maskormenacelogs | [semi-open] dreamgirl

WHO: Paprika + open to first 5 responders
WHERE: in the land of sleepy dreams
WHEN: late April / early May
WHAT: Paprika finally stops behaving, starts invading people's dreams. Nbd, right?
WARNINGS: none known

Ever since she'd been Ported in, Paprika hadn't had the slightest trouble falling or staying asleep. Maybe it was part of this expanded ability she'd acquired, or maybe it was a product of being here "by herself"... no to-do lists running through her head, no stray thoughts about office politics. The first night she'd thought excitement might keep her awake, but it didn't. The second night she'd thought apprehension might, but it didn't. The third night it was dread.

Dread! Imagine that, the dream detective, dreading going to sleep! But it wasn't for no reason, of course.

She'd lay her head on the pillow and close her eyes, but when she opened them she saw nothing. Even once she entered REM sleep, nothing. She was still lucid, she'd realized the first night, but not dreaming. It would have been a different story if she were simply dreaming about nothing; in that case she'd have been able to shape the dream herself. But she wasn't having a dream. It was as if her unconscious mind had been shunted off to a holding area and forgotten about for seven to eight hours, like an unclaimed bag at the airport. She knew her body needed the sleep, and so here she was, but there was nothing to do.

Or... no, not nothing, exactly. When she held still and quieted her mind, she would catch snippets of vivid color, far-off voices, faint smells... Even without looking too closely, she knew they were other people's dreams. Accessible without a DC Mini, floating there within reach, daring her to look, to touch, to open. Worlds of infinite scope and possibility. Therein lay the true power of dreams.

"It's too dangerous," she said aloud to no one, in the dark. "You know what happened last time." Her own voice sounded like Atsuko's.

Of course she knew. She couldn't forget something like that incident, still (as far as she knew) unresolved. Only a monster would want to see reruns of that. She didn't yet know if this power she had was safe to use. But how was she supposed to find that out if she never tried? Besides, she'd been wondering... what sort of dreams would someone from another world have, anyway?

In the end, it was too much. She couldn't resist after all.

The dreams drew into sharp focus as she approached, as if she were tightening the aperture on a camera lens. There were so many of them, she hardly knew where to start. But that was easy enough to resolve. Paprika closed her eyes and raised her pointer finger.

"Eeny, meeny, miney... mo!"

She opened one eye to peek, then both. Well, that looked interesting... "Yeah, that'll do," she said, and pulling the edges of the hole apart, she slipped through into the dream.

(NOTE: I plan to do the open dream logs on a regular basis, so don't worry too much if the slots are taken - I'm just limiting it to five people for starters so as not to overwhelm myself. Please fill out permissions here!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"YOU CAN'T STOP US --"

The voice was the first thing she heard -- and looking around, whatever was trying to be stopped, it was already mostly happening. The sky was electric yellow -- lightning shocked through it, arced over clouds and hit the ground. Large clumps of grass and concrete exploded with each hit, the landscape not a freshly or currently destroyed world -- but one long conquered.

It wasn't De Chima, Heropa, or really anywhere in this pseudo-modern world. Instead, above, the moon was defaced with large swaths of destruction, a phallus on the surface, half the City -- and it was his City -- was already destroyed. And the worst of it was, the voice that rang came from the top of the tallest standing building, a skittering sound followed.

Then a boom.

And another boom.

Something that rang through the sound-tunnel that was metropolitan New York, a close approximation of it. A sound out there, like skittering beasts -- hornets and rats -- something horrifying, even as the subject -- a man who was too focused on this to deal with someone in his dream started to step back, multiple steps at a time, before turning and running -- still dressed in a suit, instead of anything practical.

He looked older, than he did in the media on De Chima, and around the world at large. His face was well-known enough, but the wonders that a curl of hair did were astounding, and he turned after a moment, pulling a vivid green gun out from his coat, before he attempted to shoot what ended up being -- well -- they could have been pigeons, but their wings were metal, eyes bright purple, beaks sharpened with metal tips -- he hit one with a blast of green electricity, before it fell.

"Aw, aw fuck --"

Paprika had only peripherally considered the possiblity of ending up inside a nightmare, so finding herself here was a bit of a shock. This was clearly an apocalypse, but she noted it wasn't one of the world they were in currently - the smoldering husks of cars showed evidence of wheels, for one thing. The penis on the moon seemed a bit out of place, but she filed it away to worry about later. (That was one thing she was certain wasn't literal. What did that say about this guy's subconscious~?)

