the devil in the details

[isocelesmonster]

Who: Bill Cipher
Broadcast: none
Action: Anywhere in the fleet
When: The night of the 22nd, and ongoing.

Although ostensibly the Golden has a new crew member, there's no new person in attendance at any meals. No new faces in the hall, nothing additional in the laundry. One of the standard crew cabins has been sealed up as tight as a tomb, the brass nameplate on the door unhelpfully scratched out with something sharp. No noises at all come from inside.

It'd take a careful eye to notice the only other change: the same sharp instrument has been used to carve little eyes of providence, no bigger than a fingernail, in strategic public places around the ship. They're shallow markings, not deep enough to interfere with any of the working parts of the craft, and no great works of art - each little scrap of graffiti is a matter of five lines at most. But they're there - and if sometimes the way the gold of the metal hull glints in the pupil is strangely canny, it's probably nothing to be worried about.

(It's not that Bill doesn't care about the flesh puppets that make up his new crew - oh, he does, they're all going to get very careful scrutiny over the coming days - but more important is finding out what his new playground looks like.)

When the fleet sleeps, their minds open and blossom like night-blooming flowers, each one illuminating a new section of the shared dreaming plane. For all of their poetry, few humans realize that the state of dreaming is as real an exploration as whatever meaningless actions they take while awake. It's irrelevant to their survival, most days, so evolution has never sought to provide that particular revelation. They're a young species. Five senses, auditory languages, limited psychic potential, and as far as they know when they dream they're just watching random electrical impulses fire in their brains. Ha!

(There's an expression about a one-eyed man's status in a land of the blind, and Bill intends to make it a reality.)

He steps sideways out of the material world into the closest dream as easily as a three-dimensional being can move along any of their limited axes. He makes himself invisible, at first, just to get his bearings.

[Bill is visiting dreams, as a way of saying hello! His permissions post for this ability is here. I am treating this ability on an opt-in basis. If you didn't give me the okay, he won't be spying on your character at all tonight ~but where's the fun in that~?]
ZOGSLFTS GSRH DVZP ZMW RWOV GSVNV

RH ML NLIV BRVOWRMT YFG Z WIVZN

DSVM NLIMRMT GZPVH BLF UILN NB GSIZOO

YV TOZW R OVG BLF DZPV ZG ZOO

Comments

[axiomed]

[ Charles is having his usual dream, being at the school and watching the children - the mutants - wander through the corridors. Occasionally, there'd be a teacher like Hank or someone new pass by with a nod. Sometimes, Charles can feel the phantom press of Erik's hands against his shoulders or the flutter of Raven's smile.

But he doesn't look back. ]

[isocelesmonster]

[Oh, this one! He made an open post recently on the network, and Bill knew immediately the kind of way he wanted to introduce himself. "Thoughts, secrets, desires, the mind is an open book." Well, he's not wrong!

Bill changes his shape, copying one of the littler students at random. His feet hit the floor without a sound. He lets Xavier walk until he turns a corner, then becomes visible in the moment that the previous hallway is out of his line of sight.

He adds a black bow tie to his new form at the last minute. No point in sacrificing fashion for secrecy. Then he pops around the corner and meanders with the rest of the crowd, and watches how the students address their caretaker. Wariness? Gratitude? Caution?]

[axiomed]

[ The children glance at him, but don't seem to pay him much heed as they head off to their respective classes. Their doors open and close randomly. There's a constant low murmur of noise, that doesn't sound like it's coming from the children, but from all around - voices of men, women, children - all tangled up together. ]

[isocelesmonster]

[Ugh, it's so pastoral. Nothing to be gained from these, then - they're just background radiation, not emitting isotopes. Might as well be furniture. Then again, most real humans are like that anyway!

