Sweeter than the First Time [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

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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[etherthief]

Anyone looking for some extra friendly company will find Iman sprawled along the top of a couch like a cat on a branch. Aw yeah. This is the best. She's reasonably sure this is a dream, but that's cool. She could do with a nice one.

"Heyyyy," she says to the nearest person. She is definitely not drunk. She might seem a little drunk, but that's just cause she's so happy. "Hey. C'mere."

[andhiswife]

Greta is now on a mission to put a plate of cookies in every room - a worthy goal, she thinks - but thus far, she hasn't done more than exchange friendly (if somewhat shy) smiles with the people she's passed. When a woman calls to her from atop a couch, Greta pauses and does a little 'who, me?' check to either side before approaching.

"… Yes?" That seems too formal for the setting, so she adds a sheepish, "Hello."

[etherthief]

Iman lifts her head to see who she's just accosted and hey, it's a pretty lady. With cookies! "Hi!" she says brightly. She rolls gracefully inelegantly down onto the couch cushions and pokes her head back up, hijab slightly askew. She sticks out a hand, either for a shake, a kiss, or a cookie. Very possibly all three. "My name's Iman. Did you make those?"

[andhiswife]

Handshakes! Greta knows how those work. She shifts her grip on the cookie plate so she can take the offered hand, and says, "Greta. And I did! I found a kitchen!" Her tone is far too triumphant, really, but she's a fine mood and can't be bothered to reign herself in. Instead, she plops down onto the couch next to Iman and brandishes the plate. "Would you like one?"

[etherthief]

Iman pulls her legs up under her, kneeling next to her new friend, eyeing the cookies excitedly. "Yes," she says, selects one, and pops it in her mouth. Whoa, dream food tastes so real! Is it better when dreamers make it? Does that make it more - legitimate, somehow? Is this actually going into her system in some way or is that all in her head? Fascinating, but let's bench those questions. The lady deserves a compliment for her fine work.

"Delicious," she proclaims after she's finished it off. "Thank you." She smiles, reaches out to take the plate, and sets it gently on the coffee table.

"That's better." She wastes no time putting an arm around Greta's shoulders, leaning in for a good friendly cuddle. "Greta," she says, like reminding herself. "It's really nice to meet you!"

[andhiswife]

Greta beams at the compliment, flushing happily. "Oh! Thank you--I'm glad you like it!" It's always a pleasure to watch someone else enjoying food that you made.

And… oh. This is, um. Cozy. Greta turns pinker. "It's nice to meet you, too," she says, because she hasn't forgotten her manners. Then, with enthusiasm, "I like your scarf. It's beautiful." Greta is a woman who appreciates scarves. It looks a bit crooked, though, from Iman rolling around on the couch, and Greta reaches up to straighten it automatically. It's so silky, she finds herself fingering the fabric for a few extra moments.

[etherthief]

Oh look, she blushes. That's adorable. She's about to say something else when Greta goes straight for the hijab, straightening and then, uh, feeling it up, apparently. Fair enough, it is pretty comfortable.

Iman puts up with this easily for a few moments, smiling, just shy of a smirk. "Thank you," she says. "It's called a hijab, actually." She tilts her head, wondering if she should go for the way-too-easy turnaround compliment ('no u', basically) or wait for a better opportunity. Her gut tells her waiting would be better so she just goes on smiling.

[andhiswife]

Oh. Perhaps she should stop touching it. Greta draws back, a little embarrassed, but then repeats, "Hijab?" That's a new one.

[etherthief]

Holy damn she is so cute. Iman has a hard time not getting too familiar in her leaning - some friendly, platonic cuddling, that's all, shifting a bit so everyone's comfier, yes that's nice.

"It's a thing from my culture," she says with a slight and practiced air of 'eh who cares'. "Culture-slash-religion. Headcovering, for modesty in the eyes of God." She waves a hand. "I'm a lax Muslim, I don't really observe per se. I just got used to wearing it when I was a kid. And it's kind of an identity statement, if that makes sense." She quirks an eyebrow at Greta. "Does that make sense? I mean, your universe could be super different for all I know, so - don't wanna assume anything."

[andhiswife]

"Oh, I see." Probably rude of her to have gone and messed with it, then, though Iman doesn't seem to mind. She tries to file the terms away - 'hijab,' 'Muslim,' shouldn't be too difficult to remember, right? - and nods dutifully. "I've never--I suppose we might have such things in my universe, but most of us don't travel much. It's…" there's definitely a term for it. "I think you'd call it 'medieval'?" she hazards, brow furrowed, waiting for outside confirmation.

