applesaucedream | Sweeter than the First Time [Open to All]

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Sweeter than the First Time [Open to All]

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Hello, dreamers of Manhattan. The Rift knows that things have been kind of rough, lately. The last dream didn't go as well as it had hoped. Consider this an apology of sorts, and a hearkening back to the good times you've shared.

It's a grand old (and potentially familiar) cabin house that the dreamers will find themselves wandering. The furniture is plentiful and comfortable, the floors are strewn with cushions and blankets, and there are cheerful fires burning in the grates. It seems a little odd that the house still manages to be on the chilly side despite looking so warm, yet it is.

Oh, well. You'll just have to find another dreamer or two and ~~spoon up and fall asleep like little baby cats~~ get cozy. It shouldn't be difficult; most of the dreamers (excepting those with strong telepathic defenses or deeply ingrained cuddle-averse personalities) will find themselves feeling friendlier than usual, along with an almost overwhelming desire to snuggle up to someone. How convenient that the house seems designed for that very purpose!

~~And if some of the cushions are Hello Kitty themed, well, that's just coincidence.~~

[OOC: Standard dream party rules apply. Characters will be affected by the dream-whammy to whatever degree makes the most sense for them, and will remember or forget the events of the dream at the player's discretion. Backtag into infinity.]

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Calliope doesn't see the approaching calamity of human limbs coming either, what with most of her field of vision being obscured by several blankets. So she finds herself very suddenly and somewhat painfully bowled over out of nowhere, prevented from making any startled sounds by the feeling of having the dream-air knocked out of her lungs upon impact.

She hasn't quite recovered from the shock when she, yet more shockingly, hears the voice of someone on the ground with her, and now he's pulling at the blankets, revealing skinny green legs sticking out from under her yellow nightgown. Oh, no, he's going to see! Feeling the covers slip disastrously, she does squeak in alarm now and bundles up in whatever bit of fabric is left to her, small emerald claws grabbing and tugging the blue blanket tightly around herself against his catastrophic flailing in the opposite direction. "No, don't! Stop, please!" she begs in high-pitched fright.

His attempts to extricate himself just seem to make whoever's inside even more distressed - Daniel catches a flash of something green but gets absolutely no time to deduce what that might mean before the voice inside squeaks for him to stop, plainly distressed by the disturbance.

Without any idea what else to do, Daniel simply freezes on the spot, sprawled on one side in the aborted process of propping himself on his elbows into a semi-upright position.

"Sorry," he says again, less frantic now that he isn't actively scrambling, radiating concern over what kind of dismay he may have just inadvertently created. "I didn't see you, I was just walking in." He peers at the huddled mass of blankets, raising one hand apologetically and - are those claws?

"Of course," he says faintly, becoming rapidly aware that at some point he must have found it necessary to place a hand on one of the shelves for a form of support. He hastily pulls it back to face her fully.

A humanoid form. Excellent. Good. Never fucking mind that Rush is statistically unlikely to interact with this form well given his previous interactions with humans and humanoid forms, and the thought is wholly distressing. If there is one being in this entire limited island of a universe he would favor above all else -

"No, no, I meant," he's practically incoherent, eyes still shut as he clamors to rectify his error, pointlessly, because his error does not land quite easily in the realm of that which is rectifiable. "In this context. In the context of dreams and or the waking world, I, we, we would not be able to properly conceive of you due to the," how do his lungs feel so constricted and deoxygnated in a dream space? "the limited nature of the human brain. Compared to your nature, we simply could not - process it."

Expressions of regret while one's eyes are closed are not likely to have the desired effect, so he makes the immense effort to open them and meet her eyes and not flinch under the glare of her disapproval, and he succeeds on the first count but fails spectacularly in achieving the latter. He wilts. Visibly.

When Daniel puts his hand on Seth's shoulder, he releases a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, and he relaxes fractionally. He gives Daniel a brief but grateful smile. "Thanks," he answers. After a moment he adds, "for, for everything."

He's pretty sure Daniel has a higher opinion of Seth than he actually deserves, but he appreciaties the support nonetheless. The unwavering support and comfort. Especially lately.