Bill winds through the crowd of students, humming to himself and not bothering to hide the ripples he makes in their ebb and flow. In a normally-shaped mindscape, a central hallway like this will lead to endless rooms, each containing a memory. He eases open a door at random - surprisingly heavy when you're wearing the illusion that you're a little stick-armed human kid. Any memory will give him a place to start, but there are some in particular he's hoping will be found in here.]

ALRIGHT, WISE GUY. YOU FOUND A "SCHOOL," USE IT TO WEED THE ANOMALIES OUT OF THE POPULATION - WHAT'S YOUR ANGLE?

[axiomed]

[ The door creaks open to reveal two people talking to each other. Not verbally, but telepathically. In fact, the older individual looks a lot like the younger. Past and present have collided as the younger talks about the pain he feels through Cerebro, through their minds.

We need you to hope again, the older Charles says, please. ]

[sonofgold]

[Alphonse often dreams of the Gate of Truth, and tonight is no different. He's back in his armor body, sitting back-to-back with his human body in the endless white expanse, with two stone doors, one facing each of his selves.]

[isocelesmonster]

[Bill doesn't go for subtlety here. There's no need to be careful. Alphonse trying to escape and putting himself in a coma - Bill's done his homework - proves that alchemy is too volatile for anything serious. The kid himself is naive and sweet, if not a little codependent. It's pretty easy to get him to divulge information.

He pops into the dream close enough to try to flick Al on the ear, a bright spot of yellow on the infinite, peaceful white.]

I'D SAY YOU'VE GOT A BORING MIND, KID, BUT I'M TRYING TO A-VOID IT! HAHA!

[Bill has the world's most annoying voice so. Sorry about that.]

[sonofgold]

Hey! [Al- both the armor and the boy- jerked in shock at the sound of another voice and stood up, but only the flesh and blood body looked around for the source of the noise, frowning.] ... You're not the Truth. Who are you?

[isocelesmonster]

THE TRUTH? DEPENDS!

[Bill floats up to peer at the armor Al. The little triangle is barely the size of the stern helmet, and quickly moves into what most people would consider "personal space." Is it really just an empty metal bucket in there? Wow!]

WHAT IS TRUTH?

[This question has several possible meanings. Which one Bill intends at the moment is anyone's guess.]

[goldenglasses]

[Honestly, out in space, it was hard to know for certain the date back home, but still Vash knew an anniversary was slowly creeping up on him. It's been on his mind and like every year haunting his dreams.

As most nightmares go it doesn't start off feeling like a nightmare. The opposite in fact. It was nothing grand. Just a man living in a large city and earning his keep at a small restaurant taking out the trash and washing dishes.

The people in this city of millions, smiling and kind. They were so kind. Even to a scruffy stranger like himself. Part of Vash wants to sink into this role that he knows so well. He was happy here-- no, is happy here. So why does he feel so on edge and his arm having an odd itch to it.

He knows this place. These people. They were... dead are so full of life. Every part of it. So full of life and happy.

Vash steps out to take the trash out and there he sees it. The Plant facility looming in the distance under the twin suns. That's where he would be waiting.] No. No. No. No. No.

[He puts the trash down and is walking towards the Plant before he even realises it. Why? Why can he never stop what happens?]

Hey, Vash! [A small group of boys wave at him.] Don't forget! You promised ice cream after your meeting! No apples this time.

[A flash and he sees that young, friendly teasing face under a pile of rubble. Vash turns away. He can't let that happen again. He won't go to that meeting. The kids call after him to hurry back and play again as he walks off.

The massive city of July. He had to leave. The tall buildings built from nothing but hard work on a harsh, unforgiving planet seem to close in around him. He knew this city, yet every turn that should have lead him out brings him closer to the giant protective glass bulb of the Plant facility. His arm burning more and more with each step.]

No, not again. Please. Not again. I don't want to go there! [He doesn't remember exactly what happens, but it's bad. The people he walks by smile at him and the closer he gets the more they flash into ghostly images. Bleeding, broken, and starved faces flash at him. Happy eyes turn accusingly at him as he moves past.]

