applesaucedream | A Day Late and a Dollar Short

Current Music: April 3, 2013

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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!]

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Gabriel just might be misunderstanding one or two of the fundamental aspects of a bachelor party, here. Were his mind on the matter, Peter would probably have misgivings about letting Gabe organize a party for him, but he's barely following the current conversation.

Shit. Shit, has he been staring? Question, question, probably only going to get to ask one question --

"What are you?" he blurts, completely failing to be in any way casual about it.

Gabriel narrows his eyes at Peter. He is acting weird, but it's possible to write this off as an objection to the party idea.

"Your friend. Come on, the party was your idea. I don't know why you're getting so huffy about it." He tilts his head to the side, considering. "There don't have to be strippers, if that's what you're worried about, but they are traditional."

Peter lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. That wasn't the answer he was looking for, not by a long stretch, though it's ~~reassuring~~ surprising to hear that Gabriel still thinks of them as friends. Gabe's got to be suspicious now, though; there's no simply asking for clarification without giving it away.

Party. Apparently they're still talking about a party.

"It's you," he points out, going with vague truth. Growing bolder, he adds, "It's not the strippers. What, in all the time you've known me, makes you think I don't like strippers?"

Yes, he's definitely suspicious, but he doesn't have enough information to start throwing around accusations yet.

"Nothing," He answers succinctly, "But I do think you'd be scared about what your darling Lucy thinks of you liking strippers." He smiles. "She strikes me as the type that wouldn't mind, as long as she gets to come along for the ride. What do you think?"

Okay, not actually the best topic of conversation right now. Peter opens his mouth, shuts it again. Flaps it silently like that once or twice more. "We're not exactly exclusive," he finally manages, afraid to say more and relieved he got even that out. He doesn't know what they are, exactly, but Lucy's attempts to talk about it have always been met with refusals from Peter. What they have is good; once they start labeling it, things will go wrong.

Frowning, he adds, "I thought this was supposed to be a bachelor party."

He's actually a bit surprised at the lack of exclusivity, but he's definitely noting it.

"No bachelor party if there's not going to be any wedding. Anyway, I'd rather have a party with general debauchery and have Lucy there. Bigger party that way. Have I mentioned that I'm great at parties?" He totally is.

It was supposed to be a friends with benefits arrangement. It's not Peter's fault -- well, alright, it's mostly his fault -- if they never got around to figuring out boundaries once it progressed beyond that.

"Define general debauchery." Because that is both relevant to his interests and giving him pause when he thinks about debauchery that involves Lucy and possibly people other than himself.

"Sex, drugs, rock and roll." He's says this as if it's obvious, gosh, Peter. "For varying levels of each, of course. A lot of people, hopefully as naked as possible. A lot of booze. Enough music to keep everything moving. Trust me, Dionysus would be proud."

And Lucy as naked as possible, presumably, which both gets Peter a bit excited and makes him a bit annoyed and territorial. Yeah, the lack of exclusivity isn't an issue with him or anything, nope.

He perks up, though, as he suddenly sees an opening. "Dionysus?" he asks. "Old friend of yours? I thought you said you were one of the Norse gods."

Which isn't to say he believed Gabriel when he said that. As irritating and outlandish as Gabriel is, he's much more normal than Loki would ever be.

Edited 2013-10-07 02:42 (UTC)

I am, he means to say, though it comes out as, "I was, sort of." And this is where he starts getting extra suspicious, because he really hadn't meant to add on that qualifier. Or the past tense. He was in the Norse pantheon, and worshiped as a god, but he was never an actual god.

He continues carefully, paying attention to his own words. "Different pantheons are allowed to interact with each other, y'know. I knew him, but we weren't exactly buddy buddy." When nothing else strange happens, he's almost ready to write it off as a passing peculiarity, though he's not going to stop watching himself now.

Okay, now Peter's wondering if he got it wrong after all. Gabriel isn't really Loki -- wasn't Loki, even 'sort of,' because that would mean Gabriel is thousands of years old...and that multiple pantheons of gods are real. Peter's not sure he's ready to deal with either possibility.

"Sort of?" he asks, grasping at that qualifier like it's a lifeline.

No, not sort of at all. Completely, one hundred percent Norse mythology. "It was a new identity. Pagan gods don't party with archangels."

His eyes go wide and it immediately clicks what's happening. A string of curses a mile long goes through his head. Why is it that the rift has it out for his secrets?

Well, when in doubt, run away. He tries waking himself up, realizes the dream isn't letting him, then stands up instead. "It's been...interesting, Peter. See ya later." Walking away in a definitely not panicked state is totally the rational thing to do here, right?

ARCHANGELS.

Peter doesn't keep his cool much better than Gabriel does. He stands up straight with a jolt, staring at the shorter man with big, round eyes. "No," he breathes. Catching himself, he makes an effort to close his expression off, expecting Gabriel to turn around and reveal that it's a joke at Peter's expense, that he was stupid to think a dream could make Gabriel tell the truth and that Gabe knew all along what he was playing at.

Gabriel does not do that. In fact, after what looks like a moment of concentration, Gabriel attempts to flee the scene.

