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6250/The Vizier of Ennui
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- Cliff Steele has posed:
Cliff wakes with a start on the deck of the ship. An unknown period of time has past, and he found himself in some freaky castle fighting demon hounds with the justice league. "Freaky Shit..." he muttered to himself as he saw the sun set and the stars slowly come out. Cliff rubbed his eyes in disbelief as he saw a giant pair of eyes staring through the clouds and stars down on the tiny ship...
Far away, the Vizier of Ennui, one of the powers of the Dreamlands, reaches out his hand and mists and clouds begin to gather and the weather started getting rough.
"Oh fuck no, none of this three hour tour shit..." he looked at the captain as the Brazier started to light, "We need to get out of here. Stat."
"Unless you can get out and push," the Captain said sardonically, "I dont see how..."
"Don't mind if I do." He grabbed a rope and tied it to the end of the ship, slowly lowering himself off the edge of the ship and began to kick, faster and faster. It started slow at first but the ship actually managed to increase in speed.
Meanwhile, as more and more dreamers began to appear, lightning pealed in the darkening sky and color slowly drained from the area, tinting the whole dreamlands in shades of black and white.
- Colette O'Connail has posed:
Oh no, not again.
Famously, (and inexplicably) these are the last words (according to Douglas Adams) of a whale spontaneously brought into existance high above the planet Magrathea, shortly before plunging to its inevitable doom.
So too are they the thoughts that go through Colette's head as she awakens to this particular corner of the dreaming, and plummets to her inevitable annoyance to the deck of the captain's ship.
She picks herself up with a sigh. looks around, glares at a random dreamer, then demands of the captain where 'Robot Guy' as she refers to him has gone. The captain points mutely to the front of the ship.
Colette makes her way to the front, not seeing Cliff there. It takes a few moments before she notices the wake ahead of the ship, where Cliff is apparently dragging the boat faster.
"I'm not helping," Colette announces. "Fuck that. TERRY! KATE! RAVEN GUY! WHERE ARE YOU?"
- Kate Bishop has posed:
Kate has actually enjoyed the time off from this messed up lucid dream land of doom and pianos. She assumes the Brazier just hasn't lit for a while since they definitely haven't dealt at all with the core problem.
This is despite having the aid of a Chaos Cat, a Magician, and Whatever Colette is supposed to be.
I mean Kate, she is just sass and arrows so it isn't like she is the dream expert. To quote Dante, She is not Even Supposed to Be Here Today!
And yet here she is, on a boat, 'waking' up to this whole mess one more time. "Who is Guy?" she blinks a couple of times and then just slumps back where she was sitting against the mast. A sigh. "I doubt Raven is going to come save us since Terry keeps being victimized by this place to be honest...."
At least it isn't the asylum and Hawkeye is in her full kit, if slightly swashbucklery in thematics due to the dreams window dressing.
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry figures that Colette, insofar as party configuration goes, is the pugilist. She certainly seems eager to punch him every time she has the chance. It is, therefore, a boont o bring her alongg. All you have to do is get her angry enogugh to want to punch someone /else/, and you're golden!
However, this particular party has recruited another ace up its sleeve in the shape of an actual sorceress! A little sleep-over at her pocket dimension slash library (don't mind the Asgardian squatter, and do not mention 'slash' and 'library' to him in the same sentence or else some very dire consequences for the internet might arise from that), some precautions, and the intrepid adventurers set foot on the ship as if by... well. Magic.
No sooner has a particular someone hit the deck that some sort of frenzy seems to come over some of the members of the crew who do not happen to be named characters in this drama. A fiddle, out of nowhere, begins to wail a hornpipe, and the voices of the sailors sing in unison-
~Vorp's the lad, Vorp's the lad, always gay and frisky, oh!
Vorp's the lad. Vorp's the lad, to lower the rum And the whiskey, oh!
At keeping his feet he's handy, oh! his legs are rather bandy, oh!
A rollicking, frolicking son of the sea, is sailor Vorp the Dandy, oh!~
Vorpal, however, is still Vorpal, even when he is, as is the case right now, rather resplendent in his sailor clothes, and rather deft at dancing the hornpipe.
He stops whe nthe last note dies and takes off his hat. "Hm. I think we're at the right place..."
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
Nick wasn't lying yesterday when he told Hank over facetime he needed that laugh. The begining of the week had its challenges, but this particular day has a different type of challenge associated with him. But, being overseas he managed to to avoid a lot of the things that stirred up the pot.
And then Terry showed up. And then there was Amanda. And then, well... Back in the US before popping to- wherever Amanda's work. There's a bit of stirring. The plan seemed simple enough. It's much easier to focus on just one or two people who are specifically going where you want to go than constantly peeking at dreams at random and just hoping. So, when they go under, he breathes, closing his eyes. He watches. Waits.
As the view of Cliff comes into view and a statement of being in the right place, there's the slight upwards tilt to the side of his lips before shaking his head. Another breath. The scar on his lower right forearm fades and reappears to his left as the mirror image looks up. Focusing upon the dreamscape before stepping through.
There's a twist to the plane as something pushes against the backdrop from the other side before popping through. The phantasm finishes his step, leaving no trace of his entrance on the scenery behind.
The musician takes a moment to look around. Unlike Vorpal's transition into dreams His attire didn't switch out entirely. It just reversed itself. Which being it is a solid colored shirt- Well. Who can tell, really?
- Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda knows virtually none of these people. She has passing acquaintence with Terry. Even thinner with Mike. But she steps onto the ship and looks around at the faded landscape. "Cheery place," she murmurs, a wry smile on her lips as the sailors sing of Vorpal and the Cat appears like the star of Pirates of Penzance. She'd expect little else from him.
For her part, she is in her usual leathers, a hood over her blonde hair, tiny runes sewn into the edging to serve as protection. "I've never drempt in black-and-white before," she tells the Cat, glancing over to Nick. "This should be interesting."
- Cliff Steele has posed:
Cliff Steele kicks and kicks and vaguely remembers that the water is really bad to touch but keeps going anyway. He's fine, he is a brain in a jar after all. But he is relentless and so the boat starts to move faster than the storm, but this is no ordinary storm and soon the waves are as tall as small hills, ten stories tall each as the boat moves in and out of them, the captain bravely trying to steer as best he can.
The Vizier casts the dark mist into the now black and white world, slowly the ennui that is his staple picks up. Rather than orderlies made of dreams to whack or pianos to burn or sick giant musicians on, this attack is far more insideous and indirect, reaching into people's minds and memories to pull forth the thing that will elicit Ennui; depair and depression of hoplessness. He is leery of the sorceress, but hopes this attack will give him what he wants and needs; which is to steal that brazier.
Cliff is not affected by this, too lost in the effects of the sea as vision after vision has him being a robots; he is a pair of droids in Star Wars. He is a car driving across the desert sands, red eye rolling back and forth, he is the object of a song being thanked, on and on and on, but somehow he keeps kicking.
- Colette O'Connail has posed:
Colette's not touching the water. No metal body, so best not to. Not after the warnings.
