Tender Lumplings Everywhere, Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

The woods are dark and deep, but not particularly lovely. If anything, they feel dangerous, as if something terrible might come lurching out from behind any given tree and tear into the nearest warm body. What that terrible thing might be is anyone's guess. A cat with hands? Slenderman? Stegosaurus? Actual cannibal Shia LaBeouf? All of the above in a horrible mob? It's anyone's guess. But every dreamer will be absolutely convinced that there is something unspeakable out there, and that it's after them.

The dreamers have two things on their side. The first is that there is actually nothing dangerous lurking in these woods (with the possible exception of other dreamers). The pervasive terror the dreamers are feeling is just that: a rift-given feeling, nothing more and nothing less. That snapping twig or rustle in the undergrowth is almost certainly just a squirrel or something else equally harmless.

The second is that no dreamer is alone. They all will be reunited with - or introduced to - their dæmons, a source of comfort in this dark, intimidating wilderness. However frightened the dreamers might be, at least they have someone with them who definitely doesn't want them dead.

[OOC: as ever, any and all are welcome! You don't have to be in the game to join the fun. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. And the party only stops when you want it to; feel free to backtag forever.]

Comments

[bibliophale]

"Oh," blurts Aziraphale, pleasantly baffled. Well that's nice, that his running has been validated by this - what is he again? a Doctor? The Doctor, which carries weight, and it's familiar besides. Why so familiar? Something from another dream, some time ago now - there had been a woman who was not a woman, just as this man is not a man - she was a ship, and she had a pilot, who she sometimes called the Doctor. Is this that man? That man was an alien, and this man feels distantly non-human but he's Scottish, or do other planets have Scotlands? All of this leaves Aziraphale feeling vaguely adrift.

The owl's summons catches and unsticks him from his ruminations, and he hurries along after them. It seems the thing to do.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" he asks curiously.

[whofrownedthisface]

Does he have any idea where he's going? The man who jumped moon-shoes first into a lunar crevice full of mysteriously amniotic fluid? "No," says the Doctor, more fool Aziraphale for asking. "I know this is a telepathically shared dream, propped up by an ill-mannered spatio-temporal rift," the Doctor ticks off, and now he's the one spun around to make sure the angel is paying attention, taking long, nerve-wracking backwards steps that nonetheless let Aziraphale catch up. If the owl weren't paying attention for him, this would probably end disastrously. "I know you are probably trapped in New York." That's another finger ticked now, the third; his first statement was a twofer. Now that his role as alpha nerd feels safely established and Aziraphale is following properly, the Doctor tears through the woods more directly again. "I don't know," he switches ticking hands, "where I'm going. And I don't know," he stops like the edge of a cliff is under his feet, "whether dreams can be dangerous."

[bibliophale]

How nice to have found such a well-informed stranger. Saves him a lot of trouble having to explain the usual stuff, doesn't it?

"Well, that's all right," he says. "I didn't expect you to, really, it's just that you seemed very sure of yourself." Which is also pleasant. Aziraphale's spent most of this dream feeling uncertain and unsettled. Being able to follow blindly is a momentary respite.

"It depends on the kind of dangerous you mean," he says. "Physical damage doesn't transfer to our waking bodies. If we die, we simply wake up. But they can still be very unpleasant. More than your average nightmare." Aziraphale hopes, at least, that this creature's 'average nightmare' is somewhere on the same scale as the ones he's imagining. Dreaming is still a very new experience for him.

"Are you not trapped in New York, then?" Orisa pipes up, having caught the particular phrasing while Aziraphale passed over it.

[whofrownedthisface]

Well, there was that one time...Anyway. "Well that's good news." The Doctor resumes his brisk striding, confidence restored, not that it had really done more than fluctuate a bit, like the lights during a storm, a momentary startling flicker and then bright once more. The woods might be to blame; concern for what he might be walking into is not usually part of his repertoire.

"And no, I'm not trapped in New York, not at the moment," he answers the snake. Good eye, snake. Or ear...tube, or whatever. That was a good catch, how about that. "I am, however, investigating the rift and its...circumstances. Or hoping to, anyway. You see, I have a theory that these dreams will increase in frequency with proximity to the rift itself, for those on the other side of it, like myself. Of course, this is only the second of these dreams I've had, so I haven't got any numbers to work with. Sort of a, an interstellar game of hot-and-cold." That's a vast oversimplification of his strategy and his theorising about the rift, but he's feeling merciful.

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale brightens a little, impressed by all this scientific knowledge and wherewithal. Someone on the outside, investigating? Perhaps that means there's hope, coming from beyond. Perhaps they could get messages out. Wouldn't that be something?

"How fascinating," he says without irony. "You know, I also had one of these dreams before I was brought through - er, I think it was before. It was a little confusing. I don't usually dream, you see. I don't usually sleep." Distressing, that he's slept so much since he got here, and never on purpose. He can only assume it's the Rift making it happen, but why? Are these voluntary for all its victims, or is it just him that is forced into it?

"So you've had one before, then, eh?" he says. "Meet anyone helpful?"

[whofrownedthisface]

The owl seems to share Aziraphale's feelings on the matter of sleep; she flaps noisily and chimes in with, "Sleep is for turtles," momentarily more parrot than owl, before being hurriedly shushed by her counterpart. Certainly she doesn't look as if she's ever voluntarily slept, or the Doctor either, for that matter.

