A Time to Rise and a Time to Fall [Open to Multiple]

[andhiswife]

Greta dreams of falling (again, and again).

The path ends abruptly. Maybe there never was a path, only a deceptive stretch of ground, free of any undergrowth, that looked like it could be one. Either way, she's left standing on the edge of a sheer cliff, looking down at the leaf-strewn forest floor far below her. A small rock tumbles down, as if for the sole purpose of illustrating the length of the drop. It seems to take ages to reach the bottom, clattering off exposed roots and finally thudding to the ground.

There's a roaring in her ears like a great wind, but it isn't the wind. The earth shudders beneath her feet. She reaches out wildly for something on which to steady herself, knowing even as she does so that she'll miss; she always misses, it's so stupid. Maybe she deserves whatever comes next.

But she doesn't miss. Her hand closes around something - not a branch. An arm? Whatever it is, she isn't letting go.


[ooc: whoops, Greta's dropped into your dream. Or you've dropped into hers. Whether you want them both to be in her giant-plagued forest or in a setting more familiar to your character is up to you. Poor Greta's just gonna have to roll with it either way.]

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[johnny_truant]

It's sheer reflex that causes Johnny to grip the hand that grabs him. Good thing he does, too, staring wide-eyed at the steep drop. No fucking thank you. He pulls the woman back, steadying her, steadying himself even as the ground rumbles slightly. Earthquake? He's lived through plenty of those.

No forests like this in LA, though. Being in a forest again is unsettling. He remembers Eliot's dream last night all too clearly, and though that was a very different kind of forest, it's still not something he wants to look at again so soon in any shape or style. He focuses on his companion instead. He doesn't know her. She looks flustered, and who wouldn't be.

"Hey," he says. "It's okay. We're dreaming."

Funny, how much he's been reassuring people like this lately. Usually right before something horrible happens.

[andhiswife]

The thanks Greta was about to offer dies on her lips when the young man who pulled her aside calmly announces that they're dreaming. She gapes at him, makes a few aborted attempts at speech, and then finally manages, "What?"

It doesn't feel like a dream. The shudders are getting worse, though the rhythm remains the same. Footsteps - truly massive footsteps - and they're getting closer. "It's not safe here," she says, her tone low and urgent. "There is a giant in the Woods, and she's coming this way."

[johnny_truant]

So she's probably new. Her urgency is on point either way - he knows as well as anyone just how unpleasant dreams can get - and this is not the time to explain.

"A giant," he echoes. "Fantastic." He stumbles as the ground shakes again, still gripping her arm, and turns to look at the trees, through which he can indeed catch a glimpse of some massive legs rumbling toward them at a pace he's not too comfortable with.

"Fuck," he says, his composure slipping. He has about HAD it with oversized dream antagonists. He looks around somewhat frantically. There's nowhere to run, the cliff continues in either direction and at the rate the ground is shaking it's a good chance they'd trip and plummet. What can he do? This isn't his specialty. He can't bend dreams unless there's a house involved. Can he make the dream his? Sometimes that works. Often when he doesn't want it to work, but maybe they'll get lucky.

"Fuck," he says again. "Okay, um, hang on." He lets go her hand and starts inching nervously through the trees. How likely are they to evade arbitrary destruction if they just pick a direction and run? It's not like it's flat ground, there's roots and uneven footing and probably more fucking cliffs. Fuck again.

"Uhhh," he says with increasing dismay, turning back to her and legitimately wringing his hands. "I don't know what to do. What do we do? How do you deal with giants?"

Yeah, that's why she looks so panicked, because she knows.

[andhiswife]

"Yes," she says, in general confirmation of the giant's existence and general agreement that its presence is a very bad thing. She pauses uncertainly when the young man tells her to 'hold on' - does he have some sort of plan in mind? Is he going to sneak around and attack the giant from another angle? (Attack the giant with what?) Her shoulders slump in visible disappointment when he turns back to her, at an obvious loss. So much for rescue.

