applesaucedream | The Tomato in the Mirror

Spring is in the air, and monsters are in your head. It will be hard to run from your fears tonight, though -- for you see, you are the thing lurking in your nightmares. Whether it's something that goes bump in the night, a ferocious animal, or even a person you find intimidating, you have become that which frightens you. Anyone who encounters you in this dreamscape will see the shape of you nightmares, and should you look into a mirror, well....

Dreamers will find themselves in an oversized funhouse whose twists, turns, and intersections turn it into a maze. There is no entrance and there is no exit, only branching hallways, tunnels, and ladders that divide and rejoin in baffling combinations. By the look of it, the funhouse has been here for years, slowly falling into decay as its lights burn out one by one and the bright paint chips and fades. The machinery, however, is still working, still ready to surprise these new guests. Hallways end suddenly in long, steep slides back down into the depths, floors lurch under dreamers' feet, and entire corridors spin horizontally. Elsewhere, dreamers might become lost in the mirror maze or get dropped into a vast ball pit.

[Mod note: Usual dream party rules are a go: apply the dream's transformation to your character(s) as you see fit, and decide for yourself whether they will remember these experiences in the morning. Both members and non-members are welcome to play all characters on this post, including those which are not currently part of the game's cast. Have at!]

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Yuri begins to see his error when the thing -- and he has no idea what it is, wouldn't even if he wasn't in Kill and Destroy Mode -- turns and reaches out for him with enormous claws. For a second he skitters backwards, but then he pins his ears back and bellows as he stands on his hind legs, hopelessly outmatched in size but maybe a little less so when he draws himself up to his full height. Stupidly, he lunges right back at the jabberwock, right into its clawed grip...with, of course, mouth open and paws swinging, trying to take a chunk out of the other creature any way he can.

Yep, definitely the most rubbish of jabberwocks. Grappling bears is awkward when you're a spindly nonsense beast, and unlike his normal form or any of the alternate forms he's inhabited here and there, nothing about this one really comes natural. All his usual inherent ability to target vulnerabilities is gone, and although jabberwocks are gross and monstrous and angry they're just not terribly well designed. Not for fighting, not even for existing; mostly just making loud sounds and clawing inexpertly but ferociously at bystanders. If he weren't so preoccupied he might have a glum realisation that it's a wonderful metaphor for his own existence.

As it is, however, he's really very busy trying to subdue this bear. Is it a grizzly? Damned if he knows, that's right up there with boating terminology. He's hooked his claws into it, down through thick fur into flesh, but he's not quite sure how to proceed, and he's getting somewhat mauled in the meantime, wings half mantling like a confused hawk. Do jabberwocks constrict? They haven't got respectable muzzles, jaws-that-bite be damned, and why is he still wearing a waistcoat? This dream sucks. He lets go of the bear and backs away, somehow managing to look rather petulant despite only having creepy lamp-glowy eyes to express that with. Has even dream-violence lost its savour now? He snarls in disgust.

This really isn't working for Yuri, either. The thing is too awkward and spindly for him to get a good grip on any one part, while it, conversely, seems to have a really good grip on him. His swipes lose purpose a few seconds in as he realizes he's ensnared and that it hurts, but his flailing attempts to just hurt the thing as much as he can seem to have effect anyhow.

When it lets go, he's more eager than a self-respecting bear should be to back off in turn, ears back and mouth set in a snarl. Back off! he demands, despite having been the instigator of this fight and despite the unlikeliness of the creature understanding him.

Jabberwocks are so inherently unlikely that there's no unlikeliness left to be wasted on the chances of successful communication. Or maybe Zagreus speaks bear, at least telepathically and in dreams. Actual bear is pretty incomprehensible to him. He's really quite good at yelling into minds, however, and it was very kind of Yuri to remind him that there was some sort of recourse for making one's feelings known beyond howling and flapping. Excuse me? You are aware that you attacked me, yes? This is helpful, actually. Being indignant is a step in the right direction, away from incoherent animal rage. Zagreus really, really hopes his injuries stay in the dreaming when he wakes up.

Zagreus had better hope that his powers don't cause lycanthropy to become transmittable via dreams, either. Fortunately, Yuri's been bent on clawing him to pieces rather than actually trying to bite him, so he won't have transmitted it yet if it even can be.

Why are you so big? asks Yuri angrily. If this thing wasn't so big, he'd have killed it. You're not supposed to be bigger than me!

That's very good, considering there's every possibility that lycanthropy is yet another thing that Zagreus could bring out of the dream world. And no one wants him to have the ability to transmit anything via bite.

Really, Zagreus understands and sympathises with the bear's obvious confusion and anger. He really isn't supposed to be large and jabberwock-shaped. Apparently the dreaming missed that memo. Perhaps you could have a word with it, over a cup of tea. The sarcasm and annoyance are nearly tangible.

What, like Zagreus isn't already a communicable disease all on his own?

I hate tea, snarls Yuri informatively. Really, he's mostly just confused as to what the giant thing is even talking about. ...What do you mean? he asks uneasily, sizing him up with beady little eyes and thinking about attacking again.

The jabberwock sighs, and projects the exasperated exhalation mentally too, just for good measure. Bears apparently aren't very smart, which in hindsight he probably should have been expecting; who ever saw a bear understand sarcasm? Very earnest creatures, bears. Probably.

I mean, you're right. I'm not. Supposed. To be. A jabberwock. This is a dream, and you are dreaming. Chances are you're not supposed to be a bear either. Though I could be wrong, there.

Yuri pins his ears back, aware that some sort of judgment has been passed on him. Or maybe he's just easily annoyed and affronted. Probably both.

Not right now, he admits, bristling. I should only be a bear in the cage. I could hurt someone. If bears could grin, he would right now.

Are you trying to talk yourself into something? Because I don't recommend it. I really don't. For starters, I don't have a cage, when I'm awake. And I'll bet yours is easy to find. Admitting that there's a time or place where Yuri is made vulnerable is a mistake; if Zagreus takes any actual injuries out of the dreaming, he's bound to want retaliation. It's not that it's Yuri's fault that the whole jabberwock thing happened, but the two are now linked by association, inextricably.

It's hidden deep, huffs Yuri dismissively, really putting his foot in it. And you're too big. Let me bite you, let me tear you.

Because that would solve the 'too big' thing, wouldn't it?

Deep, eh? That's more information than he had before, and the jabberwock's whiskers twitch with interest. I could let you, to your heart's content. It wouldn't do any good, because this is a dream. With threadbare patience, as to a very stupid child.

The jabberwock tilts its head, giving the impression of curiosity, consideration--but really just drawing a bead on the bear's throat. "Do bears dream? They must."

Yuri snarls. It never does any good! he exclaims, frustrated beyond measure. He's only been out of his cage on the full moon twice, and he didn't get to tear up anything either time. He can destroy the things in his cage, but nothing ever satisfies him. He just wants to kill and kill and kill, and he never can.

Stupid question, he decides.

The Tomato in the Mirror

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