[etherthief]

Whaaaaat. Iman sits up a little straighter, looking both startled and fascinated, she hopes not unnervingly. "No shit?" slips out before she can restrain herself. "That's - I mean, that's incredible. This must be kinda hard for you then, huh?" Shit, has she been vaccinated? She probably needs all kinds of medical care. It's easier than it usually would be not to think of her as a test subject - even in a compassionate, concerned sort of way, still kind of a test subject - she doesn't really want to focus on all that stuff. Nothing she can do about it right now anyway, yeah?

Still, though, what a mindfuck this must be. Her half-hearted desire to make the cuddles less platonic fizzles right out, replaced with a more pragmatic desire to make Greta feel at home. Poor lost duck. Impulsively, she reaches out and gives her hair a little stroke.

[andhiswife]

She thinks she's been managing quite well, all things considered. The city hasn't lost its strangeness, and the technology might as well be magic, but she's surviving. She's even managed to help another new arrival - that's been something.

But having someone else acknowledge the difficulty seems to throw it into sharp relief, and then Iman strokes her hair - a gesture, a care that Greta's far more accustomed to giving than receiving - and suddenly there's a lump in her throat. Oh, dear. This is so embarrassing.

Greta drops her forehead down onto Iman's shoulder with a groan. "It is," she agrees with quiet, mortified vehemence.

[etherthief]

Oh no, darling. Iman winces in sympathy and puts her other arm around Greta, hugging her gently and stroking her back.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I can't even imagine." She settles her head down on top of the other woman's, resting on her cheek. "But it's gonna be okay. Lots of people here who can help. And the future is pretty great, I think you'll find."

It's a small comfort, she knows, but it's something. And nobody should be sad here! She gives Greta a little pat.

[imashinyboy]

Since arriving here (waking up here? Whatever), Vince has found himself uncharacteristically torn. On the one hand, he feels properly nice. Like, really nice. Ready to curl up for a little sleepie or crimping in the nighttimes with Howard or pleasantly half-drunk on alcopops great. On the other, the decor in this place is well rancid. All knotty pine and, like, stone-cladding or whatever that's called, all sort of chintzy like it was decorated by someone's lumberjack grandma.

The two impulses conflict confusingly, and Vince is grateful for a distraction in the form of a woman's voice coming at him from out of his peripheries. He spins on a heel (belonging to his purple cowboy boots today) before identifying the source. After a pause to wait for his brain to catch up, he breaks into a grin, feeling the happy flush of recognition.

'Hey! All right, I remember you! The crow lady, yeah?'

She is much nicer to look at than the distressing cushion choices of whoever decorated this place, and he happily bounces down onto the couch she's lounging across, giving her a crooked little smile. It isn't really intentionally flirty, but Vince has been told many a time that his flirt mechanism is a little overactive. 'Found your way outta that forest, then.'

[etherthief]

Who- oooh HEY. Iman lifts her head and pushes herself up so she's perched, intentionally birdlike, on the back of the couch, peering down at him with a matched smile.

"Well look who it is," she says. She's really happy to see this one again, in a much preferable setting to the last. Spooky dark forest is no place to get someone up against a wall, so to speak, and as chill and relaxed as this place is she really wouldn't mind rolling a bit of fun into the mix. Vince, that was his name, with the matching adorable hummingbird - perfect.

She crosses her legs a bit primly - she's wearing one of her more casual skirts, nice and billowy and deep green to match her hijab - and leather boots beneath that. A lot nicer than her usual fare. Just as well.

"Wanna join me on the couch?" she says. "Or, I don't know. We could go exploring again."

WITH BONUS PICTURES because vince likes pictures

[imashinyboy]

Now that's a look. It gives Vince a bit of a judder, little feet all pitter-pattering down his spine, and he sits up a bit straighter, lifting a hand to fiddle with his hair. The birdlike attitude makes him grin; he'd well liked her bird-- Aqil, wasn't it? Yeah, and she was Iman; he'd been a right cheeky bastard. Iman had been pretty busy freaking out at the time, but maybe now she's not in an ominous forest, it's like she's reabsorbed some of that cheek herself. Or something. Vince is pretty sure that makes sense.

