applesaucedream | Better to Receive than to Give [open to all]

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Better to Receive than to Give [open to all]

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.]

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It's more than a little disconcerting, wandering around so many people-sized boxes. Daniel was lucky enough to emerge from a bag, which wasn't difficult to escape from seeing as he managed it more or less by accident. Isn't that just the way with him? Still, he pauses to listen for the sounds of anyone inside the other boxes, just in case. One doesn't have to have a specific terror of small spaces to find waking up in a neat little package uniquely horrifying.

And then he strikes gold, in the purely figurative sense. One of the smaller boxes (and rigidly, unnervingly person-sized) emits a faint wheezing noise, and that means there's either something awful in there or something petrified beyond the point of forming words.

There's a good chance it's the latter, and he'll take that chance. Daniel raps on the cheerfully wrapped package with a hesitant fist.

"Hello? Anyone in there?"

The knock is a surprise, and not an entirely welcome one. Fuck. He startles, gasping, breathless.

"Yes," he replies, irrationally annoyed. In there, like this confinement is... somewhere. His orientation is all off. Is he lying down? He feels like he's lying down, and someone just knocked on the low-hanging ceiling, so to speak, so... are they on top of him?

Asking questions feels like too much effort. He shifts a little more, still unable to loosen his ridiculously overzealous packaging.

"Can you get me out of here?" he asks in a smaller, meeker voice. He doesn't know where here is, or where out is, but it doesn't matter.

The guy doesn't sound happy to be in there but, you know, Daniel kind of gets that. He can't think of many people who would be happy to wake up trapped in a tight coffin-sized box.

"Yeah, hang on," he answers in what's meant to be a reassuring voice but ends up sounding more puzzled than anything. It's a little surreal to be unwrapping a box that's literally his size, and prying off the lid just reveals a mess of tissue paper and a second, thick wrapping insulating the unfortunate guy within. Oh god, it's like he's been mummified in addition to crammed into his coffin of a giftbox. That's twisted. That's really twisted.

"Almost -" Getting the tape off is the difficult bit, and casting about for any helpfully sharp objects is an effort he should have known was doomed from the start. Daniel manages to loosen the surrounding paper enough to start working the tape away from the binding, but it's going to be a slow effort unless he gets a little help. "Oh god, it's taped. Is it any looser at least?"

"Yeah I know," says Johnny through gritted teeth; he's working fucking overtime here trying not to let his panic turn to full aggression, which this helpful whomever doesn't deserve, but it's almost a lost cause. He's out of the box now, he can see a lightening beyond the layers of paper, but he's still very much trapped in this too-clever Russian nesting doll of a prison.

"Sort of," he says after a moment of increased squirming. "I mean it's tape, it doesn't really loosen, it just - breaks." Babbling is helpful, maybe. Helps him remember he's a person, anyway. He wants to offer suggestions but that feels trite and stupid, since he has no idea what the dream looks like out there; he may as well just be an object at this point.

"All right, all right. It'll be okay. Hold on." Absurd, because it's not like the guy has much choice, right? His choices are pretty limited to holding on and, what? Daniel tries to project some manner of calm as he says it then backs away, breathes slowly, and starts shaping a meticulous mental picture. He's just never done anything this big before and even with sporadic practice he's never succeeded. Hopefully the dream nature of the whole thing will make it a little easier. He just needs to narrow his concentration, visualize the shape and curve of metal, aaaaaand there.

"Yes," he breathes, relieved, when the narrow shape of a pair of scissors materializes in one hand, thankfully sized in relation to him and not the gargantuan surroundings. "Okay, one sec. Just - hold still."

Snipping through the layers of tape and paper is harder than it all rights should be, which probably has something to do with the thickness and density of tape and Daniel's comparably tiny pair of scissors but gradually he cuts through most of it and feels the tautness of the paper loosen. Handfuls of the stuff get torn away, tossed over one shoulder.

