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

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.]

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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."

"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.

"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."

"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.

"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.

"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.

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

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