This is My Island in the Sun [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

The Rift wouldn't say it's sorry for the fit it threw the other day, because the Rift never needs to apologize. It is (mostly) perfect, and all of its decisions are well reasoned and just. Obviously. But perhaps it has fallen into a bit of a post-tantrum sulk, because this dream is milder than one might expect. In fact, it's downright nice.

The dreamers will find themselves in an archipelago of small islands - most only a few acres in size - connected by narrow strips of sand or pebbles. The surrounding waters are calm. Little waves lap against the shorelines, and no rising tide will cut the islands off from one another. The islands themselves seem to have been lifted from every climate zone on Earth and several from beyond. Some are tropical, some colder and home to hardy conifers, some mossy and boulder-strewn, some covered in multicolored sand and odd, coral-like trees.

Most of the islands boast some kind of manmade or otherwise non-native structure, be it as small as a bench or as large as a pavilion, though there are no houses or shops to be seen. It's more like parkland, just civilized enough for a nice picnic. Some of the islands even have little grills, and a sufficiently motivated dreamer might be able to rustle up some hot dog or burger fixings if they poke around a bit.

And they'll have an extra pair of eyes to help with their searching, because their beloved dæmons have returned… again. Or perhaps they're being introduced for the first time. Regardless, it's the bi-annual dæmon dream party!

Comments

[johnny_truant]

Johnny lifts his head slightly, startled by this explanation, though it does actually help a fucking lot. That means it wasn't his fault, that means he didn't know coming in, he only knew because Johnny walked by him.

So this is his fault. Again.

"I'm sorry," he says finally, his shoulders sagging a little. He takes a faltering step back. He wants to just leave, leave him alone forever, hope that it just wears off or he forgets or something. Something keeps him pinned for the moment, something he has to make expressly clear.

"I would never hurt Greta," he says, omitting the perhaps implicit not on purpose. "You know that, right? I don't want anyone to know about it. I can't control what happens in my head."

If only he fucking could.

[singthesong]

The Balladeer shifts, crossing his arms uneasily at the apology. This was easier to handle when he could paint Johnny as the villain of the piece. He understands that, he can work with that. "You didn't mean to," he says, not quite an acceptance, but far less hostile than he's been. He thinks he didn't mean it. He's reasonably sure. It's hard to hear even the most basic tones of Johnny underneath all the rest of it.

What did the rabbit call it? The house? Beth clacks her beak warningly in his ear, and he dismisses the thought.

"I haven't told her." At the least he accepts that, Johnny not wanting to hurt Greta. Even if this were some elaborate trick, he'd have no reason to harm her. "I didn't tell anyone." That had been his original plan. Most of his plans involve telling everyone everything. But it hadn't taken him long to revise that, once the dreams started.

[johnny_truant]

"Well," says Johnny, "good."

Now what? They're just staring at each other in mutual discomfort, Johnny's said all he can probably get away with saying for this encounter. He starts to inch back slowly.

"If it starts to get real bad," he says, "there's... I know people who might be able to help you."

Not gonna offer that up freely, not unless it's an actual emergency.

"I'm sorry," he says again, feeling increasingly pathetic. He should just turn. Turn and go. Can't quite do it, not just yet.

[singthesong]

This is the Balladeer's first real experience with mutual discomfort. So far, he isn't a fan.

"Okay," he says, nodding slowly. He hopes it doesn't come to that - it's going to take a lot more than these nightmares to get him to bring this to someone else for help. Who does Johnny even know that can help with this? Why aren't they helping him? "Okay, it's - okay."

It is and it isn't. He's having trouble continuing to blame Johnny in the face of all this. "I am fine," he insists, taking a hesitant step backwards. "It's been getting better." And he's sure this contact won't make things any worse.

[johnny_truant]

Johnny returns that with a nod. It's either a lie or denial. This doesn't go away so easy. It doesn't get better.

At least this guy has a chance. It's in Johnny's blood now. He can't escape it no matter how hard he tries.

He decides to cut the man loose and turns tail and walks away quickly, holding Nova close. She's mercifully silent, satisfied by the way that went, or as much as she can be. They're both a little conflicted, both feeling uneasy, like there's something bubbling right beneath the surface, and the Balladeer felt it just as much as they do.

It's nothing unusual, surely. Just the way he's always been. Just a temporary feeling.

Surely.

[singthesong]

The Balladeer quickly turns to go as well, once released.

"You didn't have to talk to him that long," Beth grumbles in his ear. Her grip is still tight, only barely loosening as the sound of Johnny (the sound of the house) dies behind them. "He isn't one of ours. We're not responsible for him, we don't need to listen."

"No. I guess not. But I think he needed it." He shifts uneasily, crossing and uncrossing his arms and vaguely wishing for the familiar weight of his guitar. That story shouldn't be told - or if it must, it's certainly not for him. Give him his common killers any day. Ordinarily he wouldn't admit to being bothered by such a short simple conversation, but it's only Beth, so he confesses: "I think I might have a rough few nights."

The parrot chirps disconsolately, pressing her little feathered head into his cheek. "Just don't think about it. That's been working okay." It had better continue working, anyway. Where he's sleeping now, people might notice.