asgardmeridiem | OPT-OUT EVENT LOG: DREAM A LITTLE DREAM

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OPT-OUT EVENT LOG: DREAM A LITTLE DREAM

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! ]

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[It's not at all difficult to feel the wash of relief that runs through her, and Ril wishes terribly that she was still a telepath. As it is, she orders her thoughts and lets the most important ones loose first. If she closes her eyes, as if she's still a telepath, she can almost approximate the right kind of contact. He's a welcome presence, and as always she offers no resistance to the point where her mind is as curled around him as she is buried into him.

Despite the nausea, despite the voices and the pain, she is utterly overjoyed to share her mind with him. But she concentrates nonetheless as if to sift his presence for pain or injury or sadness, even, she can't help it. The protectiveness is a thing that rears its head to the point of absurdity. She'd let nothing hurt him if she had her way, her tall man with his lovely scarf and wild hair. The mental contact does wonders and she lets out a quiet but contented sort of warble.

She thinks of home, the house in Thor, and of the couch with its lovely blankets. Ril also thinks, carefully, that the magic may not be done with them. The open spaces aren't at all strategically the best places to be. Especially if they are somehow incapacitated. Ril remembers his dream as well and is doubly determined to not leave his side.]

[It's not difficult at all, no. It's different to how it would have been were they both Gallifreyan, but there's no surprise in that. There are different rules for different people and even though he spends most of his time away from the collective unconscious that Gallifrey can be it's still something he knows, more or less.

He likes this better anyway, even if she's not exactly a telepath. He can be enough so for the both of them, or so he certainly hopes. Nor is there any immediate sign of injury. He is as he is, or so he's doing his level best to seem; the nausea and pain that has come with the magic he doesn't know pushed as far out of "sight" has he can make them. But he has to focus too, to get it even that far away, and try though he might, not all of it can be easily hidden away.

(He's had some practice at hiding his thoughts, but not with a mental contact quite like this one, and both of the things that have trailed along in the dreams wake are harder to unthink than what he'd had to unthink before.)

Still, there's something very tempting in those images of home, and he nods even as he opens his mouth to speak - there isn't strictly any need to, but he likes to, sometimes.]

That's a very good point, actually. And I don't think either of us really need to end up falling asleep where we happen to stand. If that's how this all works.

Come on, then, Doctor. Best we find somewhere soft, I am groggy as it is. [Ril fits her hand into his absently, humming under her breath. Just as absently, she sends a wash of healing -- it's not a great deal at all, but it's there like the way her mind seems to settle against his. There's silence for awhile and then she lets out a sigh, brushing into him companionably as they walk.]

I miss it. Out of all the things I once had, I miss telepathy the most. [She offers him a crooked smile and laughs.] And you feel good in my head. [It doesn't surprise her, mostly because mental contact is something she craves as much as she does being touched. It reminds her of Eth in both a pleasant and unpleasant way -- a good ache. If she could wrap her mental self around him, she would. He does, though, feel very good, much better than the voices he drowns out. He's crisp, clear, bright, and she finds her mood genuinely lightened by the contact. It's better than good.]

I think we should be able to manage that.

[A couch, perhaps. Or anything else that counts as soft, regardless of what that might happen to be and there's a ripple of thanks at the gentle pulse of healing. It doesn't quite answer the various things that they've both been feeling but it's enough to bring down to a point where he can forget even as they make their way back home.]

Mmm, I can imagine. Or well, I know I'd miss it, if I didn't have it. Even if it wasn't always quite like this, back home.

[Most of his companions aren't really telepathic and now that he is traveling with a fellow Time Lord there are a few too many rules standing in the way of anything like this. So he keeps to himself and Romana keeps to herself, and everything works out just fine.

(Most of his mental contact has been with his other selves, and if he stopped to think about it, he might find the fact more than a little odd.)]

[Ril leans her cheek into his arm with a hum.]

Your people are very different from mine when it comes to contact. We Antedans fully embrace everything telepathy has to offer; its closeness, the comfort it brings, the ease of thought exchange. But still, we are polite about it, we telepaths. When one wishes to enter another individual's mind, it is with a quiet query, a questioning knock, or stated verbally.