He's a bit more dressed-down today than he was when they met in the woods; hand-painted flares and a sleeveless t-shirt with a skinny, striped scarf, but Vince is always prepared to be looked at. He's a pop star, after all. He is slightly regretting the bare arms, though; it's weirdly nippy in here.

'Already on the couch, ain't I?' he says cheekily, and then makes a liar of himself by getting up again, standing pigeon-toed with one thumb tucked into his belt and giving Iman a faintly provoking look from under his fringe. 'Reckon you'd be up for exploring? You looked about ready to have a little sleepie there, all stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam.'

Maybe it's habit; it doesn't seem like she needs much in the way of provocation, but Vince also reckons she'd be fun after a little poking. The thought gives him a little tingle.

[etherthief]

"Yeah, but you haven't joined me," she says a bit coyly, noting his little fidgets with great pleasure. And then he's up again, giving her a look both mildly challenging and cute as hell. 'A little sleepie,' he says. Oh lord, what a precious earth angel.

"Mm," she makes a show of considering it, stretching out one of her legs, also rather catlike. "Yeah, I reckon I would." Her old London accent starts to come out a little bit in the company of his thick Cockney lilt. She slides off the couch, standing short but not too short beside him, and on a whim reaches up to his scarf and wraps it around her hand. She gives it a little tug, very gentle and playful, then turns to lead him into the next room.

"On with you," she says airily.

[imashinyboy]

Vince bites his tongue, the corner of it sticking out at the corner of his mouth where it's trapped between his canines, glancing down in something that looks bashful, but isn't really. He appreciates the showy stretch, though he can't help noting that the skirt doesn't really show off the motion like it deserves; the colour's nice and all, but it's definitely a bit shapeless. The kind of thing Howard claims he likes women in on account of it shows that they've got enough confidence not to need to show themselves off like trinkets, or something.

He's not expecting the tug on his scarf, and his eyes blink open for an instant (and they're already pretty wide to start with) before he adjusts, and the guileless expression melts into pleased intrigue. Well kinky, nice. Vince gives a sloppy little salute-- 'Right on'-- and follows after with a bit of a sashay.

'What's that I can hear goin' on there?' he asks as they go, giving her a friendly flick to the shoulder. 'You a London girl under all that American?'

((OOC: THERE WAS GOING TO BE AN ADORABLE THING but I couldn't make it fit into this tag. NEXT TAG THERE WILL BE AN ADORABLE THING))

[etherthief]

Iman's always tended toward dull fashion. She likes to think her personality makes up for it. Vince's personality and fashion seem to match, eclectic and wild and fun. She notes the sashay and smiles to herself. She always liked a show-off.

"I'm from Tehran," she says. "Then London, then New York. My accent moves around with me." She glances back, eyeing him over her shoulder. "And sometimes the old ones can be coaxed out, if the company's right."

The next room is sort of like the last, more sofas, more armchairs, another fireplace (wait, what?) - and some other dreamers. Iman ignores the scattered piles of people, scanning for somewhere more secluded.

"Looks like this one's been pretty well discovered," she says. She nods toward a closed door off to the side, which looks a little more ignorable. "How about that one, then?"

[imashinyboy]

'Wicked.' Vince bobs his head in understanding, and throws in a cheeky little wink that he hopes says, Vince Noir's always the right company.

'It's weird, this place,' he says thoughtfully, looking around the room at the placidly cuddling dreamers. 'S like there was a big old party, yeah, just before we got here, and now everyone's just crashed out.'

It doesn't smell like there's been a party, though; there's no empty bottles or dog-ends or roaches in evidence, and everyone's pretty much dressed. It's just like they all decided together that lying around in puddles and cuddling like baby monkeys was a better option that staying upright.

He lets himself be led through into the next room, which turns out to be... not a bedroom exactly, more in the same theme as the rest of the house, but it does contain a bed, a big round thing all kitted out in fluffy white pillows.

'Aw, genius! Is that what I think it is?'

Iman's hold on his scarf isn't tight enough that Vince can't slip it. So he does, and proceeds to throw himself bodily onto the bed, which, just as he'd thought, sloshes under him, sending him half tumbling back, spine bending and arse in the air and positively cackling.

'You ever shagged on one'a these? I bet it's impossible; I bet it's only, like, rock stars who've got enough rhythm to manage it without gettin' themselves thrown off the bed in the middle of things, endin' up all black and blue and seasick.'

