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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Giles blinks at Sunshine's obvious confusion. She doesn't know Christmas? Oh, right - she's from a different world, he remembers now.

"Ah." He pauses, pulling off his glasses to give them a quick wipe before replacing them on his nose. Where to begin? "In my world, Christmas is a holiday created by the Christian religion to celebrate the birth of their god. They appropriated various pagan winter celebrations and traditions and either folded them into their own beliefs or changed them to match, including the Christmas tree." He flaps a hand at the dark form looming overhead. "The celebration also includes the giving of gifts," he adds, waving a hand to encompass the wrappings and boxes around them.

That is an extremely broad explanation, but the details get very complicated. He'll leave it to Sunshine to ask questions if she needs more details. Otherwise they could be here talking about holidays all night. Or whatever the equivalent of a night would be in a dream.

"Ah." Okay, then. But hey, kudos to Giles for the concise explanation. "We, um, celebrate the solstice, back home. But not like… this." 'This' encompassing basically everything. She can barely even look at the tree; all the lights are playing merry hell with her eyes and throwing compound shadows left, right and center. Yuck.

Instead, she turns to look out over the broad plain of what looks a whole hell of a lot like a carpeted floor, now that she's actually paying attention. The distant, hulking shapes her brain had half-assedly determined to be rock formations are actually furniture. Which means that they are all just… really kali goddamn tiny. And…

"… Gifts," she repeats without enthusiasm. "We're for someone." 'Someone' might be wishful thinking. 'Something' might be closer to the truth.

Giles nods in understanding. He wants to ask about the winter solstice celebrations in Sunshine's world, but is distracted by her reminder that they were all tidily wrapped up as offerings to - someone or something.

He meanders back over to his own bag, which is nearby, and circles it, examining it closely. "Well, if we are gifts for someone, it's either only one someone, or a random gift exchange." He points at the bag. "No name tag." A quick scan of the presents he can see supports his theory; none of them are sporting tag either, as far as he can tell.

The play of the Christmas lights against some of the shinier wrapping paper is starting to make him feel a bit ill - along with the undercurrent of unease that seems to pervade the whole place - so he joins Sunshine in staring out across the room. "That is quite a lot of carpet."

[ooc: whoops, it's hardwood; let's just pretend it was hardwood all along shall we?]

So, what's more horrifying: the thought of them all being packaged up for one greedy and incredibly oversized person, or the thought of a whole pack of oversized people fighting over who gets whom? Sunshine winces at both options. If she was feeling optimistic, she might venture that they're not 'for' anyone, but she isn't feeling optimistic. She feels more like it's only a matter of time before some enormous, proprietary hand swoops down from above and closes around her, and she edges a bit closer to Giles, as if there is a single goddamn thing he could do about it.

"It is quite a lot of everything," she agrees flatly, nodding at a monolithic furniture set a hundred yards away. "What do you think? Hide under a chair?" She's joking. Sort of.

[Well, there are rugs, right? Carpet can refer to rugs. We'll just pretend it's rugs.]

Giles studies the room like it's a battle plan. "On the off chance that we are gifts for giants, I suspect moving away from the tree would be the best idea," he admits. "Perhaps we should explore? Find a more secure location - or, at the very least, one where we would be less likely to be spotted."

And, if there are giants, finding a good hiding spot from which they can observe is decidedly the best course of action.

[Let's pretend they're all this one!]

Considering the disasters she's had to reluctantly face head-on, there's something surprising - and incredibly gratifying - about having someone comparatively authoritative react to the threat of a horrible showdown with 'yes, let's find a quality bolt hole, good plan.' Sunshine blinks, eyebrows rising a little, but quickly recovers herself enough to nod (with, perhaps, a little too much eagerness).

"Yeah. Okay." Not that 'exploring' sounds especially fun in the current context, but if it leads to 'hunkering down somewhere safe,' she'll take it. "Should we, um… follow the wall, maybe?" That's usually the game plan for small animals, which presumably know what they're doing. Then again, at this size, she's not sure she wants to run into any 'small' animals, either.

[I love this plan.]

