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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Peter slides down off the bottle of scotch, awkwardly trying to find his footing in the bottom of the basket when it's almost entirely taken up by the giant bottles. He jabs a hand at the plastic more as he's trying to get his balance than as a deliberate effort to do something about it, shoving a little point of the material outward.

"Fucking ridiculous," he mutters as the person outside does...something. Is he throwing rice? No, something metal. The fuck is that supposed to help? Except then his newfound friend is hauling back with something in his hand, and Peter ducks to heed his advice and goes crashing down into the bottom of the basket. "Shit--!"

He can't see who it is, but he can see more light now from where he lays with one leg sticking up into the air, and he can see the hands sawing away at the plastic.

A few minutes of snipping through the stubborn stuff cuts out a head-sized hole, but not before whoever's inside makes a loud, angry noise, accompanied by the faint sounds of things - clinking? Is that glass? With a bit of creative neck contorting, Daniel manages to poke his head through the rough opening and peer in.

"Uhhhh." Bottles? Bottles. Lots of bottles. Massive, king-sized bottles. And also a leg.

He gets a minute of uncomprehending blinking, then Daniel tracks the leg to its owner and tries his very hardest not to sigh aloud at his discovery. Oh. Well. He should have gathered as much.

"Oh," he says, not - not unhappily, but the resigned acceptance slips into the word regardless. "Hi."

Peter blinks back up at him, holding up a hand to block some of the light. There's a moment of squinting before he realizes who it is, and he doesn't disguise his own grunt of disappointment at the identity of his rescuer.

"Hi yourself," he replies, withdrawing the leg and struggling to orient himself in a more upright fashion. "Any idea why I'm in Paul Bunyan's gift basket?"

"The Rift," he answers with an admittedly more caustic tone than is typical. Almost immediately, he adds, "Er - dream. Everyone's either really tiny or everything else is really big, but long story short - Merry Christmas."

With that uncharacteristically ambiguous explanation, Daniel withdraws his head. A minute later, however, a wider strip of the cellophane has been cut out to form what he hopes is a Peter-sized opening, and his head reappears. "Are you, ah - you okay?"

Merry Christmas? "It's August!" objects Peter, who by now as at least got his butt pointing down and his head pointing up. From there he's able to sort of shimmy backwards up one of the bottles, feet braced against the basket. He fumes silently over the sarcastic reply -- that's his wheelhouse, thank you -- but when Daniel reappears he doesn't so much attack him as demand additional help. "I'm super. Get me out of here," he says as though he has every right to expect Daniel to take the hand being thrust at him.

"I've noticed," says Daniel, head to one side. "The Rift doesn't seem to care."

One eyebrow cants slowly upward at the outstretched hand but he takes it after only a slight hesitation, though not without commenting dryly, "Can't you teleport out?"

"I can't see," says Peter testily. He's gotten braver, but not that brave, even if it is a dream. He grabs hold of Daniel's hand, considers teleporting the both of them somewhere just to be an arse, but then just levers himself out of the basket instead. All other things aside, he'd really rather not appear halfway through a wall somewhere. With the other man's help, though, he's able to clamber out of the basket and onto the considerably more even floor beyond, where he stands brushing himself off and exuding the general attitude of a wet cat.

It's at least a relief to retreat from the uncomfortably cage-like basket. Daniel idly wonders how significantly one's alcohol-to-blood ratio would be altered if the quantity of alcohol is massive as opposed to if the body is simply tiny. Would two drops from a normal-sized bottle get him drunk in these circumstances - unless, naturally, everyone is normal-sized and their surroundings are what's inflated, but in that case would it only require a few drops from an oversized bottle and - and Daniel quickly returns his thoughts to the present. Literally.

"So, yeah," he says helpfully, inclining his head at the giant of a tree and the equally over-large arrangement of gifts. "Merry Christmas."

And a Happy New Year, with all the physics-defying size and mass fluctuations included.

"...Could be worse," Peter concludes, craning his neck to look up at the enormous tree and the ceiling way, way beyond. "I could be chained to you."

Shit, did he just tempt fate? Fortunately no bonds appear, and Peter is left to drop his gaze back to Daniel after looking all around at the ant's eye view to which they've been treated. He sniffs in a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh. "I can't wake up from these damned things on my own," he admits.

Peter gets a long look that falls somewhere between concern and disbelief, then Daniel shrugs.

"True." Well, he's not going to disagree with that one. Peter's perspective of him at least seems to have shifted away from outright aggression, now landing more in the realm of world-weary disdain. That's an improvement, sort of. Daniel will take it.

"If it's any consolation," which it probably won't be, "I can't either. Usually I just, you know." He flaps a hand in a vague wobbly gesture before shoving it into one pocket. "Wait for something unpleasant to happen." And that is definitely a comforting thing to say when surrounded by giant Christmas presents.

He's punched better men than you, Daniel. Or at least he's punched men. A man. He doesn't do a lot of punching, alright? But he could if disdain isn't enough for you.