[She glances up at him briefly with a slight smile.]

You are always welcome in my mind, no matter the hour. It is such an enjoyable thing. I do not think it is so for many people, but for me, yes.

[And there, the steps to their house, where Ril sighs in relief as they pass the threshold. There is the couch and there are rooms with beds. Ril's mental contact is all question on that matter. Where would they most be comfortable? Ril can be anywhere, but he is tall and sometimes these couches are not at all long enough for comfort.]

Terribly different yet. Too closed off for their own good, that's the Time Lords.

[He doesn't quite manage to say 'my people' for all that they are. He's never quite fit in, for all that growing up on Gallifrey has left its mark, for all that he wanders through the stars meeting new people and broadening his horizons.]

But even we [and it is a 'we' now, in that what he speaks of has mostly been with his other selves] sometime find it... convenient to communicate mentally. And there's a query there too. Or a communication of readiness sometimes. It depends on the situation. And who's involved.

But I'll remember the welcome.

[He knows there's a range limit to what he manage, just at the moment, but maybe the idea of mental contact will help him as well. And even it doesn't, if Ril enjoys his presence that's more than enough for him.

He has to consider for a moment, at the mental question. While the couch is certainly the more immediate option, they aren't always built for comfortable stretching out, when one is as tall as he is.]

I'm not entirely certain. Where do you think we might be most comfortable?

[Ril lets out a soft hum and offers him a smile. Good, they are settled on the telepathic front. Her chin tilts a little.]

You, tall man, would benefit from a bed. I enjoy the warmth, blankets, and company. I would say bed. Should we sleep, it will be the best of options.

[And she does not, quite obviously, find sharing a bed the least bit a problem.]

[Company is good, that much he can agree on. And while he doesn't tend to get cold all that easily, he can see the appeal of blankets as well, and that's more than enough for him. Especially when a bed can be just as comfortable for this particular purpose as couch, if not more so.]

Bed it is, then.

[He'll let her lead the way to any specific bed, if she has a preference; otherwise he'll end up making his way towards the room he calls his own more on habit than anything else.]

[She hasn't a preference at all, and it's to his they go with Ril carefully setting her shoes near the door without really letting go of him. She debates making tea, but a yawn stops her and she sinks onto the edge of the bed.]

[At some point, tea can be made, if both of them want it badly enough. But for now, there's hardly any hurry either, and instead he takes a set of his own on the bed. He'll get his boots off at some point along the line (probably), but for now there's hardly any need to either.

His room looks very much the same to how it had the last time she'd been there, right down to little stuffed owl still sitting nearby. Of course, the room as a whole looks significantly more lived in, but very nearly any room would have, given that it's been lived in for a good while longer now.]

There we are.

[What, if anything, the conversation might turn to now that they've managed a suitably comfortable place, he can't say. But there's no rush either. Whatever will come up will come up, and that's all there is to it.]

[She hums, tucking herself against his side absently with a little yawn.]

Is better. I would think dreams would leave me more awake, but I can't quite shake the wanting to doze off feeling.

[It might be her usual lack of sleep catching up to her, though. She absently tallies it up in her and it's really quite terrible. Cat naps, off and on, restless sleep. Wandering about in the dead of night, even.]

Dreams do hang on for a while, sometimes. Not all of them, of course, but if you wanted to doze off I wouldn't stop you.

[There's certainly room enough for the both of them to stretch out, and he can certainly find something to keep himself occupied if she wants to take a nap. He might not manage one himself, but that's not too terribly surprising.]

Mn, they do. [She nestles into him a little more and it helps ease the bout of nausea that had crept up in the moments she hadn't had contact with him.]

I should be able to keep my eyes open. It's such an odd feeling, though. Like sitting in the afternoon sun, just warm enough that whatever cares you have ebb. [She hums just a little, absently.]

Dreams, yes.

Ah, I know that exact feeling, as it happens.

[Sometimes he's deliberately tempted it too, when he's grown tired of doing the sort of things that people have wanted to do. After all, as long as what he's meant to do gets done, what's the harm in a little relaxation?]

But, yes, dreams. Strange things they are, sometimes, and yet they can be the most terribly entrancing.

