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

[andhiswife]

Wait, Iman's heard of him? Greta looks over at her friend in surprise, a glance that turns into a double-take when Iman puts her question.

"What?" Ugh, the very idea. Not that she knows every resident of her universe by sight, but he's dressed all wrong for it. "No. I've never heard of him." And since he seems to take his notoriety for granted, she'd like to think if he was from home, she would have.

But Iman has. Greta frowns over at her in confusion. Why would her friend think he was from the same universe as she is? "You know him, then?"

[subtlely]

"Please." He taps his cane once to underscore the quiet syllable, though the twitch to the corner of his mouth may imply he is rather amused at the more adequately startled reaction. The newcomer certainly knows his name, though she seems more disappointingly inclined to be alarmed as opposed to afraid, as she should be.

"There's really no need for all this...unnecessary aggression." Straightforward brawling neither interests nor entertains him, and it is so very tired and pointless a countermeasure against the likes of him. "As I understand it, when one party has something the other desires, an arrangement can always be made."

[etherthief]

Iman opens her mouth to reply to Greta but before she can Rumplestiltskin's little comment has her spinning back to face him.

"Nooo," she says sternly, all but waggling a fucking finger at him. "No, no. No fucking deals. I know your jam."

Well, sort of. Fairy tales aren't her forte at all, she only vaguely recalls what this character is about and he's supposed to be some kind of baby-eating imp, right? In any case this is not someone she's prepared to haggle with.

She takes a small step back, her right hand reaching blindly for Greta's, while the other is raised in abstract defense. "Why don't you just piss off."

[andhiswife]

The idea of coming to an arrangement with him makes Greta grimace as if she's tasted something unpleasant. She knows what he's after, but she can't imagine what he'd attempt to offer in return - aside from 'leaving,' and now that Iman's here, Greta rather hopes they can just skip right to that part.

She reaches out to take Iman's hand all but automatically, feeling bolstered by her friend's presence on one side and Angus's on the other. "No deals," she seconds. "You've nothing to offer us."

[subtlely]

A profoundly unsatisfying termination of what could have been such a fascinating prospect. He'd so thought the two of them showed promise. But let it not be said that Rumpelstiltskin is not a being of his word; he does not make deals with the unwilling. He dips his head so slightly, courteous as always, the smile ghosting thinly over his disappointment.

"As you insist." And he pauses, long enough to meet both pairs of distrustful eyes in calm succession. "Though should you ever change your mind - " He raises a hand and twists the magic around himself deftly, the smoke leaching from the ground to flow smoothly over him. "Well, you know my name."

And when the whisper of violet smoke fades, both man and lizard are gone.