. Is he going to start treating her like a machine again if she shows him? Admittedly, it would be a good way to test how sincere his respect really is.

Making her decision, she offers, "If you promise not to tell anyone about me without my permission, I will show you."

He nods vigorously. "Yes, I'd love that," he says. He's been desperately missing the presence of another powerful entity, he realizes - living without Crowley has taken such a toll on him, and now, further cut off from everything he knows, having his entire conception of the Universe rewritten before him - well, he could use a little brush with a transcendent being, as she is increasingly proving herself to be.

He has no idea what to expect, so he turns his body a little to face her, waiting curiously for whatever transformation is about to occur.

Alright then. She opts not to include all the usual sound effects and reality rending in the presentation, since she isn't actually arriving anywhere. One moment, it's only them and the plants in the room, and in the next there's the tall blue police box standing in front of them, lamp and windows glowing expectantly. She does include the steady hum of her engines and the slight warmth of the wood, but she refrains from opening her doors for now, instead watching his reaction with a raised eyebrow. She may be daring him to be rude again, just a little. This is supposed to be a test, after all.

Aziraphale stands up abruptly, startled by the new addition to the room, and then, presently, startled by the thing itself. He glances between the box and the woman a few times, trying to ascertain without actually asking - is this it? A police call box, very familiar to him, rather a relic, in fact? This doesn't look any more plausible a ship than her humanoid form does.

"I - I don't understand," he blurts. He peers at her, trying to suss out any humor or amusement. "Are you having me on?"

Without waiting for an answer, he reaches out to touch it, and - oh. It's warm. That's unusual. Humming, too, he notices now, now that he's really paying attention. There is something odd about the box. He shifts his hand slowly to the door, testing its resistance. Feels like he could push it open. He looks at her curiously. He almost wants to ask permission, but, well, the permission sort of came with her dropping it in, didn't it? She seems to be waiting for him, after all.

He gives the door a little nudge, and it opens, and he staggers back, almost toppling clumsily into the fountain.

"Oh," he breathes. "I see."

The interior is - grand. Impossible. He skirts around a few times, checking the exterior, feeling a bit foolish, but no, it's quite - tangible. Small. Linear. But inside - talk about transcendence.

"I... I'd like to go in," he says sheepishly, "if I may."

She's quite serious, of course, and is about to tell him as much when he does start to exhibit the kind of amazed curiosity she wholly approves of. Much like the Doctor, she is particularly fond of this moment, showing off to someone new; it's been repeated uncountable times, but no two introductions are alike. The fact that Aziraphale probably should be less astounded than the average human, by virtue of his age and experience, only makes his reaction that much more satisfying. And a bit charming, really. There's so much she could show him.

Now she does smile, and nods to his request. "Be my guest." Quite literally, though it would be better if this was happening in the waking world. For one, she could learn more about him that way too. Following him inside, she anticipates the usual questions that occur at this point. "I am dimensionally transcendental - my interior is virtually infinite. The exterior was once a disguise, but I grew so fond of it that I kept it on."

"Fascinating," says Aziraphale with complete sincerity, nodding along with her explanation. He looks around the stunning, futuristic room he's stepped into, not sure about the aesthetic, but impressed nonetheless. "What a marvelous design. Were you built or are you organic?" He leans toward the incomprehensible centerpiece of the room, adjusting his glasses and peering up at it. "Is this some sort of engine?" he guesses.

"This is the central console and time rotor," she corrects him as the dials and buttons on the console whir and blink busily. It ought to be rather obvious, she thinks, but she's not going to hold it against him if he's only ever seen human technology before.

"I was grown as well as technologically augmented," she explains, "but this particular design is mine." Which she is quite proud of. With a small but genuine smile, she tilts her head to look from the console up at him. "I think it is time you told me a little about yourself in return."

Aziraphale nods like a true dilettante, having absolutely no idea what a time rotor is supposed to be. Very H.G. Wells, or something. For that matter, if it had been some sort of combustion engine, that would have been equally mysterious. Aziraphale may have seen human technology crop up and expand over the centuries, but that is a far cry from having any idea how any of it works. That's always been Crowley's department.

"Oh," he says when she asks for his story, straightening up and adjusting his glasses again. He's not very well accustomed to just spinning out the yarn of his life on command, but she's right, it is rather his turn. "Well. Just an angel, really. A principality if we're going to be precise. I was the guardian of the Eastern Gate to the Garden of Eden." He tucks his chin slightly - it's difficult to be proud of a rank that has become so obsolete. "And, I, er... Well, for the past several centuries it's been fairly routine. Angel business. There was some smiting in the early days, some grappling with demons and the like, but it all settled down in recent times. For the most part. Things did get a bit dodgy when Armageddon almost came about but, we, er, averted it. At the last minute."

He shrugs and looks down at her. "To be honest," he says with a confiding air, "I think They're sort of displeased with me. The Authorities, I mean. For mucking about with their Judgment Day plans. But maybe you'll understand, I mean - Earth is rather a nice place, isn't it? For the most part. I've gotten to quite like it. I would be so awfully sorry to see it go, no matter how ineffable the going was." He purses his lips for a moment, a little embarrassed by that admission. "Is that wrong, do you think, for an angel?"

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

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