Well. This isn't the young lad she was searching for, but it seems he's in need of looking after, too. Greta takes him by the shoulders and steers him behind the trunk of a towering oak, keeping the trunk between them and the giant. "I don't know," she says in an undertone, releasing him and peering out through the trees. A shoe the size of their cottage swings briefly into view. She can't tell if the giant is going to walk past them or walk over them, but either way, they should probably move. Seizing her new charge by the arm, she pulls him along after her as she heads for the shelter of another tree.

"She's looking for a boy, Jack," she explains in an urgent undertone. "Have you seen him? He's this tall, blonde hair… er… trusting disposition?" She gives him an inquiring look, interrupted by a wince as the ground shakes once again.

[johnny_truant]

A giant, looking for a boy named Jack. Is she serious? She seems pretty serious, though Johnny can't help squinting at her, like, what is he supposed to do with this information?

"I - I don't know anyone like that," he starts to apologize, but there's no time to continue - the giant is still thundering around and above them, and his new friend is maneuvering him around with increasing desperation, but this isn't going to work forever, they need to do something, get somewhere. They need to hide.

He trips, half stumbling with her toward another tree, over what he thinks is a root, but it's not that, as he looks back - it's a latch. A latch on a trap door, built right into the mossy earth like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Well. That will probably work.

"Here!" He reaches up, catching her hand and draws her back. He grabs the latch and yanks up, revealing a remarkably unappealing dark hole into the earth. And stairs, of course. Of course they've found stairs.

"Just trust me," he says doggedly, half to himself, and hoists himself in.

[andhiswife]

"Wh--" Greta starts as she's caught and tugged back the way they've come. And… there's a door in the ground, a hatch that might lead to a cellar - except for the part where there's no sign of a cottage, not even a crumbling foundation. There's just that door, as if that's all there ever was.

Another crash rings out, and a panicked flock of sparrows zips overhead. They only have moments - there won't be any better shelter than this. Still, Greta looks decidedly unenthusiastic as she scrambles down after him into the darkness. "Do you know this place?" she asks, putting a hand on the wall to steady herself. She's expecting something earthen or roughly hewn from stone, so the wall's smoothness startles her into jerking her hand away.

[johnny_truant]

Johnny helps her down and yanks the door shut behind them.

"Sort of," he says tersely. "Like I said, we're dreaming. I'm - I changed your dream to something I could work with." Well that's a shitty explanation, this is a terrible time to explain anyway. There are still shuddering quakes coming from above them, little showers of dirt raining down. The ceiling is still earth, but the walls are wood, the stairs creaking underfoot. He digs in his pockets and fucking fortuitously the dream has afforded him his lighter, which he flicks open.

It doesn't do much good. He can see just a little ways in front of them. Stairs and more stairs, going deeper into the earth.

He draws a deep breath and reaches out for her hand.

"Only way is down," he says with a faint trace of apology. "We'll be okay."

He starts to inch forward, guiding her down the steps.

"My name's Johnny," he tells her belatedly.

[andhiswife]

"This does not feel like a dream," Greta says, her tone faintly accusatory, though it's not clear whether it's the young man she's scolding for being uncooperative, or the dream itself. Dreams are supposed to be mild and nonsensical, not vivid and dangerous. But what's stranger: the thought of the Woods hiding such a bizarre staircase, or the thought of this being another oddly realistic dream? Now that she thinks about it, it has happened before.

Andrew had said it happens a lot, in fact. Greta sighs, allowing the young man - Johnny, is it? - to take her hand and lead her down the winding staircase.

"Greta," she replies, squinting to make out the stairs' edges in the dim, inconstant light. "Greta Baker."

After a few moments of silent, careful descent, she ventures, "These odd dreams happen a lot, then?" She guesses they must, if he's so in the habit of altering them.