Well that's the million dollar question isn't it. He sighs loudly and drops his head into his hands. "I don't knowww," he groans, muffled through his fingers. "I wasn't expecting it, I don't know what... what that means." There's a lot more he could say, but he can't say it to her. Gabe needs to hear it. At some point. At some point he'll be less of a wuss and actually talk about this. Right now he just really wants to pretend it's not happening.

"Is it okay if we don't talk about that?" he says, peeking back up at her. "I'm just like, I don't know what to even say, I need to talk to him first before I..." He shakes his head and sits back up, slouching down against the couch back. "I would rather enjoy this dream, as much as I can." So rare he gets a nice one, and that he gets to spend time with the TARDIS.

The smile resolves into something a little more complete and he gives Seth's shoulder a little squeeze before relaxing back into the armchair, their moment of conversational intensity having elapsed. This dream is pleasant and inviting, and Daniel intends to enjoy it with Seth for as long as it lasts.

"That's incredible," says Iman, openly impressed, an attitude that comes much more naturally to her. "I'm so glad I can - I mean, there are so many questions I want to ask you, and I wouldn't even know where to begin communicating with you properly, it's probably not possible, is it? For me, I mean. I wish it was. I wish I could understand - I mean, are you all organic, I can't imagine anyone actually building you, or..."

She's having so much trouble keeping her shit together. She presses a hand to her mouth, the other arm wrapped around her midsection, visibly trying to hold herself back.

"I'm sorry," she says again. "I - I can leave you alone, if you'd prefer. I just - I want you to know that I know I acted inappropriately before, and I have every intention of righting that, I - I think you're the most amazing entity I've ever come across, could ever hope to really, and I would hate to think that I... well, I hate knowing that I botched our first, you know, interaction. I hope that I can prove myself, um, better at... this."

Well, that fell apart. She's still reeling, inwardly. She needs to sit down.

That's a little better, no longer being in immediate danger of having her covers pulled down and consequently, almost certainly, being screamed at in fear. She takes a shaky breath, ducking her head even further under her blanket hood, and tries to be a smidgen less frightened. The stranger doesn't sound unkind, at least, and he did do as she asked.

"I'm sorry too," she peeps, "I did not mean to be in the way." Still immensely nervous about the fact that he could uncover her with a single move of his limbs, she reluctantly reaches out one clawed hand to start dragging the tangle of blankets away from his legs carefully. Better to let him see just the one arm than risk exposing her whole monstrous skull.

"You bet I would." Iman smiles at her astonishment. "I try not to do my work just for me. I want it to impact everyone. Knowing there are so many people trapped here, if I found a way out, I would never keep that to myself." She squeezes Greta's hand comfortingly. "It's going to take a while. I mean we don't even fully understand what we're up against yet. But I'm not going to give up. That is a fact and a promise."

First impressions are proving to so far be correct - that's definitely a claw of some kind, though the voice it apparently belongs to doesn't sound threatening in the slightest. It just sounds scared. He probably wasn't much help, coming crashing in out of the blue.

"You weren't," he says immediately, sensing it safe to carefully untangle the rest of himself and fold his legs beneath him. He shoots the door a furtive look, then pushes himself into a sitting position, cross-legged and curious. "That was my fault, I, I wasn't watching my step."

His partner in impromptu conversation still seems intent on remaining covered. Daniel frowns, head to one side.

"Are you okay?"

The Doctor settles himself onto the sofa with more decorum, though that's more a sign of continued wariness than any innate sense of dignity, as he promptly entrenches himself in the corner. He is equally fastidious in his blanket usage, pulling it absurdly high, like a large grey-haired child watching a scary movie. When was the last time he even sat on a sofa like a person. Sitting down is for losers. Comfort, too. What is the point of this dream.

"After, well after." A long span in years, of course, but the span in experience is exceptionally greater than even that. "The twelfth. Did you meet the other one that was here? Seems the rift favours even numbers." He rather hopes it's had enough of those, and odd numbers too, as useful as it might be to have the help.

She smiles a little more warmly as he pulls the blanket all the way up almost to his chin. He is odd, but she's beginning to like him.

"I didn't," she says, shaking her head. "I heard about him, but I arrived after he was gone. He looked like Andrew and Peter, right? Friends of mine." If this Doctor is new he might not know them either.

