ACT NOW! [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

Has this ever happened to you?

All you're trying to do is have an uneventful night's sleep, but you find yourself in a sprawling labyrinth of interconnected rooms, each one a transplant from a bland, suburban home. You search and search for an exit, but just can't seem to find one! And even if you could - where did you park your car?

Oh, no! You're trapped in another dream event!

No matter what you do, everything just seems to turn out wrong. Open a cabinet - tupperware avalanche! Attempt to pour yourself a drink - disaster! No bowl of cheetos is safe from your sudden, embarrassing clumsiness! It's as if you can't do any simple task without it going horribly awry! What a mess!

That's right, dreamers: you're stuck in the desaturated Before Times of every terrible infomercial you've ever seen, and life is a sisyphean struggle.



[OOC: Standard dream party rules apply: all are welcome regardless of their membership in the game, and characters can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Backtag forever.]

Comments

[biscuit_powered]

"You could have just said that to begin with!" snaps Asmodia, climbing quickly to her feet and leaving a bewildered Biscuit behind on the floor. The end of her long tunic gets trapped under one foot and the quick movement is accompanied by a loud tearing sound. "That -- you just -- UGH!"

Because obviously it's his fault she just tore her tunic. Everything can just be his fault now; it's very tidy. "If this is a dream, I'm going to wake up now," she decides. "I don't have to put up with this!"

[lottawork]

"You think it's that bloody simple?" Rush snorts, short and contemptuous. It appears that rising swiftly has left him mildly orthostatic, and initiating rapid movement is significantly likely to end in disaster. "That waking by sheer force of will hasn't been attempted?" If such a thing were possible, he's certain he would have mastered it by now.

Dreams are far from his favored pastime.

He flaps a vague hand in her direction, then pushes it again through his hair in a motion that aborts itself partway, instead grinding the butt of his palm against the dull, stabbing ache pressed into his forehead. "By all means," he rasps in a much more pronounced display of exhaustion than intended, "be my guest."

[biscuit_powered]

"Shut up and I will!" she insists, stubbornly ignoring the feeling that she's probably about to embarrass herself. Stooping, she scoops up Biscuit, picking him up the long way round and getting clawed as he grabs for some kind of stability and she struggles to get him turned right side up. "Come on, Biscuit, we're leaving."

And then she...well, she stands there and squeezes her eyes shut and tries really, really hard to wake up. Biscuit heaves another long-suffering sigh but shuts his eyes as well.

And nothing happens. For a full minute.

[lottawork]

He watches impassively as the ostensibly-not-human forges ahead with her ill-advised attempt to forcefully wake. The end result is precisely what he has come to expect from this intolerable forced dreams of the Rift's invention.

"Scintillating," he comments dryly, after he feels a sufficient amount of time of non-activity has passed. "Truly."

[biscuit_powered]

Admitting defeat (if only to herself), Asmodia opens her eyes to glare at him again. "Shut up," she says again. "I don't see you doing any better."

[lottawork]

"Yes," he says quietly, torquing smoothly on one heel and grinding the butt of one palm viciously into his eye socket. "Well. I've long since stopped attempting. Waking by pure force of will is something of a doomed endeavor in these cases."

He favors her momentarily with a flickering, evaluative gaze. "Though in my experience, death is usually enough to jar one out."

[biscuit_powered]

"I'm not going to kill myself," she retorts disbelievingly. Frowning stubbornly, she adds, "So, what? Do you just...wait to wake up?"

[lottawork]

A disappointingly predictable response, if perfectly reasonable.

"That is typically how these sorts of things are approached." He inclines his head very slightly, a faint, mocking twist to the corner of his mouth, and adds wryly, "if it's any consolation, it's doubtful you and I will ever see each other again."

[biscuit_powered]

"Believe me," mutters Asmodia. "It's a consolation."

She ought to curse him or something -- he'd deserve it. Except he totally wouldn't, is the frustrating thing; he's an asshole but anything she could do to him would be ludicrously disproportionate, even in a dream. "Yeah, well, you're welcome for the rescue," she huffs, turning to go. "See you never."

[lottawork]

Yes, he certainly won't mind concluding this particular encounter. His tone is light, a mockery of civility, as he observes her departure.

"Likewise."