On the other hand... it could be fun. She leans on the railing, staring out over the edge into the monochrome waters below. Water that causes intense, crazy dream-visions? It's basically drugs. And there's a whole ocean of it. Might be more interesting than this turgid black-and-white dream reality. What a boring dream. No doctors with glass skulls to mess with. No pianos. Just endless dreary ocean, without color or interest.
It is, to Colette, faintly reminiscent of drifting through the vastnesses of space. There wasn't a whole lot to occupy her attention back then, either. At least not after the first million years or so, when the space ship she had been inhabiting finally succumbed to the ravages of materials fatigue and micrometeorite impacts and fell apart. Then it was just darkness and distant stars. For a long, long time.
The first few thousand years there had even been a sun. It had never been particularly big in the sky; at about the size of a penny, and getting ever smaller. That was quite interesting, in some relative way. Watching it grow smaller and smaller over the decades and then centuries, until it was no bigger than any other star in the sky.
Perhaps this voyage will likewise last an eternity, with no particular signs of change. If you wait long enough though, everything does change. Over the course of mere thousands of years, you can watch the effect of parallax on the stars. They make different patterns. Clusters separate or come together, to greater or lesser degrees. You can quickly (mere millennia) start to tell which clusters of stars are just a few dozens of light-years away, and which are all the way across the galaxy. It's almost interesting.
This isn't. It's boring. But you know what? They don't make boredom like they used to. Colette remembers watching a supernova burst into a vast tapestry of colored light and then fade away to nothing, over the space of just a million years or so. That had been quite exciting, but after that there had been basically nothing for... how long? Two or three hundred million years, something like that? Now /that/ had been boring. This? This is amateur stuff by comparison.
Besides, there's Kate, and there's Terry, doing Terry things. And he's brought that... what was her name? Amanda something. The magic-person Terry had said he was going to bring. Presumably that's her over there. And there's Nick. Maybe someone's going to blow up a catacomb again. That's the kind of thing that happens when Nick's around, and that's kind of interesting. Not like staring at a sky full of stars that changes on a timescale that makes the growth of mountains look enthusiastic by comparison. Not like this voya...
Colette blinks a few times and looks around. "Uh. Is anyone else..." she starts. "Is someone fucking around?"
- Kate Bishop has posed:
"Ah there we are." as if Vorpal and the Wizards two. Wait. When did we get an Amanda.
"Vorpal. I can almost see why Raven always wants to drown you after that entrance my furry friend...." she is teasing though. Honestly she is glad he is here.
She doesn't manage to lever herself to standing though before a shadow falls over her.
As Kate sits there a teenager that has a very strong family resemblance to the archer looks down at Kate sitting leaned against the mast.
Kate blinks several times behind her shades "...u.." but the teenager just carries on "Mom...." pause "Dad... " it looks like the teen has been crying. "Dad wanted me to tell you that mom won't be coming home... there was an.. there was an accident."
Who sends a teenager to tell someone else that.
Yup someone is fucking around.
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
It hits him like a ton of bricks, because although the Cheshire cat is mischief and madness and, usually, immune to ennui, he also is impulsive and ended up canoodling with a mortal woman, and thus the Cheshire cat became a little human, too.
He may be on the deck, but he is also somewhere else as well, where there there are long corridors and bleak light coming through windows and tall, forbidding figures in black and white who ordered the world in black and white, and left him in a grey fog.
Confíteor Deo omnipoténti
et vobis, fratres,
quia peccávi nimis
cogitatióne, verbo,
ópere et omissióne:
The vaulted ceiling seemed to reach up into the infinite itself, into darkness, and the procesional of tall Brothers and Sisters who walked up and down the aisles, and up and down the naves, left the shrinking figure of Terry O'Neil feeling as if they were the living bars of a moving prison that would never open for him, that would always surround him.
mea culpa, mea culpa,
mea máxima culpa.
He glances across the pews to the only other occupant. The young man who had floored him at the creek, for saying words that no man should say to another. The glance he returned was that of pure disgust. The disgust of man and the disgust of god, mingled in one.
Ideo precor beátam Maríam semper vírginem,
omnes angelos et sanctos,
et vos, fratres,
oráre pro me ad Dóminum Deum nostrum.
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
Getting his barings and leaving the others to tend to whatever comes their way, Nick starts to focus on his part of the plan. Get Cliff and the brazier the hell out of here. Walking over to the side of the ship he caught glimpse of Cliff at, the approach slows as another figure steps in his way.
Turning his head to take a look to the figure, his eyes widen at the person staring back. She does not seem that threatening in her housekeeping attire. Hands clasped together. She is smiling to Nick. Although slightly older looking, there is no denial to a bit of resemblance to the brown haired woman before him. The jawline. The cheekbones. The blue eyes.
Well- eye. Exit points can be messy.
"...Mom?"
There is a sweet, almost complete smile except for the side missing the eye. "Hello Michael. Have you come to join me?" She doesn't wait for an answer as she collapses to the deck, Eye glazing over as blood starts to pool around the opening. Nick freezes, looking to the body below, shoulders raising in a deep breath he shouldn't have needed to take.
A different female voice echos, "You've got to do something!"
"Why won't you help us?!"
" He's not him. Don't do this. HELP US."
Sobbing. "...I'm tired, Michael."
Nick glances around, looking for the owner of the voice as it echos around him. But as it sobs away, he's left finding no trace of her.
'The long smile as he tips up the drink,
A weary look no telling what I think
But I walk up pulling out a seat
This isn't the last chance that we'll meet.-'
There's pair of voices laughing. Hearing another familiar voice, Nick glances back up, seeing both a brown haired man and a black haired man. Slightly older looking and taller than Nick, they too have seemed to have seen better days as the darker haired one's neck is slightly askew. No blood though as the pale figures seemed to have been washed clean but the 'Y' shaped stitch marks are not all that assuring.
The brown haired man holds up his drink in a toast to the visibly younger man, "You should have come with us, Mike. You'd have had a HELL of a time."
The pair start to laugh, holding up glasses of alcohol, grinning crazily as they continue to sing drunkenly
'Hey hey, bartender keep those things going
When we'll stop, there is no knowing.
Hey we're just keeping this on the level
For tonight, it is drinks with the Devillll...'
- Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda is, truth be told, one of the more mentally resilient people in the world. Good thing, really, given the weird shit she sees on a regular basis. Elder Gods? Been there. Screwed up homelife? Yep. Seen that, too... It just took a while.
She glances over her shoulder as a young man appears behind her. "*You know she's just using you, right?*" Stefan. Her brother. Dead years ago, needfully, at the hands of someone else she loved just as much. He speaks in a gypsy tongue.
"Schisse..." she sighs, her German accent overpowering the British. "*Go away, Stefan,*" she tells him, switching to Romani, the language of their birth.
"*She craves power. That's all.*" He responds in the same tongue, strutting in that overbearing way certain Eastern European men will. "*All of us -- you, me, Kurt. We're just means to an end.*"
"*Mother knows what she's doing...*"
"*Yes. She does. And she doesn't care. You'll be the one who pays, little sister. Never have a life of your own. Husband. Children...*" The man, in his black pants and white shirt, a sash at his waist, leans closer to her. "*Freedom. Adventure. A life away from this mad Circus.*"
Her eyes flare with amber power. She thrusts out her hands in an an arcane gesture. Power ripples out from her. Stefan evaporates like a whisp of black smoke, curling away from the deck.
