applesaucedream | It's a Waste of Time, Chasing in the Dark

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It's a Waste of Time, Chasing in the Dark

Tonight, the dreamers will find themselves in a forest. Or an office. Or a suburban living room. Or a castle tower. Or a grocery store. The dream is a patchwork of assorted settings, each one blurring inelegantly into the next, most of them only claiming half an acre or so. The hodgepodge makes for quite a sight.

Or it would, if the dreamers could see anything. Natural light is in short supply. In fact, there isn't any light at all, not even a faint twinkle of starlight; you might as well be deep inside a cave. No matter how good their eyes might be, the dreamers won't be able to see their own hands in front of their faces - not unless they can fashion some sort of light source out of whatever they might manage to find. The dream isn't inclined to make things easy; any appliances or electrical light sources the dreamers stumble over won't be plugged in, and any walls, however solid they might seem, won't contain any wiring. A small fire might be the best bet - presuming you can find any means of lighting one.

But there's good news. Each of the dreamers will find themselves with a second set of ~~dubiously useful~~ eyes, because they'll be joined - again, or for the first time - by their dæmons. Granted, said dæmons won't have much more luck seeing in the total darkness than anyone else, but at least no one will have to feel alone.

Just… move carefully. You wouldn't want to trip over someone else's dæmon by mistake. Imagine how awkward that would be.

[ooc: y'all know the drill. Characters don't have to be apped or in the game to show up, and dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the player's discretion. This particular dream isn't a power nerf - a character with the ability to create light could still do so - but the range will be extremely localized, as if the darkness is a solid thing that doesn't want to be pushed back.]

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While not hurt, both Victoria and Richard spend a few moments grumbling before even attempting to get up. She then flails a little at being nudged, but then gets back to her feet quickly enough, sniffing the other dog curiously.

Richard's just starting to push himself up when he realises the torch is above him now, slightly blinding him after being used to the darkness. Ah, a young peasant woman. He now feels rather foolish, but he accepts her hand nonetheless, getting to his feet and brushing himself off a little.

"I am fine, thank you, kind lady," he answers, straightening impressively and trying to make up for that embarrassing introduction.

Angus lies down, the better to be on the other dog-thing's level. He isn't sure what to make of the wings, but the rest of her is dog enough for him to not find it off-putting. "I didn't know dogs could have wings," he says, sounding caught somewhere between bewilderment and envy. Not that he knows what he'd do with them if he had them. He suspects he's too big for flight to be easy and too small for it to be useful.

Once the man's back on his feet, Greta steps back to give him a little space. He looks a good deal more impressive when he's not lying in a heap, and she finds herself not quite knowing what to do. If he looked less familiar, it would be easier to simply introduce herself, as if they were equals in universal displacement... but she's not sure he'd be inclined to see things that way. On the other hand, he's certainly not from her Kingdom, and might not even be more than a trumped-up merchant. Does she really owe him excessively pretty manners?

Besides, trying to genuflect while holding a lit torch seems like an excellent way to set her hair on fire.

"It's no trouble at all," she says. There, polite but not obsequious. "It's hard not to go tripping over things, even with a torch." She flounders for a moment until Angus rejoins her, shoving his head beneath her free hand in general encouragement. "It's just a dream," she continues, as much to reassure herself as anyone else. Is he new to this sort of thing? If so, she may have to just take the reins, anyway.

"Well," she replies, ruffling her feathers and holding her head a bit higher. "I am rather special," she explains with a pleased look, as she follows Angus to rejoin the humans.

"Oh, a dream sequence?" Richard asks, surprised but delighted. "I haven't had one of those in ages. Though they're usually better lit," he adds with a frown. He glances around, taking in... well, absolutely nothing but the ground around them, really.

Oh, but now he can see Victoria! And their hair rather matches, doesn't it? All curly and dark, and greying more than either of them would admit. They make a good-looking pair, he has to say.

And there's another dog! Richard is immediately distracted from the conversation, crouching down to greet Angus. "Well, hello there, aren't you beautiful!" he says cheerily, reaching out to let him sniff his hand and pet him.

