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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[singthesong]

Oh, well! Isn't this lovely?

The Balladeer can be found buried beneath several blankets and pillows on an armchair near one of the fireplaces, curled up with his legs folded in like a bony, over-large pretzel. This is the most comfortable he's ever been, easily. There's still a slight chill, like maybe another person would be nice - there's plenty of room, this is a very big chair - but there isn't anyone else around right now. Maybe someone will happen by.

/sondheimster pile

[andhiswife]

And happen by someone does - with cookies! Greta does a slight double-take, surprised both to see someone she recognizes and to see the Balladeer without a sizable instrument slung around his shoulders. "Oh, hello!" she says cheerfully - really, this is the best mood she's been in since her arrival - before flopping sitting down beside him and offering the little plate of cookies. "Would you like one? I found a kitchen with a proper stove."

SONDHEIMSTERS

[singthesong]

The Balladeer does sometimes go out without an instrument in hand! Sometimes.

"Greta!" He burrows out of the blankets a little, freeing an arm to snag a cookie. "Thank you!" He smiles, both to see her and to see her so happy. It's certainly the best mood he's ever seen her in!

Also, this cookie is really good. He makes a noise of appreciation as he's chewing, and once he's done remarks, "I never knew you were such a good baker, Baker!"

(He's hysterical.)

[andhiswife]

Greta lets out a guffaw in response to the ridiculous joke. "Why did you think I was named 'Baker'?" she asks, because obviously the point of a name is to tell people your profession - he'd know that better than anyone.

She sets the cookies in his blanketed lap, then leans against him companionably, her head resting on his shoulder. Yes. This is an excellent idea; much more comfortable this way. "How are you settling in?"

[singthesong]

"I don't know. Why's anyone named anything?" Sure, okay, his name is entirely appropriate, but he doesn't know anybody else whose name actually indicates what they do. Unless 'Zangara' has a meaning in Italian that he's unaware of.

He shifts to accommodate her, leaning his head against the top of hers. Oh, she's right, this is quite nice. "Pretty well! I've been busking in the park. They had to give me a permit to do it..." His eyeroll is audible. He doesn't believe that busking ought to require anything more than an instrument and a place to play - what does anybody have against random music in public spaces? But hey, at least it was easy to get. "Met a few rifties out there. Have you noticed yourself running into others randomly a lot?"

Because really, it seems statistically unlikely. He's been chalking it up to narrative convenience, because this universe probably still works that way, right?

[andhiswife]

"It's my job," she says with teasing loftiness, "just as 'Balladeer' is yours." Obviously. Also, someone needs to be a bit less stingy with the blankets. Greta starts to investigate this cocoon he's made for himself as he updates her on his time in the city. She gets as far as extricating his arm - an exciting discovery! - and contents herself, for the moment, with clinging to said arm like a child with a favorite toy.

"Well, there are plenty in the tower," she allows. She hasn't seen so many out and about, but that's partly because she hasn't been out and about that much. "And I've met a few in dreams - you were in one, weren't you? Was that you?" It seems like it must have been.

[singthesong]

"Oh, obviously," he teases, wrapping his arm around hers and carefully extricating the other from the blanket-cocoon. It's a little difficult to disturb anything without upsetting the cookies, but eventually he manages it, and moves some more blankets to drape them over her as well. Yes, it'll be much warmer with both of them under here together!

He tilts his head away to peer down at her in surprise for a moment. "That was you? With - Guiteau, and all of that?" And promptly settles it back against hers again, musing, "I hadn't thought that was real." Well, of course most of it still probably wasn't, but if Greta remembered it too then it'd clearly been more than just an ordinary dream.

That does change a few things, and save him a few future explanations. He only hopes the assassins weren't on any level of reality themselves. "Does that happen normally?"

[andhiswife]

Ooh, this is much better - just what they need to keep that pesky chill at bay. It's already nice and warm beneath the blankets, and Greta nestles in with a contented hum, being careful not to upset the cookie plate as she tucks her feet beneath the Balladeer's leg. How nice this is! She should've left the kitchen sooner.

"It was," she confirms when he looks down at her in evident surprise. "I think it must happen a lot." That's going by how often it's happened to her, considering how short a time she's been here. She gives his arm an idle pet. "It wasn't so bad, though, was it?" Right now, nothing seems so bad, not even vague memories of obnoxious murderers.

[singthesong]

The Balladeer hums in contentment. "I guess not." It could have been so much worse than it did end up being, after all. At the very least he got to show her around a little bit of what could be very loosely termed his hometown.

