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

[apidae]

She cracks a smiles at the cautious acceptance, and hops onto the nearest sofa, nestling in and pulling a small mass of blankets aside to make room for him. My but he is tall. The other one was less imposing in every conceivable way, but this must just be what ... aging is like, or something. She has so many questions bubbling up, she hopes he won't mind them.

"Ssoooo which, um," she says carefully. "Which Doctor are you? Do you come before or after the eighth one?"

[whofrownedthisface]

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.

[apidae]

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.

[whofrownedthisface]

Is it just him, or did she just scoot deliberately closer to him on the sofa? He suspects it was the latter, but that doesn't make any sense. And, looked like...? Is that just a generalised statement of resemblance or something more noteworthy? He again suspects the latter. Well that's interesting and all, but not worth following up on. "No, it's definitely not too late for me. And you should be glad. I came here to investigate the rift and get everyone it's trapped home." Or whatever passes for home, anyway. The rift seems almost as partial to the disenfranchised as he is. But everyone came from somewhere. Probably? "Why were you nervous to visit?" Small-scale fidgeting aside, she seems quite socially adroit, not the type to be nervous about dropping by. Definitely closer on the couch, too.

[apidae]

The fidgeting becomes a little less small-scale at that, as she turns her focus to her hands and begins carefully, almost subconsciously smoothing out the blankets. "Because I - it's hard for me to... meet people," she says. "I don't want it to be. I really like people! But I'm not... um. Normal."

Her momma always scorned that kind of talk, but that was just about her other atypicalities, not the one that is just her.

"I always make plans to go see people and then a lot of the time I don't do it," she says, a little ashamed to admit it. But it's true. It's happened even with people she's already met, like with Peter. "I'm just worried that I'll do something wrong."

[whofrownedthisface]

"Nobody's normal," he says, frowning calamitously, rudely glib but no less well meaning for it. "What's normal?" That's not an egg. He shrugs elaborately. It's clear that however he assessed her level of social comfort, she feels quite differently. But it still doesn't strike him as particularly reasonable. She seems like one of the most socially grounded individuals he's encountered in this place or its associated dreamings so far, actually. Introduced herself, talked about things of at least close to mutual interest, isn't Rush, that's a good start, isn't it? Maybe he shouldn't be the arbiter of social adjustment. "What are you worried about doing wrong?"

[apidae]

"Oh, I know-" she stammers, taken aback by his vehemence, even though it is a reasonable mantra. She keeps her head down for a moment, wondering if she should try to explain now or later. She decides to answer his non-rhetorical question instead.

"I don't know," she murmurs. "Everything. It's not really rational." She fidgets some more, focused on her hands. "If I make a misstep, then people might not like me after all. Sometimes they think they like me, and then they find out something that changes their mind."

She doesn't really like talking about this, but it's hard to pretend cheerfulness around him. He has a very penetrating stare.

[whofrownedthisface]

"Sometimes people do that," he agrees matter-of-factly. No point in lying to her when she's already demonstrated a working knowledge of the truth. And sometimes they're justified in changing their minds, too; he knows about that. But he really doubts that's the case with Bee. "But they don't always, and not the ones that are important. Certainly not the incarnation of mine you didn't go to visit." No, not that one, and probably not him, either. "If he invited you, then I trust his judgment," in this instance, anyway. "Why do you think you're not normal?"

[apidae]

She smiles slowly, reassured by his pragmatism, and ends up moving even closer, slipping an arm around his. She can't help it. She's cold okay.

"Oh I don't think I'm abnormal," she says. "I know I am. I've been different my whole life. And I don't mean the way where - like how my brain works differently from other people. Because there's that too. But that's not so strange. A lot of people are like that." She hopes he's following her on this vague ramble, because she's too shy to go further in depth, barreling onward instead: "It's more than that. It's the way I see people. Maybe it won't seem strange to you, but as far as I know I'm the only human like this."

She tries to sound just as matter-of-fact - she has come to terms with her ability, after all, or at least the fact that she has it and is evidently unique in that capacity. It's difficult to be truly glib about something that is so hard for others to bear, though.

"I can see people's lives," she says, a little bit of a recitation now, she's become so used to explaining. More difficult to hide it here, where she's constantly meeting new people who are sometimes themselves extraordinarily empowered. "Not in detail, but the general trajectory, sort of. Where it began and how it's been, like I'm looking at the big picture of it from far away. But it's very strong. And I can't... turn it off." Back to fidgeting. "It doesn't work in dreams. But when I met the other Doctor it was... sort of a lot to handle. And I guess with you it'll be even more."

She stills her hands and slumps back against him. "People don't like that I can see that kind of stuff," she mumbles. "That's why it's hard to meet them, sometimes."

[whofrownedthisface]

No, that was definitely deliberate this time, he's sure of it, but he isn't sure how to extricate himself from this unusual degree of familiarity when what she's saying is actually interesting. Vaulting the back of the sofa remains a last resort in the back of his mind, should it escalate. He settles for staring at her in seeming incomprehension instead, whether for her actions or her words, who could say. "No, that's distinctly unusual, for a human, that definitely does strike me as strange," he confirms helpfully. "But you can't let people get messed in with it. People don't like a lot of things, that's one of my least favourite human traits, but it's almost never about the thing in question." More fool them for not having huge unwieldy nonlinear life trajectories to camouflage all their secrets and catastrophic failures. "Like being scared of a spider. Or a bee! People are just as afraid you won't like them. You almost have to pity them, really. Spending so much of their short lives afraid." He eyes her in what he thinks is a surreptitious fashion, gauging the degree to which this somewhat sidewise pronouncement has sunk in. "You just have to leave them to it, try again. Find people who aren't afraid. This is probably a good place for that," he flaps with his unencumbered arm, indicating both the dream and the city outside it.

[apidae]

She chews her lip as he talks, looking down at the blanket. This isn't entirely what she wants to hear, but she doesn't think that what she wanted exists in the form of real, executable advice. She does appreciate that he's being so straightforward. And she supposes what he says is true.

She doesn't like the idea of admitting defeat, though. 'Trying again' is difficult when she can't recover from the failed attempt.

"I suppose," she says noncommittally. "I don't want to be afraid. I just also don't want to make anyone unhappy." She glances up at him, finally, searching for some kind of comprehension or reassurance, not sure she'll get it. He is very different from the other Doctor. She wonders what his patterns look like, knowing it will be far too much for her to absorb anyway.