applesaucemod: (Default)
The Big Applesauce Moderators ([personal profile] applesaucemod) wrote in [community profile] applesaucedream2015-09-27 04:23 pm

Universal Remote [Open to All]

 photo cropped-broadcast-room-panel_zpsapyqar5j.jpg


Here's an interesting scene: the dreamers of Manhattan are on a pirate ship. Or perhaps they're standing in a busy ER, wearing scrubs and holding a scalpel they may or may not know how to use. Or perhaps they've found themselves in the middle of a world cup championship game, or an old-fashioned highway robbery, or an interstellar dogfight, or a dramatic, 'unscripted' showdown between arguably attractive people they've never seen before in their lives.

Whatever the situation, rest assured: it probably won't last long.

Maybe the Rift is bored. That might explain why the dream keeps changing, as if someone were idly flicking through the channels and switching up the genre. The poor dreamers are just along for the ride, the only constant amidst a shifting array of scenery, clothing, and overall mood. Perhaps, if things are sufficiently interesting, the dream might settle a little to see how things play out. But given the Rift's definition of 'interesting,' that might not be a good thing for whoever is providing the entertainment.

[OOC: the usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome, regardless of whether they're in the game or not. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Dreamers' clothes may change to reflect whatever scene they're in, but their memories and personalities will remain intact... though the overall mood of the setting might influence their mood, as well. Feel free to throw NPCs into whatever scene you find yourself in, with bonus points added if said characters treat the dreamers as if they're established parts of the 'canon.']
singthesong: (Tree)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-10-12 03:46 pm (UTC)(link)
The Balladeer is cheerfully oblivious to the fact that he might be hitting some hidden buttons! He's not even especially anti-government - just very anti-ROMAC.

"No..." he responds, peering at it doubtfully. "Maybe it's friendlier than it looks? I think that'd be against genre conventions, but who knows?"

Behind them, the door whisks open again. The woman from before doesn't sound quite as calm and cool as she did before. "Captain, it's a Zoran scout ship! They're armed, but they haven't raised their shields yet. What are your orders?"

"Ah..." The Balladeer glances sidelong at Mako. Giving orders doesn't come naturally to him. "Can we talk to them?"

The officer nods. "We'll open hailing frequencies."
driftseeker: (don't get lost)

[personal profile] driftseeker 2015-10-12 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Careful, murmurs Raleigh, but she nods. As uncertain as the curiously topological shape of the other ship makes her, the instinct to gravitate to nonviolence drums persistently in her skull. She meets the Balladeer's glance with trepidation, equally unused to being in a position of authority as opposed to submitting to one's orders.

She holds her breath as the officer moves deftly to one of the consoles and begins tapping at it studiously to twist knobs and dials whose purposes she can only guess.

The ship opposite them revolves slowly to face them directly, light beading along the tips of its hooked protrusions.

The officer blanches. "They're powering weapons," she says nervously. "Recommend course of action? Captain?"

Mako tenses.

The next moment, she is blinking in the sun, squinting against light filtering through treetops. The cold black of space has been replaced with an expansive woodland, the ship's sleek interface with plated armor not unlike a drivesuit and a long sword buckled to her hip.
singthesong: (Reaper Man)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-10-13 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
Ohhhhh god, oh god, oh god. The Balladeer flinches back into his seat as the tension in the room suddenly skyrockets. Having weapons pointed at him isn't new. But he always talks his way out of these things. If he can't do that, he hasn't got anything else. How did he end up being the person in charge here?

"Um - " Before he can finished his slightly panicked sentence, the scene shifts again. Unbalanced, he stumbles and reaches out to catch himself on something that turns out to be very much alive.

It's a horse. A horse in plated armor.

The Balladeer chuckles a little breathlessly. "I guess I'm not cut out to be a spaceship captain. Good to know!" They were never in any true danger, but he's not eager to try exploding. He pats the horse's neck. The armor feels uncomfortably hot and heavy, and the sword is an unwelcome weight at his side, but at least they're outside. "Oh man, Greta'd get a kick out of this. You want to try riding?"
driftseeker: (hope is a fragile thing)

[personal profile] driftseeker 2015-10-13 04:27 am (UTC)(link)
Mako wasn't very eager to engage in an interstellar dogfight either, but at least that environment appealed to her a little more accurately than their current one. She shades her eyes with a hand as she searches for some sort of landmark or clue as to where they might be. Nothing leaps out at her; their present location looks to be nothing more than some generic woodland.

The Balladeer sits astride a horse, and Mako's eyes widen fractionally as she breathes in the thick, earthy smell of the animal at the same moment she comes to the realization that she's showed up mounted on one of her own. A slender palomino paws at the ground with a hoof, tossing its head as it whickers quietly. She rests a hand on its neck in a movement that can only be called instinctual.

