applesaucedream | How dreary to be Somebody

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How dreary to be Somebody

Tonight the dreamers of Manhattan will not know where it is they find themselves, nor how they got there…nor where they came from. They will not remember that they have been taken from their homes by the whims of a capricious Rift, and they will remember neither the people they've lost nor those they've met.

Tonight, the dreamers of Manhattan will not remember who they are at all.

What remains is a sense of how the world should be, minus an understanding of whom one is within that world. Some will know the hospital in which they find themselves for what it is, though they will not remember how they know. The long halls are lined with patients' rooms, doctors' offices, and locked doors to supply rooms and labs. Here and there one finds a common room or cafeteria with furniture that might almost be comfortable if only everything weren't so sterile.

The staff are largely absent; the only people who might explain matters are the minders at each door to the outside, but they aren't inclined to provide explanations. If asked, they will only say that the dreamers are here for their own safety. Attempts to leave will be gently but firmly blocked. Insistence on leaving will be dangerous to the dreamers, though the minders will be more than ready to grab anyone who actually makes it through one of the doors before they can float away into the void that's waiting for them on the other side.

They're all here for their own safety and good, after all. Too bad no one will say why that is.

[Semi-standard dream rules apply: players and their characters are not required to be members of this community in order to participate in the party. Unlike usual, however, all characters will forget the events of the dream upon waking.]

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"Um." There's a very clear moment where his eyes dart to the side, as if calculating the wisdom of just making a break for it. The wolf is continuing to talk. Not even out loud, just in his head. He's not actually sure if that's better or worse.

It would be better if he'd found some clothes already. He feels a little underdressed for magical wolf time.

She - it sounds like a she - has a fair point. It hasn't even been an hour since he woke up, but he's already gotten the idea that he's just naturally a bit of a loud person. The people by the doors may have also realized this. But he can talk quieter! "...sorry?"

He can hear her! She cants her head a little to one side, perplexed. You can understand me, she says, her tone edging on accusatory. That's not right. You shouldn't be able to hear me.

After a moment's consideration, she adds, I shouldn't be able to understand you, either. Emboldened by curiosity, she pads forward to start sniffing at him. What sort of two-legger are you?

He tenses as the wolf approaches, but doesn't bolt. Maybe he'd have had a chance before, but she's close enough now that he really doubts he'd make it out that door. The conversation is taking the edge off his fear anyway. It's obvious that this situation isn't what he thought it was - at least, it's alarming in a whole new series of ways not related to being eaten by wild animals.

"Well, no," he agrees readily, managing to sound a little more confident. "You shouldn't be able to talk." The fact that the magic wolf agrees that this is all weird is...encouraging? Should he feel encouraged by that? At the least, he certainly feels a little less alone now. He angles his head to watch her sniff at his legs, involuntary chills running down his spine as she brushes a bit too close. "I don't - " He hesitates, considering his response. What sort is he? "I'm human. But...I just woke up here. I don't know what happened before that." If he's supposed to be able to talk to animals, he really missed that memo.

Well, this is strange. He smells like a typical two-legger as far as her nose can tell. She's scaring him a bit - she can smell that, too, and see it in how stiffly he holds himself - but he doesn't seem inclined to attack her. She doesn't remember meeting any other humans, but this one, she decides, is all right. Enough so that she finds herself not wanting to scare him. She backs away a few paces and sits down peaceably.

I don't remember what happened to me, either, she admits. And I don't know where my Pack's gone. I think I have one. It would be more truthful to say she likes to think she has one, because the alternative is far too terrible. But she can't recall their names, or their scents, or their fur patterns.

Have you seen any other wolves? she asks, though she doesn't sound particularly hopeful.

He relaxes more as the wolf backs off, shifting as if to put his hands in his pockets. Which he doesn't have. Instead, he leans back against the doorframe; he's not comfortable enough to join the wolf in sitting down, but he's willing to take this a little more casual.

