applesaucedream | Charlie's Coffeehouse [Open to Multiple]

Current Music: June 10th, 2013

Entry tags:

Charlie's Coffeehouse [Open to Multiple]

As if to make up for the previous evening's kali horror show, Sunshine's dream is warm and familiar. She's in a bakery - her bakery in her stepdad's coffeehouse, though elements of her new workplace sneak in here and there. She hardly notices the inconsistencies as she churns out trays of muffins and sheets of cookies. Charlie's working the register, Mel's in the kitchen, Mary's waitressing, and her mom is probably in her office giving someone hell over the phone. All is as it should be.

If she knew she was dreaming, she would probably think it fitting that anyone drop in, relax, and eat some cookies (well, okay, if she knew she was dreaming she might not recommend eating anything, but whatever, she breaks that rule all the time). Last night was rough, and people deserve a break - and a toxic sugar concoction or two. As it is, she's not paying any particular attention to the customers as she carries out a tray of Killer Zebras and transfers them into a display case.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Gods, this is appalling. "It's not that bad," she insists, hesitating in the face of his apparent desire to… what, look at it? Does it even matter that she's hurt herself in a dream? Even if it does, it's just a little burn; there's no need for him to go leaping to his feet as if she opened one of fridges and a - a dead butler fell out. Or something. "Seriously, I can just run some cold water over it." But she does finally hold her hand out, if only to reassure him that she's not breaking out in blisters.

Well, they're in the dreaming, so he could make a dead butler disappear as well. (Or concoct a fun murder mystery where they follow clues, that's also possible. And sounds pretty fun, actually.)

He could also make her pain actually affect her real body (it's funny how the mind can make the body react even if it didn't actually receive the original stimulus) and give her a burn, but that's a technique he almost never uses. And if it does, it's to do the opposite thing - heal rather than hurt. There are very few people he dislikes strongly enough to hurt for no good reason.

Topher takes her hand in his - mostly a symbolic gesture, really, and just a way for him to focus more easily on the part of her that's hurting, even if it's all imagined - and he soothes the pain, removing the imagined damage.

Her brow furrows as he takes her hand, but she doesn't pull away. A few seconds later, the burn is gone, soothed away. Even though it never technically existed in the first place, she still raises her eyebrows, surprised and a little impressed. "… Huh. Thanks." She takes her hand back and runs her thumb over her undamaged palm. "Can you do this in the waking world, too?"

Topher smiles and shakes his head, taking a seat on the stool again. "It's a dream thing. I'm very good at affecting things in here," he answers, and to prove his point, materialises a juice-box in his hand, nice and cool and refreshing, and takes a sip from the straw.

Well, that explains… a whole hell of a lot, actually. Sunshine returns to the ovens to remove the rest of the cookies before they burn (maybe Topher could fix that, too, but one embarrassing error is more than enough for one dream), and she does not burn herself on the other two baking sheets, thank you very much.

"Natural talent, or present from the rift?" she asks as she sets the rest of the cookies out to cool and then starts to gather supplies for a batch of Bitter Chocolate Death.

"It practically came wrapped with a bow when I arrived," he answers, breathing in the smell of fresh cookies. He closes his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the smell, before opening them to watch her go about her baking. "As far as rift changes go, it's pretty decent. Useful, if a bit.. maddening."

Sunshine glances over in time to catch that appreciative whiff, and she smiles faintly in spite of herself. What can she say? It's good to have a fan. But speaking of fans. She starts the milk and chocolate simmering over the stove, then goes to prop open the courtyard door to get a little more air circulating through the room.

"I don't think it gave me anything," she says as she stirs the pan's contents around. "Nothing I've noticed, anyway." And she'd like to think she would have noticed by now. If anything was going to trigger some rift-granted ability, the Giggler probably would have qualified. So she's just going to go ahead and file the possibility of a rift power right alongside the possibility of her being a mad magic cross: highly unlikely, but just possible enough to keep her up at night.