"The helpfulest, actually. Though at the time I was more in the position to offer help, and I did. I met the TARDIS, my space and time ship, wearing the face of someone I knew a very long time ago and warning me to stay clear of the rift. Naturally I went in search of it immediately." He sounds quite proud of himself, absolutely rock solid in his surety that that was the right move. "And I'll probably find it quite soon. Then I'll spring the whole thing open, no more interstellar zoo. Back to whatever it is that angels do when they're not in New York." To hear him tell it, it's as good as done. Roll for Sense Motive to see how confident he actually is.

casually retconning Aziraphale not noticing things, what is continuity

[bibliophale]

"Your-" Aziraphale blinks rapidly, realizing. "Oh, of course! I've met the TARDIS. She's told me about you. Rather made it sound as though you were already through the Rift, as I recall."

But enough about that. "Do you think you can spring it open?" He tries not to sound too hopeful. "That'd be - well. It'd be good for most everyone, I think. But you must know it's quite powerful."

"Does he look like he wants your advice?" asks Orisa in his ear, apparently just to be contrary. Aziraphale does not know how he feels about having a soul manifestation that treats him more or less like Crowley would.¹

"Well I'm an angel, I have to express concern," he says, preemptively defensive.


¹ Neither does the mun, but that's neither here nor there.

[whofrownedthisface]

The Doctor makes a rather throatily disgusted sound. "Egh. No, that's not--Different regeneration, not me at all. Useless as a chocolate teapot. Never get anything done. Me, I'll have this thing open in no time, you watch. And you're right to be concerned, the TARDIS said the rift was," he clears his throat again, now for quoting emphasis rather than supreme distaste, "'Sudden and powerful.'" He grins, the jump-into-a-dark-scary-hole grin again, because the snake is right, warnings are wasted on some people. "Poor thing won't know what hit it."

[bibliophale]

"Oh," says Aziraphale, pleasantly accepting all of this with a politely baffled smile. Gosh, but it is nice to have a dreaming partner so on top of things. "Well, that would be jolly marvelous, if you could manage it. We're all glad to have you on board, I'm sure."

He can't avoid thinking privately - and he knows Orisa is only barely managing not to say it aloud - that he should have been doing more this whole time, shouldn't he? He's the angel, after all, helping people is his bag. Got complacent, hadn't he?

"Not exactly a new problem, is it?" Orisa hisses softly.

"You hush," he murmurs.

[whofrownedthisface]

"As well you should be. Of course, not everyone will be, probably. Particularly if the rift belongs to anyone. I said an interstellar zoo, who's the zookeeper? What if it's not a zoo, but a buffet? Or maybe, sometimes a rift is just a rift. Who knows?" The Doctor appears just as happy to natter on and ignore any dissension in the angel/reptile ranks, but Sraif watches the pair with her large piercing eyes, though she says nothing.

"So what's an angel good for when it's at home? Maybe you could help, with the springing."

[bibliophale]

"As far as I know it's just the Rift," says Aziraphale thoughtfully, and then perks up when the question is asked (albeit rudely).

"I'm good for a great many things," he says with conviction, certainly not boastful. "Seeing and thwarting wiles... divine ecstasy... the occasional miracle. It's, well, it's always been more about, you know, the ineffable plan than any cosmic escape attempts, but I'm keen to try my hand at that too. Seeing as it would be a very good deed, and all."

Orisa twists calmly around him, flicking her tongue lazily, and he knows exactly what she's thinking: kiss up. Just why he's trying to impress this being is beyond him. It's not as though the Authorities are watching, waiting somewhere behind the scenes to pat him on the back. Or wait, what if they are? There's a thought.

But no, they can't be. They wouldn't have let everything with Lucifer happen. They wouldn't.

"What are you good for, apart from the springing?" Orisa asks brazenly. "Any good at dealing with devils?"

"No, no, no," says Aziraphale somewhat frantically. "No, it's - hah, no, we don't... That isn't something we ask for help with. That's our business."

Obviously. You'd think his own soul would know better.

[whofrownedthisface]

"Devils?" asks the Doctor, in surprise and Scottishness, ignoring Aziraphale's backpedaling completely. "Yeah, come to think of it, that would be your business, wouldn't it. I'll take it," he answers brightly, even as the owl volunteers a very decisive sounding, "No. We aren't." The Doctor makes a face as though imitating the owl sarcastically, except the owl hadn't done anything remotely like that. Still, it gets the point across.

"Lots of devils in New York, then?" It's a deceptively naive, touristy sounding question. "More than the occasional miracle can handle?" And whatever thwarting wiles refers to. Divine ecstasy, at least, is probably pretty useful if you're resourceful enough.

[bibliophale]

"Just the one Devil, actually," mutters Aziraphale.

"The Devil," says Orisa. "More powerful than usss. Caused a lot of bloody damage already."

"We - I held him off," says Aziraphale defensively. "And he's weakened now, it - it's been dealt with. It's fine."

"You're not a very good liar," she chides them. "You know that."

"I'm not lying." He very much dislikes arguing with his soul, he decides, but especially in front of another manifested soul. The owl is watching them much too closely. "I'm allaying concern. Because this is not anyone else's business." He says this firmly, warningly, but Orisa dismisses him with a mild hiss.