"That's quite enough of that," she says, British accent reasserting itself with authority as she banishes the apparition. She turns to look toward the Brazier... and from it to look out over the bow. "This is a dream. And as we are each aware of it, we can control it. So... Let's find out who's behind this, shall we? See if we can't put an end to it."
Or at least try.
- Cliff Steele has posed:
Cliff Steele is kicking faster and faster and faster as the boat moves of increasingly insane speed. It is fantastic but he is lost in a dozen dreams, focusing more and more on just kicking since he can do little else.
The captain, just as affected by everyone else stops steering the ship causing it to spin in an outward sprial in larger and larger spirals, the stars leering above and their original destination in a sea that touches most any part of dream shaking and shuddering to parts unexpected and unknown. The Brazier sliding up and down on the deck, fire incrasing, thankfully still few non heroes have arrived but that is changing as more and more clouds appears slowly indicating innocents are being drawn to it.
The Vizier is quite pleased with himself, and steps through the shadows ready to take it, but then eying Amanda. He casts a large chain made of liquid night at her, "Call me the Vizier of Ennui" in answer to her question. Normally attacking six heroes at once is beyond him...well...five...since Cliff isn't in any condition to -
-CRASH-
The ship hits a rock and moves to the right, some kind of land mass appearing while the Vizier reaches for the Brazier that is sliding all over the hull.
- Cliff Steele has posed:
The Vizier is tall, over seven feet in long flowing robes of black, eyes that are black as night with pupils of souless boring gray. To look into them is to know despair. e shifts and flickers when he is not seen in the corner of the eye and to directly look into his gaze is to know Despair incarnate. He is an echo of Dream's thoughts on his sister, and takes full advantage of those fears and perceptions feeding on the dreams of those in the dreamlands that have such unfullilled needs. He is almost eternal as the endless, but seems quite solid here.
- Colette O'Connail has posed:
Colette is not getting any response to her suggestion that someone was fucking around, which only goes to make her even more convinced that someone is fucking around. Colette does not approve of this. Colette is aware she should probably try to do something about it. The only problem is she's not sure she can be bothered.
That's not the ennui speaking, that's just how she rolls.
Colette sighs, looks heavenwards and yells out "You're not making any friends here, you know!" However her directionless accusations find themselves a target when the Vizier appears. Nevertheless she doesn't redirect her attentions to him. He seems occupied with Amanda. Should she help? Nah, Amanda's supposed to be some kind of magic using type, she can probably cope. Besides, something something affairs of wizards.
Time to do something about the others, then. Might as well. Colette looks at Nick. She walks over to Nick. She considers him a while, thinking about what she knows about him, and speculates briefly on what he might be seeing and experience. She quickly concludes that she barely knows him and has no idea. She leans close to his ear, to whisper something to him.
"WAKE THE FUCK UP, NICK!"
Next she looks at Kate, thoughtfully. After a moment's consideration she gently takes Kate's hand, and places her phone in it. She loads up a video of cats reacting to cucumbers on Youtube and pushes it towards Kate's face. "Watch," she orders.
Then Vorpal. This is easy. Colette knows how to deal with Terry. She has experience. Colette punches Terry on the arm, quite hard.
"TERRY! Snap out of it." To emphasis the words, she snaps her fingers in his face. "Stop moping around and get performing! Your audience is bored to tears. Give them a show. Music! Spectacle! An extravaganza, a veritable son et lumiere! Show us what you're made of, Cat. Give us cows playing saxophones! Give us fire hydrants singing show tunes! Give us Lady Gaga riding a flaming Tyrannosaur! Give us Jung and Freud settling their differences in a battle to the death with living boxing gloves! Give us fucking... MONKEY BUTLERS ON FLYING MONOCYCLES!"
- Kate Bishop has posed:
Kate is just staring up at her older sister crying and telling her that her mom died in this depressed sort of sads. This is a moment that haunts her still. Even if it was instrumental to help make her who she is today it was a wreck of a moment.
Then there is a phone in her hand playing cat videos as her hand is pushed up to her face blocking the vision of her crying sister.
"Wut."
That is about all she manages to blurt out there before the ship hits the rock hard and everything goes sliding "Jesus.. fuck... what....." as she slides along towards the railing trying to keep ahold of Colette's phone.
Not her finest hour.
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
The black and white is replaced by black and blue- or at least it will be replaced with that, nce his flesh has had time to process that punch.
"OW! What's the big idea-" Terry says, turning to Colette. And it is Vorpal who finishes turning, rubbing his furred arm. "... ah. I see."
Green eyes fix on the Vizier of Ennui, and the Cheshire Cat lets out a low growl. His mind is the nightmare of telepaths, woe betide anyone who should try to manipulate it, for they would end up tripping balls for /days/ . It's not something he's used to, having his mind manipulated. Figures, that it would have to come under the Trojan horse of a dream.
"Vizier of Ennui? Oh how /charming!" the cheshire cat says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable "What are your other titles? Are you also the Exchequer of Existentialism? The Deacon of Dissatisfaction? Tudor of Tedium? The Whiny Little Shit of Malaise?" and suddenly dark blue inky tendrils explode from him, shadowing the area temporarily.
"You tried to shame me with my past. You think I'd crumble? You think I'd lay down and die? Oh no, not I-"
And then there is a wave of glitter, always glitter, and the glare of spotlights.
And the smell of lilacs, for some reason.
~I am what I am
I am my own special creation.
So come take a look,
Give me the hook or the ovation!~
There are places that are just a dream away, when you are in certain spaces. The deck of the ship is very different now. For starters... it is a street. It is a street, while at the same time it is a street that is suited for the deck of a ship. It is, also, extremely chic, with storefronts and locales exquisitely decorated, and with bannners strewn across the street written in Polari, of all things.
What is Vorpal's go-to idea to combat Ennui? Of course it would be a musical number. And the rhinestoned, be-feathered monstrosity that he is decked in is fairly conservative, as far as ensebles go, when compared to the rest of what surrounds him, as the members f the Perpetual Cabaret spill out onto Danny The Boat and join in
~It's my world that I want to take a little pride in,
My world, and it's not a place I have to hide in.
Life's not worth a damn,
"Til you can say, "Hey world, I am what I am!"~
Let us all remember: Colette asked for this.
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
The British clip combined with a bit of spacey banshee wasps through the scenery, striking through the corpsey crooners making for a swift death. Nick cringes at the scream "AUGH! I'M NOT ASLEEP, COLETTE!" Nick snaps back.
As the visage dissapates, Nick shakes his head. Right. Tasks. Glancing around, the phantasm moves on form starting to crawl with an shadow with each step replacing the previously felt despair with anger. Despite the ship's sway, his strides remain level as he continues towards the railing. Upon reaching it he steps on it and over. Feet firmly set on the outer side of the boat, he peers over it to Robotman hands resting on his hips. "Hey Cliff! Your UBER is here! Can you come up or do I need to come down and get you?"
- Amanda Sefton has posed:
With the pitching and rolling deck, not to mention the sudden appearance of their apparent host, Amanda lifts herself up on edritch winds so she's no longer subject to the crazed bucking of the deck. Beyond being magical, however, she's also an acrobat. Stefan wasn't being metaphorical about the Circus. The dark chain lashes out at her and she twists in the air narrow avoiding it and launching herself upward in case it decides to act all living serpent like and coil back on her.