Ugh. Change the subject, Sunshine. "'Maddening'?" she repeats, throwing him a look of concerned confusion. Considering how vivid and weird the dreams are here, being able to control them strikes her as a pretty sweet gig.

Edited 2014-04-28 20:32 (UTC)

"Sometimes it doesn't change anything," he affirms. Or nothing significant enough to be noticeable, or perhaps something that only manifests under very specific conditions. (How would you know you were immortal until you were supposed to die but didn't, for example?)

At her question, he makes a face. "I'm always conscious, asleep or awake. In the months I've been here, I've been unconscious... six times." She can probably see why that would be maddening. Technically it shouldn't even be possible -- the brain needs rest, it needs to be unconscious to store short-term memory into long-term memory and heal and all kinds of things. But he's been changed to be able to function this way.

Sunshine nods, electing to take that as further evidence that the rift cut off the meddling at bringing her here in the first place (which, frankly, was more than enough).

And thank all the gods for it not giving her dream powers, for that matter. "Shit," she says with feeling after Topher's explanation. People need sleep. Maybe she should offer to swing by his place and wallop him with a frying pan or something. Or maybe not, because that might actually kill him, and her healing magic only works on vampires (as far as she knows, anyway). "So, what, do you just… meditate a lot?" She knows a few things about coping, but not with constant consciousness.

"Something like that," he agrees with a small smile. "When I'm asleep I can create a relaxing environment for myself and rest that way. After a week here I tried knocking myself out with heavy medication. It worked in making me unconscious, but I woke up more exhausted than before." He gives a shrug. He's not sure why he's sharing these experiences with her, but Sunshine seems, well.. like an okay person to share with. And he's been low on those for a while. Someone without an agenda.

To be fair, she does kind of have an agenda. But it mostly involves feeding him as much delicious food as he can put away, so as agendas go, it's pretty unobjectionable.

She transfers the pre-BCD into a greased pan and puts it in the fridge to set. (No dead butlers fall out when she opens the door - small favors.) Then she swings by the cooling cookie trays and gathers an assortment onto a small plate: double-chocolate-chunk, oatmeal-craisin, and a few Killer Zebras. She considers asking Topher if he wants any milk or anything, but he's already got that juice box and is perfectly capable of summoning himself another beverage if he wants one.

"Here you go," she says, setting the plate on the counter beside him. There are dirty dishes that need attention, but for the moment, she settles back against the counter to see what he makes of her cookies.

He smiles appreciatively at the arrival of the cookies and picks up the plate, trying to decide what to go for first. He settles on the super chocolatey-looking ones, biting into it, oblivious to the fact he's being observed. He doesn't openly express his pleasure except by continuing to smile, but given his defenses are all down, he's bleeding as much emotion into the environment as she is, and she can probably feel (whether unconsciously or not) that he's definitely enjoying them a lot. He tries the Killer Zebra next, and it's not a disappointment either.

Edited 2014-04-28 21:51 (UTC)

"Those are Killer Zebras," she says, feeling the typical rush of satisfaction she gets when someone openly enjoys her food. She's not consciously aware of Topher's feelings permeating the dream, but it's pretty obvious from his expression that he's enjoying himself. "The other ones don't really have good names. Aimil - one of my friends - she's better at coming up with those. She named Buttermost Limit and Tweedle Dumplings. And the Death of Marat."

Topher leans back, taking a sip of juice as he listens. He particularly smiles at the pun 'buttermost limit'. "Creative naming." He picks up the chocolate one again, staring contemplatively at it. "...For Fudge Sake. Fudge Off?" He's not particularly good at this either and so far he's making make puns of swears.

Sunshine snorts and pushes herself away from the counter. "Go fudge yourself, maybe?" Too bad the coffeehouse caters to all ages. Obscure references might fly, but profanity-based puns probably wouldn't.

