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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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WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS! I'M NOT YOU, I'M YOUR FRIEND!
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[He's not sure he follows, but he's also not sure it matters as this is all a dream anyway. Isn't it? So after a brief sigh he resigns himself and opens up a bit in a way he wouldn't if he was awake.]
That was July. Right before it was destroyed.
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[Friendly shoulder pat!]
AND YOU WERE THERE, HUH? THAT HAD TO HAVE BEEN ROUGH!
[He barely manages to not sound outright gleeful. Sympathetic. Do sympathetic. Right.]
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A man's voice echoes from somewhere. Amused in tone, but with malicious intent hidden underneath.
Oh, hey Vash.
Vash clasps his hands over his ears as if that could somehow stop something that was all in his head.] No! I don't want to think about this!
[He didn't want to forget those people, but did he really need to relive that moment night after night?]
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Bill makes a frustrated growl. A pulse of heaviness, of quiet, emanates from his edges, putting them back into muffled silence. The world may keep moving, but they're in a bubble apart.
Ugh, he'll have to talk Sunshine back down from the panic room now. Again.]
BUDDY, HEY, FOCUS.
[Bill floats down to be in front of Vash, blocking the view.]
IT'S JUST A DREAM! I'M NOT GONNA LET ANYTHING GET TO YA HERE!
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[It's a riddle, and Bill allows himself a quiet laugh and forges on ahead instead of providing the answer.]
I SAID I WAS A FRIEND, DIDN'T I?
[He reaches with his glowy cane to poke the center of Vash's forehead, just gently. Boop.]
YOU GOTTA LISTEN BETTER! FRIENDS HELP EACH OTHER OUT!
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[Vash doesn't stop the boop to his head. Sensing no malice in the action. Blinking once when the cane connects.]
Alright then. [He gives up trying to make sense of this.] What's my new friend's name?
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[It's a normal name for a deeply weird guy. He said it earlier, but that was before Vash was lucid - you've got to be a little patient.]
AND YOU'RE VASH! AND THIS IS STILL A DREAM, SO NO NEED TO WORRY! I'VE GOT YOUR BACK!
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Yes! That's right. You're Bill.
...and a triangle.
[Above average intelligence doesn't always translate in dreams.]
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[He's going to reach out to ruffle Vash's hair.]
AND WE BOTH SOUND LIKE WE COULD USE A FRIEND!
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You don't need a friend like me, but thanks for stopping this dream.
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...EVEN IF YOU ARE SINGLE-HANDEDLY PROPPING UP THE HAIR GEL INDUSTRY, IT FEELS LIKE. YIKES!
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[Vash has decided to hit "fuck it" and will be happy to talk hair care to a triangle if it gets his thoughts away from... other things.]
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Bill's big eye looked simple, even cute a moment ago. At the certain angle he turns towards now, it becomes a grotesque bulge of veins and vitreous, held fast by wormlike threads of wet flesh, split by by a a mouthlike ring of pupil that gapes and contracts.
It doesn't look like an eye grown and developed by nature so much as a thing assembled, grafted together in the medium of cytoplasm and blood by a deeply unnatural hand whose understanding of each part went no further than the very surface.]
YOUR ATTEMPTS TO DIVERT ME AWAY FROM THIS ARE SO TRANSPARENT THEY'RE PRACTICALLY SARAN WRAP! IF YOU HAD ANY IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON RIGHT NOW I'D BE INSULTED! AS IT IS, I'M STARTING TO GET A LITTLE I͏̨R̶҉R̶̕͠Į̸̷̛T̵͏̷̕À̷̴̕͜T̀͘͡E̴̸̢͢͢D̵͟, SUNSHINE.
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Vash's guard sky rockets up and the part his subconscious is controlling goes black around the two of them.
And yet the man himself smiles kindly. Almost as if he doesn't realize that he's pissing Bill off. He chuckles in shy embarrassment.]
Oh? Sorry about that. What can I say? We were trying to steer this dream away from the way it started. I thought getting off topic was the way to go.
So what did you want? I should be nicer to someone helping me out like this. [Depending on the what this thing wants.]
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[Bill sees the subconscious go dark and knows he's lost this one. Doesn't mean the fun is over, though! He blinks, and although nothing about him really changes on the surface, his eye loses its unquantifiable eeriness and goes back to being friendly and bright.]
TO BE HONEST, IT'S PURE CURIOSITY! WHAT GETS A GUY SO TWISTED UP OVER ONE LITTLE CITY?
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[He's not even being sarcastic. The humans of his world only ended up on their planet as they had fled Earth due to pollution and over crowding. Whatever this was could be from the same situation and a city that large is a small one.]
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It was something he wasn't comfortable talking about awake. Let alone when his mind is having trouble focusing. So he agrees with Bill in hopes of moving on.]
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[Bill cackles, and the tinny, nasal laugh seems to bounce off the walls.]
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You got a point there. Humans do tend to do that sometimes. [There. Not really denying or confirming he isn't human. That works.]
So what are you then my new pointy, yellow friend?
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[Bill lounges in mid-air, leaning on his little cane.]
WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU THAT WHEN YOU WON'T TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW?
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I guess that's because I'm confused. What do you want? A free lunch? I think we could dream up one of those! I had a dream about raining donuts once. It was one of my favorite dreams!
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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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