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applesaucedream2014-11-28 03:50 pm
applesaucemod) wrote in applesaucedream2014-11-28 03:50 pm
Can't Stand the Distance, Can't Dream Alone [open to all]
The sleeping rifties might have a difficult time realizing they're dreaming this evening, in part because tonight's dreams are atypically vivid, even compared to the rift's usual efforts. Perhaps that is because it's drawing so heavily from the memories of the dreamers, themselves, and using that information to recreate their home worlds in stunning detail. And that is the real reason the dreamers might not be eager to accept the unreality of the situation: the situation is one that many of them have been hoping for for months or even years. In their dreams tonight, the rifties are going home.
Perhaps they arrive in the same moment that they left. Perhaps months have passed at home, or they might even find themselves arriving before their departure point. But those are small details when compared to the overwhelming realization that they're back where they belong.
They're not alone. Many dreamers will find the rift has given them a companion for the return trip. Well, an uncomplicated return home is probably more than anyone could have hoped for, anyway. And for the unwitting visitor, perhaps another universal displacement will be easier to bear with the addition of a local guide.
[ooc: usual dream party rules apply; all are welcome, and dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Also at the players' discretion: when their character arrives in their 'home universe,' and how many (if any) locals they'd want to run into.]
Perhaps they arrive in the same moment that they left. Perhaps months have passed at home, or they might even find themselves arriving before their departure point. But those are small details when compared to the overwhelming realization that they're back where they belong.
They're not alone. Many dreamers will find the rift has given them a companion for the return trip. Well, an uncomplicated return home is probably more than anyone could have hoped for, anyway. And for the unwitting visitor, perhaps another universal displacement will be easier to bear with the addition of a local guide.
[ooc: usual dream party rules apply; all are welcome, and dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Also at the players' discretion: when their character arrives in their 'home universe,' and how many (if any) locals they'd want to run into.]
no subject
His apartment rings with silence for a full week before he goes back to his old tricks. People here have souls, people here can attain heaven, so he can deal out justice like he had before without a tug at his moral center. He kills three businessmen before he gets sick of the game and starts doing other things...sending friendly illusionary dragons into central park, then not so friendly ones, covering every building with frosting like the trimming of a gingerbread New York - keeping himself occupied if only for the moment. He doesn't kill any demons. He doesn't want to be on their radar. They think he's dead; it's easy to let his actions be claimed by others.
He wants to go back, but he knows that this is where he should be. He should be trying to fix things here. He should force his way into heaven and kill the last angel alive. Metatron was the one that caused this and he doesn't deserve to be acting as God.
Nearly a month in, he's scribbling out sigils onto a notebook when he feels who's coming up the stairs. He's stuck to the spot, not moving at all until the knock at the door. When it happens, he pushes himself up and flings open the door, taking in the bedraggled dirty shape of his brother, then pushes forward and sets his hands on his shoulders. He feels a strange mix of emotions. Why is it always Lucifer? What makes him endure to be the only other, besides himself? In New York, before, and in New York, now, back home. He's here again, and it's a terrible relief. "I thought I was alone."
no subject
He is hesitant to look and find that he is wrong, that their family has shrunk to only two.
When the door opens, he does not allow himself the luxury of hope. He doesn't have the energy for hope, which had been novel when he'd first experienced it, but by now has gotten terribly old.
But when his brother lays hands on him, warm and firm on his shoulders, that at least isn't the worst reception that he could have gotten. It isn't exactly a warm reception, but, really, being the Devil kind of removes the possibility of very many people being happy to see him, and he's long since gotten used to that little fact. And Gabriel hasn't reached for an angel blade yet, so this is already going better than the last time they met in this universe.
"Surprise," he says, his voice so flat you could put a rug on it and call it a floor. "Happy Christmas, I'm not dead yet."
no subject
First things first. "You smell like a dead possum. Do not sit anywhere."
no subject
When Gabriel steps aside, he takes those few steps over the threshold; he is aware that being allowed into Gabriel's home is a generosity, something that he is not owed right now, and that may be the only thing that prevents him from going over to his brother's couch and laying on it out of pure anti-authoritarian spite. As much as it is in his nature to be a contrary little shit, he also doesn't want to get kicked out literally thirty seconds after he was allowed into the first real shelter he's had in a month.
"Apologies, Gabriel," he says instead, standing there and trying to will his legs into not cramping up like they're definitely threatening to do, "Next time I get spat out of Hell and have to walk a thousand miles, I'll try to be cleaner about it. For your sake."