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isocelesmonster) wrote in
driftfleet2016-06-22 04:37 am
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Entry tags:
the devil in the details
Who: Bill Cipher
Broadcast: none
Action: Anywhere in the fleet
When: The night of the 22nd, and ongoing.
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
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
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1/2
Bill grabs Vash's hand in a surprisingly strong grip and pulls - yanks them both out of this dreamscape entirely, through an aperture in the fabric no bigger than a quarter. It's bizarre and disorienting, but not painful: neither of their bodies are real in here anyway.
They both pop back into shape on the other side of some intangible barrier. The facility, the suns, and the city of July are all gone, and the two dream-hoppers hang weightless in a sparkling nebula. It's a great view. Shame about that hard vacuum.
Bill lets go, then, and spreads his arms. A little showman's cane pops into his hand to aid him in the gesture - ta da!]
HERE WE ARE! WIDE OPEN SPACE! FURTHER FROM JULY THAN ANY HUMAN FROM YOUR WORLD'S EVER BEEN!
2/2
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Thank you. [Of course now that his mind is off the overwhelming feeling of doom its trying to catch up with him. Space is lonely. He won't like space, but then the "bad" thing won't happen.
Right now, he doesn't want to focus on reality. Happy to just be in space for a bit.]
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[The little triangle leans on his cane.]
MIND TELLING ME WHAT ALL THAT WAS ABOUT, NOW THAT I'VE PUT MYSELF ON THE LINE FOR IT?
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Just a feeling, that if I went in there the whole city would be destroyed.
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[Cities get destroyed all the time when he goes into them!]
WHAT ABOUT THOSE BIG LIGHTBULBS?
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[In space. No wait, not in space. On the planet. He can't be in space. As Vash's mind starts picking apart the logic and reality of the dream Bill may notice the dream becoming a bit unstable. Someone may be starting to wake up. Or at least becoming a bit more of a lucid dreamer.]
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[Oh no you don't! Bill grabs the edges of the dream and holds them down to try to keep it from dissolving. This is not one of his strong suits, but if Vash is teetering between waking up and just realizing he's dreaming, Bill would vastly prefer the latter.]
STAY HERE, KID, I'M NOT DONE YET.
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I'm dreaming.
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HEYYY, GIVE THE MAN A PRIZE! HOW ABOUT ... HALF A PUPPY!
[He snaps his fingers and the head, shoulders, and front legs of a very enthusiastic terrier drops at Vash's feet. It seems untroubled by its state, and barks at nothing in particular.]
1/2
2/2
Nice puppy. I hope that didn't hurt.
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[Bill's eye has gone back to being an eye, and he pops up directly behind Vash again.]
WHAT WAS YOUR BIG CLUE? IT WAS THE SPACE THING, WASN'T IT?
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[Mostly it was the lack of kaboom that destroys July. Not that he would admit that.]
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[Bill snaps his fingers and drops down some furniture from nowhere: A chaise lounge for Vash and a high-backed armchair for Bill. He settles into it, and sprouts a clipboard and a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles.
Don't ask how he's wearing glasses with no nose or ears and only one eye.]
SO. TELL ME ABOUT YOUR MOTHER.
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Rem? Well, I suppose she wasn't really my mom, but she was- [Vash shakes his head as if the action will shake the haze from his mind to force out the unfocused dream logic trying to cloud it.]
I know what this is. It's nothing that can be resolved. And it certainly had nothing to do with my mother.
[Vash won't notice right away, but Bill might. As his mind thinks about Rem, red geranium petals start to drift around them. Being in space doesn't seem to matter to these petals in a breeze.]
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[Bill looks up briefly at the flower petals - huh - and then starts jotting something down on his clipboard.]
WHAT I MEAN IS THAT IT'S NOT RESOLVED FOR YOU. EMOTIONALLY! YOU'RE ALL BENT OUT OF SHAPE OVER IT!
[To punctuate this, the chairs they're both sitting in go distinctly bendy, like one of Salvador Dali's melting clocks. Bill doesn't look up as the back of his chair crooks to a ninety-degree angle, but the way the cushion on Vash's is now trying to creep vertically up the wall might cause him more of an issue.]
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[He's in space right now. Not just in this dream. Far away from his planet maybe someone from... from... the fleet. Project SEEDs. No, wait, not project SEEDs. From the-- maybe someone could-- the fleet--
And just like that the thought slips away in the dream. His seat trying to slip away as well also helps to distract him as he jumps off the couch.]
Of course not. It can't be resolved.
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[Definitely more.]
JUST THINK OF ME AS A FRIEND, OR A GUIDE! I GOT YOU OUT OF THAT NIGHTMARE, DIDN'T I?
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And yeah. Thanks for that. [Although part of him isn't so sure he should be allowed to escape the memory of what he did.] Why'd you do that for me anyway?
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[Bill floats out of his chair and plucks the professor spectacles from his face. He tosses them over his shoulder and floats over to Vash. One of Bill's little stick-figure arms stretches to twice its resting length to loop around the man's shoulders in a companionable way.]
YA LOOKED LIKE YOU NEEDED IT!
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Thanks. Maybe I'll actually wake up feeling like I slept today.
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Unless the ball is suppose to be going to fast to catch I can change the tag!
ha ha nah it's catchable he's just being obnoxious
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if they shake on this feel free to BS that the implant cancelled out as much/as little as you want
It's fine! Teach Vash a lesson about being even more careful with what he says.
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