What's he doing? For a minute Johnny's afraid he's been abandoned, but then there's noise and the blessed sound of paper being cut. So apparently he found a tool or something, whatever works, he's in no position to complain about not having done so in the first place.

As the bindings loosen he starts to be able to wriggle free, tugging his arms out and helping push the paper away from him, until he's finally able to squirm out. Once freed, he takes a minute to breathe, staring uncomprehendingly at the wreckage of where he was, and the surroundings.

"What," he says flatly, looking around them, and then finally at - oh, look who it is.

"Daniel," he blurts. He notes the pair of scissors in his hand. Oddly convenient. "You had scissors?"

"Johnny?" He hadn't really taken the time to guess who might have been trapped in there but Johnny's easily recognizable now that he's out of that paper mess. Then Daniel looks at the scissors, baffled for an instant over their conception, but his foggy expression almost immediately clears.

"Right." He holds them up with the faint air of pride. His power's never actually been directly useful before. Look mom, he helped someone with it. "It's my power. Office supplies. Not very practical, usually, but, uh - well. Um." He looks up, scanning the room with its oversized scenery, then settles his stare back on Johnny. "This is, uh, a long story. Probably."

Johnny manages a weak laugh at that. Hell of a power, and yet it probably just saved his metaphysical life, so, points for that. He takes a moment to breathe, putting his face briefly in his hands.

"Weirdest dream so far," he mutters. "Did you wake up like this or did you just happen across me?" He's never had a nightmare like this before - hell, he barely even celebrates Christmas - but there's a first time for anything.

Edited 2014-12-28 23:47 (UTC)

"Woke up in a bag. Kind of, er, fell out of it." Which wasn't fun but sounds much less awful than waking up bound up in a compact box. Daniel lucked out there, he supposes. "I think it's the general theme."

Which, thanks Rift. Way to make things special. And here comes the freshly mystified frown. "Hang on, isn't it August?"

"Lovely." Johnny is deeply suspicious that his particularly compact packaging is supposed to be some hilarious joke about his breakability on the Rift's part, but he keeps that to himself. "Yes, it is. This is the second winter-themed dream in..." wait, when did that last one happen? he doesn't even remember waking up. "Uh. The night? Hell if I know, time is weird here." He looks around, catching sight of several dreamers he doesn't recognize, a lot of them more... colorful than usual. "Feels like there's a lot more people than usual. I met someone weird earlier, too." Now that's coming back. Woman who was actually a gun. Did he eat something weird, what the hell?

"Is it?" It is? Well that - makes things much more complicated. He remembers the dream previous to this one, a deeply confusing affair involving Seth and he is definitely going to leave that train of thought where it is, thanks.

"I think there's something different," he says slowly. "About this whole, you know. More people, well, than usual, and it feels - bad. Well, worse." It's not just the dissonance of so many happily wrapped gifts versus their self-aware, caged-up cargo. Daniel doesn't think there are actual words to explain the slow-burning dread that's congealing in his chest, or the malicious air that contrasts the bright baubles and ornaments.

"Yeah, no kidding." He looks around dully for a few moments more, then glances back at Daniel. "Um, thanks, by the way."

When was the last time he even saw Daniel? Was it the first time? Yeah, in that underwater dream, where he saw Johnny - oh, he saw that. Great. The only reason he remembers him is because Seth mentioned him that one time.

"You know Seth," he blurts, incredibly stupidly.

"No problem." Daniel shrugs and looks back down for the scissors, only to find that they've vanished. Huh. Maybe larger constructs require a greater degree of concentration? It's an unclear theory, and the power itself isn't all that well-established, as per the norm around here.

And then that random vein comes hurtling seemingly out of nowhere at an unchecked velocity and Daniel's head shoots back up, faintly alarmed.

"Um, yeah." His head goes to one side as he stretches the word out indeterminately. "Yeah. I guess, um. Mutual friend." Friend. Yes. Well. Sort of. In a way. In a strange, not-fully-quantifiable way. He's...not going to investigate that right now.