Lazily, he wriggles a hand out of the warmth of the blankets and snags another cookie, offering it towards Greta. "If it happens all that often, though, I'll try for something less populated next time." Because is there anyone from his past who's really worth running into in his dreams?

(Spoilers: no.)

[andhiswife]

Greta smiles when he offers her a cookie - she's sampled the batch to make sure they turned out well, but hasn't actually taken the time to sit and enjoy one. She ducks beneath his arm as if ducking under a curtain, letting it settle around her shoulders and leaving her own hands free. "Thank you!" she chirps, taking the cookie and tucking herself against his side. Perfect.

"You know," she says after a ruminative pause (these cookies really did turn out well!), "they're not very hard to make. I could teach you!" That sounds fun, right? Maybe not now, because she's far too comfortable to be getting up anytime soon. "Later," she clarifies. "Not right this minute."

[apidae]

Not wanting to spend the whole dream in one place, Bee decides to get up and wander around a little, looking for people who are going uncuddled. And look, there's one now! She's never seen him before, but he looks friendly enough, so she grins and hops into the armchair beside him, making herself right at home.

"Hi!" she says cheerfully, and sticks out a hand. "My name's Bee! I hope you don't mind if I join you." Seeing as she sort of already did.

[singthesong]

"No, no, not at all!"

The Balladeer smiles and shifts, making a little more room for her. He seems completely unphased at being cuddled up to by a total stranger. She seems nice! "I'm the Balladeer," he introduces himself. He'd offer her a hand, but he's wrapped up in like three blankets, and far too comfortable to mess with that equilibrium.

[apidae]

She doesn't mind having her hand un-shaked - she just moves it to pat at his arm instead in a friendly little hello. "The Balladeer," she says. "That's exciting. Sounds very important. Do you travel around and sing songs?" That seems like the thing he'd do, with a title like that - she doubts it's a coincidence, unlike her own name and life passion.

[singthesong]

"Got it in one," he replies with a grin. "I go all over - not so much anymore, of course, but it's all right. I'd never been to Manhattan before."

It sounds totally genuine, not at all like brave words. He's rustling about in the blankets as he speaks, slowly extricating himself from the little cocoon he's wrapped himself up in. When he's freed at least an arm, he takes the blanket and offers part of it to her. "Want a blanket? There's a few pillows here too, if you like." Of course, it's completely ordinary for them to snuggle under the same blankets together.

[apidae]

She tilts her head a little at his explanation, wondering if it's really all right - so odd, not being able to sense a person's patterns in these dreams, she's still not quite used to it. In a lot of ways it's nice, a much more honest, normal way to meet someone, but it also feels like a sense has been removed.

But he's offering blankets, that's more important. "Yeah!" She burrows in under the blankets and gets a few pillows behind her back and at her side, making herself a nice little nest. Much better. She rests her head against his arm, not at all shy about it - she never has been, after all, sometimes to a fault, but here everything's so safe and welcoming, even without her usual perceptive abilities.

"I never had either," she says. "But I never really left Alabama. I think it's nice. It's like an adventure." She rolls her head up to look at him. She can sense something - the patterns are there, just a little blurred, hard to suss out. His are very strange indeed, but she can't possibly make sense of it here. "What kinda places have you been?"

[singthesong]

He shifts to let her snuggle in, half-curling around her - she's a tiny little thing, isn't she? And he's not overly inclined towards shyness either, even on a normal day, outside of this wonderfully cozy cabin.

"It is!" The Balladeer beams down at her. At last, someone who thinks of this like he does! It's been just fantastic, getting to stay in a new place, with friendly people and not even a single assassination thus far. He's beginning to hope there might not be one at all. "This has to be the most interesting trip I've been on - I don't mind if it lasts a while."

Where else HAS he been? He's not one to outright lie, but he's been keeping the specifics of his travels to himself lately, if only because the explanations are long, confusing, and depressing. Not exactly first-meeting material. "Up and down the east coast, mostly," he says, with a vague hand gesture. "Spent a lot of time in D.C. I've never been to Alabama!"

[apidae]

"Alabama is a lot nicer than people think!" she says cheerfully. "We have beautiful wildlife and forests - I grew up in a kind of secluded area, my granddaddy used to take me out and show me all the different flowers and so on. I keep bees," she adds, because it's going to come up sooner or later. "So my name is easy to remember."

