Caught in the Current (open to multiple)

[fucking_ebay]

Peter's having a fairly ordinary dream -- that is, he's onstage in front of an audience, doing his old Vegas show in the nude, and none of the fire effects are working. He's not actually bothered by the nudity, which his dreaming mind seems to think is just part of the act, but he keeps getting confused about what part they're on. He hasn't rehearsed in weeks, and he's stumbling through all his lines and illusions.

Around the time the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino (TM) melts away to be replaced by Central Park, Peter's remembered that he doesn't live in Vegas anymore, and his befuddled mind is well on its way to working out that he's dreaming. He doesn't get a chance to come to his senses and enjoy his shot at lucid dreaming, though, before something goes terribly wrong. This time as the backdrop melts away, there's nothing to replace it. He feels himself being pulled, drawn away somehow -- and, helpless to resist, his sleeping mind is sent spinning off into the ether of the Dreaming. Flailing at nothing, he's carried away -- until, of course, he collides with another mind and finds himself in another person's dream.


[OOC: Peter's been carried off like a twig in a river -- and he's going to smack into a few rocks other minds before the night's through. He can still be naked for the first one if desired. Have at!]

Comments

[has_a_horn]

[Naked Peter? How could he refuse?]

Gabriel is wandering through a market in Rio de Janeiro, the stalls around him heaped with everything a human could possibly want, and crowds of people weaving to and fro enjoying the warm and pleasant day. When he feels the new-familiar tug of another consciousness entering his dream-space, he turns around just in time to see Peter stumbling in.

He grins and yanks a touristy, bright red and green poncho down from one of the stalls and walks over, handing it to him.

[fucking_ebay]

"Fuck." Peter's shaken by his journey -- and when he arrives, he really does literally stumble in, hitting the ground in the middle of the market with what feels like real momentum. He spins in place to gape at his new surroundings even before he's really caught his balance.

And then...Gabriel. Peter frowns at the poncho, not getting why Gabriel's holding it out to him. Then he frowns more deeply at Gabriel, because ugh, why did it have to be Gabriel -- and then his eyes widen and he looks down at himself in surprise as he finds that he's still stark naked. "Oh, shit," he says, taking the poncho.

[has_a_horn]

"Yeah, shit. I take it you didn't mean to bring me a naked surprise." Because, really? He doesn't expect that Peter came here on any sort of purpose.

[fucking_ebay]

"Why the fuck would I want to visit you?" asks Peter -- not gruffly, like he means it as an insult, but pitched as an actual question. He tugs on the poncho, giving it another dirty look for being so brightly colored. "I was doing a show," he explains by way of non-explanation.

[has_a_horn]

"My charm and winning smile, for starters." He's not particularly bothered by the crudeness of the question, just nods Peter a little away from the crowd to a little area set aside with white plastic chairs and tables. Not far off is a little cart selling street tacos, scenting the entire area with the smell of cooking meat and fresh cilantro. It's lovely, in it's own way.

"In your dreams? You do know this is a dream, right?" It's good to clear these things up right away, make sure Peter know's what's up.

Mostly. He's taking bets with himself on how long it takes Peter to realise he can just zap himself some fresh clothes instead of wandering around with his skinny legs sticking out of a brightly colored poncho.

[fucking_ebay]

Peter toddles along, mostly to get out of the throng of people. He sniffs the air, stomach suddenly feeling empty at the reminder of food (thanks, Gabriel, and here he'd managed to forget going to bed hungry). He shoots Gabriel a look. "Of course I know it's a dream," he says sharply, though he wasn't entirely sure of that just a moment ago. "Do you think I give shows bare-arsed in the park?"

[has_a_horn]

"The weather the way it's been, maybe not." He chuckles. "You should totally reconsider in the summer. Give it some thought." You know what? He's getting tacos. He wanders over and converses briefly with the vendor in Spanish before receiving a paper plate full of small soft-shell tacos. He brings it over to the open table and sits down, shoving an entire taco into his mouth as soon as he sits down. "Want one?"

[fucking_ebay]

That actually gets a chuckle out of Peter. "Be a hell of a hook," he admits. "Bit hard to pull anything out of your sleeves when you're in your birthday suit, though, and I'm not going to start stowing cards up my arsehole."