[johnny_truant]

"They do," says Johnny, still focused on the stairs. "You get better at picking up on them as you go. I guess I sort of have a knack for it." Not really a knack he wants, but whatever. At least it's proving helpful in this case.

"So you're new, huh," he says, glancing back at her. "How long since you came through?"

[andhiswife]

"I see," she says quietly. She isn't sure she likes the idea of getting so used to all this Rift-related nonsense that it starts to become second nature to her. But it's good that Johnny came along, and that he knows what he's doing.

She lets out a single, humorless laugh when he says that she's new - however did he guess? - and she nods before realizing he probably can't see the gesture in the darkness. "It hasn't even been a week, yet. I'm very new." At least she manages to sound dry and not distressed. "How long has it been for you?"

[johnny_truant]

"Sorry," he says with a wince. "For me it's been, um... three months now?" He's not sure if that's shorter or longer than he was expecting. It's all pretty surreal when he thinks about it for more than a moment.

His footing slips and he stumbles slightly, reaching out to catch himself on the wall, only instead of the wall his hand finds a root. He jerks it back as if he's been stung, turning the lighter to their surroundings. The walls are still there, smooth and improbable, but the trees from Greta's dream are still reaching down, coiling into his. There's nothing overtly alarming about that but he feels an uncomfortable twist in his gut anyway, maybe an unpleasant memory that he can't place just now.

"Let's keep moving," he murmurs. He doesn't want to scare her, he doesn't want to tell her how much he can't trust himself here, how dangerous he can be. He keeps moving down and tries to think of a conversation topic that isn't painful variations of so where do you come from.

He can't think of anything (because he's a shit), so he couches it as topically and roundabout as he can. "So, giants," he says over his shoulder. "Is that normal for you?"

[andhiswife]

She winces - it's just as well the darkness hides that; she doesn't want to make Johnny feel bad for asking an innocent question. The lad's just curious. Honestly, everyone has been curious about the giants. "No," she answers, her voice mercifully steady. "They live up in the sky. It was only when the beanstalk grew high enough to reach them that anyone realized they existed."

What a dry explanation that was. Never mind that she's the one who brought those beans back out into the world after years of them resting harmlessly in a forgotten pocket. Granted, she hadn't known they were magic, and it wasn't her fault they wound up back in the ground. None of this would have happened if her father-in-law hadn't stolen them - or if the Witch hadn't grown them in the first place.

But still.

She shakes off her little reverie, and belatedly realizes that Johnny's looking rather spooked. She's not sure why - the giant is so far above them that she can't even hear it anymore, and if he's controlling the dream, how bad could it be? Or does he not have complete control? That might explain the darkness. If he had complete control, surely he'd give himself better light than that little candle.

She gives his hand a gentle, encouraging squeeze. "Are you all right?"

[johnny_truant]

The beanstalk. He has to stop himself laughing, and fortunately he's not in much of a mood for it anyway, so the only sound he emits is a faint cough. Is she really being serious about this? She's so earnest, and... well, Eliot knew that vampire guy from a TV show, so... he supposes it's not impossible that someone could have come out of a literal fairytale.

Jesus.

And then she squeezes his hand and asks after him, and it pulls him up short. He looks back at her, confused and not quite sure why he's confused - something's bothering him, like an itch under his skin, something about the gesture that felt more than just casual. Is she hitting on him? He gives her a brief, re-assessing glance. He thinks she'd be very attractive in better light and without the whole harried nightmare-haver look, but it doesn't matter, he seriously doubts that's what's happening here. There's something different about it, something he doesn't like, only he can't pinpoint why. It doesn't feel dangerous. It just... makes him uneasy.

He extricates his hand a bit awkwardly and moves it to the back of his neck.

"Yeah," he answers, at a delay that will belie how he obviously isn't.

[andhiswife]

Oh. He didn't like that. Well, he does look to be at that age where boys like to pretend they don't need looking after, even if they probably do. Perhaps she's slighted him.