She blinks some as Vorpal transforms the entire thing into a Gloria Gaynor production number. This... is still not the strangest thing she's ever seen in her life. But it does mean she can dispense with the classy quips her foster brother might give. Vorpal's got that covered in song.
Instead, she counters the darkness with light, incandescent whips of witchfire flowing from her fingertips as she responds to the attack against her. She sees the Vizier heading for the Brazier. Her choice is to try to get to it before him -- which would probably require opening a portal, which could, given the ritual in play, interrupt the dream entirely -- or to catch him with her fire. She opts to try the latter because it has a lot better chance of working, though a passing thought does suggest to her that, if interrupting the dream frees the innocents starting to also appear, it's not necessarily a bad sacrifice.
First things first, however. Snare Mr. SadMeister before he grabs the powerful magical artifact of unknown origin.
And, of course, when it comes to Witchfire... only Hellfire is harder to extinquish.
- Cliff Steele has posed:
Where to begin?
The Dreamlands? The Dreamlands have woken. It reacts to the symbols of mortal dreamers and this is chaos incarnate. A giant pale hand comes down, seeming to put this chunk of dream back where it belongs so chaotically far from everything not QUITE paying as much attention as the caretaker should note, but what was once a sea shifts and blurs and the hand is gone, the ship in the harbor of a giant metropolis. Indeed, it IS Metropolis and New York with Gotham visible on the horizon...only its not QUITE the same since all of these buildings are made of legos...indeed, our heroes would find a slight transformation, as all of them (well...except Robotman) are turned in dream into Lego versions of themselves.
The Vizier of Ennui is no exception, very close to grabbing the object as he is suddenly ON FIRE and not very happy about it. For any lesser foe, it would have been his demise but he is a Greater Power in dream, ask an archduke in Hell how hard it is to take them on in their home turf but he is NOT expecting the attack and flames move up and odwn his oddly now legofied body as he SCREAMS in agony.
The brazier, brazenly stolen by telekinetics as a Gorilla (Lego at that) on a Speedboat grabs the thing, giving the middle finger to the Vizier of Ennui, for there is a history there and not a kind one. How did Lego Grodd know to wait here? Only he can say...
Robotman looks up from the bottom of the boat and nods to Nick, "Fuck yeah." On being helped up on the boat, he looks around at the legos and rubs his eyes, "What. The. Fuck?!"
And Pause...until "Everything Is Awesome"
6113/To the Zeitgeist Sea
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- Cliff Steele has posed:
Subjectively, for Cliff it has been a solid month and he is exhausted. Physically, he can go for a long time and managed to get some liquid and water in short breaks before moving, but the Pianos, giant, the size of Elephants and moving on three legs in a relentless lope have slowly been catching up. He thinks that they are at best an hour behind him now as spots a gorgeous city sprawling before him, crystal huts and several buildings against a sea that shimmers of icy blue with flecks of white silver and gold; the phosphorescent sun setting over the distant shore. He spots the Piano behind him and for the first time in weaks spots the Brazier self lighting.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" He swears as he starts to run as fast as he can for the city. The damn thing was going to start summoning dreamers again, from Earth and lots of them. If the Pianos caught them, it would be back to the Sane Asylum and he wasnt subjecting anyone to that.
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
With the time between dream and waking world seeming to unrelated. It's been awhile since the last dream of glass buildings and dropping through floors has occurred. Despite looking, Mike hasn't seen any hints of further dreams of that nature nearby and part of him starts to wonder if it was a simple dream instead of something more.
Life carries on. An album's been dropped and he's currently spending time in Ireland for a few release events. One such event recently finished in Dublin and performer barely had time to enjoy the shining of the building lights reflecting off the Liffey River before sleep called. Comfortable in his hotel, Cliff soon found himself not alone as the wild haired man in black tee and jeans appears on the street. The eyelined stage persona of Nick Drago blinks, seeing the familiar metal man once more and hears the sound of pianos in the distance giving chase. "...fuck." Comes the unenthused observation.
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
He is the cat. He is always the cat when he dreams, nowadays.
"Curioser and curioser, as you-know-who used to say," Vorpal mutters to himself, glancing around with his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn't wearing his usual uniform, but rather a fetching frock coat in crimson and black with gold braid. "This is either Chessboard Nine, or someone has been spending way too much time with the Loss Specialist's interior redecorator." Unusual dreams were the norm for the young man who, by virtue of partial metempsychosis and heredity, had become the Cheshire Cat. Kate Bishop had been correct in her initial appraisal of the city- he absolutely loved it. He wished he could book a vacation here for whenever the burden of having to make sense constantly in The Topside got to him and he felt tempte to do something reckless to compensate.
The dreams have been interesting. Because each one has given him a shattered glimpse of things he has forgotten-- that his /father/ seems to have forgotten when he made his way Topside. But the dreams are never complete, and Vorpal can't understand whether these are truly dreams and therefore interpretations, memories and therefore reliable, or both. The matter is further confused by having a soul that is equal parts madness and equal parts not- so at times he is a sensible youth strolling through Wonderland and having conversations with flowers, and sometimes he is a cat with a glint of madness in his eyes going to Catholic school and trying to be a Good Boy.
Walt Whitman said he contained multitudes. Terry O'Neil can't even imagine what that must feel like, since /two/ people in one seems like such a handful already. Which is why the fact that he somehow is in a /Sane/ Asylum seems like such a terrible, horrible, risible and visible clerical error. Clearly, he's been misfiled.
Passing his hand across his red mane, he says with a tone of voice akin to a spiritual realization, "I must speak to the manager!" his mane instantly shortens and temporarily acquires the shape and consistency of a blond assymetrical bob, before once again falling in waves across his shoulders. A glowing croquet mallet in the shape of a purple flamingo appears in his hand, and he rests it across his shoulders.
And that's when pianos are heard, coming near. He frowns. "Rachmaninoff's third? Madness."
- Kate Bishop has posed:
Okay maybe gtoing to Vorpal for help with her madness dreams was a mistake.
I mean they didn't really happen since she tried to leave the dream world holding the stupid Brazier even if it didn't appear on her bed right. Maybe just wanting it out of the dream was enough.
Of course Kate can't be that lucky. She rudely 'wakes' up in the dream leaning against one of the crystal huts, her full dream self still idolized as Hawkeye. Which probably could bear with some deep thoughts about her psyche and maybe some therapy.
She looks around slowly. "Okay.. this isn't the sane asylum.. maybe this is just a dream..." wishful thinking.
Which lasts until she spots the Pianos on the horizon and Cliff and now Nick out there as well, with the Robot Guy holding the Brazier. "Fuuck" she says reaching back for her bow. Not the least bit enthused and sharing that with Nick at least.
"Run faster you two!!" she yells at them now, and well maybe Vorpal on his fancy tour of the crystal town will hear her.
