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

[applesaucemod]

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.]

Comments

[singthesong]

"You don't know what ice cream is?"

Obviously not, or she wouldn't have asked. "It's...I dunno, it's made out of milk. It's good!" He isn't really sure how to explain it. When was the last time he even had any? "You eat it in cones. I'm pretty sure there's some over there!"

Rising, he points off towards the ice cream cart. Still no one there - no one'll mind if they just serve themselves, right?

[andhiswife]

A hint of her earlier pout returns. She's not dim, she's just never heard of ice cream before. She'd bet most of her friends haven't heard of it, either, so it can't be that marvelous.

But it seems the boy barely knows what it is, himself, only that there's milk involved, which she could've guessed without help. A little mollified - and more than a little curious - Greta gets to her feet. "All right," she agrees, looking up at him, then following his point to the colorful but odd-looking little cart. "Strange cart," she says, hoping this isn't some sort of trick.

[singthesong]

He just shrugs and stands, hopping down off the bench. "Yeah. It's been sitting there all day. C'mon!"

And there he goes, running off towards the cart. "It's empty!" he calls out, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the counter and into the dark window. The metal is cold under his hands despite the sunshine, and he can hear machinery of some kind humming. "But it's still on, so the ice cream won't be melted! I bet there's a door on the side!" Hopefully it isn't locked. Even if it is, though, they've still got a window!

[andhiswife]

Greta inhales sharply when he dashes off, then hurries to catch up. She's still not sure if she likes this boy or not, but she doesn't want him to just leave her before she can make up her mind.

The counter is too tall for her to see over it, and her attempt to pull herself up only lasts as long as it takes for her to realize it's cold. She pulls her hand back and gives it a little shake, then frowns up at the boy. "Isn't that stealing?"

[singthesong]

Is it? He frowns. "They left it here all day, though." They would've taken it with them if they didn't want kids to get any for themselves, right?

...his frown deepens and he drops back to the ground.

"Aw, I guess you're right." Why'd she have to be right? He can't really deny that she is; it's pretty much stealing. After a second of thought, he brightens again. "What if we just leave some money?" People do that in stories, he's pretty sure, and that's alright. It's not like he's really got money, but he digs in his pockets anyway just to see what he might've picked up. "I've got...a couple pennies. And a buffalo nickel!" That seems like it should be enough for some ice cream. He's not sure he knows how much ice cream is supposed to cost, but all these coins look pretty old. So that means they're like treasure!

[andhiswife]

She's a little disappointed to be missing out on that 'ice cream,' but she's glad he's not a thief. Stealing is wrong.

But if he pays for it, that's all right. Greta's eyes widen at the respectable collection of coins he produces. They don't look like the sort she's used to seeing, but they must be worth something, and he's got several of them. A single coin is usually enough to get her a sweet at the market, so three ought to be plenty, right?

"I bet that's enough," she says. It's a rather wild guess, but it's not stealing if they leave money behind, and she's really curious about ice cream.

[singthesong]

"Yeah!" he agrees, grinning. If they both think so, then it must be!

The boy turns to circle the cart, jiggling the handle on the little back door. He'd expected it to be locked, but it swings right open under his touch, revealing a shadowed, cold interior. See? It must've been left here on purpose! He strides right in as if he owns the thing, looks around, and promptly opens the first freezer he sees.

"We can get one thing each!" He decides aloud, pulling out a popsicle and looking at it critically. "Or maybe a couple. I bet we have enough money with the nickel, but we'd get sick if we ate too much." The popsicle gets returned, and he goes to check another cabinet. There's gotta be waffle cones someplace...

[andhiswife]

Greta follows the boy around the cart, but lingers in the doorway instead of climbing inside. It's dark in there, and it's cold, even more than the counter had been. She extends an arm into the cart, and her skin breaks out in goosebumps. Wrinkling her nose, she pulls her arm back and crosses them tightly. This must be where the 'ice' in the name comes from. She's not sure she likes it.

"Maybe just one," she calls in after him, raising her voice to be heard over the odd, low hum coming from the cart. Not wanting to sound as uneasy as she feels, she adds, "I don't want to spoil my dinner." That's the sort of thing her mother would say. She's not a baby, she's just being good.

[singthesong]

"...right, yeah."

For the first time, the boy looks a bit uncertain. Dinner, is that a thing he has to worry about too? Usually he just takes his food when and where he can get it; he's not exactly sure there's going to BE a dinner later.

But he shakes it off. No use worrying about later - there's ice cream now! "You should try something plainer," he decides, "'cause you're new to ice cream. Oh, here!" He returns to the door and holds out a small, cold rectangle wrapped in foil. "It's an ice cream sandwich."

[andhiswife]

It's cold. That probably shouldn't surprise her, but she still almost fumbles the little parcel the boy hands her before grabbing it by the less chilly corners of the stuff its wrapped in. No sandwich ever felt like this. Frowning, still not entirely certain this isn't some kind of prank, Greta carefully tears at the foil until it reveals a square-ish slab of... something. It doesn't look anything like a sandwich, but it smells good. That white middle part must be the cream, but it's framed by two thin wafers of something dark and rich-looking.

Well, whatever it is, it smells like food, so she takes a cautious bite off of one corner. Her eyes widen. The wafer is softer than she'd thought it would be, and the cream is colder, but it's good. As good as anything she's ever had from the market. This is chocolate. She almost never gets to have chocolate!

She should probably say something - thank him, certainly, for buying this for her - but she's too busy chewing, silent and rapt.

[singthesong]

"Buying" might be a generous term, depending on what the rate of inflation actually is here.

The boy takes another ice cream sandwich for himself and goes to sit on the cart's step with it. "You like it?" he asks, taking a bite of his own. It's special, sure, but it's not any kind of exceptional luxury in his mind. People have ice cream all the time! Just not him, unless it comes to the park. That's fine, though, because it does sometimes.

[andhiswife]

Greta has her mouth full when he speaks, so she gives him a vigorous, wide-eyed nod, then swallows. "Yes! It's very good." It might be the best thing she's ever had. She takes another bite, this one a bit more considering than the first few, paying closer attention to the flavors on her tongue. "Thank you," she adds.

Feeling bolstered by the ice cream and by the boy's kindness, she plunks herself down on the ground by his feet, leaning against his leg. This boy's all right.

[singthesong]

"You're welcome!" He smiles a little, pleased to have made a friend. It's weird, he doesn't think he actually knows any of the other kids here. "Don't eat it too fast, or you'll get a brainfreeze."