She shuffles in again so her head is flopped into his lap, smiling up at him. He has a wonderfully open face - he almost looks familiar, or something. Hard to place what it is about him without her waking senses.

"Can you sing a song now?" she asks. "Or do you need an instrument - what do you play?"

[singthesong]

"Really." The Balladeer smiles down at her. He's meeting so many people with spot-on names lately! "That's convenient."

Idly, he starts lightly playing with her hair with one hand. "You make it sound wonderful. I'd like to visit sometime..." He muses, leaning his head back against the arm of the chair and shutting his eyes for a moment. Is that a cruel thing to say? He'd like to visit there without something terrible happening first. "I play guitar, banjo...I had a ukelele at one point."

Raising his head, he grins at her again. "I don't really need them to sing, though. Any requests?" Now that he's thinking about it, he can half-feel her song. It's a little more muddled than he's used to, but he's determined himself to ignore it anyhow.

[apidae]

"Well, no," she giggles, letting her eyes flutter shut. She quite likes having someone play with her hair. This is so nice!

"I almost learned how to play the ukulele," she says absently. "I mean I had one. Not here though. You should sing something!" She opens her eyes again and looks up at him. "Do you make up your own songs? Can you sing me one you wrote?"

[the_strenuous_life]

Now this is a damned fine lodge.

From the chill in the air Teddy assumes he's just come in from a brisk night's walk in the mountains, so he finds a chair by the fire and sits right down in it before it even occurs to him that it might already be occupied. But that makes itself abundantly clear soon enough.

"Whoa there, son!" he laughs good-naturedly, getting up and re-settling next to the person beneath the blankets. "I didn't see you there, but no matter. I don't recall our meeting before, are you a guest at the lodge? Here for some sport?"

[singthesong]

The Balladeer makes a slightly indignant sound upon being sat on, and pops right up out of the blankets once he's freed. "I - "

Then it registers.

"Oh. Wow." He blinks at Roosevelt for a second, before laughing half in surprise and half delight. What a reversal! He's never gotten to properly meet a president before. There's no sign of John Flammang Schrank anywhere - why DO these people always have three names? - but even if he were here, the Balladeer is certain that Roosevelt would kill him first. It's entirely possible he'd do it with his bare hands. "No, I'm just on vacation. Is it good out there?"

In truth, he doesn't particularly want to hear about anything getting shot, but he will absolutely continue to dabble in that talk if it means conversing with Teddy Roosevelt.

[the_strenuous_life]

Roosevelt might also just clap Shrank on the back and say he gave it the old college try, but the world may never know.

He's feeling particularly calm tonight, not bombastic or itching to go out and accomplish things.
"Colder than a witch's tit," Teddy pronounces, and he's fairly certain he's right, even if he doesn't remember actually having been outside. It must be, if the place is so cold even with a roaring fire going. "No, I suspect all the game's bedded down for warmth, animals are sensible that way."

Speaking of which, Teddy's quite comfortable here. He clears his throat. "I must say, though, do tell me if I've overstepped my bounds." because cuddling with Teddy Roosevelt, nothing weird about that right?

[singthesong]

Hopefully, Schrank would know better than to try it a second time.

"No, no, you're good. My chair is your chair!" The Balladeer claps Teddy on the shoulder genially, grinning. Internally, he might be freaking out a little. Oh, god, this is so weird. A lot of weird things don't really strike him as odd, but this is one of them.

Luckily, he's one to embrace the weird! "Here," he says, offering one of the blankets over to the live president. Wait, what year is he from? That might be a strange thing to ask. He seems like he could be president by now. "All the fires in the lodge are blazing, and this place is still cold."

[the_strenuous_life]

"Damned peculiar, is what it is," Teddy agrees, wrapping the blanket around himself. "Though things have been peculiar, of late, even for the afterlife."

That sort of statement might alarm a person, and Teddy feels obligated to follow it up and explain himself somewhat.

"Son," he says, leveling the young man with a serious and presidential stare, "I don't mean to alarm you, and let me assure you I speak in perfect frankness, but I believe I may be deceased."

[singthesong]

"Oh." The Balladeer speaks, a little taken aback by the presidentiality of the pronouncement. "Well. That - you probably are." He's actually relieved that Roosevelt already knows, and can confirm his suspicions for him. He must be dead. How else do you explain the two of them encountering one another?

Not that he GENERALLY talks to dead presidents, but hey, first time for everything.

"Sorry," he apologizes belatedly, even though Teddy doesn't seem especially perturbed at being dead. "But that does make a lot of sense."