applesaucedream | [open to all] Room full of people in your head

Current Music: February 10th, 2013

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[open to all] Room full of people in your head

The rift has gotten bored, and has decided it's time to bring people together for another dream party.

This time, when you find yourself within the dream, you'll be somewhere familiar. Perhaps somewhere you feel safe or at home, some place you miss, or were particularly happy at some point in your life. It might not be the same place every time you come back here, though.

There will also be a door where there didn't use to be one, even if there's no wall to surround it. If you go through this door, you will find yourself in endless simple corridor, lined with unmarked doors. And if you go through them, you'll pay a visit to someone else's room.

[There will monthly Dreaming party post like this. Same procedure as last time. Non-members welcome to tag in!]

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"What, are you saying you wouldn't want him?" asks Andrew, being as thoroughly unreasonable as he can. It's really rather hard to feel wonder at the opportunity for exploration when he's so busy feeling tetchy about the Doctor being...the Doctor.

"I'm sure he's lovely, but I don't know him, and I'm pretty sure one of us is enough for him to deal with. It seems to be for most people," he answers, refusing to be riled by Andrew's antagonism.

He pauses a bit and sighs, rembering the TARDIS telling him to try to be nice to Andrew. "Look, sorry I didn't tell you right away. And that I invited myself into your ship," he says, not looking at Andrew. See, he can make actual apologies for being a prat. Don't expect it to be a habit, though.

Andrew is building up to reply that James wouldn't even want the Doctor at all when he can have Andrew (though then why was Andrew so worried that James really had run off with the Time Lord?). He bites it back, though, in favor of gawking at the Doctor and his unexpected apology.

He swallows and looks away himself. "Dream logic isn't like basic logic," he says, protesting an earlier comment that still stings rather than accepting the apology. He wonders whether the Doctor really understands that -- if 'waking up' here is really that much easier for him than it is for Andrew.

Well, because Andrew doesn't have a TARDIS. Also, probably, Andrew's crippling self-esteem issues might have something to do with it. Though James would still choose Andrew without a moment's hesitation.

"I know," the Doctor accepts, hoping that will be the end of it. And to provide them with some distraction, he heads a little way down the hall and opens a door at random, heading through.

Crippling self esteem issues? In James's Andrew?

He hesitates, feelings still hurt. An acknowledgement isn't an apology, but -- he winces, remembering how upset the TARDIS had been about him not getting along with the Doctor. He can try for her, can't he? Just for a little while. Making a face and telling himself she owes him for this, he follows the Doctor through the door.

The Doctor smiles a little when he sees Andrew following. At this point he could've easily explored on his own, so it's nice to know he's not that terrible company.

"This is curious," he says, nodding at the room they've entered. All the surfaces are black and shining smooth, and it looks more like a modern tomb or possibly a museum, than a home of any kind. "All the other places have been a lot more welcoming." He pauses a bit, considering whether to say. "I was back on Gallifrey when I got here."

Andrew's breath catches. Gallifrey. Home, though the memories of it are so distant now that only vague outlines and the sharpest highlights come to mind at the name of it. He reaches out and gives the Doctor the briefest of pats on the shoulder before turning to examine the nearest shining surface.

"Welcoming?" he asks. "Where else have you been?"

He reaches into his jacket pocket for his brainy specs and slips them onto his nose. They're not needed in a dream, but he's gone and got used to actually using them for more than looking brainy. "Doesn't look like somewhere someone would live," he notes. "Did the other rooms have residents?"

The pat catches him by surprise - though he has a suspicion the TARDIS has had a Conversation with Andrew as well. Andrew's also the only one around, besides the TARDIS herself, who understands the significance of their home planet. It's different for people like Daine, whose home and friends and family is still out there somewhere.

"Couple other places, some had people in them, some didn't. They weren't all rooms, though, some were outdoors. But there was definitely a homey feeling. This place feels..." he trails off, and gives a shudder.

The trouble with hating someone who's basically yourself is that it's difficult not to have flashes of empathy now and then. And, well, there's the whole this-is-upsetting-his-favorite-ship business.

"Not homey," he agrees in conclusion. If the Doctor is feeling some sort of telepathic malevolence, Andrew is missing it. The room has an uneasy, uncomfortable feeling for him, though, as if he's missing something important...and disquieting. "Further in?" he suggests, displaying an utter lack of good sense.

"Mmm," the Doctor agrees after a moment. Good sense has never been their strongest suit, and it just gets worse with being landlocked.

If there is something unfriendly here, better they discover it than some other poor dreamer wanders in and gets in trouble.

He shoves his hands in his pocket and wanders further. More of the same, really, though the room seems to grow larger. After a moment he notices an alcove, and feels for a moment like there's ice in his stomach. He shakes the feeling off and walks straight for it. Inside there's a glass sphere, floating quietly in midair, filled with calmly swirling black smoke. "That's ominous," he comments. This is definitely the source of the feeling.

Andrew strolls along, bending or standing on his tiptoes now and then to try to get a new angle and figure out what this place is meant to be. He runs his fingers along the polished surface of some sort of raised platform, the movement casual until something makes him pull his hand back sharply. Frowning, he pokes the surface. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't...feel like anything, actually. Perturbed, he shoves both hands in his pockets and trots to join the Doctor a little more quickly than he might have.

"That," he agrees, looking over the Doctor's shoulder, "is textbook ominous. Have you tried touching the, ah -- things? Counters? Can we call those counters?"

"Don't have to touch them... It's in the air too. Though if probably infecting solid matter more effectively. Even us, maybe. And it's coming..." he says, circling the sphere slowly and point at it. "From this."

