OPT-OUT EVENT LOG: DREAM A LITTLE DREAM

[asgardmods]

Who: EVERYONE that stayed in Asgard
What: the Dream a Little Dream mingle log
When: Day 515 ( Sept. 25/26 )
Where: all across the city!
Rating: PG-13. Anything higher than that should be taken to a private log, please!

Day 515 ( Sept. 25/26 )

Progress through the ice blockade will be slow and narrow, as they can't possibly hope to clear the entirety of the forest that has been buried under Thiazi's black ice. Now that they know the source of her magic's corruption, it might not come as a great surprise when cracking open the ice unleashes a strange burst of magic.

At the halfway point between Utgard and Asgard, a pulse of energy will move through the entire city, immediately putting every mortal it touches to sleep. This part of the curse is mandatory and your character must fall asleep; the dream effects of it are not mandatory, and can be played with at your discretion. During this first wave, Travellers will be granted a brief dream - that does not belong to them. They will see, from the dreamer's point of view, every hope and goal and aspiration that the dreamer wishes to complete before the end of days. Whether it's simply confessing their love to an old friend or saving their home planet or perfecting an Asgardian pie, your character will see someone else's ideal resolution before Ragnarok. More on plotting this below!

Upon waking, the Travellers will be plagued with the indistinct whispering of several voices overlapping one another and a slight headache. Both symptoms will gradually increase over time until it reaches incapacitating pain and nausea. The only way to assuage the symptoms is to find the owner of the dream and either maintain physical contact for an hour or discuss the subject of the dream until a full confession has been made. After that, the symptoms will fade and the Travellers will be free to carry on with their day.

There will be other pulses of magic at random throughout the day; these are not mandatory and you can feel free to have your character experience as many or as few dreams as you wish. All dream-sharing will cease by the end of the day, as the blockade progresses past that centre-point of magic.

[ OOC NOTES: This is the mingle log for the Dream a Little Dream opt-out event! Random pairings have already been sent out, but you guys can still feel free to plot with each and pair up anywhere you like. Please remember that these dreams are meant to be positive; details can be found here. Please put [OPEN/CLOSED] along with the time and location in the title of your comment. Let us know if you have any questions! ]

Comments

[selfmadman]

[ Don sits up with a groan. Someone's tossed his coat over him; it slides off. ] Thank you. [ It's called out to no one in particular, winds up sarcastic. Once was terrifying. Twice is irritating. They'd given him something for the swelling—plenty of ice and ice users around—but now his head's pounding worse than before. He gets to his feet, scoops up the coat. This time whatever it was didn't drop everyone—he doesn't have to scurry to secure explosives.

A boom and a crack that does nothing for his headache and he decides to stroll in the opposite direction, a dream coalescing in his mind. At first he can't turn his thoughts from the drinks: what kind, how cold, how welcome. He's only started to consider the rest when he comes across Natasha. ]

I didn't know you were here. [ He offers her a hand up, expression at once quizzical and pleased. It almost suits the elaborately curled mustache that's been inked on his face. ]


the dream

[ You stand shoulder to shoulder with her, your feet sinking into bright white carpet. “I got it,” she laughs, gathering the box in her arms. Her hair's still blonde, alight in this sun-favored room. Her eyes are more serious, unflinching sometimes. She's taller than you ever imagined. Older. More beautiful.

Something rattles in the box and worry must flicker over your face because she arches her eyebrows at you as she walks past.

You lower yourself to a seat at the edge of her bed. That box was the last: everything left in the room is a childhood relic. The pillow shaped like a lion's face, its pink felt tongue. The framed silhouette with its traces of baby fat over her bed. “Dad.” She shoves at your shoulder and you scoot over. She sighs as she sits, a theatrical show of satisfaction. You share a silence.

“I have family out there. Remember Stephanie?”

“Yeah.” She looks at you like she's remembering something else. Hesitates. “Are you Don or are you Dick?”

“It doesn't matter,” you say, a truth that's always been confined to San Pedro. Now, timidly, it expands. “Both.”

You pull her close as you kiss her you think of the ocean, think that maybe she's joining as much as leaving you. ]

[redhourglass]

( as a general rule, natasha hates being in other people's heads. it's underhanded, it's cheap, it's wrong (not that that has stopped her before) and it creeps her out. the last thing she'd want was someone creeping around in her head, so why would she do that to someone else? in this case, she resents it upon waking all the more because she had no choice.

still, she recognized the person in her dream (their dream?) and once she came to, she wasn't overly surprised to see them offering her a hand. she takes it, pulling herself up and pressing one hand to her temple. )

Right back at you. ( she might have asked him about his dream but --

the mustache. what.

what on earth. )

.. You have something on your face.

[selfmadman]

[ As he grips her hand a soothing pressure like the lull right before sleep. His memory opens to the dream: for a moment that buoyant sense of shared isolation, of the horizon stretched in front of him.

Don feels himself smile. Releasing her hand takes effort.

At her observation he blinks, the spell broken. He raises a hand to his temple; his fingers slide to the knot on his head. ] Blood? [ He'd use the same tone to ask about dirt, spaghetti sauce. ]

[redhourglass]

( she feels it, too; though while he's calm about it, she's unsettled. she's still in the vulnerable state left by the dream, so she's unable to stifle a slight gasp. once he lets go, she studies him with eyes made wary. was it a lingering side effect of the attack? )

No. You'll wish it was blood, though. ( she digs around in one pocket, pulling out a small compact; not that she usually betrayed that she carried one. flipping it open deftly, she hands it to him. )

You know the weirdest thing happened. I thought I saw you in my dream. Your dream. Our dream?

[selfmadman]

[ Don takes the compact without comment, though she can read what she will in his half-submerged smile and the amused look that goes with it. He studies his face in the mirror.

Then his gaze breaks away. He rolls his eyes, laughs once through his teeth. With a decisive snap he shuts the compact. Holds it out to her. ] You don't like it? [ He raises his eyebrows, maintains a fleeting innocence before lapsing into a smirk meant, like a nudging elbow, to invite her into the joke.

It doesn't last: she mentions dreams and he swallows, looks at her while trying to muster words. He sets his shoulders; shadows have collected in the hollows of his face. ] Do you smoke?

[redhourglass]

( ok, she might not laugh aloud but .. it's funny. really. and he almost looks good that way. except not, so she reaches for him, hesitating before rubbing at the marks with her thumb. it was weird to touch him like this - actually, to touch anyone - but she rationalizes it by telling herself that at least she didn't spit on her hand and try and clean him like a kid.

the moment passes though and she drops her hand, looking equally solemn. )

Sometimes. Is now a time?

( she hadn't meant to ruin his mood.. but keeping it from him seemed equally wrong. )