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The Big Applesauce Moderators ([personal profile] applesaucemod) wrote in [community profile] applesaucedream2015-05-31 11:47 am

Here You Are, Stick Figure and a Busted Grin [Open to All]

 photo dream banner 05 2015_zps6lx9lelt.jpg


The first thing that the dreamers of Manhattan might notice is that the ground is a good deal closer than it normally is. The second thing they might notice is that their surroundings are larger than they might expect. The playground looks almost daunting. Of course, there are other ways for the dreamers to occupy themselves on this hot summer day: a charming fountain bubbles away a little distance from the playground. There's an ice cream stand with treats free for the taking. Beyond the paved area is a meadow, covered in wildflowers and dominated by a huge, sprawling tree, perfect for climbing.

It's all prime entertainment for children. So really, it's just as well that 'children' is what the dreamers will find themselves to be - once more, for those who had childhoods, or for the first time, for those who didn't.

Perhaps you'll remember everything: the Rift, Manhattan, the friends (and enemies) you've made since your arrival. Or perhaps you'll only remember who you were when you were young, and find this an opportunity to forge new friendships - or new (and probably pettier) animosities. Run around, get dirty, have a good time. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

[ooc: usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome, whether they've been apped to the game or not. Characters will remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Mental and emotional regression is optional, but physical regression is mandatory: your character is in the body of a little kid - human, or human-ish - regardless of who or what they are in the waking world.]
wentdowntogeorgia: (This is hungry work)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-05-31 09:19 pm (UTC)(link)
For a moment, the angel looks surprised that she's addressing him at all, like he never expected her to actually speak. Then he just looks annoyed, because this little thing's talking to him without even a shred of respect, and he has to remind himself that, even though she's just some tiny mortal thing, she's one of his Father's creatures and he has to love her. His Father wouldn't want him to smite her just because she's rude, especially if she's one of his newest creations. She just doesn't know any better.

"I'm looking at it," he says. "You'll get it back when I'm done."

He's not being very gentle, though, and there are petals falling where he's holding it too hard.
andhiswife: (indignant)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-05-31 09:37 pm (UTC)(link)
"You're ruining it!" she objects. He's older than she is, by the look of him, and she might be pushing her luck. But it's not fair! She doesn't even know him. Why is he being so mean?

She feels like marching up to the branch, but settles for stomping her foot where she stands. "If you really just wanted to look, you should have asked." She could have made him one, if he wanted one so badly. Well, now she won't, and serve him right.
wentdowntogeorgia: (The wings of their terrible youth)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-05-31 09:57 pm (UTC)(link)
He rolls his eyes hard enough that his entire head moves with it.

"I'll just fix it. It's only flowers, it's not difficult."

The angel holds the crown in one hand down by his side, walking towards the trunk of the tree. Where he was standing, there are little shoots growing up from the wood, already covered in buds that burst into brilliant green leaves a few seconds after he's gone.

"It's not even useful," he continues, jumping down to a slightly lower branch. "Why would you bother making it?"
andhiswife: (alert)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-05-31 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
How is he going to fix it? Greta glares up at him in consternation, only noticing after he's reached the trunk that there are new shoots unfurling where he was standing before. For a few moments, she gawps at the new growth in astonishment. That's like magic, the kind you hear about in stories, and she has to tear her eyes away before she can answer his question.

"It's--it's pretty, that's all. It's not supposed to be useful," she says, no longer certain if she should be angry with him or wary of him. It's hard to imagine a bad kind of magic that would make plants grow. Maybe he's some kind of forest spirit. If so, she'd best take a bit more care, and she folds her hands neatly in front of her. Less grumpy-looking this way. "Haven't you seen a flower crown before?"
wentdowntogeorgia: (We've a lot of starving faithful)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-05-31 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"My Father has a crown," he says, sitting on a branch that's maybe three feet over her head. He sets the flower crown in his lap and picks off the petals, one by one. Underneath him, buttercups start springing up from the grass in little yellow clusters.

"It's not made of flowers, though. Especially not plain ones, like these."

Sorry, Greta, your wildflowers aren't pretty enough for archangels.
andhiswife: (giants in the sky)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-05-31 11:11 pm (UTC)(link)
That's not fixing, that's wrecking it even worse than before! But she can't object, not now. If his father has a crown, that probably makes him a Prince. You'd think a Prince would be more polite, she thinks bitterly, but he is just a boy, even if he does have magic and royal blood, and boys are rude all the time.

This is awful. Her throat is starting to ache with the onset of helpless tears. She can't even appreciate the buttercups, not when he's just sitting there and pulling her crown apart as if it's nothing.

