open | merry & bright

[exequy]

WHO: Anyone!
WHAT: Everyone lives happily ever after, forever, for real, wait don't look behind that curtain—
WHEN: Late Haring
WHERE: The mountains
NOTES: No one is late to this. Feel free to get around to it in January. Or February! And if you have questions you can ask me here, but for any question that's "can I do this within my character's dream?" the answer will be yes! You can do anything.

The snowstorm that blows up around them in the mountains isn't unexpected and isn't a disaster. It only dashes some thin hopes that it might not come on so strong or so swiftly. But they've almost reached what they're aiming for — a cave along the cliffy coastal road that's associated with the disappearances of several caravans and now said to be home to a rift — and there's a village up ahead, glowing warmly through the snowfall once they're near enough.

They're not the first waylaid travelers here. The one little inn is full to bursting, with just enough room for Riftwatch's contingent to squeeze in at tables if they get creative about the seating, the lower floor so packed that body heat and the little fire combined make things outright toasty. The beds are all spoken for, but the innkeeper, a warm, upbeat woman with frizzy hair escaping a bun, says not to worry. She's not turning anyone out into the cold. Blankets on the floor is better than that. If anyone finds it too uncomfortable to sleep curled with old blankets on a creaking wooden floor surrounded by the snores of colleagues and strangers — no, they don't. It's comfortable. It's warm. The sniffles and rough coughs from the other side of the room have the rhythm of a lullaby, and the snow-covered roads and the rift and the missing are all problems for a tomorrow that does not immediately come.

They wake, each of them, in a world where there is nothing of significance left for them to worry about. Not the road or the rift or the missing. Not the war; that's over now. Not poverty or obligation or illness. Between them and the life they've always wanted, the way has been cleared of obstacles, and there is nothing left to do but enjoy the comforts of a well-earned easy life — and if something is a little off, no it isn't. Shh. If the victories feel hollow, or the details blur, or the seams begin to show, the world will tighten around them like hands around a wounded bird who needs to be kept from thrashing, whispering that they don't need to worry. Everything will be fine. Just hold still and let it take care of you.

The first to pull free of the delusion on their own will find themselves in the twisting grasp of a lucid dream that's trying very hard to snare them again, stumbling out of their happy endings into the worlds of others'. They might be pulled beneath the surface for a time: the entity saying, all right, if that didn't work for you, maybe this? But the more of them who congregate together, with their incompatible wishes, the more the fabric will begin to fray, until at last it rots away altogether and they find themselves waking on the floor of a cold, abandoned inn, covered in moldering blankets and lingeringly queasy from half-rotted food eaten at least a day earlier, surrounded by the bodies of the inn's other occupants in various early states of decay.

And after, because rest for the weary really is just a dream, they do have to go find that rift.

ooc | Final confrontation with the spirit that allows breaking out into the real world will happen via a log in here I will link when it's happening. But you're also welcome to say your character wasn't involved in that part and went straight to waking up!

Comments

[wearyallalone]

"Good day, Miss Tavane." His tone isn't without warmth, but his demeanor is a bit preoccupied. (It often has been, of late.) He can't help but wiggle it like a child with a loose tooth: Did he and Ness fight in the war together? That seems unlikely, surely. Did he teach her Nevarran?

"The family is well," he adds, so as not to leave her question hanging. "I wondered: Do you have a moment to discuss something, today? A ... research question, let's call it, though I'd hate to trouble you if you're busy." He feels a little foolish, even to himself, but he is determined to make a start. Stop ignoring the subtle feeling of wrongness that harries him, one way or another.

[aberratic]

"For you, Messere, I have more than a moment."

She smiles, and pushes aside the paperwork at her desk, ignores the stacks of book on rolling carts behind her yet to be returned to their shelves. None of it is urgent work, anyway, none of it absolutely can't wait. There might be a late night ahead of her, but that's alright; it's a worthy trade for a few minutes of Messere Orlov's attention.

Has she always felt like this? It feels new, but she can't remember a time when she hadn't been excited to spend time with him.

"What's the subject of your research? I'm sure we have a book or two to help, or if we don't, I can make the appropriate orders elsewhere."