[isocelesmonster]

[Aw hecky yes, this is the good stuff. Real nightmares! And this one feels like a recurrer, too. Neat! Should he make this worse? Oh man he's so tempted to make this worse. How many people does Bill really need to win over? Not that many, right?

Sigh.

He puts his completely metaphorical shoulder into the magic of the dream and pulls it to a halt. Everything but Vash himself pauses, as if frozen in time. Then he floats up out of the ground as if on an invisible elevator. He's already leaning on his cane, examining his imaginary fingernails.]

SUNSHINE, PLEASE. YOU'D BE BREAKING MY HEART IF I HAD ONE.

[Okay, the little triangle can't entirely stop the eye-roll he puts in. It's not that he has absolutely no regard for human life...

No, wait, yes it is. It's exactly that thing.]

I hope that worked for the type of nightmare you were hoping for

[goldenglasses]

[That... was new. Vash is still stuck in the haze of the dream. Not completely remembering the way this goes, yet knowing that it is not suppose to happen like this.

The bustle of life July has comes to a sudden halt. Yet his arm still burns and that looming feeling doesn't lift.

And the small triangle rising from the ground is not helping.]

Wha-- who? It doesn't matter. I have to get out of the city.

[Can't be distracted. He has to get out. If he doesn't something bad, really bad, will happen. He just needs to get as far from here as possible.]

it is perfect i love it 8D bill's just. striving hard to be the worst person ever over here.

[isocelesmonster]

[The little triangle seems to be in no particular hurry. Unimaginable dread is kind of his jam. He'd be rolling around in it like a pig in mud if there wasn't work to do.]

WHAT'S THE RUSH?

[He lets the cane vanish and pulls out a colorful, glossy tourist's map.]

I HEAR JULY'S NICE THIS TIME OF YEAR! WHAT MONTH IS IT AGAIN?

[Wait, no, it's June right now.

Eh, close enough.]

[flickerflash]

[Katie is having a marvellous time. There's this tower, you see, only it looks like it's actually made of dark blue panelling and very hard to climb, but that's okay! Because the damsel at the top has let her hair down so Katie can scale to the top heroically, lightsaber in hand as she swings from side to side on the extra long hair-rope and slashes at occasional monsters that fly in (are those gargoyles?)

All in all, a very heroic dream and she's having a lot of fun, so don't mind the tall and disapproving guy in plaid tapping his feet at the bottom. "Katie! Get down from there before you fall."]

But I have to fix the roof--! Go hunt something!

[The tower says BIGGER ON THE INSIDE down the side, by the way. In mirror writing. Look, I don't make my dreams, I just work here.]

[isocelesmonster]

[Unrelenting horror is nice, but surreal fun is the real essence of chaos - at least in Bill's opinion.

The mirror writing is a weak enough obfuscation to actually make him frown a little. Call it a pet peeve. There are so many more interesting ways to distort language.

He appears perched on the roof of the odd tower, a pointed black hat with a wide brim floating over his top angle in place of his usual tall stovepipe.]

THREE O CLOCK, KID!

[A beam of bright light from his fingertip shoots a hole in the wing of a random monster that was indeed approaching from Katie's three o clock and sends it spiraling. Would she have gotten that one on her own? Doesn't matter.]

[flickerflash]

[Katie jumps at the unexpected voice, but she's distracted from her startlement as the light sears through a gargoyle's wing and it screeches and flaps pathetically all the way down to the ground. The man in plaid jumps aside from its fall neatly and continues his lecturing. "That's exactly what I'm talking about! If you--"]

Shush. [She says it pretty comfortably, and Katie has stopped climbing to swing lazily on her makeshift rope, blinking up at Bill with the greatest of curiosity. Her eyes are slitted green, like a cat's.]

Are you having fun?

[No other monsters come close, flying in circles above the tower. How nice of them to stop attacking so they can hold a conversation.]