- Cliff Steele has posed:
Its not just the three of them. There are other dreamers who appear, unpowered ones who are far more vulnerable to the preying of the Pianos. One by one they fade in; folks of every race, creed age and nationality, thoroughly confused but most follow Cliff as he motions for them to follow especially since not a one of them likes the look of the Piano. He runs into the streets of In Meeresnähe, and begins asking the locals, "Can we get a ship? Ship for hire?"
The locals seem confused at first, but after a few moments the humanoid silver gaunt limbed people nod and point to the docks of the water. "Don't touch the water...." they urge.
"Right, got it, dont touch the fucking water. One more think to fucking worry about. HEY FOLKS, LOCALS SAY DONT TOUCH THE WATER, THIS IS MORE THAN A DREAM, PLEASE DONT BE FUCKING DUMB, OK? THIS WAY PLEASE" he motions taking the brazier with him as he goes.
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
Well in general observation, the guy is being chased by pianos... again. And he's still carrying that damn thing... again. Giving a shake of the head. He starts running to catch up to the passing Cliff.
Hearing someone seemingly yelling to the two of them, Nick turns his head, seeing a Hawkeye in the distance. "Hey again!" He blinks a bit as he sees the cat person, not recognizing them from the past time but turns to look back over to Cliff as he starts catching up. As more and more people appear to run in that direction, he leaps forward, upper torso tilting forward as he flips into the air, size and shape shrinking down into that of a raven before the changed musician flies up, rolling around in flight to get a glimpse behind for any stragglers.
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
And there is much shouting. One voice, he recognizes. Kate! Suddenly, he is on his way, making record time towards the sound of the commotion. He's not one for conventional travel, however, and soon Kate Bishop sees Vorpal swinging into view on a chandelier that is attached god-knows-where, and god is currently too preocuppied ghosting Pat Robertson's calls to pay any particular attention. "AH, Katerina."
Landing a few feet from her, he produces a rose out of thin air. "You look absolutely dashing. You remind me of Katherine, Empress of all the Russias, whose hand in marriage I had once the honor of turning down... wait. No. That was the other guy. " he pauses and frowns, looking at the incoming parade.
"That does not bode well. It sounds as if we need to head dockside. Good thing I'm already nautically attired... but let's see if I can helpna little to delay those blasted toothy things!'
Using his powers of illusion, he attempts to conjure a towering, gigantic nightmare- Sergei Rachmaninoff, hands the size of windmills, starts stomping towards the pianos, threatening to lay his hands on them- and perhaps sonewhere the memories of bruised and broken pianos all accross history scream in unison.
The Cheshire cat gestures to the raven and the robot-who serms rather familiar to him- to hurry on. "Fire away, Kate- maybe you can put a dent in if my Sergeu can't cow them." They're pianos, not cows, after all.
- Kate Bishop has posed:
Hawkeye carefully reaches back, fishes in her quiver, and launches an arrow with her bow at the lead Piano stampeding towards everyone.
The tip of that arrow is blinking with a tiny red light.
Honestly she is just curious what an incendiary explosive arrow will do to a dream Piano. "Fire in the hole. D-Flat." she quips.
Then she looks to all the people following Cliff. The dreamers 'waking up here and much more helpless than some. "Follow him." she states using her best Super Hero on scene commanding civvies voice "And don't touch the water!" gesturing with her bow before firing a second arrow. "Hey Vorp." she notes as she watches the second arrow sail towards the Piano stampede. Trying to sow some confusion, fire, and explosives admist Vorpal's conjuration. "You know.. this is the dream world and mad.... I imagine your illusions are just real here Vorp." with that she pivots and starts to job after the dreamers and Cliff and Nick "Oh and the Robot and Raven are on our side." she notes to Terry.
- Cliff Steele has posed:
The Pianos are, needless to say none too happy with the incindiary arrow. The one bursts into flames, they roar and sure enough the illusionary musician picks up a Piano like it is a nice kitty and begins playing a small version of chopsticks while the Piano tries to howl indignantly. Several Pianos turn back but fear their masters back in the city of Madness far more and continue forward, albiet giving the fleeing dreamers some more time because they take a nice wide birth AROUND the Pianoman.
Cliff waves to Nick and runs up to the ships and the docks and says, "Got a ship? Got a fucking ship?" Granted, he didnt have dream money, but first find a ship, then figure out how to pay for it. He is either told no or given indifferent shrugs until he finds a large grey beared fellow with longer limbs than anyone in the city and a long furled beard to boot, "I might...where be ye going?"
"The Waking World?"
"That...be a long way off from here. Ye be truly lost if that be where you seek to go, but I can, for a price, what have ye to offer."
Clint blinks and checks the pockets of his jacket, "Er....a Cliff Steele autographed racing card from 1975?"
The man blinks and holds it up and says, "Er...anything else?"
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
In the air, bird hangs back slightly. Head twiching, Nick tries to keep watch over the fleeing dreamers, making note of their proximity to the pianos, and checking back to see if said boat has been acquired yet.
Watching the giant musician mash into the piano keys, the pianist inside of him winces. Oh gosh that's horrible. Probably not as horrible as a piano landing on someone but still. Spotting a stragler late to the party he swoops down, giving the dreamer extra motivation moving faster. "Move move MOVE move MOVE move MOVE!" It's hard to tell what causes the pace to double, be it something flying at them, the potentially pointy beak looking like it's about to jab them, or the fact a talking raven seems QUITE upset with them that they're moving so slow. Whatever the reason...
It's super effective.
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Mad? Why, I hadn't even noticed. This looks like a perfectly peaceful place."
Of course it would. "Why Kate, of course Raven is on our side. She's- oh, you mean the raven with a non-capitalized 'r', don't you?" He squints, appraising the avian's work. "It certainly knows how to get people moving, alright. But as for the other..." he trails off.
There's something to be said for Terry O'Neil's encyclopedic knowledge of public Titans history- as a would-be reporter and longtime fan, he knew an enormous deal about the previous incarnations of the team and what could be known publicly of its members. That also included what other teams they might have been in or come from.
"The Doom Patrol-" Vorpal's voice has a funny quality to it, and it's not the jovial but gentle insanity that comes over him when he gives free rein to the Cheshire. "I need to get to him. Kate, keep firing, I'llsee about that getaway vehicle."
Knowing now that his illusions have a weighty reality, the Cheshire crosses the intervening distance between himself and Cliff, the dock and the bearded man while riding on a flying carpet.
"What seems to be the problem? Robotman and his entourage have need of this vessel," he says as his method of conveyance descends gracefully to the ground. He dusts off his frock coat, and a tricorn hat appears over his head, "As you can see, I am rightfully attired to commandeer this ship, and as I am, I am therefore already the captain of this ship. Negotiating any price is not only superfluous but it is insulting."
This bit of dream-logic is accompanied by the background strumming of an invisible orchestra, starting the first few measures of 'I Am The Monarch Of The Sea.'
- Kate Bishop has posed:
Kate seems content to play rear guard as Nick and Cliff focus on herding the dreamers and finding a way out of here.
Evidently they are all going sailing. Good thing her family owns a few yachts and she knows she doesn't get sea sick at least.
"Doom patrol.. uh right.... you do that..." she is so busy concentrating on firing arrows even as she is retreating down the street after them to the docks.
These ones are goop arrows, maybe it can slow them down or gum up the works. Hah puns.
