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 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.