Can't Stand the Distance, Can't Dream Alone [open to all]

[applesaucemod]

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.]

Comments

[wentdowntogeorgia]

He doesn't know if Gabriel will answer the door, or, if he does, if it will only be to tell Lucifer to leave; they hadn't been on good terms with each other for a very long time. He doesn't know if his presence will be welcome here, even if he is the one of only two possibly still living angels. He has heard nothing from Michael, technically doesn't know if his older brother is even out of the Cage or if he survived, and he is hesitant to look before he figures out his Grace situation.

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."

[has_a_horn]

"No shit." He drops his hands and backs up, but he doesn't turn around to walk into the apartment. If Gabriel is going to do what he's planning to do...he's going to need all the help he can get, and another (albeit fallen) archangel would be an asset. He needs his brother. He doesn't suspect Lucifer has any motivation to attempt killing him at the moment, but he's not feeling all that trusting either. He steps aside, allowing entrance, then closing the door once Lucifer is over the threshold.

First things first. "You smell like a dead possum. Do not sit anywhere."

[wentdowntogeorgia]

What is he expecting, for Lucifer to declare war on the one other angel in existence? That would be stupid, even if Lucifer was in a condition to wage war on anyone.

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."