The galloping ripples of the waterbed settle down until Vince is just bobbing in the middle, pink-cheeked and grinning, with only the faintest hint of retrospective embarrassment at his enthusiasm.

[etherthief]

She drapes his abandoned scarf over her arm, smiling at his display. "Can't say I have," she says. Honestly, she imagines it's going to be a little bit awkward, but she's not sure how easily they'll find another unoccupied bed. Besides, awkward's never daunted her before. Awkward can be fun, with the right pair of people. And Vince did just leap onto a waterbed like a little kid, so.

"You look a bit like a rock star," she says, approaching the bed. "And I like a challenge." She tilts her head at him, grinning, twirling his scarf idly.

[imashinyboy]

'I am one of the great frontmen,' he agrees, still a little breathless from laughter. 'I can pull shapes.' And then he laughs again, because ok, in this context that has the potential to mean something else entirely.

He is, though he'd never admit it to anyone, a little surprised that this actually seems to be happening. Not that Vince can't pull basically anyone he likes, but more often than not, they don't actually end up getting round to the sex unless it's a party and he's drunk. This feels a lot more like being pulled. Vince is pretty sure he doesn't mind.

It does mean that he's not entirely sure how he ought to play things off, though. For a moment he ponders just letting his legs fall open and looking inviting, before deciding that that might be a bit too slutty. It's a fine line to walk. Instead, he hoiks himself up to lean over his bent knees and nabs the end of his scarf, giving it a little tug and looking up at Iman, all half-parted lips and tongue toying with the tip of an incisor. He jerks his head at the mattress next to him.

'C'mon, then; climb aboard.'

Cully and Ellis are doing a NSFW thread who the fuck saw this coming

[etherthief]

Iman grins, biting briefly at her lower lip, and does as is suggested, but she doesn't bother with the space next to him. Come on now. She slides - well, wobbles - onto his lap, straddling him (this is where a shapeless skirt comes in handy), and she's giggling at the unsteadiness of it all even as she leans down, cupping one hand around the back of his neck, gripping the front of his shirt in the other, and kissing him. He keeps tonguing his teeth, grinning all cheeky and adorable, what else is she supposed to do? She leans in against him, letting her fingers trail up slowly from chest to his shoulder.

"Mnh," she murmurs, parting just enough to smile down at him. "What shall we do with you?" She reaches up into his hair, sliding her fingers in gently.

SHOCK AND AWE

[imashinyboy]

Iman's giggling ratchets Vince's grin up from something calculated and flirty into simple pleasure. 'Shoulda met you here the first time,' he murmurs wryly. He'd liked her well enough when they'd met in the woods, but she'd been properly freaked out at the time; it's sort of nice to know that this flirty, laughing bird was there hiding under all the snark and snap.

Oh, and then she's kissing him, and that, that is even nicer. Vince hums into her mouth, lazily slipping his tongue out to stroke along hers. It's slow and warm, a properly nice snog, and he presses up a little into the tickly touch of her hand on his chest, letting his own sneak up to fall into the dip of her back.

Except that then there's a hand in his hair, and it's pure instinctual reaction that has him jerking away, hard enough to send the mattress wobbling, one hand snapping up defensively. 'Oi, don't touch the hair!'

An instant later, he ducks his head in some embarrassment. 'Sorry, habit.' The amount of time he spends on his hair, he'll fucking go off if someone tries to mess with it when he's not given them permission. He's very aware of these things. But when it comes down to it... He looks back up at Iman, and returns his hand to where it was, fingers rubbing a little along the bumps of her spine he can feel beneath her shirt.

'You can, if you like. I, uh, I quite like it, actually. When I'm expecting it.'

[etherthief]

Iman jumps at his sudden vehemence, and then smirks at his immediate retraction. "Uh-huh," she says, fiddling gently with the little wispy bits. "It looks nice. I bet you spend a lot of time on it."

She can't wait to mess it up.

"It is practically begging to be fucked with," she says, and pulls her hand into a fist, not tugging, but holding him pretty tightly. "Which is pretty appropriate."

Then she tugs, coaxing his chin up, leaning down to kiss him again with her other hand settled gently at the base of his throat. This is all very fucking hot, except for the part where the mattress is so unstable that she ends up losing her balance and tipping forward, knocking them both over onto Vince's back. She buries her face against his neck and laughs uproariously.

"This is," she says between snorts, "the worst surface I will ever have had sex on. And I've - I've had sex in a desert." What a weird fucking time that was.