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

[antitimelord]

Zagreus and the chimaera just grin knowingly at him, eerily in tandem. What adorable and false bravado. "'L,'" he says, on a whim. Still some limbs to spare.

[johnny_truant]

To his false bravado's credit, whatever that's worth, he does remain calm even as he slots the letter into place. No choice but to remain calm, hope for the best, hope is stupid but it's all he's ever had.

_ _ L _ _ I N _

[antitimelord]

Zagreus stares at the regrettably few letters in the sand meditatively. All he has to do is win, but it would be nice to guess the word impressively, before it's obvious. And knowing Johnny there's probably some wretched hidden meaning, something anchored in his past traumas or personal mythology, etc. True unpredictability is well beyond him. "'A,'" he offers.

[johnny_truant]

He'd been expecting 'A' much earlier, and its absence had been giving him all kinds of false hope. There's some kind of metaphor to be found there but he has no wherewithal to look for it now. He sighs heavily and Nova digs her paws nervously into the sand as he writes. He's starting to feel sick. And not just because he knows he's going to lose.

_ _ L A _ I N A

[antitimelord]

Zagreus wrinkles his nose at this development. Not what he'd been expecting at all. Maybe Johnny is more creative than he gave him credit for; wouldn't be the first time he'd underestimated an opponent, won't be the last. "'M,'" he guesses, and while it's the only likely guess, it's still a guess.

[johnny_truant]

Is this cheating, he suddenly asks himself. Maybe not. Zagreus has been in his head enough to have a homefield advantage.

In any case, M goes off to the side, and the tortured stick figure gets an arm. Three more turns, right? Three more. He can do this.

[antitimelord]

Zagreus looks up at Johnny warningly; the chimaera goes very still. "If you cheat, the game's null and void. Plus, I'll drown you." Maybe the chimaera can dig him a grave, leave him for the tide. That would be hilarious. "'S,'" he says, quietly. He never bothers to nail down the rules beforehand, it's always such an annoying mistake, this tendency to trust others with things they don't understand.

[johnny_truant]

"I..." Johnny looks up, startled by the sudden threat, so in line with his paranoid, passing thought. He's not cheating, at least, not on purpose. He's probably made a misstep with this choice, he doesn't know the fucking rules, he hasn't played this game since long forgotten childhood.

Uneasily, he draws the S off to the side and gives the hung man another arm.

[antitimelord]

Hasn't got much to say for himself, has he. Doesn't matter, Zagreus can live with the rules being changed at the end of the game, just watch. Of course he can also live with losing, brush it right off, he's done that too and it's hardly a cramp in his style at all if he can murder the culprit immediately and without repercussion. "'F,'" he tries. Not the challenge, but he'll build up to it.

[johnny_truant]

And that's it. That has to be it. If he doesn't guess it now, well... something else terrible will happen. Because only terrible things happen. Why did he ever dare hope.

He feels sick, feels that weight in his stomach growing stronger, dragging him down.

_ _ L A F I N A

[antitimelord]

Of course, he should have guessed ages back, a strange name, the only reason he'd remembered it specifically instead of just the vague emotional flavour of Johnny's past traumas. Foolish of him to play that, and not within the rules either, not as Zagreus thinks. But isn't that always the way, the rules are never as universally understood and obeyed as he thinks, when will he finally manage to murder and bury that dogged naivety. It could have been a good strategy, if questionable, but he just had to pick something meaningful, even if it meant losing. Well, at least that Zagreus understands. It's almost comforting.

"Your mother's name. Pelafina, was it?" he says it sourly, even though it should be a victory. The chimaera is a statue, awaiting some silent instruction from its other half, motionless except for a heat shimmer that doesn't belong to this sun. "How about another game." It's not a question, and Zagreus doesn't think he needs to specify what will happen if Johnny refuses. "Best of three. I get to be the executioner this time." So much for taking the high road.

[johnny_truant]

He exhales stiffly when Zagreus so casually suggests 'best out of three'. All he has to do is win this time, and then come up with a better word. Right? Statistically he's got to be better at guessing than coming up with a word. Next time it won't be such an obvious fucking tell.

