applesaucedream | 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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That lighter he's holding up is so ineffective at actually lighting up the place that it took Jess a moment to realise the guy even had it. But oh is it great to know he's not actually blind. Not only does it light up the guy's face, but also a... squirrel? Alright then.

"Obviously," he repeats. After a moment he sighs. "I'm Jess. Hi."

Since this guy is the first person he's met here, it's probably a good idea to talk to him. Jane however is appreciating that she doesn't have to be involved in the conversation, at least not yet.

"Jess," says Castor, drawing out the sibilant just slightly. "Nice to meet you, so to speak." He looks around, pointlessly, and chuckles at himself. "So, uh, this might be a long shot, but do you have any idea where the hell we are?"

"Nope," he replies unhelpfully. Well, besides the obvious. In the dark. In some sort of shop. That much, this guy probably should've figured out on his own, especially if he does have a lighter. The wider context is a little bit lost of Jess.

...He doesn't come up with anything more to say, so he just stands there awkwardly.

"Cool," says Castor after the silence appears to be leading nowhere. "Well." He pivots a bit, rotating from one darkness to another.

"Good talk," he says wryly. "Look, obviously something weird is going on. Light isn't working right and we've got talking animals. Assuming yours talks. It talks, right? It's not just me?" Feel free to weigh in here, Persis - but no, she's still sullenly silent. "Well I don't know about you, but I've a mind to find out what the hell's going on. Come with?"

"'It' doesn't do anything. 'She' does talk," Jane both corrects, and proves the point.

"Yeah, sure," Jess answers, less bothered by the comment than she is. He offers his arm to her and she hops on, stepping up to stand on his shoulder, claws digging a little into it.

"This is some sort of shop though, so we might find something better to use for light," he adds. A single lighter is impractical, probably heats up pretty quickly, and will run out of fuel.

"My apologies, madam," says Castor, managing both contrition and droll humor. "I try not to assume pronouns before I've met the person. Or the bird, as it were."

Persis sighs audibly.

"This is Persis," he adds.

"Yes, yes," says Persis. "Look, kid's right, let's set fire to something already. I ain't nocturnal enough for this shit."

"Can do," says Castor, and immediately casts about for something that'll burn easy. Everything here is abandoned, anything could be construed as waste if he stretches hard enough, but he's not here to dick around. He inches toward what he eventually discovers is a bin, after walking into it and nailing his shin. He sucks in a breath and lets out a low curse.

"All right," he says, rubbing at the bruised bone. "This is a shop, right? Someone needs to find some lighter fluid."

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

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