"You're not nice," she accuses, fisting her hands in her skirt. Princes are supposed to be nice! Even though she knows she shouldn't say it, the words come tearing out of her, anyway: "You're a terrible Prince!"
wentdowntogeorgia: (We'd become the flowers)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-05-31 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'm an archangel and one of the princes of Heaven," he says, still picking at the crown but in a more annoyed manner now. "My Father is the Lord God, and He must think I'm the greatest Prince, because He loves me best. And since he's God, He can't be wrong."

So there. He's an archangel and she's just a little hairless ape-thing and he's really being quite kind just by talking to her at all, and she should be grateful. She's being graced by the presence of one of the most high, doesn't she realize that?

"Why is your face turning so red and splotchy?"
andhiswife: (breakdown)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-05-31 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Greta was only barely holding it together, and being called splotchy does her in. "Because you're mean," she wails, tears spilling down her cheeks, "and you're a liar, and I don't like you!" She doesn't care what his father thinks of him (whoever his father is; it certainly isn't the Lord God). He's been nothing but a brat to her.

Turning on her heel and wiping at her cheeks, she starts to storm off. She can make another crown somewhere else.
wentdowntogeorgia: (This is hungry work)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-06-01 12:18 am (UTC)(link)
The emotion she's giving off in waves is a little like what his little brother felt when he'd accidentally flown into a supernova and been buffeted about by it; he doesn't like the feeling of it, all raw, sharp edges and hard achiness. He frowns and jumps off of the branch, then beats his wings once so that he's ahead of her.

"You're angry and sad," he says, like she's the one behaving poorly. "Is it because of the flowers? I told you that I'd fix them, and I'm not a liar."

He holds the crown out at her and the flowers burst into bloom again, even brighter than they were before. He even adjusts the diameter and adds pink primroses and lavender and meadowsweet into the weave, to pad out some of the sharp spots that might poke her scalp.
andhiswife: (uncertain)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-06-01 12:57 am (UTC)(link)
He's in front of her, now - how?! - and she starts back with a sob. Why won't he just leave her alone? It's bad enough that he stole her crown and then picked it to pieces.

But then he shows her the crown, and it is fixed. More than fixed. He's made it better; there are flowers she didn't pick, flowers she didn't even see when she was searching the meadow for the best ones.

She darts a glance from the crown to his face and back, then sniffles. "You ruined it, first," she points out, lest he think he's won her over. "And you weren't a--a gentleman." Prince or no, she's been given to understand that any man - or boy - can and ought to be a gentleman.

One hand absently scrubs at her cheeks while the other reaches out to run a fingertip over one of the primroses. "Thank you for fixing it," she says quietly. If she's going to scold him for not having manners, she has to have them.
wentdowntogeorgia: (The wings of their terrible youth)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-06-01 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
"Are you going to take it, or am I going to have to hold it all day?"

It's amazing that she'll believe that he's a prince and that he has magic and can appear and disappear at will, but she won't believe that his Father is God or that he's an angel. Because the rest of that stuff is so plausible.

"You know that it won't last very long, don't you? It's going to all be dead by tomorrow."

He could make it last longer, and maybe he would just to see how she'd react to having a flower crown that never dies, but it still seems like a foolish use of flowers to him.
andhiswife: (dubious)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-06-01 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
Greta starts, then takes it, balancing it carefully across her palms. It's very beautiful, moreso than when she first made it, but she's a little bit afraid to put it on. This reminds her of stories about fairies, and how you shouldn't eat or drink what they offer you. He seems too mean to be a fairy - the ones in stories are always nice to you until they have you where they want you - but maybe she shouldn't wear what she's given, either.

It doesn't feel like bad magic. But maybe it wouldn't, until it was too late.

"Some flowers dry nicely," she says, though that's not really the point. "But it doesn't have to last forever." She frowns up at him, puzzled. What sort of kingdom is he from? It's like he's never heard of playing before. "It was just for fun. Don't they have fun in your kingdom?" They would if he was a fairy, anyway.
wentdowntogeorgia: (We'd become the flowers)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-06-01 01:55 am (UTC)(link)
"We do as our Father commands us."

Angels, as it turns out, are terrible at free will. Trying to teach them self-determination is about as effective as trying to teach poetry to fish, and the archangels are actually slightly less awful at it than the average angel.

Not that free will does him any good in the end.