"Yeah, he, um... we live in the same building," says Johnny, relieved that Daniel is only sort of weirded out by the blunt subject shift, and not thoroughly weirded out. "He mentioned you to me in another dream, and I realized I knew you from that other one..." He grins faintly. "My social life has gotten a lot weirder and more vague since these dreams started happening."

"No kidding," he comments, returning the confused smile. "God, it's hard to keep track, you know - how many of these people you actually know from dreams. But yeah, um. I think he mentioned you? In, uh." A tiny, snorting laugh escapes as he remembers. From another dream, no less.

He continues dryly, "Yeah, in another dream, wouldn't you know. Said you guys were neighbors." And also in a relationship with Gabe, apparently? He's not sure how safe that is to bring up as a topic, so Daniel lets that one lie. The way Seth had mentioned it seemed pretty offhand.

"Yup." Johnny shrugs. "He's a good guy."

How much does Daniel know about Seth? How much does Daniel know about him? Does he know about Seth's imprisonment, his power - and what Johnny's power almost did to him? He doubts Seth just goes around telling people about that last one, but he feels a guilty, uneasy twist in his gut nonetheless.

He looks at the other boxes around them, and the twist becomes a steady sick feeling at the close memory of where he just was, and the thought that others might be in the same proverbial boat.

"This is really fucked up," he says unnecessarily. He feels like he should do something, but what can he do? He can't manifest scissors. He can only...

He shivers involuntarily. "This house is way too fucking big," he murmurs.

He imitates Johnny unintentionally, glancing up and around to scan the space that is, quite truthfully, far too big for anyone's comfort.

"Yeah." His forehead furrows into a characteristic frown. "Either everything's huge or we've been downgraded." Courtesy of the Rift, as per usual. Ugh. "I've been trying to get people out, but, well. There's a lot."

But now Daniel starts peering around hopefully. If this is a house, it should have a door out, shouldn't it? Granted, that wouldn't actually tell them much other than whether these specific surroundings are sized to the extreme or if everyone else has just gotten a significant reduction in individual stature. And getting out might prove problematic in its own right, because then where would they go? Would the Rift even let them? There are always limitations of a sort to these dreams, aren't there?

"Think maybe there'd be a way to get out?" he suggests anyway. "Not just out of, you know, but I mean the house itself. Door's probably oversized but there's gotta be a way to get it open." That's...assuming there is one. Daniel's going to be optimistic here and assume just that.

Johnny tries very hard not to think about how he might be able to open a door, oversized or no. The thought of acting on a house this size is dizzying, sickening, overwhelming. Maybe they can find their own way out. If the Rift will let them. If the house will let them.

"Lay on, MacDuff," he says with a hint of resignation, creeping to the edge of the box they're sitting on. It's a longish way down, but not unjumpable. "Let's just try not to roll any ankles."

He lowers himself off the edge slowly and hoists himself down. He lands on his feet, managing to keep himself loose enough that he doesn't actually hurt anything. Not fun, but now he's on the floor, which is better than on a box.

Daniel's mouth opens to protest as Johnny pitches himself over with an alacrity that he finds vaguely alarming, but he lands evenly and seems fine enough. After a brief hesitation Daniel follows, gripping at the box's edges with both hands before dropping. He still gets a slight shock to his lower body from the impact, but an experimental flexing of both ankles proves nothing broken.

"Okay, so step two." Step two being - locating the door? Except this place is massive, and any progress they make in the wrong direction will take just as long to subvert. "Any idea which way?" They look to be in a living room type of establishment. That's typically where the tree goes in Daniel's experience. The door shouldn't be too far away?

Johnny scans their gargantuan surroundings and points out several options of door. He has a vague feeling that the double door nearest them has already been tried - whatever that means - so he ends up angling toward one on the far side of the room.

