The House was Awake with Shadows and Monsters [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

This might not be the first time a given dreamer has found themselves at a fancy party in a large mansion, and dressed in something they wouldn't typically wear. If the architecture is more gothic than usual, well, that could just be a coincidence… but it's probably no coincidence that the dreamers are all wearing Halloween costumes that they decidedly did not pick themselves. 'Tis the season! They might look fancy, they might look slapdash; either way, it shouldn't be too difficult for the dreamers to figure out who - or what - they're supposed to be.

The evening's festivities are centered around a grand ballroom. Music is emanating from somewhere or other, and numerous chandeliers are aglow with warm candlelight. Tables line the perimeter, and they're piled with seasonal snacks and bowls of punch. If dancing isn't your thing, there's a whole mansion and extensive grounds to explore.

Those who venture forth will notice that the farther they wander from the party, the less friendly things seem. Tidy rooms with fires in the hearths will give way to dark, dusty corridors and neglected spaces. Manicured lawns grow into tangled hedges. As the music fades out of earshot, the house's settling groans and the hiss of the wind through the ivy will be impossible to ignore.

(It was just the house, wasn't it? Sure it was. It was probably your own footsteps that made that floorboard creak, too. And that rustle on the other side of the hedge was just a rabbit.)

All things considered, it might be more comfortable to just stay in the ballroom, where it's warm and cheerful and there are plenty of snacks. A note about the snacks, though: the dreamers will find that the more punch they consume, the more their own identities seem to fade away in favor of a persona more in line with their costumes. A dreamer dressed as a tiger might find themselves inclined to hide behind a curtain and pounce on passersby. A dreamer dressed as a mummy might adopt a stiff-legged gait and dole out a curse or two. A dreamer dressed as a robot might start speaking binary.

At least no one will actually turn into anything. That would just be embarrassing.

The good news is that eating any of the available food will counteract the punch's effects, so it's possible to have a fine time and still keep ahold of yourself. But what's the fun in that?


[ooc: the usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome, whether they've been apped to the game or not. Characters can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Any punch-drinking dreamers will take on the personality characteristics - and potentially the magical/supernatural capabilities - of whatever or whoever they're dressed as, though their physical appearance will remain the same.]

Comments

[theoldgirl]

This dream seems pleasant enough from the outside to be worth investigating, so the TARDIS follows the tug of the telepathic current until she manifests in a cozy little alcove off a grand ballroom (no match for her own on a good day, though). The somewhat severe looking blue dress and cap she appears in isn't what she'd had in mind, but besides the mild vexation of having her psychic avatar's appearance manipulated, it doesn't seem immediately offensive, so she lets it slide. This is apparently supposed to be a costume party, anyway. Perhaps Ianto could throw one in celebration of those human Halloween festivities and she could show the guests a real grand ballroom.

The TARDIS goes on her way amongst the party-goers, letting their enjoyment trickle against her awareness, critically regarding the ostentatious trappings of the location, and looking for snacks or familiar minds, in that order.

[whofrownedthisface]

The Doctor spies a familiar slight form and beelines to make his presence known. He doesn't make an effort to seek out these communal dreams, though perhaps he should. Most of his memories of encountering the TARDIS in these dreams involve some degree of distress, so this is a nice change. And he isn't doing anything wrong, even better. No transgressions on the agenda either, got the night off. "Oh good evening officer, I hope we're not violating any noise ordinances," he feigns wide-eyed innocence for a split second, easy to miss, before smiling with genuine warmth rather than cheerful foreboding, for once. "And if we are, can you make the citation out to the rift, please?"

[theoldgirl]

The TARDIS perks up at his presence nearby and greets him with a smile of her own, though it fades into a mild frown at his odd rambling. Oh, is he referring to her involuntary uniform, how amusing. Well, if at least he is amused, she supposes that's not so objectionable. She folds her hands behind her back and raises a conspiratorial eyebrow to reply, "I will gladly hold the rift accountable for any unpleasantries you care to mention." Not wanting to be the only one teased for her appearance, she makes a show of looking him up and down and adds chidingly, "If you had wanted a cape, you could have asked, dear."