"God I hate it here..." she keeps retreating at a fast clip though pausing fire an arrow then run ahead trying to keep ahead of the antangonists but also buy time for negotiations.
- Colette O'Connail has posed:
At the edge of the docks, where silver-skinned fishermen relax after a hard day fishing for giraffe-lobsters and sparkle-toed rotary sharks in the gold-flecked sea, nestled in amongst the crystal huts, there stand a number of pleasant crystal bars and cafes. Denizens of In Meeresnähe sit around enjoying their steaming cupless cups of coffee, or nursing pints of bear (similar to beer, but with a lot more furs, claws and teeth). At tables outside one cafe, several such denizens enjoy a lazy game of chess. At one table, a bishop and a knight play a lazy game of denizens.
The approaching invasion of pianos does not interrupt the reverie of drinking and game playing. The arrival of Robot Man and his horde of accompanying dreamers, loudly in search of passage, causes muttering but cannot interrupt the games. The arrival of a cat on a mat (or flying carpet) raises unintelligible muttering.
"~I am the monarch of the sea~
~The Ruler of the Queen's Na-vyyy~
~Who's praise Great Brit...~
"TERRY! Oh for FUCK'S SAKE."
One of the tables, with all accoutrements, goes flying as Colette, who was one of the players, flips it aside and storms forwards. Chess pieces roll across the docks, and a pool of tiny bears spreads out from a shattered stein.
"No. Enough. Go find your own dreams to mess around with. As for you Kate, I thought better of you! Why'd you have to bring him here? You know however fucked up a dream gets, he's only going to make it more fucked up." She crosses her arms and glares with annoyance, then sighs.
"This is a thing, isn't it?" she asks. "Like the nonsense with the guy with the head." She raises her eyes to the heavens, and in a prayer to the god of Messing People About With Dream Nonsense yells out "YOU'RE NOT MAKING ANY FRIENDS HERE, YOU KNOW."
- Cliff Steele has posed:
Cliff Steele is about to get really desperate and offer the $224.54 cents that he has in his wallet, or as a VERY distant third the carefully doled out Maker's Mark of which about half of which is left.
The captain looks confused for a moment and then bemused, "Well, so ye are. I'll just charge yer staff later on arrival." It is a curious attitude, but he beckons Robotman, Vorpal and the others to the ship.
Nick is indeed insanely good at moving people. They are instinctively drawn to the brazier anyway, but his singular effort of will keeps even the stragglers from following. It is a patient thing but every single dreamer is now waiting in a nice neat line.
Kate manages to unleash arrows, which manage to each become a hail of arrows as she fires them in an upward arc. Fire arrows and goop arrows stop many highly annoyed Pianos. Rochmonanov has developed many many arms and begins playing them all.
Robotman follows the captain on to the ship who warns, "No one touch the water. The Zeitgeist sea is dangerous for dreamers..." he looks Robotman up and down, "More dangerous for you.
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
Alright, now that Sally the Slothy Sleeper is taken care of, the bird zooms up again, glancing about to get another glimpse of the scene below before swooping down to speed up another.
"MOVE MOVE MOVE!"
"I'M SORRY MR. BIRD!"
Swoop. Dive. "MOVE!"
OHMYGODWHAT'SGOINGON?!"
It's not a glamorous job, but someone has to do it.
Upon all the stray dreamers being herded together, the bird's pitch upwards quickly flips to a downward descent to the ground. Form growing larger, and fluffier as the large wolf from the encounter before becomes present. Giving a low growl, the canine moves to the back of the line, keeping watch for anyone non-dreamer who might try to disrupt the boarding process.
- Kate Bishop has posed:
"Man... I wish I could rain arrows down in the waking world in a way to darken the sky like a coming storm." mostly musing to herself. At least until she hears Colette get angry "Oh stuff it. This is the Dream World not your dream. Now get these people on the boat with we need to get out of here before the enforcers from the mad city stomp us about."
She pauses.
"Also come on Vorpal is like a tac nuke in this place... I figured we could use the firepower if we ever want this to finally fucking stop happening."
Regardless this is the point she gets the hell on the boat. "Prepare to cast off as soon as all the dreamer people are on board.... Move it people." barking orders a bit maybe.
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Colette! What a pleasure to see you here! I apologize for the inconvenience... here, have a bouquet of tulips for the inconvenience!"
The Cheshire cat thrusts the bouquet at his friend, and the flowers quickly attempt to stretch out and kiss her. Jerking the bouquet away, Vorpal frowns. "On the other hand, maybe not. How about I owe you a burger?"
Just at this moment, a wealthy merchant replete with gold chains and jewels comes out of one of the establishments and looks absolutely puzzled at this exchange. "Nevermind. We'll decide that later. Keep people on the boat and then get on afterwards... don't ask questions, or I'll be forced to Make An Explanation, and I promise there will be cutscenes and at least three musical numbers."
He does not board the boat just yet, deciding to help a little more. "You should be grateful!" he bellows in the direction of the embattled pianos, "I could have summoned John Cage instead and you would have all died of neglect!"
What he summons next is worse, however. An army of large piano tuners, replete with tool kits and implements to take apart, toodle, fiddle with and plunk at pianistic innards. Then he turns on his heels and starts running towards the ship, to board.
- Colette O'Connail has posed:
"Bad cheeseburger, remember Kate?" Colette says with an wry smirk, while pointedly ducking out of the way of the tulip's two lips. The cat recieves an all too familiar arched eyebrow in response to his offer of a make-up burger. Too on the nose there, cat. Colette's blaming bad burgers for this whole affair.
She stops for a moment to watch Kate and Nick's efforts to help herd the dreamers onto the ship with the manner of someone who wants everyone to know that she /could/ be helping, but is chosing not to. She turns to look at the Battle of the Pianos, as a small cadre of the instruments decides to go full honky-tonk in an attempt to flank thier piano-tuning foes. With a sigh she walks back over to the cafe, steals a cupless cup off coffee from one of the patrons, and wanders with it up the plank and on board the ship. Sipping at the cup-shaped mass of coffee that floats close to her hand, she gives a sigh and turns to the captain. "What's wrong with touching the water?" she asks. "I mean what happens to a dreamer who touches the Zeitgeist sea? Do they become extra zeitgeisty?"
- Cliff Steele has posed:
Dreams, being what they are, hear the the comment and arrows begin to slowly rain from a crowded sky. The inhabitants of the town, used to living in the dreamlands all go inside and batten the hatches, opening doors and barns for livestock.
The Pianos dont immediately know what to make of the tuners until they start to make havok on them and this, finally, causes the Pianos to route en masse. Most of them are most definitely off key and soon it is a tug of war between dozens of tuners and Rochmanaof who tries to play the captive Pianos in his circumference while the others try to tune it.
"OK, that's too fucking weird, even by my standards," he breaks out the Maker's mark and takes a nice glug. He looks at the Pianos again and takes another nice little drink. As he does, he moves carefully to get on board and get everyone else on board, setting the brazier until a tarp but the arrow storm is slowly expanding outward, about to hit the ship as well as the Pianos.
A distant figure off the screen observes the power used and takes interest. "Interesting..." the Vizier of Ennui says, stroking his beard looking into a scrying dish at the haphazard cacaphony of dreamers, staggering on to the ship. Nick is able to confirm that everyone is indeed, on board.