Yes, they can. [Her fingers curl against his chest and relax.] I like them most when they're about peace. Those dreams are the most incredibly rare. And I love them very much.

Mmm.

[There's a nod to go with the comment, and a moment of silence before he speaks up again.]

And all the more so during times like these, I'd imagine. We can do out best to make things work out, but even that takes work. Enough that true peace might yet be a while in the making.

I don't think I have ever known what true peace is. [Her voice is a murmur, soft and drifting like the way her other hand closes around his wrist. She lets out a slow breath.] As long as we keep trying, keep working at it, we'll be fine.

[She half glances up at him and finds herself too tired to move anymore and stays there, her lips against his jawline.]

Or we'll learn to find our own peace whenever we can. Can live with that, mm?

It is terribly hard to find. Too many people, all with a variety of different opinions on what is - or should be! - important.

[Plus there's the fact that not every race is prone to wanting to get along. Some are more inclined to than others, yes, but even then old grudges can take a terribly long time to fade away.]

But yes, we can. A little peace can be just as good, after all.

Then I am pleased to be finding it here with you. [There's an odd note to her voice, as if it wants to wobble when it should be firm. She is tired on so many levels these days, but she's always moving forward. He's very much a part of the why. The tip of her nose, cool still, finds his cheek.]

However long it lasts. [It won't be long. It never is. She's quiet for awhile, just taking it in, this moment. Her lips curve.] When I was very small, my mothers took me to the orbital station to see the stars. When I looked out on them, [She reaches a hand up as if caught in the memory of her fingers bathed in starlight.] I believed in forever.

[That's the trouble with it, sometimes. The most wonderful things are also the most fleeting. The hardest to find too, unless one is either looking for them or simply taking matters when and as they come.

But he doesn't mention it. There isn't even so much as whisper of it, both on his lips and in the gentle and aimless drift of his mind. Instead, he listens quietly, offering a nod at the comment about believing in forever.

He doesn't speak again until a moment after that, soft and quiet in that as well.]

It was never the stars, for me, I don't think. But then I went to see the Medusa Cascade, and oh, you should have seen it. If I hadn't wanted to leave before then, I would have, after that. After seeing the colors of that nebula stretched out over the seas of darkness and starlight.

Mm, I would enjoy that sight. [Her lips brush his his jawline as she murmurs.] So many beautiful things when you take the time to look.

[Her fingers settle against his hair, her touch light and absent. It calms her, keeps her connected.]

I'd show you what I could of it, but memories are never really quite the same. But yes, there's so much to see that's worth the travel. So many things that so many people never even imagine could be out there.

[There's a soft smile as her fingers curl into his hair and her lips brush gently across his jawline. He's more than willing to let her find whatever comfort she needs in him; the passing drift of his mind doesn't become any less vague but it does take on a tone that he'd hope is more in line with the general idea of comfort. And if that comes along with images of fields of red grass under burnt orange skies perhaps that's no surprise.]

Edited 2014-12-01 08:26 (UTC)

Mmm. [Her words are soft and lazy, like the way her fingers lift errant curls, nudging them this way and that. Touching, forever touching, that is her greatest comfort. Being touched, too. It's good.] It reminds me of my own world, the skies do. The great dust clouds stain the skies to rust. A massive storm hit the day I began my transition to Pilot. It was...incredible.

[There's a hum and her breath against his cheek.]

I would like the grass upon my fingertips.

I'd have liked to see that.

[He's not usually a fan of duststorms, true, but he'd be willing enough to make an exception for something noted to be incredible. That it might make - might have made, perhaps - the skies look more like the skies of Gallifrey is simply an added bonus.]

Mmm, I don't blame you. It was good for that. And for running in, too, even if not everyone bothered.

[Her fingers are gentle against his cheek, her thumb sweeping against his skin as she smiles, warm and lazy like her words.]

Come see. I can remember one of the larger storms from my childhood. You do not want to see the one that hit during my Transition. I would remember the pain of it, the heat. You do not want that.

[The curve of her lips is a slight smile.]

I would bother to run. That sounds like fun to me.

OPT-OUT EVENT LOG: DREAM A LITTLE DREAM

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