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]

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?"

[johnny_truant]

"Don't you?" retorts Johnny, perhaps nonsensically, and Nova curls closer against him in joint defiance. Reckless and unthinking, he grunts, "'N.'"

[antitimelord]

Well, probably a lucky guess; Johnny doesn't seem to have his wits fully about him, judging by that retort. It must get so tiring, being all rabbity adrenaline and self-pitying anger. Many things about reality are tiresome, some that can be changed and some that can't. Briefly he considers reaching out and just scrubbing Johnny's mind into peaceful apathy; he's done things like that before. It would be a blessing, really. A favour, that Johnny doesn't deserve. "Well, who am I to judge." He fills in the letter with a gracious acquiescing nod.

L A _ _ R _ N T _

[johnny_truant]

What can possibly finish the word, with that configuration? S? H?

Oh.

"Labyrinth," he says with an air of disgust, as if unimpressed. As if it weren't a perfectly reasonable choice. "Clever fuck. So." He looks at Zagreus with with determined, smug, apathy. "My turn?"

[antitimelord]

What a thrilling victory. It gets a polite smattering of not at all sarcastic applause. Perhaps the chimaera would contribute, if it were at all suited. "Of course. Give me a challenge, why don't you. Don't I deserve that?"

[johnny_truant]

"Fine," he grunts, and he leans over to wipe out the letters and set it up anew. He already has something in mind.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

[antitimelord]

Oh Johnny. Long words are the opposite of strategically viable! But maybe Johnny will surprise him; it's happened, sometimes. "'A,' please." It isn't even contemptuous, he's happy to play, now they're both one win in.

[johnny_truant]

Johnny draws the A off to the side and makes an unadorned circle for a head. He doesn't bother saying anything, just sets his hands back in his lap and looks at Zagreus, waiting for the next guess. There's something curiously relaxing about this, even though part of him deeper down is boiling with terror and anxiety.

[antitimelord]

That's a little surprising, and instills a little suspicion. There should have been an A. Johnny seems to be withdrawing even more, poor thing. Zagreus will just have to talk more to fill the silence. "Well that doesn't bode well, does it. How about 'R,' then. Just a few more missed guesses, and you win. Though I'm not sure what the difference will be, your life's always been a shambles, with or without my influence. How have things in the waking world been, anyway?" Which will probably make his case for him.

[johnny_truant]

Johnny just shrugs, draws a body on the figure, and the R beside. He's trying not to let Zagreus' chatter into his head, he can't afford complacency anymore than he wants that sick weighted feeling when Zagreus points out how broken he is with brutal nonchalance. Yeah, he's a mess, but at least he won't have this eating away at him every night.

[antitimelord]

Johnny's non-response is disappointing, as is the missed guess. This is getting...not dire, but something he should take seriously. Perhaps his skills are a little off, in the Dreaming. Perhaps he's just out of practice. "'E,'" he says. Not running scared, just cautious. "Of course, if you win, I have to abide by it. Shame you can't solve all your problems with hangman. Plenty of monsters wouldn't be so agreeable. And personal demons don't play games. Though you could re-enlist my help with those. If I thought it worthwhile."