It seems Andrew does have some modicum of self preservation in him, because he hangs back, his curiosity overpowered for the moment by his unconscious unwillingness to approach the sphere. He's loath to ask what's coming from the sphere and reveal that he can't even sense that, let alone that it's in the air.

"...What's coming from it?" he asks reluctantly, sounding a little pained.

"I'm not sure," he answers, not noticing his reluctance, partly because it's not that obvious to himself either, and partly because he's used to people asking questions that only he knows the answer to. "Some sort of... telepathic disturbance."

He's feeling it with his mind, poking and prodding carefully and trying to sense exactly what it is. Slowly, he reaches out towards the sphere.

The moment his fingertips make contact with the sphere, he cries out and falls to his hands and knees. Icy cold wraps itself around his throat and chest and tries to choke him. His brain feels like it's had toxic waste thrown into it, infecting and polluting his mind, warping his thoughts.

However, to anyone else, the only thing seemingly happening is that the smoke in the sphere has turned blood red, while the Doctor whimpers in pain on the floor.

Handrew finally steps a little closer, ignoring the fact that he has little to no telepathic defenses (at least, compared to the Doctor) in favor of the fact that he can't quite feel whatever's worrying the Time Lord.

All thoughts of investigating the sphere (alright, not all thoughts, but many of them) flee from his mind. Darting forward, he means to come kneel beside the Doctor and put his hands on the other man, make sure he's alright. Just a few steps closer, though, and he's halted by a jolt of very human fear that makes his heart stutter. "Doctor!" he calls, clenching his fists and baring his teeth at his own fear as much as at the sphere. Useless -- he feels so useless!

The Doctor barely even registers Andrew calling his name, as if it's coming from far away, through a fog. The sphere is making him replay terrible memories in his head, the deaths of friends, the war, terrible things he's done - and inventing new scenarios from his fears. The things he can't stop, the things he might do, what he might become.

"No... please..." His voice is desperately and strangled, his body convulsing in pain and terror, his eyes closed tight.

Edited 2013-05-10 20:35 (UTC)

Andrew lets out a squeaky little sound of frustration and anguish on each exhalation. He tries to will himself forward, but his body -- this mental facsimile of his body -- won't obey him. Tearing his gaze away from the Doctor and the sphere, he casts about for something he can do. There's nothing but polished, shining black all around them, nothing he can use, nothing he can repurpose, nothing he can throw --

Nothing but what he brought in with him. Hit with sudden inspiration, Andrew lifts a foot and yanks off his shoe. His first throw goes wide and he has to use the other as well, the second Converse hitting its mark, thrown hard enough to punch through the sphere, shattering it like the glass it appears to be.

The moment the glass shatters, it's like the Doctor's strings have been cut. He falls uncerimoniously into a heap, as the red smoke dissipates, and even the glass shards seems to disappear in the air, leaving no trace. The Doctor rolls over onto his back, breathing hard. His mind is slowly clearing, but he feels like he's just run a mile, his brain sluggish, his body limp.

Andrew stands a moment, breathing hard and hardly daring to hope that that was it. He stumbles forward as he realizes he can move again, and then he's hurrying to the Doctor's side, finally dropping down beside him like he first meant to, leaning over the other man so he can turn his worried gaze over him. "It's alright -- you're alright, it's done now," he says, though he's not actually sure of that.

Edited 2013-05-10 20:53 (UTC)

The Doctor slowly opens his eyes, and there's still just a hint of the terror remaining there as he looks up at Andrew, then at where the sphere was. He closes his eyes again and groans, before rolling over and pushing himself up, using Andrew for support, ending up just sitting to lean against the wall. Either he's become completely desensitised to it, or the malevolent aura of the place has vanished.

"What did you do?" he asks, voice hoarse. He registered that Andrew did something that caused it to stop, but he's not sure what exactly went down.

Andrew does his best to be helpful, waiting until the Doctor seems to be situated before sitting down beside him. He rubs his face sheepishly, looking at the downed footwear. "I threw my shoes at it," he admits. "What was that?"

The Doctor looks down at Andrew's shoeless feet, then at the shoes. Well, whatever works. Could even call it resourceful. Who knows what would've happened it Andrew had tried to touch it.

"Not pleasant," he answers darkly. He has no idea what it was, or how it did what it did. He's almost tempted not to investigate. He really doesn't want to experience that again.

"I got that part," says Andrew with a mirthless chuckle. He leans against the Doctor, putting an arm around his shoulders without thinking about it. He wars with himself, feeling both of them ought to lay out anything that could help them figure out what it is/was, but embarrassed by the truth. He lets out a little sigh. "...I couldn't go near it."

The Doctor appreciates the gesture, though it comes from a rather unexpected source. But then they're both pretty tactile - or rather, he himself is, and he therefore assumes Andrew is as well.

He frowns at what he says, though. "Strange," he answers thoughtfully. "I almost felt drawn to it." He clears his throat a bit, considering. He's not so much embarrassed as he's unwilling to open up, perhaps because Andrew would understand too well. "It got inside my head. Showed me things. Memories, guilt, fears..."

Andrew does understand. He gives the Doctor's shoulder a little squeeze, able to think without even trying of dozens of shared memories he'd really, really rather not relive.

"Someone -- or something -- put it here," he points out. "Presumably for a purpose. If someone's setting traps for dreamers...." He sniffs in an uneasy breath and looks around, as if just realizing that they're still in 'enemy' territory. "We should get out of here."

Edited 2013-05-11 08:34 (UTC)

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