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

[whofrownedthisface]

He really is the worst at this. She sounds distressed, though of course she's putting a brave face on it, as is her wont. He, too, stops construction for a moment, to look at her seriously, and conveniently ignore responding to her statement directly. The snake is a spooked heap in the little coat-hut, Sraif peering down at him with exaggerated avian head movements, normally hilarious, now concerned. What is even the cause for her upset? Does she assume she wouldn't be able to go back to her own universe? A potentially reasonable assumption; she was dead, and also her universe sounds rather inhospitable. But it also sounds like it might be important for her to go back for other reasons. Who hasn't been there? Things you'd rather do, but the universe needs you in place with all the other cogs and gears, what a hassle. But it's a little easier to negotiate with the cosmos, when you have a time machine. And she'd need a fighting chance of some kind. "Callie. Do you not want to go back to your own universe some day? It wouldn't have to be immediate." Though it might have to be permanent. Universal boundaries can be quite the sticking point. But she seems pretty at ease with time shenanigans. It was apparently a Thing. Lots of things sounded like they were Things. Pretty confusing, even for him. "Wouldn't matter when. Time machine, and all." Because that strategy always never fails. At least on paper. "I know you want to help your friends."

[starlightcalliope]

The question of wanting to return to her proper place in paradox space, perhaps to the Furthest Ring and being dead, is a complicated one she has been somewhat guiltily avoiding. There just hasn't been much time for considering it, between having her nose in all those books and illustration projects and exploring inside and outside the TARDIS. And even now, it is momentarily swept aside by the astonishing implication that he would - could she be so fortunate? - take her with him.

Her eyes go wide and wondering as she looks up at him. "Do you mean to say I could come along? To your universe?" To that place of all his stories, so full of marvelous planets to see and strange splendid people to meet? And to not be alone again, even just for a little while after he heals the breach in the fabric of this universe.

[whofrownedthisface]

He doesn't need any kind of TARDIS bells and whistles to detect rising sincerity levels, and he responds with the usual dismissive blustery huff. What did she think? That he'd fix the rift and then just show her the door without so much as a by your leave? When he has so much to make up for? The owl isn't making eye-contact with anything, trampling in the sand like a cat trying to get comfortable. "Of course you could! You've lived in the TARDIS ages and not even been to so much as the moon. Now that would be, that would be a disgrace." She's been bounced from one form of confinement to another all her life. The cage gets a little bigger, maybe big enough she doesn't even see the walls anymore, but she's still in it. What a perfect target for showing the sights. See the universe through new eyes? Well, these eyes are about as new as they get. How could he pass that up? It just wouldn't be fair, and he's been on a fairness roll, for once. The universe has been almost unnaturally just, in some regards. Would be a shame to spoil that streak. "Wouldn't you want to put off going back, for a bit?"

[starlightcalliope]

And just like that, a whole bright splendid future unfolds before her mind's eye, full of thrilling adventures and fascinating encounters on unknown planets by her friend's side. Even her lively imagination isn't enough to conceive of all that they might see and get up to. It's quite overwhelming, yet in some ways so similar to the hopes she's had for her future all her life.

Though those flights of fancy had included her human friends, and opportunities to discover her potential as a Muse of Space and what her place might be in the grand story of Paradox Space. She'd be putting that off, too, or may never get a chance for it at all. As the thoughts of her friends and her ghostly past return, she crumbles a bit and glances back down at her sandy claws. "It is so very tempting...," she assures him, trying to sort through the warring desires and anxieties swirling round in her head. "I do worry about my friends, though. They were all in grave danger the last time I heard from them, and they are facing such a formidable enemy... What if there is something I could be doing for them, or should be doing?" And what if that's an awfully presumptuous concern, still clinging to the fanciful idea that she had been destined for a significant role. Ophion's coils tighten nervously at the owl's agitated trampling next to him, watching her with respect or uncertainty or longing.

Meanwhile Calliope worries at the sleeve of her robe with her sharp claws and adds gloomily, "I suppose I was not proving terribly useful hiding away in the Void, anyhoo. Perhaps they could do just fine without me... And to tell you the unglamorous truth, I'm... I'm quite frightened of going back." She says the last very quietly; the Doctor has never made her feel like he thought badly of her, but she can't help worrying that someone so worldly and bold would look unfavorably on her cowardice.