[wearyallalone]

"I admit it is not the cheeriest of topics but ... do you have any books on the nature of the Fade?" It isn't exactly how he'd planned to start, but face to face with Ness, he falters when considering his original, bolder approach. He's almost certainly jumping at shadows, and there's no reason to frighten her if it's only his own melancholy to blame.

(And, of course, there's the years of lyrium use, even if he's stopped. It's never far from his mind, how it might affect him.)

[aberratic]

It's clear in the way she blinks at him that this is not anywhere near the realm of topics Ness was expecting him to be interested in, and she looks a little lost for an answer for a moment while she adjusts to this new reality. Only a moment, though, and then she blinks again, and looks away to squint at one of the shelves.

"Hmm... We're a bit small of a library to have anything too advanced, but I think we have something on the basic theory, if I'm remembering right..."

She comes around her desk, crossing to the shelves where they keep their small collection of books on magical theory. As she peruses spines, searching for the one she's looking for, she calls back to Vanya with a question.

"What's your interest in the topic? If you don't mind my asking, of course!"

[wearyallalone]

He's aware that I think there's something wrong with reality or my mind, and I'm not sure which it is is an alarming thing to say, and probably unfair to put on her besides. But he hadn't fully thought through an alternative explanation. It causes a small hesitation before he says, "I'm not sure if you knew, but I used to be from the city. I have a correspondent back in the capital who's interested in magical theory. She mainly uses me as a sounding board, I suspect, but I thought it would be nice to actually follow what she's suggesting if I could."

It's not entirely a lie; Benevenuta still writes him even buried here in the country. But he still feels a bit guilty for the misdirection, even if it's done out of a desire not to unnerve Ness without cause.

[aberratic]

There's something in the hesitation that catches her ear, a quality to his voice when he does answer that's not quite right. Vanya is... lying? No, he's not a liar, and he does have that mage friend he writes frequently. (Why does she know that?) But he's not telling the whole truth, either. Ness frowns to herself over it, eyes still on the bookshelves even though she's not really thinking of them anymore.

In an ideal world, she's not quite so careful about speaking her mind. She doesn't have to be; no one's going to toss her out on her ass for being the slightest bit inconvenient.

"I said if you don't mind me asking, Messere," she says gently, because she's more straightforward but no more unkind, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. There."

She points to the top row of the bookshelf, just barely reaching the lip of the shelf with her fingertip, and smiles at him over her shoulder. If he's concerned that he's offended her, he needn't be. Some part of her still understands keeping things close to the chest.

"The book you want is up there, top shelf. I have a step ladder around here somewhere, I keep misplacing it..."

[wearyallalone]

"My apologies," is softer, his contrition quite real. "It is not you I mistrust, but your point is fair. I should not have tried to hide behind a half-truth."

That said, he stretches, his own height enough to retrieve the volume without the aforementioned step ladder. The way he holds himself in reserve in company, it's easy to forget that he has long arms to go with his height.

"If you'd like, I can say this: If I find evidence in favor of my strange theory, I will share it with you. And if I don't, you will do me the honor of letting me pretend I never made such an unusual request. I suspect it will be the latter, truly."

[aberratic]

Vanya comes over to the bookcase, standing almost in her personal space, and Ness's perception goes a little fuzzy. He's—very tall, at least to her view, and broad enough that she can only barely see around him when he's this close. He stretches an arm above her to pluck the book off its shelf, and she inhales, startled—she smells sweat and dried grass and fertile earth, and she's very suddenly red up to her ears. Her mouth is dry; she swallows, and licks her lips, and tries to focus.

"It's not so unusual a request," she assures him, and if her voice is suddenly a little hoarse, hopefully he'll not note it. "The Fade is an interesting topic, no matter your particular concerns. And you have never struck me as one who worries over nothing, Messere."

Ness holds her hand out for the book, blinking up at Messere with dilated eyes and a distinct flush dusting her cheeks. She'd be very embarrassed about how heaving-bosom-romance-novel this is, if she had any expectation that he'd noticed.

"You simply want to protect your wife and child. There's no reason to feel foolish about that."