Having battled gods, demons, and the very beasts of Hell itself, Giles knows that sometimes the best offense is a quick retreat. And that good preparation is the best battle plan. And that when you know nothing about your situation, it's best not to rush into any confrontations. Not that his proteges always agreed, he silently (and fondly) grumps.

Sunshine seems eager enough to take the "retreat and regroup" course, though. He nods at her suggestion to follow the walls.

"Probably the best idea," he agrees. "It's hard to judge distance here, and if there is something to avoid, we don't want to get caught out in the open should it arrive." The wall nearest them is the one farthest from the door, and he points in that direction. "Shall we?"

"Yes," she agrees, endeavoring to sound like she's helping make tactical choices and not like she's trying to hide beneath the nearest piece of furniture as quickly as she can. It's not too far to the wall, and she can't help but pause and put a hand on the baseboard, which easily reaches her chin. "Gods," she mutters under her breath.

The temptation to pull out her knife strikes her, just for the comfort of having it clutched in her hand instead of in her pocket. But at this size, it would be beyond useless; a splinter would do more damage. Unless the residents of this Brobdingnagian house are vampires, which does not even bear thinking about. So she's not going to.

"Okay," she breathes. Behind them is the corner that the huge tree currently dominates, so there's no point heading that way. "This way, then. Spartan." Sunshine starts along the wall, glancing back at Giles. "So, is being a gift for a giant something you've experienced before?" she asks dryly. Because he really has been rolling with it. Kudos.

Even after the tree, the baseboard offers an entirely new perspective on their size, and Giles completely sympathizes with Sunshine soft exclamation. All he musters up is a silent sigh, though, as he follows her along the wall.

"Gift? No. Never really dealt with giants. Had my share of altercations and run-ins with very big things, but none of them were actually giants." He casts a glance back over his shoulder, a bit dismayed by how little progress they've made. "Nor can I say that I have ever been miniaturized. Killed a fear demon who turned out to be very tiny, though."

"Fear demon," Sunshine repeats, somewhere between incredulous and genuinely assessing. There's a pretty broad variety of demons in her universe, but fear demon sounds like something a four-year-old would dub one of his action figures. Like: that's cute, sweetie. What an imagination.

"So are they all pureblood demons, in your universe?" she asks, just a bit carefully. Her universe still has some work to do in terms of not treating partbloods shabbily, and she can't help wondering if any of the demons he's offed have been human enough to not deserve it.

"Probably not in the way you're thinking," Giles answers, giving her a look. "There are some that trace bloodlines, and most only have one demon lineage, but there are plenty that are mixed to varying degrees." He frowns slight in thought. "Many of the demons in my world are created - turned, not born." His frown turns toward disgust tinged with terror as he adds, "I hope most of them can't procreate."

Shaking the thought away, he turns to Sunshine with a curious glance. "I take it your universe has a spectrum, too?"

Sunshine looks thoroughly perturbed at the thought of demons being able to turn people the way vampires do. All in all, she'd much rather deal with the thoroughly-diluted demon blood that runs through the general population (even if it does carry some pretty gross implications about what was going on however many dozen generations ago).

"Um. Yes." Is this going to freak him out? It's probably going to freak him out. "I mean, we have some pretty full-blooded demons, but there's also a lot of trace demon blood in the general population. Not much; it's usually not enough to cause… personality problems." There's a delicate way of putting it. "Sometimes it doesn't even manifest at all. Or maybe you grow a pair of horns out of nowhere when you're thirty-five. Or maybe when you hit puberty you start being able to see infra light, or something." Okay, that's deliberately optimistic; as if a demon taint would give you something flash and not something that has you throwing money at the most discreet plastic surgeon you can find. "But most people with demon blood aren't, um, visibly demonic."

Far from freaking him out, the truth intrigues him. The idea of applying those rules to his own universe is, yes, disturbing and worrying, but considering it just as the way another universe works? Fascinating.

"Fascinating. So most people in your universe have some amount of demon blood, and the matching physical or magical traits?" He smiles slightly, eyes focused on Sunshine, for a moment forgetting where they are and the predicament they are in as his curiosity takes over. "Do you have demon blood, too?"