"Nope." He shakes his head with a faint smile. "Trust me, I think we'd have heard about it if anyone else around here had found a wolf." That's not very hopeful, is it? He wishes he had better news to tell her. They seem to be in the same boat, odd as that is. Maybe there's something in the water around here that affects human and animal alike? And then...they decided to take an amnesiac talking wolf to a human hospital...and leave it in the break room.

It's a working theory.

"But I guess one might be hiding somewhere?" he ventures. "It's kinda empty around here. I've only seen a few other people."

Of course he hasn't. Wolves are good at hiding, and she thinks it's rather telling that no two-leggers came running when he started shouting. But she would have heard if there was another two-legger hollering about wolves, so in that sense, he's right enough. Her sides heave in a sigh of mingled frustration and disappointment.

I don't know, she says. Maybe it'd be better if my Pack wasn't here. This is a terrible place for wolves, after all. Better to lose one than a whole Pack, with pups and all.

She gives herself a brisk little shake, as if to rid herself of such unpleasant thoughts. It's probably only a matter of time before some two-legger tries to kill her, but this one doesn't seem inclined to. She studies him for a few moments, the more perplexed the longer she looks.

What are you wearing? Nightclothes? Why would he be wearing those? And how, for that matter, would she even know that's the sort of thing two-leggers normally sleep in? Wolves might run into hunters, or shepherds, or other folk dressed for traveling; they wouldn't run into folk who'd just rolled out of bed.

What sort of wolf is she?

"Could be." He casts a long glance down the empty hallway behind him. If he had any friends or family - which he hasn't much sense of, not nearly as much as her certainty that she's got a pack somewhere - he wouldn't want them here either.

The question surprises him out of his thoughts, and he turns back to her with a curious look. "No...well, sort of. They put them on hospital patients - sick people who come here. I haven't found anything better yet." He's been looking; he doesn't like walking around in this. It makes him feel even more lost than he already is. At least if he had real clothes, he could do a passable job of pretending that everything was alright. He imagines he might even be able to con his way outside.

Still, he hadn't expected a wolf to start questioning his fashion choices. "Why?"

Hospitals? Sick people? She shifts her weight uneasily. None of this makes sense. A wolf shouldn't know the sort of clothes two-leggers wear when they're not out and about (she can't even begin to answer his question). A wolf shouldn't even be here, in this place for--for sick humans.

She's not a sick human. She's not sick. She's not.

But she is human, the shift sudden and startling. One moment, she's a wolf, the next, she's a girl squatting awkwardly on the floor and wearing a shift not so different from the other two-legger's. She looks down at her pink, all but hairless hands splayed across the tiles, and lets out a rather wolfish yelp of alarm.

"What?" She tries to get to her feet, overbalances, and sits down hard on her utter lack of a tail. "I--I don't--" she stammers, scrabbling awkwardly backwards, her limbs refusing to cooperate under the combined weight of her confusion and renewed fear. It's one thing to be a wolf, and something else entirely to be a shape-changer. Who's to say the man won't be more scared of magic than he was of a wolf? She's scared, and if anyone's magic is at work here, it must be hers.

"Jesus - " He definitely startles at the sudden transformation, propelling himself backwards right out of the doorway.

But he steps right back in, after it seems like nothing more's going to happen. The magic wolf just turned into a girl. You know, as they do!

She's obviously as confused as he is. He knows he has amnesia and all, but he's still very sure this isn't normal. Then again, he'd also been sure that talking wolves weren't real. Maybe his instincts are off. He runs a hand through his hair, unsure if he should offer her a hand up. "Oh my god. Is that - what did you do? Can you turn back?" he asks, making no real effort to hide how freaked out he is. It's not that he especially wants her to be a wolf; she just seemed a lot more comfortable that way.

She doesn't blame the man for beating a hasty retreat. Maybe it's for the best - unless he's going to muster together a mob or somesuch. She scarcely has enough time to wonder if she ought to run - or if she even can, in the shape she's in now - before he's back inside, though, looking only a little less shaken than she feels.

