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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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[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.
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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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[A Y7 rating can no longer put a damper on the incredible life lessons Bill has to share with the youth.]
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No matter how boring and unimaginative they are? What if they're a tax accountant, or a child psychologist?
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[Bill chuckles.]
A LITTLE OF THIS WOULD HAVE THAT ACCOUNTANT GOING OUTSIDE WITH YOU TO TURN CARTWHEELS IN HIS UNDERWEAR! HE'D MAKE UP NAMES FOR ALL OF HIS NUMBERS AND IMAGINE CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN THEM! IT'S INSTANT FUN!
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How hard is it to find?
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[Bill taps his finger between his eye and bow tie.]
IT DEPENDS ON WHERE, AND WHEN! IN THE FLEET, PROBABLY PRETTY HARD... HEY!
[The little triangle flits ahead, just a few yards, and throws his arms out.]
PROBABILITREES! HEH. WHAT ARE THE ODDS?
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...yeah, that's their response. Sorry.]
That's not very helpful.
[Or maybe it just means fuck all or look don't ask us, we just dream here]
no subject
[He floats back, more subdued, to hang out over Katie's shoulder.]
THE TREES DON'T LIKE PUNS, [he reports.
Not that this will stop him. In any way, at all.]
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[A neon marquee arrow appears in mid-air, flashing and pointing to Bill. He basks in it, modest as ever.]
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[She says it with a wide grin, but she's genuinely curious.]
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[He sprouts more angles with a cartoonish stretching noise, and becomes a flat little yellow parallelogram instead of a flat little yellow triangle. His eye, tie, and hat relocate themselves to his new center line.]
BUT WHY MESS WITH PERFECTION?
[Bloop. He's back to normal. It's a relief - having four corners feels skin-crawly.]
YOU COULD BE ANYTHING YOU WANTED IN HERE, TOO, BUT I DON'T SEE YOU SPROUTING ANY ADDITIONAL NOSES!
no subject
I would think extra legs would be much more fun. Or wings! Flying around wherever I choose. Extra noses just sounds like everything would be much more stinky.
[Her sense of smell is sensitive enough as it is.]
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[Bill takes off his hat and rummages inside. He retrieves a handful of sparkling dust, and tosses it in Katie's general direction.]
THINK OF A WONDERFUL THOUGHT~
[That's the first few bars of "You Can Fly," from the animated Peter Pan movie, yes. He's a Disney character, it's fine.]
LIKE THE FACT THAT HUMANS HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT HOW FLEXIBLE THE MECHANISMS OF INTERACTION GOVERNING THE MOVEMENTS OF BODIES WITH MASS ARE~
[Please stop singing, Bill. These lyrics do not scan.]
no subject
I bet he would be extra grumpy if he saw me floating around with no safety net. [She doesn't sound worried about this in the slightest. Positively gleeful, in fact.]
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[Bill jams his hat back on his top angle and floats up another ten feet. His eye is a mischievous curved shape.
Here's the trick: the glitter does nothing, and Bill's telekinesis will only get her a few feet off of the ground at first. How well Katie can fly under her own power after that is a calculated test.]
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