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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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I've never seen a person in a top hat around these parts.
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CAN'T IMAGINE WHY!
[He's going to help her fight the gargoyles with little finger-laser blasts. Pew pew!]
IT'S VERY FASHIONABLE!
[It hasn't been fashionable in like a hundred years, Bill.
If the man in plaid is still talking down there, Bill's going to give him a Serious Sideeye.]
WHAT'S HIS PROBLEM?
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[And if you run into him later, the man in plaid bears a striking resemblance to Sam Winchester. She really doesn't seem that put out, though. She likes Sam tapping his foot and linefacing in her dreams.
Aha, almost to the top! The hair has darkened from blonde to a pretty russet red, and she hooks her arms over the window.] So do you visit dreams often?
[She really isn't fussed at this point. Her dream is a fun place, and as long as he isn't messing with it it's all good.]
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[Bill leans to get a better view of dream!Sam, eye narrowed with the precise look of a child who has been denied ice cream one too many times.]
OH, ALL THE TIME! IT'S NOT EVERY DAY SOMEONE TALKS BACK, THOUGH!
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[Snort. She pulls herself up on the windowsill.] Do you like it when people talk back, or do you just like to visit?
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[Bill reduces until he's pixie-sized, small enough to be carried in a person's hand, and alights beside her on the windowsill. He openly scoffs at the next question.]
KID, IF THERE'S ONE THING I LIKE, IT'S SMARTS AND CURIOSITY. AND SILLY STRAWS. BUT THAT LAST ONE'S BESIDE THE POINT!
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[It's fun having someone to talk to in here. Sam doesn't count, he's just a minor chimerical dream creation. As is the princess she's supposedly rescuing. She peers inside. There's a woman with russet red hair just knitting in a chair, a mountain of blue wool beside her.]
You'd think if you gave a princess enough hair and thread she could rescue herself.
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[Bill tips his hat to the princess... whatever shape it's decided to be at the moment.]
HEY, TOOTS. TRY KNITTING A LADDER! YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER UP HERE!
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"But I'm hungry!"]
That's not very princess-like. [Though Katie's expression is suddenly wary, even if she shrugs. She's in no real hurry to continue. Besides, a question occurs, and she turns to Bill.] Oh! Have you ever visited princess dreams before?
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[A click of his fingers appears a bountiful feast in the princess' lap: a slice of Hawaiian pizza, salad dressing, and a handful of gummy worms on top. Human food! He's so good at this.]
I WORK WITH WHAT I CAN GET, YA KNOW?
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[She watches as the Princess looks happy at her newfound feast. It's probably a little disturbing the way the Princess unhinges her jaw and shovels it all down with the help of some needle sharp teeth. Uh.]
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THE HABSBURGS ARE A FAMILY THAT MADE SOME PRET-TY INTERESTING MARRIAGE CHOICES TO KEEP THE BLOOD ROYAL! THEY WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN MY FIRST PICK, BUT I WORK WITH WHAT I'VE GOT!
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[The princess turns a mournful look at them both. "I'm still hungry!" Katie twitches, then reaches in to take hold of shutters nailed on the inside, pulling them shut.]
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[Pulling the shutters closed bumps Bill forward on the sill a little bit-] - WHOA, HEH. - [but he's not that concerned about falling, anyway.]
OUCH! USE HER HAIR AS A LADDER THEN LEAVE HER HIGH AND DRY! I SEE HOW IT WORKS WITH YOU, HEARTBREAKER!
[Bill winks to show he's kidding. It's a lot less effective with only one eye.]
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I'm a terrible person, I know. But I don't think it's very smart to rescue nightmares. She can stay in there until she feels better.
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[He floats off of the windowsill, the better to hover at the girl's shoulder like a weird parrot.]
SHE DIDN'T SEEM THAT BAD, BUT YOU'RE THE BOSS! WHERE ARE WE HEADED NEXT?
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[She won't mention the princess again, but Katie knows the signs. She's been having dreams about creatures that devour everything of late. Best to go elsewhere.]
Hmm. I suppose we could explore and see what else my dream is made of. Perhaps there's a forest. You want to come?
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[Bill snaps his fingers and a giant floating white glove appears near them, palm up, gallantly offering itself to be used as an elevator down the tower.]
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So what's your name?
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I'M BILL! DREAMSCAPE ADVENTURER! WHAT ABOUT YOU?
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[She peers over the edge of the hand and yells down at Mr Plaid down there.] Hey, Sam! What's my name?
["Katie, that looks even less safe than the hair. Get down!"]
You have dangerous hands, apparently. [She giggles.] But I suppose that's my name.
no subject
Somewhere, Pine Tree is waking up in a cold sweat, but here it's all princesses and soft targets and people who can appreciate how to have fun. This may not have been Bill's Plan A, but it's turning out to be a very entertaining fallback.]
HAHA, YOU BET I DO! LIVE A LITTLE, SAMMY!
[It's pointless to talk to dream constructs, but people trying to impose rules on his perfectly nice hand elevator get under Bill's skin.]
NICE TO MEET YOU, KATIE!
[The hand bumps against the ground and extends its thumb as a ramp down.]
WHAT DO YOU SAY WE FIND OUR FOREST AND PAIN THE TOWN RED?
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[She jump-hops down the ramp and turns to wave both hands at the Sam dream. Look, she's fine, gosh.] You must see some very interesting dreams. What's the weirdest?
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[Bill briefly turns ultrapink, a color only bees and art students can see. It's very bright.]
HAHA, GOOD QUESTION! EVER SEEN WHAT THE HUMAN MIND DOES WHEN DOSED CONTINUOUSLY WITH LYSERGIDE FOR A HUNDRED AND SEVENTY THREE DAYS? I'LL GIVE YOU A HINT: IT'S A PARTY!
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Sounds fun! What's lys--ly-- laserguide?
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