applesaucedream | A Day Late and a Dollar Short

As far as dreams go, this seems surprisingly...normal. True, the dreamers of Manhattan and beyond will find themselves stranded in the middle of the ocean on a fairly deserted rocky island, but it's nothing so unusual as the labyrinth from last time, and no one appears to have become an animal or reverted to an insane past (or future) version of themself. Besides, well, rocks and grass, there's nothing here but an abandoned lighthouse, the doors and windows broken, and the spare furniture worn by the weather. You can go up the spiral staircase to look at the view, but there's nothing to see but the endless ocean. One might almost think tonight was a night for simple socializing via the telepathic current.

As if anything to do with the rift is ever that simple, you silly bumpkin. How quickly each person realizes what is unusual about tonight's dream will depend in large part on their personality. Some might go the entire night without noticing (except from the distress of others, naturally), but some will find out the instant they open their mouths to converse with another dreamer. You see, each and every dreamer will be completely unable to tell a lie for as long as the dream lasts. The truth might be evaded by omission, but any attempt to say that which is untrue will result in the corresponding truth emerging instead.

Good thing it's just a dream and everyone's going to forget in the morning, right? Right??

[Mod note: As usual, players can choose to have their characters remember or forget anything that happens in the Dreaming. As per usual party rules, both members and non-members are welcome to play any character in this post, regardless of whether that character is currently in the game. Unlike usual, tonight's theme is not optional; all characters will be subject to the enforced truth-telling. Have fun!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Spike materializes into view at the bottom of the lighthouse. For a few moments, he just looks around, trying to guess at where this is. After a few minutes he's guessing it's a dream, because he's never been here before.

He peers into one of the lighthouse's broken windows, wondering if this is his own dream or someone else's. "Hello?"

Despite having caught on to the fact that she is not the lone resident of this weird frigging island, Sunshine still starts when a face appears in the window and starts talking to her. 'Starts' might be kind of an understatement, and a bag full of assorted baked goods makes for a pathetic shield, but at least she refrains from shrieking.

Once it registers that the speaker isn't anything horrible ~~like a vampire~~, she lowers the bag and recovers herself a little. Enough so for it to occur to her that she might be in a far more mundane kind of trouble.

"You don't own this place or anything, do you?" Because if so, she loves what you've done with the decor. Such an artful use of tetanus.

"Own it?" He snorts out a laugh. "No. As much as I'm used to living in dark and creepy places, I think buying real estate in my own dreams might be a bit much." She does know this is a dream, right?

She may be having a hard time remembering that salient detail. But it's the whole 'dark and creepy' comment that gets her attention, and you'll have to pardon her getting just a bit suspicious. Okay, so he's manifestly not the Darkest of Others, but that doesn't mean he's entirely human, either. And it does't help that the murky lighting is playing hell with her eyes. It makes it that much harder to try and read the shadows on his face.

Harder, but not impossible. And yes, there is definitely something... off... there. 'Off' in a harmless peri way or 'off' in a demon blood sort of way is harder to judge, because she's never seen that peculiar edge to a shadow before, and this dubious 'gift' of being able to see in the dark didn't come with an illustrated user guide.

She should probably say something like, 'oh,' or 'well, it was nice talking to you,' but what comes out is an accusatory, "You're not human." Shiva wept.

"Good guess. Or was it a guess?" He has been meeting a fair few oddities around here. It's entirely possible that she knew. Another psychic or something.

He does know that he feels weird talking to her through the broken window, but he's not going to go inside there either. Instead, he sits, his back against the wall of the lighthouse. "You going to come out of there?"

"Not a guess. Rude - sorry - but not a guess." Get a grip, Sunshine. Her life is lousy with partbloods - not to mention things considerably worse than that - but that's why she should really know better than to blurt about it in public.

The face in the window disappears, though it's followed by an invitation out of this grotty lighthouse, and yes, that seems... rational. If he was going to turn blue and spout tusks and tear her to pieces, he'd probably want to do it away from prying eyes, so better for them to be out there than in here. And outdoors on an overcast day is better than indoors on an overcast day for her dark vision. Bonus.

Feeling like five kinds of idiot, Sunshine picks her way outside and around the curve of the building until she finds her mysterious part-whatever acquaintance again. She can salvage this, or try to, until such time as it becomes more prudent to run for her life.

"I'm Sunshine." She tilts the bakery bag toward him hopefully; feeding people makes her feel better, and tends to make them more kindly disposed toward her. "Muffin?"

"Muffin?" For a moment he thinks that he's been given a strange nickname, before his vision refocuses on the basket. "Oh, muffin. Sure." Normally he doesn't really eat much at all, but it probably won't do any harm to take the thing. "Thanks." He's not taking a bite yet. He's betting that even in a dream it'll taste bland.

"I'm Spike." He tilts his head up to look at her. "How was it you knew I'm not human?"

Don't be so sure. Sunshine can make spartan muffins out of anything. "That's cranberry and oatmeal," she informs him, a little put out that he's not digging right in.

'Spike' is an interesting name. Sounds a bit more suited to a pet lizard than a person, but this is Sunshine on her best behavior, so she lets it pass without comment. His question is a bit trickier to answer, and she pulls a Killer Zebra out of the bag so she can nibble something while she thinks. By the time she's finished the cookie, she has a nice lie all lined up: oh, you see, I have a bit of peri blood from great-aunt Mildred on my mother's side of the family. But her traitorous nomad mouth says, "I can see in the dark, which apparently includes being able to read any non-human off-ness in the shadows on people's faces." Which, wow. Because she's a slow learner, she tries to backpedal... which just results in some helpful clarification. "The shadows on yours have a funny sort of edge to them that a human's wouldn't."

And that is more than enough of that. She hastily stuffs another cookie into her mouth before she can say anything else stupid. Here's hoping this guy isn't SOF.

"Sounds like you're not entirely human either." Because, come on, what she's describing is way more than just good night vision.

Spike pulls off a bit of the muffin and takes a bite. It's probably great, and it doesn't taste bad, but it's still bland to his taste buds. It seems dream food has the same limitations as the real stuff when it comes to being a member of the undead.

Careful, Sunshine. He doesn't look SOF - or like a media type, for that matter - but the relative humanity of your bloodline isn't something you just discuss with people. And apparently, she can't trust herself to not say anything stupid. What's going on there, anyway? Is this some kind of weird nightmare where she can't control what she says? Shouldn't knowing it's a dream give her more control, not less?

After a moment's consideration, she ventures, "I'm human as far as I know." And hey, it comes out exactly as she meant it to. This calls for another cookie.

Trouble is, it's hard to really know that you're fully human. Most partbloods think they're normal until they suddenly aren't, and there's no set timeframe for when some demon taint is going to rear its ugly head (or maybe just ugly tusks, or ugly horns) and make your life a misery. Or, if you've already got magic handling in your blood, it can clash with that in a toxic way and send you on a homicidal tear through the nearest warm bodies. Either way, not good.

At least she's too wrapped up in her own dour thoughts to notice he's not in love with her muffin and add that to the list of things to grump about.

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

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