Or perhaps it's more than that. It's hard to get a good look at him in this poor lighting, and it's hard to judge what's normal when you're both from different worlds... but he does have a sort of rangy, stray-cat look to him. As if he's used to not being cared for, to the point where even a kind word is regarded with wariness. Greta feels a sudden rush of sympathy for the boy. He's clearly not all right, and he just as clearly doesn't want her to pat him on the head and give him a biscuit.

So she folds her hands neatly and offers him a faint smile that she hopes he'll find bolstering. "I'm sure we'll be fine. The giant can't reach us here." After a beat, she tries, "You did well to make this staircase." She's grasping at straws, not quite sure what magic phrase will make him feel better, but she means well, and her gratitude is genuine.

[johnny_truant]

Shit. Shit.

"No, I didn't," he barks, harsher than he wants to, on autopilot, fuck shut up she's trying to help you shut up, "I wasn't even supposed to be able - this is all I can make, you... you can't understand." He lets out a huff of a sigh and stops briefly, putting a hand over his eyes. Shut up. Slow down and fucking account for yourself, and then most of all shut up.

"I'm sorry," he says. "These dreams are bad for me. I... a lot of bad shit keeps - I'm not my at best right now."

Does he even have a best?

"I'm just glad I could help you," he says, a little calmer now, he hopes audibly sincere in spite of his weary resignation. "But if we can get out of this house that'll be for the best."

Well. At least that's not wholly ominous.

[andhiswife]

Greta stiffens at Johnny's sudden outburst, but she doesn't flinch, and she doesn't snap back. She just pushed him too far, struck a nerve without meaning to, so he lashed out - not unlike a stray cat. It's not his fault. So she does the only thing she can, at this point: quietly waits for him to calm himself down.

It's not very encouraging, this news that he isn't as in control of the dream as she'd thought, and that this house (if there is indeed a house beyond this staircase) might not be any safer than the Woods were.

"Right," she says, keeping her voice calm and level, not wanting to upset him or make him think he's upset her. She considers their options, then says, "We could head back up. The giant might have moved on."

[johnny_truant]

So she'd go back to facing her nightmare because he can't face his. Johnny sighs softly, turns and casts the glow of his lighter as far as he can.

"I don't think we could, actually," he says. "Things have a way of... moving around." The house, the dreaming... neither of those structures are exactly stable. "I have more, um - flexibility, here," he adds after a moment, continuing down. "It'll be okay." Will it?

He says nothing for a few more steps, then he says, "My dreams are usually better when I'm not alone, so. That's something."

[andhiswife]

"I see." Greta looks up, seeing nothing but inky blackness. She doesn't think they've climbed so far that she couldn't still see some light from around the edges of the door, if the door was still up there. Johnny is probably right, then.

She resumes following him down the stairs, trailing a hand along the wall. The smoothness is interrupted by the occasional root, but she doesn't find the shifting textures as off-putting as the sharp drop on the other side of the steps.

When Johnny allows that her being here might improve things, Greta smiles fleetingly. "Anything I can do to help," she says.

[johnny_truant]

What can she do? He wants to tell her something but he just bites his lip and nods to acknowledge it. It's sweet of her to offer and he wants to like her company, but there's still something, just tickling at the edge of his awareness. Something about her that's making him - he can't even put a name to it. It's like he wants to push her away but why, why would he want that? It doesn't make any fucking sense.

He's interrupted from percolating over this bullshit by a sudden shift in their surroundings - abruptly, they've reached the bottom of the stairs. Now they're in an expansive dark room, much like ones he's dreamed about before. Great. If they can just find a door - or hell, even a wall. There's no walls here anymore, just big, dark, empty space. He could make a door, maybe, if there was a wall.

"Okayyy," he says hesitantly. "Well, this is... progress, maybe." He starts to creep out into it. "Stay close," he advises, trying really hard not to sound totally shit scared.