She chances getting a little closer. She's still cold even with all the blankets. Body heat would help.

"The other Doctor always meant to have me visit him at the TARDIS," she says. "But I never did it. I was a little nervous to, and... well, now it's too late. For him, anyway." She fidgets nervously. If the Rift takes people home at random, what if it's too late for someone else she knows, as well? "But I'm glad you're here, instead. He - you, I guess - it seems good to have a Doctor with us, anyway." She feels so awkward with this one, not like the other one, but - maybe it's just because he's more awkward too.

Calliope, too, draws her legs under herself to sit more comfortably, pooling the mass of blankets around her huddled form and grasping her hood tightly in front of her chest. Mostly she doesn't try to get to her feet because she's too cold and spooked to bother with more extensive motions.

She still thinks it was probably her fault for standing motionless in a doorway, but it is kind of him to apologize and take on the blame. "I'm unhurt," she assures him somewhat less timidly. "A bit nippy though, if I'm to be honest." This isn't so bad, if he stays over there and she can stay under her covers; they can perhaps even have a conversation.

It is pretty cold, isn't it, which is why Daniel is going to rescue a spare blanket from the nearest sofa and wrap it around himself a bit. There, now they match, almost.

"I'm really very sorry about that." He's already apologized but if she - she, yes? - isn't coming out it might be that she's too startled still. She sounds fairly young, but until he can actually see there's no way to tell. "It's okay if you want to come out, though. I promise I won't hurt you. I'm Daniel," he offers with a tentative smile, the conversational olive branch.

As his distress noticeably intensifies, the TARDIS starts to realize that this is getting a little out of hand. She'd only meant to instill an appropriate amount of respect, not self-loathing and anxiety at all. What, is he afraid of her? Does he think she is going to punish him? She loathes the thought, and frowns at the sight of him sinking in on himself. It's no longer a frown of displeasure, but one of unease, of some confusion and perhaps even slight concern.

And still the unusual understanding of her nature, when he's prodded out of his unruliness. Perhaps that's a good place to start mitigating whatever it is that he is experiencing now. "Very true," she nods. "You exhibit a better grasp of me than most humans. I appreciate that." Not that it had stopped him from insulting her, but he seems to be quite aware of that misstep now. "Most beings aren't able to relate to me at all unless I interact with them in this form." And she will always find that disappointing at best, hurtful at worst.

A modicum of the intermittent agitation dissolves from the pit of his chest cavity as she continues, seemingly done reproaching him for his behavioral offense. And what is more is she - appreciates him, a heretofore unpredicted outcome. Something this vast and unfathomable and, in comparison, him, pitifully human and hating it and wishing he could understand all that the TARDIS is but knowing he will never reach that point, limited by his own inferior biology.

"That's absurd," he breathes in veritable, sincere confusion. "But you're - what you are, it's - I believe I prefer you, in your true state."

"Cosy, right? We had one like this right after I showed up." Instead of the many cushions he could lean against, Gabriel leans into Seth instead. He could fight the dream's influence, but he doesn't really want to do that. "I like this a lot better that what we've been getting."

Speaking of unpredictable outcomes, that is not something she recalls ever having heard before. Most of them manage a better appreciation of her true form after interacting with her humanoid body, but she's quite sure none of them would ever prefer it over a face to speak to. Probably because they feel interaction with her structures is somehow less, too much of it occurring outside the scope of their senses and understanding. Rather sad, even to her, when it involves people she feels attached to.

All the more startling and oddly endearing a sentiment, especially coming from him, then, and her eyebrows rise in open surprise. "Why is that?" she asks, not unkindly. But she's had to deal with far too many people being so fascinated by her technology that they would try to take her apart or enslave her.

Seth doesn't know exactly when Gabriel showed up in Manhattan, but he's decently sure it was while Seth was locked up and blocked off from the Dreaming, so that explains why it's not familiar to him. But he's not going to mention that, because this dream is quite pleasant and he's rather just enjoy it for once.

"Yeah, me too," he answers. "Only good ones I've had lately have been regular non-shared ones, which is kinda unusual." And he's just going to sling an arm around Gabe's shoulders, because it's just more practical and comfy the way they're sitting. And it's very easy to be a bit more tactile with Gabe than with other people. Or Seth might just be underestimating how much the dream is affecting him.