She piles the dirty dishes in the sink and cranks on the faucet. "We might want to go a little more child-friendly," she says over her shoulder.

"Mm," Topher answers with a nod. "Death By Chocolate is already a thing, isn't it? Hmmm."

He further contemplates the cookies, trying the oatmeal-craisin ones next. "Oat-Keeper? Mmmm, guessing A Song Of Ice And Fire references go over your head, maybe. Craisin In Love? That's Beyonce, I think... Call Me Craisin?"

The running water isn't quite loud enough to mask Sunshine's laugh. "Those aren't bad." Maybe not quite to Aimil's standards, but better than what Sunshine would be inclined to make up on her own. Well, she's always been more about inventing the dishes than naming them.

"There's some Bitter Chocolate Death on the way, just so you know," she adds as she starts washing up. "You might want to summon yourself some milk. Or there's some in the fridge, if you want." She's not sure how much energy it takes for him to manipulate things, so maybe she shouldn't be taking it for granted that it'd be easy.

Topher replaces the juice-box in his hand with a glass of milk on her suggestion, taking a sip. It's been ages since she had milk, but it probably does complement the baked goods better. "I just named my stuff after Star Trek stuff."

She glances back over her shoulder at him. "What kind of stuff?" She's vaguely aware of Star Trek via cultural osmosis, but she doesn't know anything about Topher's day job.

"Tech stuff. Disruptor. And the--" He stops suddenly and looks up, as if just now realising what he's talking about. Perhaps he shouldn't get this relaxed.

"Anyway, I grew up with the show. Here.." He props one ankle on his knee, pulling up his trousers a little, revealing a little tattoo saying 'NCC1701' in plain writing. "It's the registry number of the ship," he explains.

'Disruptor'? Just what kind of day job does this guy have? Not that he seems eager to discuss it, which is kind of weird considering he's the one who brought it up in the first place. She arches an eyebrow at him, but elects not to pry. Not in a dream he can apparently control, anyway.

"I've never seen it," she admits instead. Which means she can't quite appreciate the full extent of how carthaginian nerdy that tattoo is, though she can sort of imagine.

"You should watch it," he answers immediately, putting his leg down again, because that's his default response when someone is unfamiliar with a show or game or movie he likes. "It should definitely be in the standard.... 'You've Fallen Through a Rift In SpaceTime: What Now?' care package," he says with a definite nod. Shame he's not in a position to give input on that sort of thing anymore.

"Uh huh," Sunshine says, not entirely convinced. Sci-Fi isn't her favorite genre. Not her least favorite genre either, though, it has to be said. "What else would you put in that care package?" Hey, she's curious, and it'll give him something to talk about while she gets the Bitter Chocolate Death out of the fridge and slices it up.

"Star Wars. Pop-tarts. An XBox," he answers, pausing briefly between ideas to consider. "Dracula, the book. Frankenstein, the 1931 movie. An etiquette guide for how to deal with the streets and subways of New York." That last one would probably actually be useful for most rifties. Topher simply avoids the subway, walking if he can, catching a cab if it's too far to walk. He can't stand dealing with all the people and stickiness and the noise and everything.

There's more overlap in that list than she would have expected. Well, she already knew her universe shared Dracula and Frankenstein with Rift York - she just didn't expect Topher to single them out. But okay, if he's into Sci-Fi of any kind, Frankenstein is kind of a given. Maybe he mentioned Dracula because of their brief sojourn to the Other Museum.

"We have Dracula and Frankenstein here," she says as she carves out a small portion of Bitter Chocolate Death. It's pretty intense stuff, so he won't need much. "Not sure about the movie version, but we do have the book." She levers the slice out onto Topher's plate, then starts working on transferring the rest onto a platter for the display case.

"And I'm pretty sure everyone in the city could use an etiquette guide," she adds dryly. New Arcadia isn't a small town, and Sunshine is no rube, but you could still color her unimpressed by the average New Yorker's idea of civility.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject