applesaucedream | Encampment Under the Sea [Open to All]

Encampment Under the Sea [Open to All]

photo encampmentunderthesea_zps98ceddce.jpg

Since the dreamers of Manhattan had such a lovely time at the last vaguely-nautical-themed party, the Rift has decided to step things up a notch. Tonight, the dreamers will find themselves in what appears to be a city very much like the one they inhabit in the waking world, full of towering skyscrapers, neon signs, and heavy traffic. But there is one rather crucial difference: this city is located deep underwater, and the aforementioned traffic is mostly whales and fish, with the occasional submersible thrown into the mix.

The walls and windows are heavily reinforced to withstand the pressure of the water outside, and the people who dwell in these buildings seem to be doing rather well for themselves, for the most part. Buildings are connected by enclosed walkways, so barring any horrible accidents, the dreamers should have no problem getting around without getting too wet.

Much like the city they inhabit in the waking world, some areas are more obviously affluent than others, and the dreamers are as likely to stumble upon an upscale club as an underwater pub. But while the chances of a full structural breakdown are slim, there are definitely some areas that are on the leaky side, and a general sense of claustrophobia pervades the city wherever you might find yourself.

Explore. Or, if you're feeling particularly ambitious, attempt to escape. Either way, take care - it's hard to say what might be lurking in the darkness just beyond the city lights.

[ooc: Y'all know the drill. All characters are welcome, whether they are in the game or not. Characters can remember or forget the events of the dreaming at the player's discretion. And the party never stops - backtag into infinity!]

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No. No he is not. Johnny looks at Daniel with a wild-eyed stare. He's hyperventilating a little bit.

"I," he says, his voice weird and strained. His hands are buzzing. "I didn't mean to, I..."

Oh fuck. So much for meeting new people. He turns away from Daniel, curls inward, smearing his bloodied hands on the floor. He's sobbing silently, big dry heaves, his entire body shaking.

"I'm sorry," he hears himself saying at a distance. "Oh, jesus christ."

He wants to wake up. He wants to wake up now.

Daniel scrambles to his feet. Or tries to. Apparently the ankle the masked thing grabbed onto isn't in walking condition, because pain rockets up it and it folds beneath him instantly, bringing him down onto one knee, which, ow.

He looks back up. Shit. Johnny's not taking this well. He's really not taking this well. Daniel wants to get up, get over to him, but his ankle is refusing to cooperate. At exactly the worst time.

He reaches at him with the hand that isn't supporting his injured ankle, palm out. "Johnny. Johnny, it's okay." He keeps speaking steadily, slow, but Johnny isn't even facing him anymore, oh shit. And he's sounding horrified and tremulous and those are definitely the early stages of a panic attack and Daniel needs to get over to him, like, right now.

Fuck it.

Daniel wrenches himself upright, grabbing at the wall for support, and limps over, doing his best to willfully ignore away the pain. He's...not really successful, but that's hardly important. Johnny's not in good shape. That's what's important. He's dreaming and pain is relative in dreams but emotional scarring is not. He maneuvers his way to Johnny's side and hisses between his teeth when he notices that the man is visibly shaking.

"Johnny, listen to me. It's okay." He stretches one hand out to hover over his shoulder, unsure of whether physical contact will help or just make things worse. "I'm okay. You're okay. It's a dream, and that thing can't hurt you anymore. You're safe."

Johnny lets out a frustrated growl at Daniel's attempted comfort - who the hell is this guy to try and make him feel better about that? - and twitches away, feeling the proximity of his hand even without contact.

"I know," he grinds out, digging his fingers into his hair. "I know, all right? I had to do it. But I - I just-"

This time what comes out is a strained, pressurized sort of whine, coming through gritted teeth. He tugs at his hair, opening his eyes enough to glimpse the burns on his arms. No, no, no.

He could pray, he realizes, ask Gabriel to come here, hold him, fix this. But he doesn't want that either. The anger he felt, so far away now, was so terrifying and real, he couldn't just ask Gabe to come and take care of him, not when moments ago he'd felt like that.

He doesn't want Daniel hovering over him, worrying like this, god he's so pathetic, this poor freaked out stranger has to babysit him now - so he forces himself to calm down. He does the breathing thing, counting, five in, five out, a few times over. He doesn't feel better but he can breathe normal, at least. He lowers himself even further, until his forehead is resting on the ground, like a praying man.

"I understand if you want to go," he mumbles. "I wouldn't want to be around me either."

That attempt at consolation apparently wasn't the best course of action to take. Noted. Daniel draws his hand back, watching Johnny with wary concern because he has no clue how he should address this.

Okay, no. He has some clue. He changes tactics.

"What, you kidding?" Daniel gestures hopelessly at his ankle, which is now trembling with the effort of holding him up for so long. "I don't think I'd make it very far on my own." And of course his ankle chooses that moment throw dignity to the winds and give up. He ends up half-falling, half-sliding onto the wall, quickly grabbing at it to awkwardly prop himself upright.

"Basically," he ekes out through clenched teeth, now sounding thoroughly strained. "I don't think I can walk. Currently. Er. But, really," he adds, ignoring the agonizing contracture of leg muscle as he inches himself into a less uncomfortable position, "it's thanks to you I'm still here, so. You know. There's that."

Johnny looks up at the sudden collapse, startled out of his panic and self-loathing for just long enough that he automatically reaches out to grasp Daniel's shoulder.

"Shit," he says, seeing the messed up ankle. "Oh, shit. Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it-"

Well, no, of course he didn't.

"Shit," he says again, uselessly. He sucks air through his teeth. "I, um, I don't know how to... Fuck, why do these dreams have to be so real, huh?" He laughs, forced and manic. Ooookay, not doing that again. He finally lets his body relax a little, leaning back into a hunched sitting position. "Well I guess we're staying here, huh."

Yes, all right. Mild success. At least Johnny's not panicking anymore.

Aaaaaand there goes the rest of Daniel's leg strength. He slides down the remaining length of wall with tired acceptance until he's fully sitting, back to the wall, head tilted back. Breathing. Breathing is good. He's fine. The pain is relative. The pain is relative.

Unfortunately, while Johnny seems calmer than before, he's still a little on edge. That's okay. That's fine. That's understandable.

"It's not so bad," Daniel says with a shrug. And immediately afterward - "Ow. I mean, like you said, dream. Not real. And I've had worse." He considers this for a minute. "I've had way worse. Just...you're gonna have to trust me on that one."

He eyes the corpse of the masked person-thing suspiciously. He'd really like to get Johnny away from that thing as quickly as possible, but now Johnny's settled down beside him, okay. Well, they'll work their way up to that.

"Yeah..." Johnny does trust him, feels like maybe they've had a bit of the same shit luck in that regard. "Me too."

He looks dully at the corpse as well. He feels numb, which is better than panicking.

"My first shared dream was shitty, too," he says. He gives a hollow, humorless laugh. "Right down to the monster and the broken bones." He looks at the hand Zagreus had broken, now stained with so much blood. "They don't all have to be like this," he murmurs.

Is this even helpful? He doesn't know how to set bones, and he doesn't have healing powers. He can't really do anything.

Wait. Maybe he can do one thing.

Oh, stupid. He should have tried this ages ago.

"Let me just, um..." He thinks carefully. He shouldn't be able to just create rooms, as opposed to shifting around what's already there, but he sometimes has more power in dreams. That one time he made Charley's bedroom - yeah, he can do this, right?

Gradually, the room fades out, into a different one. Corpseless, carpeted, with potted ferns and even a couch. Which would be great if he had any hope of actually lifting Daniel up. It's the thought that counts?

Also windows, but they're distant, a high glass ceiling, and the water shimmering down on them doesn't seem nearly so ominous as it did before. He can't take them out of the dream, but this place feels a lot safer, at least.

He sits back. "There," he says. "That's a little better."

Edited 2014-09-29 16:11 (UTC)

"Oh, hello." Daniel blinks at the sudden shift in everything. The whole room just changes, right out of nowhere, and wow, yeah, this is definitely an improvement. He stares, eyebrows raised, faintly amazed before shaking his head. "Suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Dream, and all."

Still, though. Vast, vast improvement. Still underwater, which Daniel's not wild about, but there's no graffiti, no corpses, and a significantly reduced chance of being jumped by creepy masked-things just by sheer ambiance alone.

He turns to Johnny, who seems...calmer. Still not in the best shape.

"Did you do that?"

"Yeah." Johnny slumps back a little and hugs his knees to his chest. "It's a thing I can do. It works better in dreams than when I'm awake." Can't create furniture for one thing. Also a lot more consequences.

"It's just houses," he explains, half-assedly. "I can reshape them. Whatever. It's not as convenient as it looks."

He doesn't think he has the capacity right now to explain why and how much this sucks. He says heavily. "Sorry about your leg, man. It's gonna be all right when you wake up, I promise."

"What, this?" Daniel frowns at his pretty much useless leg then waves a hand in a vague, "what-can-you-do" circle. "Nah, not a big deal. Like I said, I've had worse."

Actually the ankle really freaking hurts, like the nerves are being dug into by little fragments of bone, feeling nothing like a dream and very much like reality. But Johnny says it's a dream and the logic has been bizarre and meandering enough for him to be inclined to believe it.

"Houses, huh?" Daniel raises an eyebrow. "Sounds handy. Also oddly specific. But, you know, not gonna hear me complaining."

Johnny suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Handy, yeah. Everyone thinks it sounds so convenient.

"It is specific," he says. "It's also based on my worst fucking nightmare and almost killed a friend of mine, so 'handy' is relative, I guess."

Okay, that was more prickly than necessary. He sighs. "It's hard to explain," he mutters. "But sometimes it's good to have. I guess." He'll admit that very begrudgingly.

The mention of personal nightmares sobers Daniel up considerably.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, wincing at his own error. "I didn't mean - I was just happy to be away from that room, I didn't mean to - you wanna talk about it, or...?"

That's all he feels he can clumsily put forward by way of apology and it's a feeble offering at best. This dream's already been far too unpleasant for both of them and Johnny just did this, this thing for Daniel's benefit. Nice of him, but if it means having to relive a personal trauma Daniel would rather he hadn't. Not that there's anything he can do about that now.

"No," says Johnny flatly. He sighs, and puts a hand briefly to his face. "I'm sorry. I'm, you know. Edgy." Yeah, no shit. Daniel already figured that one out, idiot. "I did it for both of us. We needed to get out of there, so I got us out. I don't like it, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna use it when I need to."

Feeling marginally less trembly and sick now, he gets to his feet and moves around, looking for something to do. He can't leave Daniel, but this dream is gonna be terrible if they don't have something to keep them occupied, or some way to take care of that ankle.

"Hey..." He picks up what is very clearly a health kit. "Uh. Maybe there's something in here?"

A little weirdly convenient, but he's not gonna argue with convenience at a time like this. He brings the kit over and crouches down, setting it on the floor beside Daniel and opening it up.

"Uh..." He takes out a syringe full of neon green stuff. That's all that's in there. "Uhhhh. Whoa. Or not?"

The syringe clearly belongs in the kit though, which is clearly marked with the universal red cross. The hell?

Daniel nods tiredly at the refusal. Honestly, he'd have been more surprised if Johnny had wanted to.

"I understand," he mutters, even if he doesn't, really.

When Johnny brings the syringe into view, Daniel shuffles back as far as his uncooperative ankle will allow, eying it dubiously.

"What is that." He states it flatly, not even a question, just a solid propulsion of condensed what-the-fuck. He wouldn't be surprised if this was something out of his own nightmares. He doesn't mind needles, but that - that stuff inside it is lurid green. No thanks.

"I'm gonna guess some kind of magical healing MacGuffin," says Johnny, still eyeing it dubiously. He is not about to command Daniel to jam this shit into his veins, and he doesn't think he'd want to try it either, but...

"I mean, okay," he says, trying to think reasonably; he desperately needs reason right now. "I only changed the room, I didn't... make the things in it. Those were given to us. By the dream, or whatever." The dream has so far proven to be not particularly friendly, but some of them can swing both ways. The most recent house dream sticks in his memory. "If I found it, it's probably because we needed it. I mean, it could be something bad, but... even if it is, what's the worst that can happen, at this point? If you die you just wake up."

As if dying is easy. He shouldn't say shit like that. Like he's getting used to it.

"It's up to you, man," he murmurs, setting the syringe back down in the case. "I think I've done enough." Meant to be a joke, comes out so bitter it burns his tongue.

"Right, because this environment has just been so accommodating, you know. Really molds itself to our needs." He's injured, he's in pain, he's cranky. And that was rude. He sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. And you're right, maybe it could help."

He shoots Johnny a rueful smile and awkwardly drags himself over to the kit, flipping it open and studying the equipment inside. Oh, how nice, it even looks clean. Clean and bright green and ever so faintly phosphorescent. Lovely.

And then he keeps talking, if only for his benefit, because if he's going to try this he's going to need a distraction. Daniel Jackson, always willing to try new things. The needle is big, and this will hurt. This is also nothing like standard medical procedure. And the worst that could happen? He's fairly sure that using the needle can't entail anything worse than what he's already been through - though of course now that he's thought that the dream will probably try to one-up him.

"So worst case scenario, I die." He says it point-blank, and pulls off his jacket. "Not so bad, way I see it. I have this habit, see." He rolls up his shirtsleeve, studying the arm he plans to medically violate. He settles for the deltoid. Lots of veins there. Good for intramuscular injection. "In the waking world, mind you. I kind of have this thing." He picks up the needle, weighs it, shit that thing is fucking enormous, removes the cap, and squeezes the pump a little to eliminate any air pockets. And he keeps talking, faster and faster, because he is Daniel Jackson, he is willing to try new things, and this is how he deals with it. "Call it a bad habit, really. I have this thing where I tend to die." He positions the needle, hovering it over the skin of his arm, really not wanting to carry the action out.

"Quite frequently," he finishes cheerfully, and jabs the needle in and squeezes the pump before he can change his mind and shuts his eyes and breathes through his nose and tries to breathe because something is happening, some interior chemical reaction, and he can't tell if it's good or bad.

Whoa, okay then! Johnny had not been prepared for his half-assed suggestions to be taken so readily, cringing back as Daniel just up and injects himself. Wow. Wow, okay.

"Jesus," he mutters, and glances back up at Daniel's face, catching up with all the stuff he's been saying somewhat after the fact. "Uh. I'm sorry to hear that."

What does one say to something like that, anyway? He could offer a lackadaisical 'me too,' but he's only experienced it in dreams, and that would feel beyond shitty. To be like 'I know how you feel' when no, he does not.

"At least... you still look pretty alive," he says, which, wow, good job, Johnny.

He trains his focus on Daniel's arm, then his ankle. "Feel anything?" he says awkwardly.

"I feel pretty alive," he says, a little breathless because woah that stuff, whatever it is, is doing something strange and maybe scientifically impossible to the biology in his leg region, "which is an improvement."

It's like the bones are knitting together on an interior level and he doesn't know how he feels about that. On one hand, his ankle is feeling less like it was crushed and more like its normal, healthy, un-crushed self, but on the other, he did just inject himself with a foreign substance of unknown and dubious origin, purely because it seemed like the thing to do.

This is a dream, Daniel is exerting dream logic, and that is going to continue to be his excuse for doing something so unbearably stupid.

After a few minutes, the ankle feels safe to stand on. Which Daniel does, promptly, unfolding himself from the wall to get to his feet, a little hesitant and wobbly but otherwise pain-free.

He relaxes and allows himself a surprised smile.

"Guess you were right. And, uh, aside from feeling better, nothing else seems different." He frowns a little, puzzled. "That...that almost never works."

Johnny grins, relieved, and stands up. "Every once in a while the dreams do something nice for us," he says. "But, you know... just. Once in a while."

As if to say, we just used up our token.

"So," he says, feeling antsy. Now that they can move again, the question becomes what now. There's no sitting around in these dreams. That's asking something to find them.

"Maybe we can find a way out of here," he suggests after a moment.

"That'd be good, I think," Daniel agrees, casting about for a door. "Not sure how I feel about wandering around without a plan, but what can you do?"

He turns to Johnny, then peers up at the water, visible through the glass ceiling. And shudders imperceptibly. Not fun to think about. "You know where we are?"

"No fuckin idea. I just changed the room, I don't have a map in my head." Unfortunately enough. He shrugs, looking around for anything useful. "I mean, there's gotta be a way out, right? Within the dream logic, I mean. Sometimes it's like... we can't leave the space we wind up in, but this time, I mean, there's a world out there. That can't just be for show. There's gotta be like... a submarine, or some shit."

He stops, hearing himself. "Not that I'd know what the fuck to do with a submarine if I found one," he says, a little embarrassed.

"Well, hey, me neither. Might be able to tell you what century it's from, but that's about it."

He moves in slow revolution, sweeping his gaze around the room - props to Johnny, this is much nicer than where either of them started - until he finds what he's looking for.

"Gotta door, here." He cocks his head. "Two doors, actually."

Neither of them look like they belong in the room they're in. The rest of it is rather pleasant, carpeting and plant life and the whole nine yards, but these doors are heavy, firmly set steel, looking more like airtight hatches on a submarine.

"Well, it looks like we're underwater, so they might just lead...out." He swings a hand vaguely upward, feeling a little sick at the idea. "But unless you can find any other way out of this place..."

He doesn't complete the thought.

"Jesus," murmurs Johnny. "No. No, we're not... even gonna try that." Christ, it gives him the willies just thinking about it. "There has to be a... like a passage, or something? I don't fuckin know."

He scans the room and finally spots a window up the rear wall, through which he can glimpse a little enclosure. A control booth?

"Up there." He moves over toward it, energized by the task at hand, ridiculous and improvised though it might be - he needs something. "I'm gonna... see if I can get up there."

Shouldn't be too hard. Right? Actually, should be pretty fucking easy. He just makes himself a staircase, and...

He's not really feeling that though. He doesn't want to do it anymore than he has to.

There's a pillar running up the side of the enclosure, with an winding pattern running up around it, which might work for handholds. Maybe he can climb.

"I've decided," he says, "I'm gonna do something really stupid."

He moves to the pillar, grips onto two ledges, and hoists himself up.

He swivels around immediately at the mention of something else; those doors don't look safe or like the sort of doors he wants to be going through anytime soon. He can't quite tell what it is, though it seems important.

"Uh." He watches nervously as Johnny prepares to do something that, yes, Daniel agrees, is probably really stupid. "Johnny, what are you doing?"

Yeah, that doesn't look safe. He starts forward, alternating between shooting Johnny a worried look and pausing to look at his probable destination. He stops just beside the pillar, staring up.

"You sure that's a good idea?" He probably isn't and it probably isn't but it feels polite to ask.

"No," says Johnny, sounding distinctly detached and unconcerned. Probably not a good sign. He clambers up a little higher, starting to feel like this is definitely not a good idea. "But if I fall I just wake up, so, you know, what the fuck ever. Sorry if I abandon you here. It won't be on purpose."

God, listen to yourself, Truant. He bites his lip and continues up, refusing to examine any of the cavalier bullshit he just said.

aaaand another panic attack

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have some dubious video game magic

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tw: injections/needles

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