[isocelesmonster]

[So. A lucid dreamer, or someone taught her to be one. Weird kind of question, though!]

SURE, ALMOST ALWAYS! DON'T LET ME STOP YOU, EITHER!

[wolfehawke]

[Adalwolfe hasn't had a dream since he arrived in the Fleet, or at least not one he's remembered. When he sleeps his mind is a blank slate and his consciousness rattles around in it like a prisoner. It's still restful for his mind; he's not more tired after having slept, at any rate, but with the Fade being so far off (he imagines) he can't get there to actually have any dreams of substance.

So he builds Kirkwall in his mind, stone by stone, starting from the harbor with its great chains and weeping twins. They're larger than life, but what in a dream isn't? He starts on Darktown next, all the little tunnels and passages that lead to every point in the city. He can't populate it, though. No beggars, no destitute gamblers, no whores or urchins working corners or running in the alleys. It's Kirkwall, but it doesn't have the vitality of the city. He can't feel the vague hum of life that is other people here, cut off from the expanse of the Fade as he understands it.

Oh well. At least that means no demons too, doesn't it?]

200 million years later, it's me, and i am so sorry.

[isocelesmonster]

[A little bright spot of yellow appears high in the sky over the town, like a new star peeking over the horizon. It looks more like a child's drawing come to life than a living thing: little stringy black arms and legs dangling off of a flat triangle. In a hat. Can't forget the hat.]

YIKES. WELL, THIS IS CHEERFUL!

[Bill floats over to one of the giant, crying statues and flicks it on the nose. Ding!]

DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE THE TYPE, BIRDIE!

No worries!

[wolfehawke]

[Or not. He knows he didn't bring... whatever that is, here. A living pictogram? A crude drawing of a Nevarran temple with doodled details. It's mindbending that a drawing could actually come to life. Or it would be, if he wasn't aware he was dreaming.]

The type for what?

[He'll skip the 'how did you get in here? who are you?' part. The how and the why are obvious and intrinsically linked.

Demon.]

[isocelesmonster]

[The triangle spins, in a click of rearranging bricks like a puzzle solving itself.]

HEYY, THERE YOU ARE! I THOUGHT I'D HAVE TO LOOK HARDER. YOU'VE REALLY BEEN BUSY!

[One little black arm makes a sweeping gesture to the city laid out beneath them.]

[tallasaking]

[Tyrion dreams of naked women, a bottle of wine, and all of King's Landing stretching out as far as the eye can see. He can be found in a bed overlooking it all, the women kissing and writhing against him, and one pouring wine into his mouth.

What, he's a hedonist. Leave him be.]

200 million years later, it's me, and i am so sorry. first tag takes the longest.

[isocelesmonster]

[Leave him be? Nah.

Yet another naked woman is perched on the end of the bed, away from the huddle, swinging her feet like a bored child. Don't ask where she pulled the pocketwatch that she keeps checking from.]

HEY, HOW ABOUT WE MOVE THIS ALONG? BELIEVE IT OR NOT, I'VE SEEN THIS ONE ALREADY AND I KNOW HOW IT ENDS.

Re: 200 million years later, it's me, and i am so sorry. first tag takes the longest.

[tallasaking]

[Dream Tyrion looks up, astonished, right before everything vanished quite abruptly, leaving just the stone throne room and the iron throne in the far end.

Then behind the naked woman, a sharp voiced response came through.] Who are you, and what are you doing here?

[isocelesmonster]

[When the bed vanishes out from under her, the woman stays floating. She looks down in surprise at the change, though, and snaps her watch shut.]

HEY, HEY, EAGER TO PLEASE! I LIKE IT!

[Her form melts like putty, a sick blend of brown and red. It slides and pours into the floor, where it fills out an invisible mold: two little legs, then yellow bricks and angles, then arms and an eye. The last drop fills out a little top hat, which Bill reaches to adjust before turning around.

He's only about two feet tall, hat included. Congratulations, Tyrion. You get to loom.]