Better to Receive than to Give [open to all]

[applesaucemod]

Somewhere in the cosmos, there is something bright, and young, and playful. Somewhere, this being watches over their little flock and does their best to make those people safe and happy. Somewhere, that godling and their flock celebrate the winter holidays in the happiest of dreams.

And somewhere closer at hand, a sleeping giant stirs.

The bright tapestry of dream threads gathered by Zephyr is suddenly yanked hard enough to pull it from its temporary mooring. Something entirely unlike the little godling reels in the dreamers so neatly gathered and packaged up for it, bringing its own toys back to their proper place and taking all the others it can with them. Unsatisfied, it reaches out again and again, dragging in dreamers from all across the multiverse. It will snare them, all of them, and then it will possess them completely.

Perhaps it's fitting that when the stolen dreamers arrive in this new shared mindscape, they'll find they've been designated the Rift's Christmas gifts to itself. Each might awaken inside a dark box, or cocooned in…is that tissue paper? When they claw their way out they'll be greeted by the sight of an enormous evergreen tree laden with twinkling lights and kitschy knickknacks looming overhead. Beyond the shadow of the tree the rest of the world -- that is, the living room -- is just as large. Or is it that the dreamers have just become very small? Giant packages wrapped in bright paper form an obstacle course, but the wooden floor of the room is wide open between the tree and the hearth where an enormous plate of cookies and glass of milk await a cataclysmic Santa Claus.

All in all, things are fairly normal as far as the rift's dream gatherings go…at least on the surface. The more telepathically sensitive among the dreamers may notice an undercurrent of something darker, more urgent, and more possessive than normal. The rift isn't just sampling the wares of other worlds tonight; this time it means to play for keeps.


[OOC: This is the second part of our crossover with wethelost! Part one can be found here. Usual dream party rules apply: all players and characters are welcome regardless of whether they are currently in the game, and characters may remember or forget the events of the dream party at the discretion of their players.

For reference, characters of average human height are roughly four inches tall according to the scale of their current surroundings. There is an entire giant house beyond the living room; characters will find a kitchen and dining room on the same floor, a staircase outside the door of the living room that leads up to a second floor with two bedrooms and a bathroom, and another staircase off the kitchen that goes to an unfinished basement. Feel free to add details as needed!

This event takes place on evening of August 8th/morning of August 9th in Applesauce time, and December 31 in WtL time.]

Comments

[jumpthegun]

John withdraws his arm immediately. As much as he'd like to help the man helping him, a knife to the arm is not worth it. Instead, he focuses on the edge of the box, trying to bend and fold that. He doesn't want to have to open the whole thing just to get out, but if he can loosen one side, just what they're going through now should be enough. He hopes.

"Don't suppose you've got any idea what's going on?" Mr. Man with a knife. If they're in some sort of prison, he'd expect them to have been stripped of their weapons, but the man has his blade and John can feel the comforting weight of his service pistol shoved into the waistband at the back of his trousers.

[honeyedwords]

"Not in the slightest." He's got the beginnings of the whats handled, but nothing even beginning to resemble the whys or hows. In any case, the last of the ribbon gives way with a snap, leaving Sherlock with just the tape to deal with. His fellow jailbird seems to have the right idea in trying to work open one side and, bracing his knee against the side of the box, he jabs his knife into the seam and pulls with his full weight, ripping the tape just enough to allow for a man-sized gap in the cardboard to fold open.

The blade is dulled to near-uselessness after its ordeals, but its job is done for now and Sherlock folds it and shoves it back in his coat pocket before offering the other man a hand, both in greeting and to help him up should he need it. "But I intend to rectify that as soon as possible. Sherlock Holmes, at your service."

[jumpthegun]

John takes a momentary breather on the ground once he's squeezes out, then takes the proffered hand pulling himself up and smiling at him. "John Wat... what?" His brow furrows because that is definitely not Sherlock Holmes standing in front of him. He doesn't even look like he might be a cousin except by marriage. "Watson. John Watson. Sorry, but did you say your name is Sherlock Holmes?"

Holmes is a common enough surname that John's more than willing to believe in coincidence, but he'd never even heard the name Sherlock until meeting his own. The rest of their surroundings can wait a moment.

[honeyedwords]

Being himself unaware of the specific reasons why John finds his name so surprising, Sherlock pulls a face, his opinion of the other man dropping so quickly as to be almost audible.

"Yes, Sherlock. It's an uncommon given name derived from an archaic English term for fair-haired," he says, rattling off the information with the sort of exasperated practice that one achieves only after explaining something countless times. "Which, given my family's genetic makeup, forces me to assume that my father picked it out for no reason other than that he thought forcing his progeny to bear an added layer of schoolyard mockeries would be great fun."

His only consolation is that his brother fared no better on that front. Sherlock sniffs, indignant, and watches John's face closely.

[jumpthegun]

Okay. Now this is just getting weird because by that explanation makes Sherlock an even more ridiculous name for his own, as well. The man's obvious offense at the imagined slight has John backpedaling a moment later, though. He lets go of Sherlock's hand and holds up his own.

"I didn't mean... look, have you got a cousin with the same name, or something?" He offers the man an apologetic smile. "It's just that I know a Sherlock Holmes, and he looks just a bit different from you."