Okay, so it's safe to say that she was not expecting him to be so carthaginian at ease with the idea of partbloods that he'd just casually ask if she was one. Her jaw drops a little, both because some questions are so rude that even cultural differences can't quite excuse them, and because it's a question that is particularly troubling to her. Gods.

"It--um." Stop. Swallow. Try again. "Well. It's… kind of hard to… know for certain. Demon taints don't always manifest at all, or they might skip generations…" she twitches her shoulders in a desperate little shrug, like, what can you do? Besides deal with the ever-present threat of your surprise demon taint and your magic-handling blood deciding to have it out like two drunk meatheads in a bar, with your sanity standing in for the beer bottles and pool cues, and the innocent bystanders being played by actual innocent bystanders.

"I don't know," she concludes. "I… I don't think so." She's banking pretty heavily on the idea that any bad cross meltdown would have already happened, if it was going to. If Bo wasn't enough of an invitation, the rift would have been. She thinks. But she doesn't know. That's the problem with demon taints; you don't know if the answer's 'no,' you only know if the answer is 'yes.'

Oh, dear. Clearly having demon blood isn't so casual a thing in Sunshine's universe as he thought. He stops her with a gentle hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry if the question was rude. You made having demon blood sound commonplace; clearly I misinterpreted. It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable and I apologize."

In his universe, having any demon blood at all makes you, well, a demon. Clearly things are much murkier in Sunshine's universe, and thornier, too. He gives her a smile that is equal parts encouraging and apologetic, still curious but no longer desiring to pursue the topic.

Oh, gods, now he's being all earnest. Sunshine winces. "It is commonplace, it's just… not exactly smiled upon. No one shouts their partblood status from the rooftops, you know?" She shrugs again, more gently this time, because no, he didn't know. Now he does.

She resumes walking. "I, uh. I have magic-handling blood. And that... doesn't always play nicely with any demonic heritage you might have going on." Why is she even telling him this? To excuse the freakout he's already willing to brush aside, no questions asked? Get a grip, Sunshine. Just because he has nice landlady shadows doesn't mean she needs to go getting attached.

"Ah, I see," he says, falling into step beside her. And he does, both about Sunshine's universe and Sunshine herself. He knows how difficult it can be to carry self-fear around inside (that thought stirs up feelings of something beyond himself, something just outside memory, but he brushes it away).

He gives her a scrutinizing glance, a soft, teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, you seem fine to me, so I hope you don't mind if I keep tagging along," he gently says. It isn't like he hasn't had people he know turn evil on him before (the feeling turns over inside him again); he can read the signs, knows what to do.

For an unacceptably maudlin moment, Sunshine thinks that yes, 'you seem fine' is about as glowing a commendation as she could expect - with a big old emphasis on the 'seem.' But he's probably right. And this is still just a dream. Not that there's anything 'just' about dream disasters, because she's been haunted by plenty of those since that night by the lake (and more still since a couple nights ago), but it's not permanent damage she'd be inflicting. Any hearts she tears out in this colossal house will still be in their proper places in the morning.

"I suppose not," she says with a faint smile of her own. She considers attempting a joke about signing waivers and is he sure he could dispatch her efficiently, but it wouldn't be that funny.

After a minute of not-too-awkward silence (during which they make comparatively little progress; gods, who knew being tiny would be so tedious), she can't suppress her morbid curiosity any longer. "So demons can turn people in your universe?"

Giles is decidedly not thinking about the best way to efficiently dispatch her, at least not consciously. Whatever his subconscious does on its own, well, he can't be held responsible for that. You can take the man out of the battle, etc.

He is a little surprised at her question, given how uncomfortable she was with the topic just a minute ago, but he answers her willingly enough. "In some cases. Vampires do, of course, though they do so by killing the victim, which isn't the universal method of demon-turning. Not all demons have to do anything horrible to you to turn you into one of them. Sometimes you just have to choose it." He pauses for a moment, both to check their (relatively little) progress and to collect his thought. "Someone I knew went from human to vengeance demon twice. And there are also artifacts that can turn you into a demon. Or spells."

This time when he pauses, the thoughts are less pleasant. "I was turned into a demon via spell once," he mutters, only a little bitterly.

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Better to Receive than to Give [open to all]

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