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

[johnny_truant]

What the fuck? Daniel is talking to whatever it is, is that really-

-but then it answers back.

Johnny goes cold, not just from the blast of outside winter fucking air, but from the voice, resonating in him, in the house, everywhere. This is deep blood-and-bone chill. He can't make himself turn around, and he doesn't really need to, because in a moment he realizes it's standing right over him, treelike front legs flanking him on either side, fluffy with white and grey, ending in paws that would be dainty if it were scaled to him.

He thinks it's a cat. He's not sure how he knows that precisely, he's too freaked and too small to identify that from terrifyingly monstrous paws in his periphery, but somehow he just senses it. Cat. But obviously not a regular cat.

Finally, breath coming shallow, head still pounding from the blow, he twists his neck to look up.

"Fuck," he breathes.

[peacefulexplorer]

Oh god, and it talks. Excellent. Good. Well. At least. At least that means communication is an option, right? Diplomacy, negotiation, all things that land squarely in Daniel's area of expertise. Giant telepathic cats aren't even a first anymore, even if this one only sounds friendly in way a spider is friendly as it caresses a fly. His eyes flutter down to Johnny, then back up to the thing's broad, white-eyed face. How does the cat know their names? The purring, visceral voice that creeps calmly along the back of his head feels horribly intimate, hushed in that chilling, knowing sibilance.

Daniel forces himself to breathe, in and out, eyes flicking back down at Johnny in a look he sincerely hopes comes across as reassuring. Then he takes a tiny step back, raises both hands in a gesture of pacification. It doesn't look violent, which is good. Which is - probably good.

"Hi," he repeats. A small frown puzzles the look of trepidation, but his voice is mostly steady. Mostly. "How, um. How do you know our names?"

[ofschrodinger]

What a strange question. The kitten plunks its not-so-little bottom down on the floor, effectively blocking the cat flap - not that either of the little dreamers is in a position to leave. Johnny in particular.

I know all my toys, it replies. 'Obviously' is implied. It looks down at Johnny, then favors him with a fond lick, its tongue like a hot, damp bristle comb running from the nape of his neck to the top of his head, leaving his hair in disarray. Tasty! it observes.

[johnny_truant]

Toys, and the smug way it's - well, not uttered, but whatever - sends a little shiver down Johnny's spine, and he's debating his capacity to scramble out from under the possessive creature when it bends down and licks him.

A sound escapes him, formless and not quite a scream, too surprised and half-strangled to be that. The sudden weight of its rough, sandpapery tongue pushes him down, stinging his skin, mussing the fuck out of his hair, but all that discomfort is second to the utter terror. He's frozen apart from involuntary trembling, hands braced on the floor, the kitten's breath hot on his wet skin. Its little observation jolts him into motion, flipping onto his back as if seeing it will help him fend off any attempt to eat him.

"What the fuck," he gasps, breathless, nowhere near enough fight in him to make it as indignant as it should be. He makes a cursory attempt to squirm away, unable to pull his eyes from its big blank glowing stare.

[peacefulexplorer]

Toys? That's - this is what they are to it. Boxed, packaged, kept, its gifts to itself.

And then it - it moves on Johnny, a motion deceptively friendly, predatory and invasive, and Daniel takes an impulsive step forward, one hand outstretched, before he freezes. What can he do? Johnny's firmly trapped by the thing, and it's not demonstrating any great eagerness to release him.

"Let him go?" he says. The uncertainty, the writhing dread starting to work its way up his chest, makes it sound like a request. He swallows thickly and tries again, forcing trembling authority into the words. "Let him go."

[ofschrodinger]

As if it would let a tiny little toy boss it around. Who does Daniel think is in charge, here? The kitten stares at him for a moment through inscrutable pearly eyes. Then, with casual, deliberate contrariness, it settles down on top of Johnny. Its furry chest pins his legs to the floor, and while that would probably be enough to keep him from going anywhere, the kitten plants a possessive paw on the dreamer's chest, as well. My, but his little heart is beating so quickly.

Shan't, the kitten says, the good humor in its tone like a thin layer of ice sparkling over something deep, dark and dangerous. He's mine. But it seems he's forgotten that, this impudent little house-bender. He smells like defiance and sneakiness. But it's all right; there are ways to fix that.