"Oh." Greta raises her eyebrows. No one she knows refers to them as a 'dream sequence,' which makes her suspect he's not used to this particular sort of shared dream, but it sounds as if he's familiar with the concept, at least. That ought to make for an easier adjustment. "Yes, they--"

And then he's reaching for Angus, which certainly confirms he's new to at least some aspect of all this. Her dog starts back in surprise, paws scraping over dirt and worn stonework, and Greta reacts in tandem, one hand flying in front of Angus and the other - still bearing the torch - flailing towards the man before she catches herself and draws it back. God. It was a close call, but the last thing either of them need is for her to smack him in the face with a burning branch.

"Sorry," she gasps out as Angus sheepishly - and ineffectively - tries to hide behind her skirt. "It's, er, not a good idea to... do that. Touch other people's animals, I mean. It's not... comfortable." It hadn't been the worst thing in the world when Iman had done it, but Greta can't imagine having Angus touched by a stranger. Her face reddens, appalled by the thought of what could have happened, but plenty embarrassed over her own reaction.

Angus pokes his head out to look at the little, winged dog. "We can touch each other. That's all right. We just shouldn't touch any humans besides our own." He throws the man an awkward glance. "It's nothing personal," he adds politely.

And then Richard hits the ground again. But at least this time it's a shorter fall, going from a crouch to sitting, trying to avoid having his hair set on fire. Victoria gives a defensive bark, but it doesn't seem to be necessary. Richard wavers briefly between being hurt or being angry, but then the women is apologising and explaining.

"You nearly set my head on fire," he answers, voice high-pitched and a bit miffed. He gets to his feet again, brushing off his rear this time. Still, he won't hold a grudge about it, accepting the apology and explanation.

"So, why?" he asks curiously, looking between the woman and the dog. Victoria however doesn't seem to take the warning seriously, so she curiously pads over to nose the woman's leg. Richard shudders, and oh yeah, that is weird.

"Stop that!" he snaps at the winged dog.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I wanted to see what would happen," she answers petulantly.

Well, that could have been worse. At least he just seems indignant and not actually angry with her.

"We're not sure," Greta says, daring to relax a little as Angus leans against her leg. "They seem to be part of us, just not a part that other people normally--um," she concludes abruptly as his animal trots right up and boldly noses at her leg. It's not as unsettling as having Angus touched. She's not sure it would qualify as unsettling at all if she didn't have an inkling of how it felt on the other end. But she does, and she knows better than to nudge the creature away.

Angus tsks at her. "You really shouldn't," he insists, insinuating himself between Greta and the winged dog.

Greta sighs and buries her fingers in the the thick fur on Angus's shoulders. "I think we've got off on the wrong foot," she says in a bid to steer things into calmer waters. "I'm Greta, and this is Angus."

Richard shakes his arms a little, trying to get rid of the unpleasant feeling. Not entirely unpleasant, b but weirdly invasive. Mercifully, Victoria retreats. He's not entirely sure what she means by "part of us", but he's gotten distracted from that already.

"Oh. Right," he answers. Then he straightens up again, trying to look impressive, smiling genially. "I... am King Richard," he answers, voice suddenly deeper. "This is Victoria."

He doesn't always introduce himself as King anymore, technically having no kingdom, castle, or crown. But he's a king at heart, and it's good to let himself act like it once in a while. Besides, neither Galavant nor Roberta are here to point out the technicalities.

... Oh. Oh, dear. He's not a trumped-up merchant at all; he's a King.

Greta's eyes widen, and she hastily drops into an awkward curtsy. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness, I had no idea." The apology just falls out of her, like a reflex, even as part of her wonders why she's bothering. This isn't his Kingdom; he's as much out of place as she is. The worst thing he could do to her just amounts to waking her up.

But perhaps it's better this way. It's not easy, adjusting to all this, and she doesn't know him well enough to guess how he's respond to being told his title is meaningless. Maybe it would be better to just sort of... ease him into things. She straightens, but keeps her chin tucked down a little in subtle deference. It's just like riding a bike (or it would be, if she'd ever ridden one).

"And... what Kingdom would that be?" she asks. Goodness, what if she's actually heard of it?