A few help prepare the ropes, instinctively taking their role as crew as the Captain strokes his beard looking quite troubled. He takes out a compass that has several dozen needles on it and steers the ship off into the ever increasing and choppy waves as the skies darken above.
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
The wolf hangs back, keeping watch while the dreamers board. There's a visible wince on the wolf's face as he catches glimpse of the fate of the pianos. But he shakes his head. Once the ship leaves the dock, the wolf turns running in the direction of the departing ship. Form shifting back to the wild haired rockstar of before.
THUNKTHUNKTHUNKTHUNK!
"Ffffff-!"
Nick side shuffles some arrows smacking into the dock before him. Biting back the curse he doubletimes it, giving himself a burst of speed towards the end of the dock, pushing down at the last second to make a flying leap towards the ship. Grabbing onto a rope, which... apparently doesn't really control anything but is there for flash, he ends up sliding down the rope to end up on deck. Thank goodness he doesn't account for rope burns in his dreams.
The musician looks over to Cliff, taking a deep breath before giving a smile. "Hey man. Been a few."
- Kate Bishop has posed:
Kate sighs at bit at the cheeseburger remark. She does look back at the field of battle though "Need to be very careful what I say here." then finds a railing to lean against and watch as they cast off. She feels a bit bad about the arrow storm.
"Sorry about that." she notes to Nick.
She looks over to Colette "Is that coffee any good?"
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Avast ye, maties! Fizzen the Sizzlemast, Roar the quillmests and furlen the unsails!" Vorpal says in appropriately nautical demeanor, if not lexicon. Strolling across the deck, he makes the appropriate *clomp clomp clomp* sound that someone wearing appropriately-expensive boots makes, even though he is barefoot. Passing by the archer, he gives her a grin. "Wonderful shooting, Hawkybug, keep your bow trained over the prow just in case they decide to send something that flies, like buzzards made out of musical scores or something... Lettie, you didn't get me coffee. I resent this," he says accusingly at his friend, and finally makes his way towards Nick and Cliff.
A hand shoots out in introduction, offering a shake. "I know this is a weird place for introductions, but Robotman-- big fan. I know Beast Boy-- I'm Vorpal of the Titans. Also the Cheshire cat but that's not important..." he glances over at Nick, blinking a few times. "So you aren't a full time raven... " he pauses for a second and peers at Nick closely. "... wait. You're the vampire guy who sings, aren't you?" Dream Vorpal isn't exactly at his most coherent.
Kate would say that applies to Waking Vorpal, come to think of it.
- Colette O'Connail has posed:
Colette leans against the rail of the ship, ignoring Kate's questioning, the assault of pianos, the rain of arrows, the herd of terrified dreamers and the general chaos, and pulls her phone out. She runs a finger through her hair, poses, and starts filming herself. "Hey yo! Sailing on the Zeitgeist Sea here, check... You guys need to see this shit." She pans the camera around, circling back to herself to show her cupless cup of coffee to the camera. "Coffee without a cup. Pretty snatched."
She puts away her phone, then leans over the railing to yell at the sea: "You want some zeitgeist, mister Zeitgeist Sea? Yeah, that's going on Tik Tok later, you watery fuck!"
Colette resumes leaning, and nods her head to Kate. "It's pretty good coffee," she says. "I'd offer to share, but I don't have a spare no cup." Sip. "Okay, I got to admit Terry's pretty much at home here," she acknowledges, watching as the deranged feline makes his way nautically across the deck. "Good call, I guess. So did you like... do some research, or something? Any idea why we're here? I thought about looking into it all after the last time, but eeeeh. You know. Couldn't be bothered. YO! Robot guy! Bird guy! Hi again."
- Cliff Steele has posed:
As Vorpal begins to describe specific things that he has no idea he is suspecifically calling up, the ships new Unsails furl up around it like a bat's wings and two outriggers come on to the side of the ship as the size of the waves increase, making the ship steady in spite of it all.
Cliff waves to Nick and nods, "Hey dude, want some?" He offers the Maker's and looks at Vorpal giving a thumbs up, "Doom Patrol. Gar told me all about you guys, nice to meet you."
He looks at Collete, "We're here because of that thing," he points to the Brazier, "We need to take it back to the waking world. Though I have no idea where that is in the Dreamlands, I spent the last month running from fucking Pianos." He shakes Vorpal's hand.
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
Hearing the apology Nick turns his head to look over to Kate. "Sorry about wh-" He pauses, tilting his head to look to the arrows peeking out from the quiver behind her, "Oh. The arrow-storm. Eh, no problem. I've been through worse dreams. I just won't describe them right this second. That's just asking for trouble."
As the Cheshire cat approaches calling him a vampire fangs pops out. "Oh- come on!" He reaches his hands up, using his thumbs to push the fangs back into a regular teeth. His mouth closes for a moment in assessment before he nods. "It's the other way around. Guy who sings who played a vampire."
Nick lifts up a hand to wave to Colette in greeting to her. "Interesting. Are you still in New York? I'm in Dublin at the moment and that is definitely outside of my usual range."
He looks to the offered Maker's Mark and shakes his head, "No thanks. Seems like you might need that more than me. Being you've been here all this time."
- Kate Bishop has posed:
Kate notes "Well it was like two weeks awake side ... so you seem to be on a rough 2:1 at least recently ratio... I don't know why we didn't get pulled back here until tonight though."
She glances to Colette "What the Robot said, it seems that magic artifact is .. sort of like a roach motel for dreamers from our plane for the dreaming plane and it needs to be removed from here." she glances at Vorpal. "Pretty sure Terry would never forgive me if I didn't tell him about this whacky bullshit."
Cliff does get a look since they have a moment of calm. "So why the hell aren't you waking up then.. why are you stuck here. Are you some sort of coma victim reobot in the waking world?"
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Right. Other way around. It's hard to keep who is what and what is who around here straight. Ask Colette, I've never been able to keep /myself/ straight."
"Hawky has a good question, though- you've been stuck here so long... what's the problem? And how can we help? If you can't wake up, maybe we can find a way to help you On The Other Side."
The cat makes a dramatic paws, and then clarifies, "I mean the waking world, not the afterlife."
The Brazier gets a long, studied glance, and he muses to himself, "If we added an extra 'e' to it, it would be easier to carry. But then it might still be on fire, which would be uncomfortable..." he strokes his chin.
- Colette O'Connail has posed:
Colette stares at the brazier as if daring it to do something. "/Why/ do we have to take it to the waking world?" she asks. "As opposed to say blowing it up or something? Also. Robot dude. I wrote a patch on Doctor Phrenology's head that read 'A herd of piano-eating flying sharks'. If you couldn't follow us through the door, you shoulda pressed that part of his head rather than running from fucking pianos for a month. Probably you were too busy pressing the 'Maker's Mark' patch, right? Because there's no way that one bottle would have lasted /me/ a month if I was being chased by fucking pianos."