The kitten settles itself a bit more heavily atop Johnny, claws extended just enough to snag at his clothing. Then, it resumes licking him, brisk and businesslike. There's only so much of Johnny it can reach with his legs pinned, but the kitten is thorough. Its rough tongue rakes through his hair and hikes up his shirt until it's jammed beneath his arms and around his neck like an absurd collar.

This is better. Now Johnny smells like it. A rumbling purr fills the entryway as the kitten continues its not-so-tender ministrations.

[johnny_truant]

Johnny barely even hears Daniel, though some distant part of him might appreciate the effort, when cutting and running would seem like the better move. When the kitten settles on his legs he jolts and tries to wriggle free, and he might have been able to if the paw hadn't then come down on his chest, one of its little toe pads resting on his sternum, gently pushing the air out of him. He gasps, half a whimper, and braces his hands against its paw, fighting against it. Its weight is overpowering; he can't gain an inch, no matter how hard he struggles, and the effort is exhausting.

When its claws extend he goes rigid, reduced to fearful twitches, staring at the sharp needle points that could tear him apart in seconds.

And then it's licking him again, grooming him with a tongue bigger than his fucking head, pulling at his hair, dragging his shirt up - he can't keep still now, writhing and twisting in a completely useless effort to evade it as it laps at his chest and his face. "Stop it!" he begs between grunts and gasps, the protest coming automatically - he knows it won't do a lick of good make any fucking difference. He raises his arms to cover his face, hands open, unwilling to actually grapple with its mouth full of teeth. "Daniel!" he cries over the deafening roar of its purring. Daniel should run, try to get somewhere, but Johnny's too panicked and too desperate to act rationally or nobly. "Daniel, help me!"

[peacefulexplorer]

For an awful minute they both stiffen as the kitten simply drops on top of Johnny and starts - oh, god. Daniel winces with each audible rasp of the tongue. He can feel the purring in the air, in the base of his chest, permeating the entirety of the house itself.

This is - well, shit. Reasoning with it isn't going to work. Talking to it isn't going to work. That leaves running, which isn't an option Daniel's going to entertain while Johnny's pinned by the thing's claws, and - trying to take the thing by force. The very large thing that is acting with complete self-assurance and possession. They're barely four inches tall, and the kitten is a giant.

Then Johnny yells.

One hand flies out, completely instinctual, palm out and placating, and something blocky and heavy manifests there. He dimly registers it for what it is - a stapler of all things - and in a burst of reactionary, defensive energy, Daniel wings it at one of the kitten's milky eyes.

[ofschrodinger]

The kitten's reflexes are quick enough to avoid being hit in the eye, but not quick enough to avoid being hit entirely. The stapler bounces off of its forehead, and it hisses in objection, claws reflexively digging into Johnny's chest. It releases him a moment later, the better to clamber right over him and swing a paw at Daniel. You are bad toys!

tw: blood

[johnny_truant]

Johnny can't quite scream when the claws cut into him, too startled and too breathless to really make much of a sound - more of a gasp, really, his body seizing up in pain. Then it's gone, lifted off him, gone after Daniel. He's not even sure what's happened, what Daniel did, and he can't concentrate on it. He curls onto his side, pressing his arm to his chest, struggling to pull his shirt down. His skin is sticky with saliva and blood; the cuts aren't too deep, but they hurt like hell. He can't hear what's going on, his heart pounding in his ears; for a minute he thinks he's going to throw up. He stays put, quivering, trying to regulate his breathing, until finally he manages to look up, lifting his head to get a fix on Daniel.

[peacefulexplorer]

He doesn't know what he expected when he threw the stapler; he just hoped that it would do something. Which it did, which was excellent up until the point that the kitten started swatting at him instead.

The massive paw comes whooshing at him and he gets half a second to contemplate his poor decision-making before he throws himself forward to avoid the blow, reduced to half-crawling and attempting to flail to his feet. If he can just - re-coordinate and -

He manages it between gasps, darts between the giant thing's legs, heading straight for Johnny. He isn't moving, he isn't running, and this is definitely a situation, yep, they are definitely going to have to handle this. Where can they even go? The cat flap? Can the two of them even lift it? How bad did it scratch Johnny oh god did it - ?

See, questions like those aren't really helping.