Richard's smile turns slightly giddy for a moment, and Victoria preens. He feels a bit better about falling over twice now. At least she's showing him proper courtesy. As opposed to... pretty much everyone else these days. "That's quite alright," he reassures kindly (and a bit pompously).

"Why, my Kingdom, of course. To the north," he answers, as if it were obvious. Even if she apparently hasn't actually heard of him. He's not that far from home is he? "Though I'm on my way to Hortensia at the moment."

"I see." From Greta's perspective, 'Kingdom to the North' is a perfectly reasonable and adequate description. The Kingdom she hailed from had to end eventually, and it stood to reason there'd be another one beyond its Northern borders. Things were peaceful enough that they never bothered themselves about knowing their neighbors all that well, not beyond bits of gossip or news from traveling merchants (and even that tended to run more along the lines of 'they say a merchant's daughter has taken up with some sort of bear-pig-creature' or 'I've heard there's some sort of rose-bush infestation on the castle grounds,' not 'the King is named Richard and here's what he looks like').

'Hortensia,' though. That's new. She wonders if she ought to warn him that he might not make it. Is there even a way to phrase it that wouldn't sound like a threat?

"I'm afraid I've never heard of Hortensia," she admits. Then, a bit more cautiously, "I've found myself in a city called Manhattan, actually. Have you heard of it?"

"Manhattan?" he asks, squinting thoughtfully. "Is it that place where they make those delicious cheeses?" He might be thinking of somewhere else.

"Anyway, I'm just helping my friend go rescue his true love," he explains cheerfully, then pauses. "Though I... seem to have lost track of my travelling companions. At least some of them usually show up in the dream sequences."

She hadn't really expected recognition, and her shoulders only slump a little as she shakes her head. "No, I don't believe so." At least she now knows for certain that he's new to all this. Well, not to group dreams, apparently, but to anything involving the Rift.

It doesn't seem wise to get his hopes up regarding his friends; they almost certainly aren't here. "That sounds like a noble quest," she says instead. She glances around, more out of habit than belief that she'll see anything of note. "I don't know about your friends, but those of with torches have been trying to get everyone gathered together - there are a few fires going. I, er, I could show you, if you like?" Is she being presumptuous? Well, yes. But she isn't sure what else to do - hand him the torch and tell him to lead on? She's at least fairly confident in her own ability to find her way back the way she came.

That sounds like a good plan. Both Richard and Victoria are already kind of tired of wandering around in the pitch black darkness. Besides, some place with fires and everything might have food and a place to sit and people to talk to. Might be nice, especially if they actually treat him like a King - if not theirs, then at least like visiting royalty.

He nods decisively. "Lead the way!" he answers, his voice still in Impressive King Mode.

Greta looks briefly dubious, the expression only flickering across her face for a moment. He's being very... royal. Which makes sense, of course, but she's still not sure she likes the way he's made her offer sound like an order. But she's already sort of committed to playing along, and the alternative is trying to delicately explain that his title is meaningless, here. If he hasn't even come through the Rift, yet, then why bother?

This might turn out to be nothing more than a strange dream for him - and he's already used to those, from the sound of things. No point in making it any more upsetting than it has to be. Still, her tone is rather subdued when she says, "Er, yes. This way, Your Highness."

Well, this is awkward. It's not that hard to make conversation with other Rifties when you're on the same page, but peasants don't just make conversation with Kings. Angus is a bit less cowed, and after a few seconds, he tries, "Is your Kingdom a big one?"

Good thing Richard will completely forget being royal once he gets distracted by something shiny. Well, not literally, because you can't actually see anything regardless of shininess.

Richard is also not at all bothered by conversation, unless someone is being outright insulting. He's quite used to making conversation, even back when he was still a King. He likes conversation.

"Oh, it's fairly sizeable," he answers with a shrug. Look, he's not lying. More like.... misleading by omission. It's still his Kingdom in that he belongs to it, he just doesn't rule it.

"How about you? Are you from this 'Manhattan' or have you found yourself there more reasonable?" he asks curiously.

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It's a Waste of Time, Chasing in the Dark

also I only now noticed the alliteration you were doing

skills B)

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eternal frustration that his kingdom is never named

don't even get me started on canons with a dearth of proper nouns

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