For a moment he can only struggle to piece together the sentiment which he doesn't feel he can adequately express - the engulfing thrill of wonder upon entering the disarmingly unremarkable blue box that he'd expressed to no one but himself, internally, and then the reverent shock upon having it confirmed that she is alive, alive, and so beyond even what Destiny could have been.

"Because - you are." Rush blinks his eyes shut in a brief expression of his own self-directed vexation; what an utterly inane pronouncement. "Humans, people, they are - complicated in ways I will never understand. And you are, also, profoundly intricate in ways I have no doubt I will never be capable of understanding." The fleeting bitterness that accompanies the phrase disintegrates under the pressure of his own overpowering awe. "But the fact is that you exist and that is - there is something incredible in that in its own right."

This is all rather more respect and admiration than she usually receives even with her humanoid body, so she is starting to feel a bit more optimistic with regards to Iman and her future manners. There may even be a slightly amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips, watching Iman's obvious and disastrous attempt at containing her fascination.

She takes the continued apology seriously, though, and nods in agreement. "I hope so as well. I would not like to judge you prematurely." Still guarded, but slightly more encouraging now, she adds, "And I don't mind questions and curiosity in the slightest. The Doctor and I enjoy helping lesser beings grow. Since you asked - I was organically grown as well as technologically augmented by the Doctor's race, long before even his time."

His explanation is, if possible, even more remarkable and oddly touching, a kind of reverence for what she is that she's never seen in a human before. He even seems to struggle with expressing himself in words almost as much as she does. This is a new and valued experience in her long life, and she smiles a small but genuine smile at him.

"The Doctor has much the same view on humanity, you know," she replies, not keeping the fondness out of her voice. "And I often fail to understand humans as well. There are some forms of understanding one may be barred from forever, but this does not discredit us. Nor does it make striving for it futile, as I think you know." So, if he'd like to comprehend her a little better, she's willing to help him as much as she can.

"Perhaps not." Though the thought that the Doctor shares his aversion to humanity as a whole is an alarming if entirely logical notion. That's a stubborn needle digging itself into the hypocrisy of Rush's own reasoning, but he elects to disregard it. "Though in my experience I have not found many worth engaging." There are exceptions, of course. Asadi, certainly, though their recent disagreements have made future interaction an unstable point.

Despite the lingering anxiety stemming from the TARDIS's initial greeting and the dream's insistently tactile nature, one side of Rush's mouth pulls into the nearness of a smile. "There is something about sapient ships capable of traversing space-time that I find to be infinitely more intriguing."

Lesser beings stings a little - Iman doesn't like hearing that kind of thing, regardless of how objectively true it may be - but she maintains composure. She's sure she's not the first person to behave like an ass around the TARDIS, that surely gives her a bit of an excuse to be politely condescending, at least.

"That's great," she says sincerely. "Thank you." She laces her fingers together, holding them before her in an effort to stop fidgeting. "Organically grown - by someone? Or are you a naturally occurring lifeform?" This is so fascinating. Her eye strays briefly to the nearest sofa, wondering if it would be incredibly bad form to ask if they sit. It's so hard not to want to sit and be as cozy as possible in this dream.

After his disastrous run-in with Gabe, Johnny retreated to a smaller sofa in one of the less populated rooms and curled up in it, covering himself with blankets so it's only the top of his head poking out, staring at the fire. He doesn't notice anyone approaching him so the question takes him by surprise, but not nearly so much as when he tilts his head to look up at the asker.

For a moment he just stares, wide-eyed. He's 100% certain, no matter how comfortable this dream is making everyone feel, that Peter didn't recognize him, or this would not have happened. After a solid several seconds of staring, he starts laughing, a little embarrassed, pulling the blankets up over his face.

"Yes," he says, muffled, between giggles. "I mean, no. Yes, you can sit here." He pulls the blankets down again to look up at Peter. "If you really wanna."

He'll take what he can get right now. And he's morbidly curious to see if this is actually going to happen.

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Sweeter than the First Time [Open to All]

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for the sake of comedy I'm gonna say he was too bundled for Peter to recognize him, hope that's cool