applesaucedream | Paper Faces on Parade

Current Music: March 1, 2013

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Paper Faces on Parade

The residents of Manhattan will once again find themselves drawn into the currents of the rift when they sleep tonight. Once again, too, the rift is drawing in people from other worlds, both those who might one day find themselves pulled through in waking life and those who might yet escape its grasp.

Tonight, it seems, a celebration is in order. The ballroom of a country manor is the setting for tonight's gathering. Wood and marble gleam in the gas lighting, and a bar at one end of the room provides the, ahem, social lubricant some guests may require. At the other end, a staircase leads to a walkway that runs the entire parameter of the room, allowing guests to watch the dancing from above. While the party is localized in the ballroom, who knows what secret passages and hidden ways a grand old house like this one might conceal?

Those who appear here will find themselves wearing a disguise on arrival. Should the rift cause one to appear in a costume not of their liking (as it is fairly likely to do), an enormous wardrobe can be found through a door near the bar. In it, guests will find a seemingly infinite assortment of costumes and masks of all sizes and varieties ready for their use.

[Mod note: Usual dream-party rules apply. Both members and non-members are welcome to use any character, be they already in the game or no, and players can choose whether to have their characters remember this in the morning.]

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Yes, definitely painfully literal, he's just about ready to break out in hives. And that was definitely a capital letter he just heard. What are the chances she's more interesting than she looks? "It isn't mine, either. But that's how it goes, these days." He offers his hand, pleasantly enough. "I'm Zagreus. I don't believe we've met."

"True enough." She'd rather be with the Pack than here, anyway. She takes the offered hand, pushing up her mask as she does so. It seems rude to introduce herself with her face hidden. "I'm Daine."

"A pleasure, I'm sure." He pushes back his mask as well; he never did feel the need to keep up a disguise for long, doesn't much have the stomach for it. "You seem fairly familiar with the dream world. Or at least, not too fazed by it." Or is she aware? Oops.

Daine blinks. It actually hadn't yet occurred to her that this was a dream, but it does explain everything, and she adjusts quickly to the news. "Well, this sort of thing does happen a lot," she says with a little shrug.

Ah, so she hadn't known. Interesting. He watches her intently; the dream world is a phenomenon he is rapidly becoming invested in, and he wants to know everything he can about it. "Does it? What sort of dreaming experiences have you had in the time you've been here?" He strives for the most affable bedside manner he can.

"Mostly normal ones, I think," she replies, trying not to frown under his close scrutiny. "But sometimes they're shared - other folk drop in, or else we all end up somewhere strange. I expect this is one of those last ones... unless this is your dream." Because she definitely wouldn't dream this up on her own.

She resumes leaning against the railing so she can scan the floor below for anyone she recognizes. "What about you?" she asks Zagreus, giving him a sidelong glance. Unless he's only just come through the rift, she'd guess his experiences are much the same as hers.

He smiles at that, but it's fairly free of humour. "No, this isn't one of mine. I have had some of the shared variety, though not many." But this is still pretty vague and generalised. Nothing he didn't already know. She presumably doesn't have any dream related powers. "People 'drop in' to your dream--have you dropped in on any of theirs, on a more personal scale than these little dream gatherings?"

Yes, there are a few people she thinks she knows down there. There's someone by the bar who could be Andrew (or the Doctor, or Peter). A weird group dream, then, as opposed to a weird shared dream.

"It's happened a few times," she admits after a few moments' thought. "But it's not normal. I think I only ever dropped in on other people while I was asleep for a few days." Belatedly realizing that's the sort of statement that usually requires an explanation, she adds, "Drained myself," as if her overexertion and subsequent two-day nap was a minor inconvenience.

It's a bit odd, but not worth more than an eyebrow raise. Who hasn't passed out for days at a time? Granted there should be alcohol involved, but. "So getting that kind of range of motion in the dream world takes a bit of a time investment, as it were, though I suppose the exhaustion could also factor in. But it otherwise happens pretty much at random? Or was there some logic to whose dreams you dropped in on?"

Daine blinks, suddenly reminded of Andrew when he goes on a tear - or Numair. It's not a bad thing, but she's all too aware that she doesn't really know enough about all this shared dreaming stuff to answer his questions. "It seemed random to me," she says with a little shrug, "but I'm no expert. You could try asking Topher - or the TARDIS, I s'pose. They both seem a bit better with dreams than most."

Ask the TARDIS, that's hilarious. Poor thing, she wasn't to know. "I could, at that. Someone already told me I should talk to Topher Brink, but I didn't think to ask how to reach him." The idea for an experiment of sorts presents itself, and he checks the pocket of his obnoxious outfit. Yep, pen and small pad of paper. Dreams are awesome. "I don't suppose you have his number?" He could probably summon up his phone, too, but that's a very specific thing that actually already exists, and programming numbers in to take out of the dreaming doesn't seem like a baby step, if it's even possible. Perhaps later.

"No," comes the too-hasty reply. She should probably try to sound apologetic, but the thought of Topher having her number in return is more than a little bit alarming. All right, he's never actually done worse than lie to her, but he's with them, and that's bad enough.