In her head, Raleigh is only slightly less surprised. Of the two of them, he is the one more familiar with animals, but the sheer size and power of the steed has them both taken aback.

"I've never ridden one before," she admits, running a hand down the horse's neck in an effort to calm it. It seems just as startled by their sudden appearance as she is. "Who's Greta?"
singthesong: (Poppies)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-10-16 03:03 pm (UTC)(link)
"A friend of mine." Watching her, the Balladeer mimics her movements and pats his own horse's neck. Its mane is dark against its tan coat; if there's a word for that sort of horse, he doesn't know it. The smell isn't so alien though, and he smiles in fascination as he works his fingers through a section of mane. "She's from a world more like this. Sort of medieval." Though still, he supposes, quite distant from the experience of knighthood.

Are they knights? They must be. Who else rides around dressed like this? Even the horse, poor thing! His mount seems calmer, merely flicking an ear and tossing its head a little at his touch, but it has to be hot under all this.

"I've never ridden either," he admits. "But this is nice."
driftseeker: (buhhhhh what)

[personal profile] driftseeker 2015-10-16 03:39 pm (UTC)(link)
So, it seems when it comes to the varying points in time the Rift doesn't discriminate. Mako from the future in relation to Manhattan, Greta from the past, and the Balladeer - she can't entirely discern what time period from which he might have been displaced. There's a lot about him she can't seem to read, including his relative ease in acclimatizing with each new environment, though that could simply mean he's been here for a lot longer, long enough to grow accustomed to such changes.

She looks back down at the horse, who snorts and tosses its head in a manner that might indicate discomfort, or impatience, or any number of things she doesn't know how to interpret.

"I don't know what it is we're supposed to be doing," she confesses. "All the other places had an objective, but this place - "

A shrieking roar cuts her off, and a dark, sprawling shadow passes over the both of them, blotting out the sun. She looks up and catches a glimpse of leathery wings, curved claws, the gray shimmer of a scaly hide, and her stomach plummets.
singthesong: (Reaper Man)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-10-17 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
The Balladeer watches the dragon pass overhead with wide eyes. Beneath him, his horse whickers and shifts uneasily. Luckily, it doesn't bolt; he really doesn't have the skill to control a panicked steed.

After a moment of silence, he speaks.

"I bet that's normal."
driftseeker: (don't get lost)

[personal profile] driftseeker 2015-10-17 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
In contrast, Mako's horse bucks, nearly succeeding in unseating her. She clings to its reins in blind terror, unable or unwilling to confront the reality - or lack thereof - of the thing circling them overhead. She can muster little more than a short intake of breath, her mind a panicked whirl of fragmentary images, the shriek of Otachi's claws sinking into metal, the awful thunderous snap of its wings unfurling, the sickly bright blue of its blood gushing from the place where they cleaved it in two.

Otachi's dead, says Raleigh, but he doesn't sound as certain as he means to, as he hypothetically means to. Otachi's dead, remember? We gutted it like a fish.

The timbre of the echoing roar is deeper, throatier, nothing like the birdlike screeches of a kaiju, but the rational reminder is not enough to hold her heart still or her breath even.

The shadow swoops low and this time she sees it, face-to-face, smoldering eyes and jaws gapped wide and startlingly bright red tongue. With the hiss of igniting gas, its maw gapes open to belch loose a gushing sheet of flame. The trees spring alight.

Mako's mouth goes dry.

Her horse rears abruptly and it is all she can do to cling desperately to its back as it makes a sharp turn to bolt as far away from the inferno as it possibly can.
singthesong: (Stage Lights)

[personal profile] singthesong 2015-10-17 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
Oh. It's coming back.

Stoic though the dark-maned horse may be, it's certainly not proof against a charging dragon. The Balladeer only has time for a half-startled shout as it wheels, nearly throwing him. One hand wrapped in the reins, he ends up clanking hard and clinging to the horse's side as it runs.

It is much bouncier like this!

"What should we do?" is what he means to yell. What comes out is more along the lines of "Whaaaaaauauauagh!"
driftseeker: (someone bout to get fucked)

[personal profile] driftseeker 2015-10-17 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
Mako can only hope the horse has some idea of where it's going, because no amount of desperately yanking on the reins has any hope in redirecting it. Panicked as the animal is, it's more likely than not that it has no greater plan than simply getting away. For the moment, that plan, one-note as it might be, suits her.

Oily smoke streams thickly from the predator's open gullet as it dips low and takes to the sky again with an almighty clap of its wings. The Balladeer seems to be keeping pace, though the poor man is practically bouncing against his steed's back.

She opens her mouth to suggest something, anything, but she never gets the words out. Her horse jars to a halt and bucks again, throwing her bodily from its back and sending her arcing to the ground.