Well, shit. Shit on a shit bun. Peter can't even process what the hell this means, can't reconcile the Gabriel who showed up drunk to his apartment and left it full of booze and lake water with that Gabriel, but he's not going to let it go at that, either. "Wait!" he calls, stumbling as he hurries after Gabriel. "You're not -- you're not the Gabriel?"

Well, shit, he should have realized that Peter would follow him. But, okay, he can play this game. He doesn't have to answer the question. He just can't lie.

He's just hoping that Peter isn't smart enough to realize that it'll be easy to figure things out anyway by noticing what questions he evades. He shouts back at Peter, but he keeps walking. "I don't have to tell you anything!"

"I told you about Lucy!" Hey, he meant to say he had to tell Gabe about Lucy. Clearly that was not voluntary. And yeah, he probably just gave away when he realized what was going on and that this has all been totally deliberate. Peter breaks into a run, bounding over the uneven ground, but slows to a walk again when he's still a good five feet away, keeping that distance between them.

Gabriel rounds on Peter very quickly, his face angry. It's probably a frightening move, given that it brings Gabriel within a foot of Peter.

He takes a breath, and raises his hand. Peter had known exactly what he was fishing for, and he took advantage.

"You-" It's about then that he notices his own racing heartbeat, realizes he's panicked, and that Peter doesn't really deserve dream-evisceration or whatever else could have just happened. He takes a single step back and runs his hand over his face instead. "I didn't realize you had to tell the truth." I wouldn't have asked. "I would have thought about what I was asking." Okay, close enough.

"Shit--!" Peter clearly didn't leave enough space, because holy shit, angry Gabe -- angry Archangel Gabriel -- suddenly right in front of him. He backpedals, trips over a rock, and stumbles a step or two before toppling backwards and landing hard on his bum. Terror ignites in him at the abrupt shift in his friend's demeanor, and Peter envisions Gabriel doing all manner of terrible things to smite him...only some of which are probably as bad as it might have been just now. He looks up at the other man, his own breathing rapid.

I didn't mean to. "I knew I wouldn't get another chance," he confesses.

"And was it that important that you knew?" That is, important enough that he had to trick him into divulging information that he didn't want to give. Really not a cool move, Peter.

He sighs, finally drops his hand from his face and walks over to Peter to offer him a hand up. "Yes, the Gabriel, angel of the Lord. I suppose you'll want to tell Lucy all about it." He doesn't seem all that excited about this probability, but he does expect it.

"We're friends, aren't we? I hardly knew anything about you." Funny how them being friends means Gabriel owes him information, but not that Peter owes Gabriel any respect for his privacy. He takes the man's -- the angel's hand, giving him a look that's halfway between awestruck and baffled. Gabriel can probably expect him to be a bit weird around him for a while, if his reaction now is anything to go by.

I can keep a secret. "I probably will, yeah."

Yeah, that's what he thought. "If you could try to contain the news to the two of you, I would appreciate it." Yes, he would appreciate it. Because if they keep quiet he won't have to issue any threats.

He pulls his hand away when it seems like Peter isn't going to do it on his own. "And could you stop looking so reverent?" He makes a face. It's really not a look he's used to seeing on Peter's face, and he doesn't particularly like it directed at himself. "It's weird."

Peter, this is the same Gabriel that got drunk and called himself friendship syphilis. You can get over this.

Edited 2013-10-07 06:28 (UTC)

"What, like I'm going to tell the rebels? Tattle on you to Romac?" Peter scoffs, then realizes he just said that and that was meant to be untrue and he doesn't particularly want Gabriel pissed and smitey again -- "I'm not going to tell them," he adds quickly, lest Gabriel get confused. Mostly it's Peter who's confused, though, not realizing he was able to say it because it was a question.

He makes an effort to harden his expression, but he keeps staring, looking Gabriel over like he's either studying him or getting ready to make some awkward, unwanted gesture of respect. Knowing he's doing it and trying to stop, he sets his jaw, looks away for a second, then looks back and furrows his brow at Gabe.

"You're shorter than I thought you'd be."

"Who were you expecting, the jolly green giant?" See, Peter, this is why he doesn't tell people the truth. It makes them act like they're not sure whether to kneel or flee. He's suddenly something Other, rather than just another (albeit super-powered) guy.

He debates with himself for a moment before deciding not to tell Peter that he's actually much, much larger when he's not in a human vessel. probably best to avoid the whole vessel thing entirely. "I chose to look like this, thanks." Technically true. He's glad that one worked.

"Why?" Okay, probably not the most tactful response. Seriously though, Gabriel, why would you choose to be so titchy? He adds, gesturing over Gabriel's shoulder, "And I expected wings. There's always stuff about wings."

Gabriel levels him with a glare. The story of his vessel is warm and touching, okay, and Peter doesn't deserve to hear it right now. "Just because you forced me into telling you something doesn't mean you get the whole story, you asshole."

The mention of wings has Gabriel stiffening his shoulders, which probably comes off as him straightening his posture. He's uncomfortable with the situation, and he's half afraid that if he tries to lie about his wings, the dream will make them appear to prove him wrong.

Peter had kind of forgotten that this wasn't voluntary story time, what with how Gabriel answered the last question or two without smiting him. He holds his hands up, backing off both metaphorically and (at least for a few inches) physically. "Easy! What, like you haven't seen stuff about me."

Meaning Peter's childhood bedroom, because apparently that's as big of a deal.

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