"When He doesn't have tasks for me, I'm supposed to teach my little brothers."
andhiswife: (peering sidelong)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-06-01 02:17 am (UTC)(link)
That sounds boring. Greta pulls a face. She does as her parents ask (for the most part), but they don't keep her busy all the time. She's allowed to run about and play with her friends. Even some of her chores are fun.

"Don't you play?" she asks dubiously. How can he have little brothers and not play with them? "You must play with your brothers," she decides.
wentdowntogeorgia: (No sweeter innocence than our gentle sin)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-06-01 02:53 am (UTC)(link)
"I teach them how to fly and use their powers," he says. "Gabriel shows a lot of promise with illusions."

Does... that count as playing? It's what their Father wants him to do, and he gets satisfaction from his brothers' progress. He doesn't have friends, he doesn't have anything other than his family and his Father.
andhiswife: (intrigued)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-06-01 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
Greta considers all that for a moment, idly turning the crown between her hands, taking care not to crush any flowers. She doesn't know what an 'eelooshun' is, but flying must be a grand time. She thinks she'd like to fly. Not with this fellow, but on her own.

"Flying sounds fun." If she knew how to fly, and one of her chores was teaching someone else to do it, she doesn't think she'd be able to help making a game of it. "Don't you mess about, even a little? All boys mess about." That last is said with complete certainty.
wentdowntogeorgia: (We've a lot of starving faithful)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-06-01 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
"What do you mean?"

Messing about sounds like not doing what your Father says to him, and he could never disobey his Father. Aside from the fact that he literally couldn't think of a reason why he'd ever not obey, the thought of inciting his Father's wrath...

"I do as my Father commands of me. He's the Lord God, and I was created to serve Him."
andhiswife: (excuse you)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-06-01 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"You know." Except no, he doesn't. What a strange lad this has turned out to be. "Having a good time," she says, slow and clear and just this side of are-you-simple-or-what. "Playing. Laughing. You know how to laugh, don't you?"

Maybe he doesn't. He hasn't laughed, yet. Not even when he was teasing her by picking apart her crown. Greta scrutinizes him for a few moments, mouth drawn to one side in a considering pucker.

"Are you really an angel?" she asks. "Angels are supposed to have wings and halos."
wentdowntogeorgia: (This is hungry work)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-06-02 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
He's going to brush right over all the talk about playing and laughing, because those must be strange little mortal concepts that he doesn't need to know about. Mortals have to do all sorts of things that he doesn't, and he doesn't need to concern himself with them.

"Of course I have wings and a halo," he says, sniffing a little like he's offended at the insinuation that he wouldn't. "You just can't see them directly, because you're mortal and your eyes would burn right out of your head."
andhiswife: (cringe)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-06-02 01:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Greta lets out an alarmed squeak and takes a little step backwards at the implicit threat of having her eyes burned out of her head. "That's awful!" she accuses. Why would an angel do something so mean? "Angels are s'posed to bring glad tidings and--and play trumpets, not hurt people!"

She shifts the crown to one hand so she can fold her arms in disapproval. "And you can always see their wings and halos in the pictures."
wentdowntogeorgia: (We'd become the flowers)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-06-02 08:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"Well, the pictures are wrong."

These creatures had such strange ideas of what angels are supposed to look like. They don't look like their vessels at all, and their wings aren't really wings like birds have, and it's all wrong but he can't show her what it'd really look like without killing her.

"I'm too big and bright for you, you'd just burn right up. It's not on purpose, it's just that you're too fragile."

He frowns; he could show her his wings, sort of, if he didn't manifest them fully but only let the shadows show through. But why should he have to? He told her that he's an angel and that should be enough.

"And, anyway, I wouldn't be bearing tidings of anything, I'm not the Messenger. That's my little brother, and he's not here right now."
andhiswife: (disapproval)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2015-06-03 10:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Greta's pout intensifies. She doesn't like being told she's wrong, or that she's fragile, which is too close to just calling her a baby. Like he thinks she's small, and silly, and she's not. Besides, why should she believe him over the pictures and the priest and everyone else who's said things about angels?

"I don't believe you are an angel," she decides. "Maybe you've just got magic. That's not so strange." Well, it's a bit strange, but not as strange as being an angel.
wentdowntogeorgia: (The wings of their terrible youth)

[personal profile] wentdowntogeorgia 2015-06-06 06:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"I am an angel," he says, frowning, "and you lack faith. If my Father was before you, would you question Him, too?"

Maybe it's not a fair comparison-- his Father never came to Earth without announcing Himself with great power and splendor, since apparently subtlety hadn't been invented yet-- but He'd also be terribly displeased that one of His creations denied one of His angels. Especially Samael, because he's the favorite and he knows it.