He can't believe he's doing this.

"Okay," he murmurs, rubbing out the letters and the unfinished stick figure with his hand. He scoots back a bit, breathes out again, slower this time. He can do this.

[antitimelord]

That's it, not so much as an argument or sarcastic congratulations? Tch. How empty. Where's his spirit? Surely he still has a little. "I was afraid you'd be a sore loser, but I think now that might be an improvement." He reclaims his abandoned writing stick from the sand nearby, no grit hitchhiking into the waking world inconveniently under his fingernails. The chimaera relaxes almost imperceptibly, looks if anything a little disappointed.

Zagreus considers a moment, tapping his chin in an obvious affectation of pensiveness, maybe he can drum up a little suspense from his apathetic opponent. He rejects a few clever or biting choices, for being too predictably laid out, and restricts himself from the more outlandish picks that aren't relevant and wouldn't be sporting, anyway. Finally he sets to marking decisive little lines in the sand, all poorly concealed amusement at his word choice. He wastes no time in drawing an elaborate little stick-gallows on a hill. Perhaps to be embellished later, if Johnny stalls.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[johnny_truant]

He pulls Nova up into his lap, trying to soothe them both with slow strokes down her back, and he frowns at the lines in the sand.

"'A,'" he says.

[antitimelord]

Look, the vermin are bonding, how touching. "Excellent choice," Zagreus says, like a demented waiter, absurdly commending Johnny as though he'd declared a wine choice. He marks in the letter and watches Johnny expectantly, Alecto following suit.

_ A _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[johnny_truant]

"Don't fuckin' patronize me," he grunts, shooting a quick scowl at Zagreus and an even quicker one at the chimaera. "'E.'"

[antitimelord]

How fortuitous, he gets to respond to this ungrateful backtalk with a little circle at the end of the gallows rope. Just as it deserves. Zagreus grins and adds x's for eyes. "Nope. Go fish."

[johnny_truant]

All right, fine. Johnny presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to rub out a brimming headache. "'T.'"

[antitimelord]

"You know, you might just win," the chimaera says. It's a taunt, but true enough honestly, Johnny and words are on good enough terms. It doesn't matter though, in the grand scheme of things. Zagreus adds the T to his word.

_ A _ _ _ _ _ T_

[johnny_truant]

Johnny won't be holding his breath over that. He can't afford to hope. He can't afford to lose, either, but that doesn't cost any emotional effort until it happens. He has to conserve his energy now, it's all he has left.

"'R,'" he says, fingers combing obsessively through Nova's fur.

[antitimelord]

Johnny knows the basics of the game at least. "And wouldn't that be a change of pace for you," he says, writing in the letter. "Winning, for once. But then I suppose it is a dream."

_ A _ _ R _ _ T _

[johnny_truant]

He's not doing too bad so far, and yet he feels blank, uninspired. He frowns thoughtfully at the evenly spaced letters, able only to see the word they coincidentally form, not anything they might be a part of.

"Um." He flounders for a moment, one hand rubbing distractedly at the back of his neck. "'L.'"

[antitimelord]

Hey, not bad, little rib niblet is a lot better at this side of the game, who knew. Then again, the alphabet only has so many letters, and it would hardly be unlike Zagreus to underestimate someone. Either way, Zagreus hasn't the heart to be disappointed that his game might be up. He writes in the letter and puts his chin in his hand, gives Johnny a measuring look.

L A _ _ R _ _ T _

[johnny_truant]

He stares at it in growing consternation. He's doing better than he feels like he is, he feels like he should be able to see something out of this, but it's still nonsense to him. All he sees now is labrat.

Needs more vowels, he supposes. "'O,'" he murmurs, his fingers moving almost convulsively through Nova's fur.

[antitimelord]

Oh, good guess, he hadn't even considered what a nice red herring the word would come with. "Afraid not," he says very nearly sincerely, drawing a body on the little stick figure nonetheless. "Doesn't that animal ever get tired of your pawing at it?"