Nick's wave prompts a rather half-assed wave in response from Colette. "Yeah. No. Well, Metropolis. Close enough," she explains unhelpfully. "Don't worry, this is outside everyone's usual range. Except for Vorpal's. That's why Hawkeye brought him. Vorpal's kind of... Oh hell, I'm not explaining. Let's just say if you're in a weird dream, it's probably useful to have someone with you who's even weirder. At some point the local reality of this dreamverse will probably develop a complex and boot us all out so it doesn't have to deal with him any longer."
"Good question!" Colette announces at unnecessary volume in response to Kate's query. "Hawkeye Two-point-oh with the smart questions. Why aren't you waking up, Robot Dude? When the rest of us wake up, should we be finding your body and yelling in your ear or something?"
She pushes away from the railing and walks over to Vorpal to punch him on the arm, on the basis that he always deserves to be punched on the arm and this is /certainly/ no exception. "Depends on where you put the 'e'," she suggests. "Move it up to third place and it'll be fine so long as the wind doesn't pick up."
- Cliff Steele has posed:
Cliff Steele says, "Because I'm really here, not dreaming. I fought....something." He either can't or wont say but its obvious he has no intention on saying what, "and we 'won' but I've been here ...wow, for a long time. A very long time. And I'm trying to get this to the waking world. It didnt work on other nights because I put it out. It starts every night when the sun sets like clockwork but there wasnt time this last time. If I dont put it out, it lights up again and everyone comes here."
The Captain eyes the Brazier and Robotman and then says, "Don't use the sea water to put it out either. Don't touch it. It would be bad for ye, worse than fer them."
- Kate Bishop has posed:
"Well.. long time here is subjective. I doubt it has been nearly as long in the waking world." she sighs.
"Also... I still haven't heard an answer." she looks at the Captain. "On what the hell the waters would do to us or to him ... just vague sea captain warnings... like .. yar... don't go to the forbidden island... yar...." she sighs.
"Can you please explain what the sea water does that is so bad to dreamers?"
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
Ah. Metropolis... yeah, that's still out of range of Dublin." Nick gives a glance to the collection of dreamers quietly gathered on board, "These dreamers are spread out more than I thought..." He pauses as he looks over to the Captain and considering the warning. "...So. Uh." He pauses looking to the robot guy, "Did we exchange names last time? If we did, I don't remember.
Eyes set upon the bottle of Maker's Mark. "...Just HOW much have you drunk today anyways?"
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
"OW! Even in dreams. Just you wait... next time, I'll make sure you end up in Wonderland!" Rubbing his arm, Vorpal frowns. "Good point, Colette. But more importantly, it sounds like we don't have a lot of time, subjectively speaking, to get to our objective goal, the Waking World. And Robotman is trapped here- we need to figure something out because if we wake, we're home free, but he's not."
He ponders this for a few moments, and then taps the handrail of the boat. "I wonder if there is a way one of us could stay behind here, even if the brazier goes out. This is the Dream World. What if I left part of me behind?" he glances over at Kate.
He frowns. She might remember the last time Terry was separated from his Cheshire self. "How long do you think we have before time runs out, Robo?"
- Colette O'Connail has posed:
"I mean... not to be an ass, but if the problem here is that Robot Guy is stuck in the dream, I'm not sure that leaving part of you here is helping the matter," Colette suggests to Vorpal, while apparently (intentionally) forgetting to register his threats. "We're trying to reduce the number of people stuck here, not increase it."
She raises her drink for another sip. It is no longer a cupless cup of coffee, but has become a glass of wine, because Colette feels quite strongly that she needs a glass of wine right now. This is probably the discipline of a Martian-trained mind at work, a diametric opposite to Vorpal's chaos illusions, but creating a similar degree of control over local dream. The fact that this control is used to supply herself with a glass of wine rather than anything more generally useful is probably a character flaw.
Correction, it's definitely a character flaw.
Colette finally decides to get useful and answers Nick's query with a round of introductions. "I'm Colette," she starts. "This is Vorpal, and Hawkeye. They're with the Titans. The Robot Guy is called Robot Guy. I mean that's what I call him anyway. And you, you're you. Hi You."
/Kind/ of useful, anyway.
- Cliff Steele has posed:
"Aye," the Captain says, "The Zeitgeist sea is the collective run off of the dreams of every dream the dream touches til it gets cleansed for another dream. Bits of every day dream, every dream, and every fictional ballat, book read, play seen, you name it, its there are blended together, not just your world but any world the dreamlands touch, which is most of them. Anyone soaked with it will be lost to them until they dry out. Dream help ye if you drink it, might be days."
Cliff nods, "Right, OK, drinking Sea water bad. And we've got to get this motherfucking brazier out of the fucking dreamlands. I dont know how long it will last."
The brazier starts to dim.
"Because of fucking course. Nice to meet everyone. Wake up and have a wonderful fucking day," he grumbles.
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
Nick glances to Colette as she does introduction, giving nods to everyone as she points them out. Blinking at the mention of the robot guy being called....Robot Guy. Well. That's to the point.
Nick looks over to Vorpal. "...I could step over as myself but I'd need to be in range of someone who is dreaming themselves around him. I'm able to bring people and stuff I'm touching in and take those out but... never tried it on a something or someone already in the dream."
He looks to Cliff, "If you're originally part of the waking world... maybe? Worth a shot."
- Terry O'Neil has posed:
Vorpal nods, and says to Nick: "When you wake up, remember this: Call the Titans' Tower, and ask for Vorpal. We need to talk. Get together and see what we can do. Everybody else here," he gestures to Kate and Colette, "I know. There is no reason why we can't get together in the waking world and compare notes. Come up with a plan. No matter where in the world you might be, I can bring you through with my Rabbit Holes."
He walks over to Cliff and says "I'll tell Gar what's going on. We know someone at the Tower who has walked in the dreaming before..." albeit, he remembers, at risk. "Maybe between her and our rock star slash raven friend here, we might be able to do something. I know you've already held on for some time... but hang on just a little bit more. We'll be back to help, one way or another."
The Cheshire Cat is starting to fade. Soon, he will be just a grin with no cat, and then little else will be left after that when he wakes.
- Colette O'Connail has posed:
Colette stares out at the water of the seas after hearing the Captain's explanations of the water's effects. "Don't drink the sea water. Got it. Because that's something I normally do. But I gotta be honest, that actually sounds pretty fun. Days of wild, incoherent dream narratives. I know people who'd pay good money for a sip of that. Maybe we could..."
While speaking she jabs a finger in the Captain's direction, and grinds to a halt as she notices her hand is fading. She checks her other hand to make sure, and unsurprisingly that's fading too. She quickly downs the rest of her wine before it too fades, on the perfectly logical basis that otherwise it will go to waste.
"Okay, rain check on the sea water, I guess. I've got work in the morning, anyway. But uh... if you could save me some, Robot Guy, I'd appreciate that. Let's see if we can bring a bottle of Zeitgeist Seawater out with us alongside that brazier. It's sure to come in useful."
Colette gets thinner and thinner. "I can hear my alarm clock. Definitely waking up here. Later, everyone." She's barely a ghost. "Oh! One more thing. Robot Guy, it's vitally important that you remember to..."
And she's gone.
That was definitely done on purpose.
- Michael Hannigan has posed:
The flame goes out on the the brazier light
The ship is in the waaater
The dreamers go away one by one
POP! Goes the Draago.