"How do you feel about walking for a ways?" he says dryly, as if they have a choice. "Let's try that one over there? Get as far from this mess as possible."

"I feel pretty good about it," he answers amiably, inflecting the words with a lighthearted pitch. Walking is well within his skillset, and anything that takes them from the great mass of needled foliage in the room is fine with him. There's a lot about this particular setup that Daniel finds profoundly unnerving, but the tree's towering apex and the web of presents around it is especially off-putting. He starts for the door with a deftness that belies the swirl of agitation in each step. "Not sure how we'll get it open, though."

"I think we might be able to crawl underneath," he says as he falls into step beside Daniel. He leans down a bit to squint at the distant door; he's pretty sure the line of light running between it and the floor represents a width sufficient for his skinny ass - Daniel might be a problem though.

"Well, I might be able to," he amends. "Um. We'll figure it out when we get there."

He's gonna feel pretty fucking stupid if they get all the way over and Daniel can't fit and they have no other options. He sure as hell isn't about to scale a door and turn the knob with his weight or some borrower type bullshit like that.

There's not much he can do besides nod until they do get there. By the time they do, Daniel drops onto all fours to peer at the gap between the ground and the door, head angled in quiet evaluation. It helps that he's basically four inches tall, but getting stuck underneath a door is not on his list of Ways He Wants to Die in Dreams. Or at all, really, and the fact that he has a list at all should be somewhat worrying but he's not getting into that right now.

"Yeah, not sure I'll fit under there," he mutters, sitting back on his heels. "Could give it a shot, at least."

Johnny shakes his head. He really doesn't want to do this, but he wants Daniel getting stuck under a fucking door because it was 'worth giving a shot' even less.

"Fuck," he mutters. "Unfortunately for me, I have a better idea."

They've reached it now, and yeah, it doesn't look promising for mister side-of-beef here. Johnny sighs and gets down on his knees, reaching a hand under the gap, resting it on the wood of the door. He can feel a cold draft coming through, which chills him even more.

It's huge, but this is a relatively small shift, isn't it? It's not like he's going to open the door. He just needs to lift it up a few inches. He draws a breath and lets it out slowly, then lets his thoughts focus on shrinking the wood, or warping the actual reality of the dream, whatever the fuck it is that he does. Dimensional something or other, as Gabe described it. Who cares. He doesn't care.

Even this, a tiny little shift, makes him so dizzy his head spins, if he weren't already kneeling he'd have tipped right over. His vision blacks out for a second and he feels the press of pain behind his eyes and under his skull that harkens back to how he felt when he first met the TARDIS. He grunts and draws his hand back to cover his face for a moment, breathing sharp and shallow through his fingers.

"Fuck," he gasps, muffled through his hand. "Oh, fuck. Jesus. Fuck you, too, house."

He did it. The house, or the Rift, whatever, clearly didn't like it, but he did do it. As his vision swims back he can see the gap is a little taller now, roomy enough for Daniel to crawl comfortably through.

He'd hate to feel what would happen if he tried anything bigger on this place.

He bites back the knee-jerk impulse to protest, insist that Johnny doesn't have to - he's already done it, so there wouldn't be much point. He remembers easily enough Johnny's description of the thing, the 'nightmare' that almost apparently killed someone he knew. The fact that he's acting on a house that's been dramatically scaled up probably isn't helping in the slightest. The guy looks pretty unsteady on his feet just with the initial warping so Daniel hastily wriggles under the door to keep him from having to hold it or keep it shifted or - whatever it is, however that power works - any longer than absolutely necessary.

It's only upon exhaling on the other side that Daniel realizes he was holding his breath in the first place. He peers back under the door at Johnny, sincere and sympathetic.

"Thank you," he says. "Really, thanks. You, um. You're gonna be okay?" It's a dumb question, because Johnny doesn't look particularly okay and having to act on a house of this scale can't have been pleasant at all, but it's the only way Daniel knows how to help.

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