He flops down into a seat when Gabriel departs for the stand, gazing about at all the colorful bullshit around him. Gabriel's offer is naturally of interest, but it draws a frown from him nonetheless. "It's a dream, remember? Won't do any good." But he reaches to take one anyway.

[has_a_horn]

"Still tastes good." He shoves another taco into his mouth and makes a show of enjoying it, chewing messily as he does. It actually is pretty damn good.

When he finished, he raises his eyebrows at Peter. "I'd feed you in person if you bothered to call. I'm hurt, really."

[essentiallyharmless]

Lucy's having a fairly ordinary dream as well. But for her, that usually includes being back on the Valiant, and could probably qualify as a nightmare. There's no terror, but there's a general feeling of anxiety and unhappiness that's difficult to ignore.

She doesn't notice Peter's arrival immediately. She's on the main observation deck, slow-dancing with the Master, while 'Lady in Red' plays around them. Indeed she is in red, wearing one of the Master's favourite silk dresses, her hair coiffed, though her appearance is slight marred by the few fading bruises on her face and arms. Though the song might also be referring to the blood covering much of the floor, random bodies littered around them.

[fucking_ebay]

Peter's knees wobble under him as he hits the deck unfairly hard, and he grabs for the railing he finds in front of him. There's a moment or two of panting, and then a squeaking gasp. "Holy shit," he says. "Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck."

He hasn't even realized whose dream this is -- he's aware of the dancing couple, but he's rather more aware of the carnage and of the oppressive anxiety seeping over into his mind. He's not really aware of his own appearance at all -- which is why he's likely to appear in whatever Lucy's mind supplies for him.

[essentiallyharmless]

Lucy turns to look when she hears his voice, and because of the setting, she assumes it's the Doctor, therefore Peter will find himself wearing a brown pinstriped suit and converses. It doesn't occur to her until a few moments later that he's not acting anything like he would imagine the Doctor to do. "Peter?" she asks, confused why he'd be here. She doesn't walk over to him - the Master has a firm grip on her wrist, anchoring her.

[fucking_ebay]

"...Lucy?" Peter squints at her, lip pulling up to show his teeth. His gaze flicks over to the man holding onto her. "Oh, no. No. Tell me that's not your husband."

Something's not right with his arms -- when he glances down at them, he sees that they're covered in brown, pinstriped fabric. Letting go of the rail and stepping back, arms raising to feel down the front of the neatly buttoned jacket, he lets out a baffled, "And what am I wearing?!"

[essentiallyharmless]

As Peter watches, the Master wraps his arms around Lucy's waist from behind, face against her hair like he's smelling it. Combined with the scene, it should be answer enough.

At the question regarding his clothing, the Master steps forward, doing exactly what Lucy would imagine him to do, while she watches, frozen. "My dear Doctor," he says, his voice silky but punctuated by something almost a growl. "So nice of you to join us."

And then Peter will find himself inside a large metal birdcage, roomy enough to stand, though small enough that he can reach from one side to the other.

[fucking_ebay]

"I am not him," says Peter stridently. He poises to run, but finds himself all but rooted to the floor by the Master's gaze. "Lucy, tell him --" he starts, but then the scene shifts around him -- more or less -- and the words die in his throat. He startles at the bars in front of him, backing away too late and running into the ones behind him.

[essentiallyharmless]

"What this?" the Master asks of Lucy. "Have you been cozying up to our guest?" She doesn't answer, unable to move even though nothing but the dream is holding her, feeling helpless. "In bed with my enemy?" he all but shouts, and backhands her across the face - the pain of if ringing through the dream so even Peter might feel it - and making her fall to the floor. The Master hardly seems aware of Peter's presence, but at the same time it's almost like a show he's putting on.

"Now, there there," he cooes, bending down and putting his hand on Lucy's throat, making her stand back up. "Don't be sad, my pet. Would you like to go talk to your little friend? I'm sure he'd be fascinated to hear all the things you've done for me." Lucy shakes her head in fright, looking up at Peter. She doesn't want him to know about any of that.