[whofrownedthisface]

"Tempting, but I don't think I could handle the responsibility." Was that funny, or just dream-funny? Well, to the TARDIS, probably neither, but that's its own brand of comfort, paradoxically familiar and archaic. And objectively it's probably only the latter. Jokes, and insults, they never really hold up under the light of day, when they're the product of a mind left out to figuratively graze and ruminate. "Maybe just for special occasions and particularly windy days. Are there very many of these dreams that don't go immediately pear-shaped in some way?" He sounds only very mildly curious about the ratio of unpleasant communal dreams to those that are relatively harmless, like the beach with the spiritual manifestation animals. The beach had been nice. The forest had not. Does it alternate, is it just a roll of the dice? Do they vote with their subconscious minds? If someone has a really bad day, can they spoil the dream for everyone? "Which do you think this is?"

[theoldgirl]

Even having the advantage of knowing when he is expecting to be funny does not help the TARDIS understand why a cape should be a burdensome responsibility, so she wisely decides to completely ignore that comment. His interest in the telepathic network is rather more familiar ground and she gladly slips into the habit of providing him with information. "Comfortable and unpleasant dreams seem to occur in approximately equal number, as far as I have been aware of them, though not necessarily alternating," she tells him helpfully. "Most of the minds in this one are enjoying themselves; there are only regular levels of individual distress, but...," she trails off briefly as her awareness expands to analyze the full extent of the dreamscape, her gaze drifting off to the dark windows behind him. "The atmosphere beyond this central gathering is more... unstable, unsafe." She hadn't noticed it before manifesting, quickly judging the suitability of this dream by the overall mood. But the unpleasantness doesn't seem to be encroaching.

Returning her attention to him, she points out, "I do my best to stay clear of the distressing dreams," even though that isn't always successful, as he knows. "And I try to do the same for my inhabitants," she adds meaningfully. Though perhaps he'd rather enjoy a romp through someone's nightmare, if he is getting bored awake.

[whofrownedthisface]

How helpful of her, to carefully curate their dream experiences, at least to the best of her abilities. Though he has to wonder if she doesn't take it a bridge too far at times, at least in his case. Who better to handle dream-disasters? She could stand to borrow less trouble, particularly when it's earmarked for him. What else is he going to do with his time? Well, probably too much. "Unsafe how? How unsafe do these dreams get?" he asks, already scanning their surroundings like the next bug-eyed monster will pop out any second. Has the TARDIS ever seen Jurassic Park? That's probably not worth asking. "It's all for show, anyway, isn't it? An experience. But how is it put together? Who puts it together?" The Doctor is seconds away from dismantling something and going off-road.

[theoldgirl]

Naturally he latches onto the first mention of danger he hears. It would be worth an eyeroll if it wasn't so unsurprising, and rather a bit endearing. "The dreamscape is projecting a sense of undefined peril and volatility at the edges," she explains what she meant by 'unsafe'. "I am not aware of the dreams themselves having ever caused physical or lasting psychic harm to the dreamers, but they are capable of enhancing their mental distress, and have been a projection of real, physical suffering before. Also, there have been instances of powerfully telepathic beings trapping other minds in theirs and... I believe they could do serious damage to smaller minds," she admits, incongruously hesitant. Because both she and Gabriel very nearly did exactly that while not being aware of their true situations. It's troubling to think that she could have crushed all those minds she had accidentally ensnared; Daine, Johnny, Ianto... Not an event she likes to recall, nor anything the Doctor needs to know in detail, beyond the bare data of their disastrous attempt to manipulate the rift.

"As for rift-generated dreams; I have not attempted to determine their exact mechanics yet." That's really more the Doctor's purview than hers, she is only concerned with influencing or escaping them. And she has a feeling he is about to hare off and do just that, now that she's confirmed for him that there is something to solve.

[bluesuit_hoofy]

That's nice, someone else in blue. Andrew's almost got over the fact that he appears to still be a horse pony, and he's interested enough in the party not to be too fussed that his universe-jump didn't land him where he meant it to. "Hello," he says, looking up from about waist height. "Dunno if you've noticed, but the snack tables are a bit high. Do us a favor and pour me a cup of punch?"

so wait is this her Andrew

[theoldgirl]

There definitely hadn't been a pony by this table a moment ago. The TARDIS glances down from her snack perusal at the odd creature, about to decide if she has any interest in speaking with it at all, when she is startled by how familiar the presence in front of her feels. "Andrew?" she asks somewhat redundantly, unusually baffled.

Sadly no, it is a parallel Andrew

[bluesuit_hoofy]

"Ye-es," says Andrew, brow furrowing as he gazes up at her (and really, he knew they were little ponies but he feels a bit ridiculous). "Hang on, I'm going to be very embarrassed in a moment, I'm sure, but...do I know you? You weren't, say, a pony a day or two ago, were you? Because if you were you've got to tell me how to undo it, I thought it'd just sort of...happen."