"I don't know," she admits, pulling her knees close to her chest. She's not entirely sure if she's a wolf in human shape or a human who was in wolf shape, though she suspects the latter. Either way, she has no idea how she changed - or changed back - and reversing the process is beyond her.

And even if it wasn't - should she? She blends in, now. From what she can guess of her size and age, she's less threatening looking now than she was as a wolf. Maybe she ought to stay a two-legger, or keep masquerading as one.

She scrapes her hair out of her face - she seems to have no shortage of curls - and watches the man warily. "I'm not sure I should."

After considering a moment longer, he shrugs and nods. "Yeah, you're right. Wasn't really thinking." She'll have a much easier time as a human if anyone else ever does show up.

For all that the circumstances of her becoming human were bizarre and a bit scary, the fact of her being one is a little more relaxing than talking to an actual wolf. At least he doesn't seem as frightened of her now. The worst she can do, really, is turn back into a wolf, and then he'd just be dealing with the exact same situation as before. She seems like a good person anyway. No reason to be anxious!

"Can you walk like that? It's fine if you're a little wobbly, you are dressed like a patient." He casts a considering glance over his shoulder. "Aaaand there's still no one else here." Honestly, between them it seems like they've done more than enough shouting to get someone's attention. God, what a terrible hospital.

She hesitates, then nods. Her body feels more familiar the longer she's in it, and though she's still shaking from the shock she's had, she doesn't think it's bad enough to have her falling on her face. "I think so," she adds for good measure. It's not hard for her to speak aloud; surely she can manage to stand.

Her panicked retreat fetched her up within a foot or so of the counter. She reaches up with one hand, using it to steady herself as she rises to her feet. For a sick-making moment, the room seems to tilt around her. She's taller than she was as a wolf, and the floor seems awfully far away. But the dizziness ebbs, and she's able to take her weight off of the counter.

"I did it," she says, pressing her lips together. At least she can stop them from wobbling. "Huzzah."

"Good job! You're a quick learner!" If her enthusiasm is forced, his seems entirely genuine. This is totally a thing to be excited about!

So! Now they're two humans. That changes things a bit - not a whole lot, but a bit. "There's not really anyone else around," he confides in a lower tone. "Just a few people guarding the doors. I thought if I found some clothes and looked normal, I could get one of them to let me out. I only tried the one door." That person hadn't seemed to recognize him personally - they wouldn't give him his own name. If the others don't know who he is either, they needn't know he's a patient.

It might make more sense for him to stay. He's obviously ill. They just don't seem like they're actually interested in helping anyone around here.

Is he making fun of her? She narrows her eyes for a moment, irked by the idea that he thought she might be that useless... and then irked by the fact that she can hardly even reassure herself that he's wrong. She doesn't remember anything about herself, and he's a total stranger. All he knows of her is that she was a wolf a few minutes ago, and now she's not, and that she hasn't any idea how she even managed that little trick. It's not as if she's been inspiring much confidence.

So, aside from pressing her lips together tighter for a moment or two, she elects not to respond. He doesn't really sound like he's making fun of her, at least (though she's not sure what it says about him if he thinks standing up is a praiseworthy deed).

"Where are the healers?" she asks as she takes a few steps away from the counter. It feels more natural the longer she stays like this, and her balance isn't so bad. "If this is a place for sick folk, there ought to be healers." That just seems like common sense. "Guards are for prisons."

Hey, she had four legs a minute ago! He thinks it's great that she's getting the hang of balancing on two so fast. Besides that, she's handling this all very well.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Oh, now he doesn't sound pleased at all. His knowledge of how hospitals work is a bit vague, but he's very sure there's supposed to be doctors. "They couldn't tell me why I was here, or who I was. They just said I wasn't allowed out. You're the first person other than them that I've found in here."