The city was overrun with a swarm of something. Machines disguised as ordinary animals, it looked like. You can't stop us. But he could, apparently. He had a weapon, and it looked strikingly effective against them. Whatever threat this dream represented, he wasn't totally defenseless against it, and he knew it. So why was he still afraid?

Here was an alleyway, tucked between two buildings leaning each other. Paprika wasn't there, and then she was. She had herself dressed in camo with a camo helmet - this seemed like a situation where there might reasonably be soldiers around. Just as Mitch was about to reach the alley, she poked her head out, waving an arm to beckon him. "Over here! Quick!"

"Wh --"

Mitchell stopped, dumbfounded by the sight of someone in the apocalyptic wasteland that was the City. He looked around, before he shot off a few more gun blasts at the pigeons, which forced the rest of the flock to veer off, before he dashed after her. Because if someone else was here, there were a few things he had to keep in mind.

First off, he needed to avoid the source of all of this. Secondly, he'd need to keep them safe, too. No easy task, considering...

Well, these dreams were violent enough as it was. "Who -- " he gasped, when he stopped, hands on his knees, before he doubled over to gasp more air, even if it felt more like he breathed sludge, from the pollution and smoke. "-- the fuck are you?" he asked, through pulls of air, before he finally looked up at her, and wiped the sweat from his face, dark hair plastered to his forehead.

"This isn't a place for you."

"No? Then let's get outta here," the "soldier" replied cheerfully, casually leaving his question unaddressed. "This place sucks." Not waiting for him to fully catch his breath, she leaned in and took him by the elbow, trying to pull him down the alley.

"No shit," he gasped, and looked around, before she started to drag him down the alleyway.

Which, considering Mitchell Hundred's health? He's winded as soon as they begin, and he looked around, being drug around was probably not on the plan for his brain -- or his benefactors -- tonight. He grimaced as he did so, when an explosion ripped close by, the building on their right shuddered.

"Fuck -- Careful! Where are we going?"

The explosion made Paprika jump, but it didn't seem like the place was going to come down on their heads immediately, thank goodness. She glanced back over her shoulder, but not directly at him. "Where do you want to go?" she asked.

Mitchell himself jumped at another one, and held his hands over his head, to try and keep the dust off.

"Home? Shit --" he coughed. "DC? It doesn't fucking matter, they're everywhere."

DC... For a second, she blanked on what that could stand for. De Chima? Washington, DC? (Daedalus Collector?) She wasn't terribly familiar with either city, but she'd seen pictures of Washington, even if she'd never been there herself. That should work.

Ahead of them, the alley narrowed, blocked off by a half-rotten wooden fence. Paprika slowed to a stop and let go of Mitch's arm, narrowing her eyes at it. "Ah... that's no good." To be honest, she wasn't completely sure if it was her mind or the dreamer's that had put it there. But, nothing she couldn't handle.

"Welp. Only one way through here, I guess," she said. Without waiting for protest, she darted forward and bounded up the fence, one, two steps, and then her arms were over. From there she pulled herself over, heavy combat boots scrabbling against the wood for a second until she could get her legs over. With a grunt, she disappeared behind the fence. The thunk of rubber on concrete followed, and her voice calling back to him, "It's clear! Hurry up!"

She was expecting a hell of a lot from a guy who routinely would jetpack himself into chainlink fences. Mitchell looked at the fence, and then behind them, and then back to the fence. This wasn't going to work, was it?

"Ah..." he said, his voice hesitant. "I'm not sure..." he added, and he was winded, which really said all it needed to, about how likely it was that Mitchell Hundred was going to be able to get over this fence alright. He looked back again, and hoped that he could...

"Alright, here goes," he started up, his feet slipped more, and his feet slipped on the fence, while he tried in vain to hoist himself up, and he finally managed to clear it with another few moments of struggling, and a few 'fucks' that filled the air. When he got his legs over, he didn't so much jump, as he did fall on his ass, before he stood, practically limping from the damage.

"Shit, sorry, I don't know why you're here -- or bothering with this."

"Don't worry about it. You did good," Paprika said, offering a slender hand to help him up. But now, the hand wasn't gloved. Actually, her whole outfit had changed, back to her usual red shirt and jeans, and without the helmet her red hair was on full display.

The environment had changed, too. Behind them, on the other side of the fence, the storm kept raging, dark and furious, but now the sounds of thunder and explosions had gone muted, distant. On this side, it was quieter, the sort of calm that comes right before dawn. And indeed, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon.

And ahead of them, its dome just beginning to come into the light, stood the U.S. Capitol building. Paprika knew basically what it looked like; it was up to Mitch's memory to fill in the more specific details.

[semi-open] dreamgirl

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