"...Fuck that," says Peter. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting out from under this tree and I'm finding a place to hide from whoever owns it."

Daniel is trying, okay. He's not doing a great job of it, mostly because he isn't sure whether to step carefully with Peter or just stop caring entirely. Or, okay, no, Daniel isn't the type to stop caring, not even with Peter. Peter's difficult. And Daniel's still working it out.

"Fair enough," he says. "There're some doors but it's - well, I can't really tell where they lead since they're closed. Might be able to fit under the cracks, at least." He carefully avoids saying 'we'. Peter might not take kindly to pluralizing, especially since Daniel isn't even sure if there is a 'we' here to begin with.

"Or I could hop to the other side if I know I'm not going to land in a wall." He's also not saying 'we'. Peter stops where he is, looking thoughtful, and squints up at a nearby box. In a flash (literally) he's on top of it, stumbling a little when his footing's not as stable as he expected and turning to look around at the room now that he's high enough to see most of it. "Shit," he breathes.

Or - okay, Peter could just do that. Daniel stumbles back and blinks in surprise when the other man dematerializes in a crackle and blaze of fire. A quick scan of the room confirms that Peter hasn't simply up and left him, or not yet, anyhow. He moves closer to the vantage point and squints up at its occupant.

"How's the view, then?" It's a bit far to see Peter's face but he doesn't seem too happy. Then again - has Daniel ever seen him happy? No, mostly just angry. That seems to be his go-to emotive state.

He could have brought Daniel with him, of course. Maybe it would have been funny to watch him startle and maybe fall off the box. There's something appealing, though, about being up here while Daniel remains down there.

"I don't like it!" he calls back. Ever looking on the bright side, Peter. It takes him a few moments to adjust to the sheer scale of what he's seeing, and even as he starts to accept it the whole place just doesn't look real. "I see the door!" he adds.

He doesn't like it. Well that's certainly a useful to know. Daniel doesn't like it either, but he's not exactly shouting about it.

"Okay," Daniel calls back patiently, resisting the urge to rub wearily at his eyes with one hand. Then he remembers that there's a fair distance between him and Peter, and does it anyway. "Which door?"

"How should I know which door?" retorts Peter impatiently. "It's a door, alright? You're the one who said you'd explored; you tell me which door I'm looking at."

"I'm not the one with the power to teleport," he fires back, exasperation rising. "When I said I explored I meant this room. If I'd been anywhere else I would've told you." And what's more, he wouldn't be here now.

Of course, it would have been reasonable to clarify. But Peter's being very loudly unreasonable. "You see any other doors?"

"Oh, for the love of--" Peter's muttering might go unheard, but the clap of fire next to Daniel probably won't. He grabs for the other man, fully intending to get a fistful of his shirt and teleport the both of them back up to the top of the box.

Daniel startles backwards at the gunshot-like bang when Peter reappears beside him.

"What are you -" he begins, irked, before Peter forcibly grabs him. "Seriously, what -"

It's rare for Peter to take anyone with him, but he knows from experience that he can. He keeps his grip tight; for a moment as he disappears again it feels like he has to yank on Daniel to keep the other man with him, but when they reappear atop the box they're still standing in the same configuration.

"That door," says Peter, pointing.

It's an incredibly disorienting sensation to be zapped from one place to another in the span of a heartbeat and a shower of sparks, and even more so to end up on top of an oversized box wrapped in Christmas-themed paper.

For a minute Daniel blinks bright spots from his vision, then follows the line of Peter's finger.

Well, that certainly is a door.

"Fine," he says, entirely too rattled to point out all the ways in which a single door might not even lead out. "And you know, a little warning would've been nice."

"What'd you think I was going to do?" chuckles Peter, as though this should all have been blindingly obvious. He's getting his sense of humor back now that he's the one with the upper hand. "Alright, I'm warning you this time. You're warned." And teleporting again right this second to land on the floor right in front of the door.

It just wasn't an advanced warning.

He manages a startled yelp this time but regaining his equilibrium doesn't take quite so long. The transport apparently jostled his glasses and he readjusts them with the faint air of annoyance.

"Better," he says dryly. "But maybe work on that."

He turns to the door, scanning the crack between it and the floor, and drops onto his hands and knees. "Might be able to fit underneath it. Unless you'd like to poof us over?"

Peter actually lets go of Daniel this time, satisfied that he's made his point...whatever it was. He probably had a point. Maybe. He even joins Daniel on the floor, closing one eye and squinting as he puts his head down low to see what he can see through the gap. He's less flippant now, weighing the likely dangers. He'd rather not crawl, he knows that, and he can see far enough to tell that there's room to appear on the other side.

"Quicker to just pop over," he comments, rocking upright on his knees and brushing himself off. As funny as it was when Daniel yelped, he'd rather the other man didn't make a bunch of noise when they don't know what's on the other side. Peter holds out a hand. "Coming? And don't let go; I'm coming right back out here if I don't like what's on the other wise."

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