Does he have to tell her that this isn't normal? It's probably a good point to clarify. "There's...something wrong here. I don't know, I'm sure it's not supposed to be like this."

She frowns, then absently lifts a thumb to her mouth so she can nibble her nail while she thinks. That doesn't sound very promising. The idea of them needing healers isn't much of a stretch; she doesn't remember anything about herself, and even her immediate surroundings are rife with puzzling objects and materials she can't name. Maybe she took a blow to the head, though when she cautiously prods at it, there's no pain or lumps or other signs of injury.

But if they both need healers, and this is meant to be a place for one, then where are they? Ill folk shouldn't be allowed to wander around like this. She might not know much, but that's just common sense. Someone ought to be looking after them, not just stopping them from leaving.

She lowers her hand. "You said you only tried one door. There are others?"

"Sure." He hasn't really approached them; it'd defeat the idea of sneaking out of one eventually. But you don't have just one way in and out of a building, right? There's definitely other doors someplace.

He doesn't miss that touch to her head. Does she feel anything unusual? Save for the amnesia, he feels perfectly fine himself. It's weird. Honestly, he'd almost rather his head hurt - things would make a little more sense then. "I figure if we can get out, we can find some actual doctors! Or...something," he finishes, uncertain. What will they do? They don't have anything outside either, as far as they're aware.

('We' comes easily enough that he doesn't realize he's doing it. They're in the same boat; they should stick together.)

As far as she's concerned, 'outside' is a worthy goal all on its own. She doesn't like this place, and while she has no idea what they might find outside, she suspects it'll be easier to manage. And if she accidentally turns into a wolf again, she won't stick out as much.

"That sounds better than staying in here," she agrees. She doesn't miss that 'we,' but she finds she doesn't mind it. Even being with another person who doesn't know what's going on is better than being alone. And if all the doors are guarded, they'll have better luck getting out if they cooperate. "I don't like being penned up. If they're not going to heal us, why hold us here?"

Well. Maybe because she's fully capable of turning into a wolf and panicking folk. But if they really wanted to keep her caged, they would have done it properly, instead of giving her free rein and letting her panic the other folk inside.

"I don't know." He's been through all the possibilities in his head already, at least all the ones he can think of. "I think normally it would be because we were criminals, or just dangerous, except they aren't trying very hard to keep an eye on us. Are they?" She turned out not to be a threat, but he's still a little peeved that no one could be bothered to come help when he thought a wild animal might eat him.

Speaking aloud seems to help his thought process, at least, so he continues musing."But you've got amnesia too...maybe it's some kind of quarantine? I'd still expect a little more supervision. Or - signs or something?" His concept of disease control measures is pretty fuzzy. "And I guess the guards are way too close if we've got some sort of new memory illness."

Her gut twists uncomfortably at 'dangerous.' She doesn't want to think of herself as such, but she was a wolf earlier. That would make her dangerous enough as far as most humans are concerned. And if everyone in here was shut in for being dangerous, maybe whoever put them here doesn't care if they hurt one another.

Her brow furrows at amnesia and quarantine. What is he talking about? Memory illness is easier for her to parse, and she nods. If their illness was catching, the guards wouldn't want to go near them.

"We'd best find a door, then," she decides, padding out into the hallway. "If there's only one guard, we'd outnumber them." She glances both directions, but neither seems more promising than the other. "Which way is the door you already tried?" she asks. Not much point in going that way, whichever it ends up being.

"It was down that way." He lifts a hand to point. He's still speaking in normal tones; the door's far enough down the hall that he's not too worried about being heard. It seems obvious what she's thinking, so he turns to start walking in the opposite direction. "I woke up over there too. I thought I'd explore the rest of this place, see if I could find anything."

As they pass another room, he opens the door and pokes his head inside. Empty. It's not a surprise at this point, but it's still a bit disappointing.

"Are you saying we should just fight them?" He asks, angling his head back towards her. It seems like a logical idea. Why's he suddenly so put off by it?

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How dreary to be Somebody

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