[andhiswife]

She's not sure if an enormous, empty room is an improvement over a staircase, but at least she no longer has to worry about what a disaster it would be if one of them tripped. Of course, she can easily exchange that for the worry of what might be beyond the faint circle of light that Johnny's producing. There's no furniture or fixtures - she can't even make out any walls. If the floor wasn't so smooth, she might just as easily guess that they were in some kind of massive cavern, and not a house at all.

"Don't worry," she says, her tone just a bit dry, as she wraps her husband's scarf more snugly around her neck. If her only other option is 'wander blindly out into the dark,' she'll definitely be sticking close to Johnny. "Is there anything we ought to be looking for?" she asks, glancing back over her shoulder. The stairway has already been swallowed up by the gloom. "A particular way out, or something?"

[johnny_truant]

"No particular way, no," he murmurs. "Anything would do." Really, a wall would do, if they could find one, but he doesn't want to have to explain that right now. He wanders further into the darkness, trying to quell his own fears, slow the pounding of his heart, but he's so sure, he's so sure something terrible is going to happen, something will find them, that thing that lives in the darkest parts of his memory, or in the house (and really, what's the difference), or anything else, there's so many monsters in him, really, why does he even try to help anyone when he's so poisonous to the touch.

And then, whether to justify his fears or simply summoned by them, he hears something, the scrape of a footstep, too distant to be either of them. He halts sharply, stretching out an arm to stop Greta, and listens, holding the lighter out and around, wishing the glow reached further.

No more sounds for now, but that doesn't mean anything. He can only hear himself breathing faintly.

"Don't move," he whispers, and takes a few cursory steps, not getting too far from her, just - testing. Will it echo him? Will it show itself? (Did he imagine it?)

Nothing. For a long time, nothing. Finally, warily, he turns back to her, he needs to tell her something, tell her to keep an ear out, but he shouldn't have turned, obviously, that was enough. Hands grasp him from behind, knocking the lighter to the ground - miraculously it stays lit, casting a dim glow over him as he's tugged down to the floor, one hand around pressed over his mouth and the other on his throat. He screams, muffled, flailing out to get a hit in, and in the faint flickering light he sees the outline of a too-familiar face, the glint of those eyes and white teeth in a predator grin - Zagreus, waiting for him of course, hovering in the shadows, and he walked right into it.

He writhes and struggles wildly but it's not enough, the hand pressing too hard around his throat, forcibly against his mouth and his nose, he can't breathe, he just prays Greta will do the smart fucking thing and grab the lighter and run, Zagreus doesn't care about her, doesn't have to know she's there, and if Johnny's snuffed out then she'll be free of the house too, probably, maybe let into something better, something that's hers, minus the giant.

[andhiswife]

Greta's brow furrows a little as she begins to belatedly suspect that Johnny has hardly any control over the dream. The darkness could have been taken as mere simplicity - maybe it's easier to control a little circle of light with nothing beyond it - but that's not what this is. There's something out there, she hears it as clearly as he does. Something that Johnny didn't invite or create. They are not safe here.

"Johnny…" she murmurs uncertainly when he moves away from her. What is he trying to do? Protect her? The light he carries must be a beacon to whatever is out there, and there he goes, as if to make sure it's only him illuminated. It's a selfless gesture, and considering how uncomfortable she made him earlier, she really can't help but be touched by it. What a brave young man he is.

He turns back toward her, and she starts to step forward, and then everything goes terribly wrong. Johnny is seized from behind - she can hardly see the person behind him, only a glint of white teeth and a curly hair - and his candle falls to the ground, and even in the dim, guttering light she can see that he's being choked. He struggles uselessly, arms flailing wildly, and she can't less this happen, she can't, she won't.