[fucking_ebay]

Peter flinches, Lucy's feelings -- and her pain -- echoing through the mental space and into him. He has no control, no way to block her out, and it would seem she lacks the control to avoid passing it on. Or, well, any control. He grips the bars at the back of the cage, not sure if he's more afraid for himself...or for Lucy. He still knows, in the back of his mind, that this is a dream. With his heart rate increasing, though, it's hard to remember or to try to do anything about it.

Something snaps inside him. "Don't you fucking touch her!" he shouts at the Master...while still clinging to the back of the cage.

[wildmage_daine]

Given the approaching full moon, it's no great surprise that Daine is dreaming of caged bears. Not Yuri, though - instead, she's in the polar bear cage at the Central Park Zoo. In the waking world, she had finally flown through in starling shape, keeping her mind closed, for the most part. She hadn't been able to resist talking to Gus, though. She'd never seen a polar bear before.

And that's the shape she's in, now. Daine paces along a wall of bars that better resembles Yuri's cage than the zoo. She's hardly expecting visitors, so when Peter appears directly in front of her, she lets out a huff of surprise and sits back on her haunches, forepaws raised in case she has to defend herself.

[fucking_ebay]

"Fucking hell --" Peter staggers in out of thin air and fetches up against a wall of bars -- another cage?! -- but he's quickly distracted from the question of where he is by the fucking polar bear right in front of him. "Fuck!" he yelps. Completely forgetting anything and everything he's ever heard about how to deal with coming face to face with a predatory animal, Peter immediately attempts to turn and flee. As he's still off balance, though, and as they're in a cage, this ends with him falling over and more or less wedging himself into a corner.

[wildmage_daine]

Daine blinks in astonishment at the newcomer. It takes her a moment to realize she recognizes him, as his clothing, manner, and language are so different from either Andrew's or the Doctor's. It's only after she peers closely at his face that she notes the striking similarity.

She lowers her paws and huffs again, though this time there's a trace of amusement beneath the surprise. You must be Peter.

[fucking_ebay]

"Stay back!" As if a bear is going to listen. How did he get into a bear's dream, anyway? And if it eats him, will he wake up from this?

Peter gapes at the bear when it speaks to him. It doesn't actually speak to him, exactly, but that was definitely communication -- and it apparently knows his name. "How the hell do you know that?" he asks, wide-eyed and still wedged firmly in the corner, legs sticking out awkwardly.

[wildmage_daine]

Daine had thought she looked non-threatening enough just sitting still, but Peter's fear hasn't lessened. She's not quite lucid enough to appreciate that he doesn't know her and has no way of knowing she doesn't plan to attack him, so it's with a put-upon sigh that she climbs to her feet, takes a few large, showy steps backwards, and then lies down on the sculpted concrete 'rocks' that make up the floor. There, see? Harmless.

I guessed, she explains, resting her head on her paws for good measure. I knew there was a man named Peter who looked like Andrew and the Doctor, and you're not Andrew or the Doctor, so.

[fucking_ebay]

OH SHIT THE BEAR IS GETTING UP -- oh. Peter swallows down the scream he was about to let out when he sees that she's actually backing off, and struggles into a somewhat more comfortable (and somewhat more dignified) position.

"The Doctor looks like me," he sulks, still more than a bit irked with the man for thinking he can walk into Peter's life and demand an accounting just because they share a face. And, well, for existing in the first place. Doppelgangers have no place in the waking world. "And who the fuck is Andrew?"

[wildmage_daine]

Someone else who looks like you. Daine replies. She doesn't comment on Peter's evident displeasure with the Doctor - Andrew's not a huge fan of his, either, so she doesn't find it that surprising - but she doesn't care for the tone of that last question. Andrew's my friend, she adds, punctuating her assertion with a growl so low that it can be felt more easily than heard.

[fucking_ebay]

"God, does it ever end?" asks Peter, more to himself than to Daine. He's about to add a smart remark about how she can just go tell Andrew to stop looking like him right this instant, but her growl curtails any further speech in favor of scrambling to his feet, clutching the bars to either side of him. "He's friends with a polar bear?!" he asks, brain sort of shorting out at the thought.