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.]

Comments

[omnomnom_feels]

What a sweet little child. Rashad has basically thought everyone he's run into tonight is a sweet little something, and knowing the truth of what Melanie is likely wouldn't change his attitude in the slightest. He perks up, looking at her from where he's sprawled on a day bed with his arms wrapped around a seriously deformed-looking plush cat, a smile spreading across his face. Company!

"Hello," he calls back at about the same volume. "Come sit with me?"

[all_the_gifts]

Another stranger. Melanie eyes him warily, though she's far more concerned about the danger she might pose him than the other way around.

But this is a dream. She's not dangerous. And he looks nice. Melanie hesitates in the doorway, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, then steps into the room. "I'm Melanie," she offers as she gives the day bed an assessing look, her gaze lingering for a few moments on that funny pillow thing he's clinging to. "What's that?" she asks with a nod in its direction.

[omnomnom_feels]

"I think it is a pillow of some kind," replies Rashad, loosening his hold on it so she can see better. He keeps an arm around the thing, though, unwilling to give up the closest he has to a cuddling companion at the moment. "My name is Rashad," he lies easily.

[all_the_gifts]

"Rashad," she repeats, trying the name out. It's different, but so is 'Aziraphale,' for that matter. Maybe Rashad isn't human. That would be safer; the hungry part of her doesn't seem to care much about non-humans. It's one of the things ROMAC tested, not long after she arrived.

Well, there's no way of telling without getting closer, and she doesn't think Rashad will harm her. Melanie approaches the bed, testing the air under the pretense of reaching out to give the oddly-shaped pillow a curious prod with her fingertips. She doesn't really smell anything of note, but maybe that's just the dream. Dreams can be funny like that.

Either way, it's reassuring, and she perches on the edge of the day bed next to him. "Are you human?" she asks, blunt but good-natured.

[omnomnom_feels]

Rashad pulls himself partway upright, shifting to make room for her as he does so. He doesn't sense anything out of the ordinary about her; while there is certainly an undercurrent of caution that is perhaps only natural for a mortal child growing up in such a world as this one. He feels warm with affection, and he hopes she will come and sit closer.

"I am not," he admits without hesitation. There's no harm in telling her. There's no harm in anything here (it's a small miracle he didn't spit out his real name a moment ago). "I only look like a common man. Are you human?"

Obviously she is but if they're asking questions he will ask questions.

[all_the_gifts]

Melanie cants her head a little, more interested in learning about him than she is in talking about herself. But maybe he'll tell her more if he knows she isn't quite human, either. It's hard to say. Well, it's hard to know. Everything feels so soft-edged and good in this place, like no matter what she chooses, it will be the right choice. Which makes no logical sense at all.

Well, if he's going to sit so close to her, he might as well know what he's getting into. That seems fair. "No," she says with a little shake of her head. "I thought I was, for a while, but I'm not. Not really." She looks up at him curiously. "What kind of not-human are you?"

[omnomnom_feels]

"Oh," he says, not the slightest bit bothered by the revelation. "It's a common enough mistake." He may be thinking in terms of humans only being one form of the sapients capable of having children together in his world -- one could of course be born to one or more human parents only to find other ancestry emerging as one aged.

"Can you keep a secret?" he asks, inordinately pleased with the prospect of sharing one.

[all_the_gifts]

There's something oddly reassuring about the way Rashad takes the information in stride. He doesn't even press for details. She probably shouldn't find this reassuring at all, but if he's not human, maybe he doesn't need to know she's a hungry child. Maybe she can just let him think she's the sort of not-human that doesn't involve wanting to eat people.

"I think so," she says, shifting a bit closer to him. "What kind of secret?" She's more accustomed to pragmatic honesty than secrecy, but then again, she's rarely found herself in possession of secrets worth keeping. For someone else, though, she thinks she could do it.

[omnomnom_feels]

Such a sweet child. Surely she can be trusted; how could a face like that lie?

"You mustn't tell anyone," he says, "But I'm really an eloim -- an angel."

He's not the latter, but it does not seem harmful to say that he is. It is close enough to the truth, and it should be the truth.

[all_the_gifts]

Melanie's face lights up. "You're an angel?" she whispers excitedly, scooting up alongside him until she's practically in his lap. "I know an angel! He keeps me safe. His name is Aziraphale - do you know him?"

[omnomnom_feels]

Rashad approves of this closeness. He does not typically approve of people knowing Aziraphale (the angel is probably going around exposing poor children like this one to the angers of his demon), but somehow he is able to forget his disapproval. "I do," he admits. "Though I did not meet him until I came to Manhattan. He is a strange sort of angel."

[all_the_gifts]

"Yes," Melanie agrees with a pleased smile. He is strange, but that's partly why she likes him so much. He certainly strikes her as much nicer and more interesting than the ones in the Bible, who only seem to bother with people when they're passing along messages from God. She's very lucky Aziraphale's a different sort of angel than that. "But he's a good angel, too."

What sort of angel is Rashad, she wonders. First things first: "Do you have wings?" she asks, looking up at him.

[omnomnom_feels]

"He has a friend who is not so good," Rashad warns her, though that's the worst he really has to say about Crowley at the moment. He remembers that he disapproves to the point of wanting to kill the demon, of course, but it does not seem so important just at this moment.

And then she asks about one of the many things that is not right in this world. "I do not," he admits, finding to his surprise that the happiness of the dream dulls a little. Is that what it's like to feel something on his own? It does not seem beneficial.

[all_the_gifts]

"You mean Crowley?" she guesses, her own mood fading a little. She likes Crowley, she just doesn't like that he's stuck serving Lucifer. "He can't get in. Not anymore."

Rashad's evident unhappiness with his lack of wings doesn't help matters. Now she feels bad for asking about them. "It's okay," she says, laying a hand on his arm in a way that she hopes he'll find bolstering. "You're still an angel. I can't even see Aziraphale's wings most of the time."

[omnomnom_feels]

Her condolences about his wings are also, surprisingly, welcome. Rashad offers her a timid smile. "I lost them when I came to live in the mortal world," he admits. She's learning all kinds of secrets. Enjoy, little girl!

"That is the one," agrees Rashad. "Can he not? I was under the impression they were very...close." Not that he understands why. Certain aspects of their relationship have never even occurred to Rashad as a remote possibility, given his assumptions about the nature of angels of other pantheons.