What's Stopping Us From Breathing Easy [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

Dreamers of Manhattan, you've lucked out. Rather than finding yourselves in some kind of dystopian nightmare, you'll end up in a series of formal gardens on a lovely day, the air filled with birdsong and a cloud-scattered sky arching overhead. Some of the gardens look a bit wilder than others, in an artful sort of way, but it's clear that all of the gardens are well kept and frequently tended. Aside from each other, dreamers aren't likely to run into any creature larger than a rabbit. True, there are no actual exits - every doorway or arbor leads to another garden - but that's hardly a problem. It's beautiful, it's safe... what could go wrong?

Well, that depends on the dreamer's honesty. No uncomfortable truths will drop unbidden from anyone's mouths like last time, but the dreamers will find that any time they attempt to lie or prevaricate, they'll be beset by a sneezing fit. A tiny lie by omission might only prompt that uncomfortable feeling of an impending sneeze; a larger, more significant (or more stubborn) fib will lead to a sneeze attack so crippling that the dreamer might just need to sit down for a minute.

You could try to pass it off as allergies, if you could get the words out without making everything worse. But while telling the truth is not compulsory, lying is punishable - and pretty well obscured - by sneezes.

[OOC: Usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome to participate regardless of whether they've been apped in the game or not. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion.]

Comments

[andhiswife]

Greta's on the ground, now, though she doesn't remember how she got there. The brutal nature of the Witch's exposition doesn't surprise her - she never did care about anyone but herself, never showed the slightest inclination towards sympathy. It's just like the first time, when she'd blasted their door in and casually informed them of the Curse upon their house.

But there's no magical solution this time. No list of ingredients she can gather that will fix this. The Witch needs nothing from her, and will give nothing. She's just being left here, broken and hopeless and alone.

No, not alone. Iman is still here. Suddenly consumed by the not entirely unreasonable fear that Iman will go after the woman, attempt to exact some kind of revenge, Greta clings to her friend desperately. "Please," she gasps out between sobs, unable to articulate any more than that.

[etherthief]

Iman sinks down with her, her eyes still fixed on the Witch for a moment, wanting more than anything to go after her, give her what-for, rain hellfire down on her awful smug head for doing this to Greta. She knows she can't, for a multitude of reasons, the most important one being Greta needs her here.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, keeping her arms tight around her, holding her as close as she can. "Greta, I'm so sorry." She keeps wanting to say it's okay but she can't, and it isn't. She keeps stroking her hair, murmuring the only truth she has to offer over and over again: "I'm here. I'm here."

[andhiswife]

She can't bear this, she can't, she can't. She remembers the fall, remembers the horrible length of it, but she landed in the Park, she lived. She lived, and she met someone who promised to get her home, and now all that someone can do is hold her close and apologize, and it's not enough.

She remembers the fall, the sickening sense of vertigo, remembers it so well that it ceases to be a memory. It's here, heavy and immediate and pulling her over some unseen edge.

"Iman...!" she gasps out, just once.

And then she wakes.