Sighing, she gives her head a little shake. "Sorry, but I don't know him that well." And that's for the best, given the way she sort of tore apart his employer's lobby.

That's a bit of a loaded reply, yes, and if he weren't so curious to experiment on the dreaming he wouldn't be able to resist picking at things. But this is a higher priority, he can always ask Lucy how to find Topher, if he wants to. He offers Daine the paper and pen. "Well, I'm sure I can find him some other way. Here, will you do me a favour and write something? Anything, as long as I wouldn't know it. It's just an experiment."

Daine reaches out to take the pen and paper automatically, her expression shifting into one of polite bemusement. Given all his questions, she's not overly surprised that he's running some sort of experiment. She can't help wondering what he's trying to prove, though... maybe just that she's really here?

Well, then. She takes the paper over to the wall so she has a stable surface to write on, then neatly prints: Snowsdale, Galla.

"What would you like me to do with it, now?" she asks, holding the paper in such a way that he can't see what she's written.

No, Zagreus is way too invested in the matter of his own existence to make a fuss proving anyone else's, as a general day-to-day guideline. This is about something else, but he sees no reason to show his work. "Fold it up and give it back, if you don't mind. Thank you, you've been quite helpful."

She can't help giving him a dubious look as she folds up the paper and hands both it and the pen back over. If he's not planning on reading it back to her, what was the point?

"You're welcome," she says before venturing, "What is it you're trying to prove?"

He takes the paper and pockets it without so much as a glance. He'll check it upon waking, though he has every reason to suspect whatever she wrote will be there and just as unrecognisable as should be expected for something he didn't write himself. "I'm not expressly trying to prove anything. It's more about finding limits, understanding the dream world we're all being subjected to...I'm not exactly calling upon the scientific method, here."

Well, then. She just hopes that when he does eventually read what she wrote, he doesn't try to find Snowsdale on a map. He'd be in for a long, frustrating search.

"I'm glad I could help," she says, because manners cost nothing. Casting another glance down toward the bar, she adds, "Was there anything else you needed?" Because if not, she wants to go figure out which lookalike that is.

She needn't be concerned. Zagreus is terrible at maps anyway.

"No, thank you. You've been helpful enough already." On a whim, "In fact, I probably owe you a favour. Shame you won't know a way to contact me when you wake up...unless. I could leave my number in your mind." The considering pause was purely manufactured, of course. "I'm a useful person to have in your debt."

The offer to leave something in her mind (even something as simple as a phone number) is a bit alarming. How can he sound so casual about it? Is it something he's learned to do in the dreaming, or something he can do all the time? She hesitates as she tries to think of a polite way to refuse.

"I'm sure you don't owe me anything," Which is true enough (and anyway, it'd be a small favor she'd earned with what little assistance she'd given him). "And I'd rather you didn't put anything in my mind. Maybe I could just give you my number?" Then he could text her instead of mucking around in her head.

Well it had been worth a shot. He isn't actually sure how his ability to effect minds interacts with the fact that the subject would be dreaming, and it would be something worth finding out. He wouldn't even have wrecked anything this time. Probably.

"Suit yourself. If the experiment works, of course." He doesn't intend to memorise any numbers, not that it would be especially difficult. He hands her back the paper and pen, still without checking it. The general gist of his abilities isn't exactly a secret, at least to innocuous strangers, but being cagey about why he wants to know the things he wants to know had seemed prudent. But if she's got any cleverness she'll realise that dream paper (and its contents) should normally stay within the bounds of the dreaming. Oh well.

Her brow furrows as she takes the pen and paper back. So that's the experiment: seeing if he can... what, take something out of a dream? She'd say it was impossible, but as far as the rift is concerned, she's not so sure 'impossible' exists.

Still, she can't help giving him an incredulous look as she takes the paper back over to the wall. "So has it happened before?" she asks, unfolding the paper and printing her number.

"Oh, you mean...?" He gestures vaguely at the paper. What the hell, she seems harmless enough. "Yes, but not so deliberately and not with any kind of information involved. Nothing I didn't generate unconsciously, myself, in other words. ...I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to anyone." She may be involved with one faction or another, but she doesn't seem a chatty sort. He doesn't exist to them so far as he knows, and he's alright with that. For now.

Fortunately for Daine, she's grown used to folk speaking in fancier language than she'd think necessary - enough so that she understands that it has happened before, but not a-purpose. That's an odd power to have, and she can't help wondering what else he could take out of dreams. Then again, if he's experimenting on a little piece of paper, there's probably no cause for alarm. Anyway, he seems nice enough. The offer to put information in her mind was a bit unsettling, but the TARDIS could probably do the same, and she's all right.

"Okay," Daine agrees, folding the paper back up as it was and handing it back to him. "Text me if it works; then I'll have your number as well. Zagreus, right?"

"Yes, that's right. And again, thanks for your help. As well as your discretion." With any luck, she'll maybe not even remember all of this; she hadn't known she was dreaming at all, until he'd said so. And if he doesn't contact her, she may just assume it hadn't worked. Or perhaps he should just text her when he's awake, meet under some pretext and wipe her memory. Decisions, decisions. "Take care, Daine."

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wildmage_daine - 2013-07-09 01:22 (UTC) - Expand

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