Greta's not sure how she ends up behind the struggling pair, her hands tearing at the scarf around her neck - the only thing she has - and then twisting it around into something thin and strong. She barely knows what she's doing, she can't think over the sound of Johnny's muffled screaming, all she knows is that she can't let this happen. It's as if her arms don't even belong to her as they toss the length of scarf over the attacker's head until it catches beneath his chin and then pull, hauling him back with all their strength.

[johnny_truant]

No, no, no - why doesn't she run, can't she sense how dangerous a thing she's trying to fight, but no she's strangling him with her fucking scarf, and miraculously Zagreus actually yields, pulled back, hands at his throat - enough for Johnny to deliver a sharp rabbit-kick to the gut, pull himself out from under. Greta tugs hard enough that the monster actually crashes down to the ground, and Johnny doesn't wait around to see him get back up. He sweeps up the lighter, seizes her arm, and bolts. He's still gasping for breath, not strong enough to run very far, and already, too soon, he's stumbling, tripping over himself until he goes down, letting her go and dropping onto the floor. Fuck. Fuck, he'll be coming after them, he must be-

-no, no. Stupid. If it were him, he would have said something, he would have warped and twisted the dream so they couldn't escape, and he wouldn't have been downed so easily. Stupid, crazy little Johnny. It wasn't him, it was never him, just the version he carries around in his head sometimes, coiled to spring on whoever he's with. Fucking great.

He sets the lighter down gently, covering his face with one hand, before splaying them both out on the floor.

Stupid again. Trapped by horizontal thinking. You don't need a wall, idiot. All you need is a surface.

With a weary, miserable huff of breath, he opens another trapdoor and hoists himself down without a word to Greta, trusting her to follow.

The world tilts dizzyingly - he's sliding out from a wall now, sideways, not down - he lands on hardwood. Everything is blindingly lit here, bright, cheerful daylight pouring in through broad, welcoming windows. The house, still, but the upper part, the part the Navidsons actually lived in. This is okay for now. This is better than what's in there.

He curls over himself on the floor, breathing slowly.

[andhiswife]

It works, it actually works. The man - the monster? - falls to the ground, and the next thing she knows, Johnny's taken her by the arm and is hauling her off, scarf trailing from her other hand like a banner. He's alive, he's well enough to run, but not for long - he back down on the floor a few moments later. Greta drops into a crouch beside him, wanting to rest a hand on his back but wary of touching him at all. "Johnny?" she tries.

His only response is to open a door in the floor, another trapdoor not unlike the one he first opened in the Woods. When he drops through, she follows - and the world tilts around her. The floor has somehow opened into a wall, and she lets out a startled little hoot as down becomes sideways and she lands on a hardwood floor.

At least it's bright here. There's sunlight streaming through the windows. It feels considerably safer than the place they left behind.

But Johnny's still curled in on himself, and she can't let that keep happening, either. Greta sits down next to him with a sigh and a rustle of skirts, then cautiously rests a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right," she says softly. "You're all right, Johnny."

[johnny_truant]

No it isn't, no he's not. He's already trembling when she touches him, and that sends a harder jolt through his body, though he doesn't pull away. There it is again, that tug of discomfort, why, just because she's reassuring him? Christ, don't be an asshole, Johnny.

"I... I'm sorry," he murmurs. He feels too hot suddenly, so he lifts himself up, nudging her hand off gently so he can strip himself of his hoodie. Beneath is just a t-shirt, and she'll be able to see his scars, but whatever. She's already seen the worst of him.

"He wasn't real," he says softly, staring at the floor. "He was just - in my head. If he was real he would've-" He closes his eyes and tilts his head for a moment, clenching his jaw. "What you did, it wouldn't have worked. He's too powerful. Listen." Finally he looks at her, and he feels a twist in his gut seeing her worried, pitying expression. "If he ever see him again - ever - just run. Don't talk to him. Don't get near him. Okay?"

He breaks off and looks away again, shivering in spite of his heightened body temperature.