what dreams may come

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

Morning, Wednesday September 17
Valmont and Hermia's apartment

Something is not right.

I feel it as soon as I wake up. Something…off. Like a note being played out of tune, over and over, jangling against the edges of my mind.

And then I step out of bed, and do not touch the ground.

I'm floating.

I sit swiftly back down on the bed before I fall - and, yes, I sit on the bed. That works. All right, now back out…one foot, and then the other…

…and I float again. Just a few inches above the ground, but most definitely floating.

Nothing else in the room is floating. Valmont is still there in the bed - and thank all the gods that he's all right! And Nestor is curled up in his corner, flailing away in some strange kitten-dream, but there and safe.

Chester, I think, sending out the signal as my fingers worry at the gold band on my wrist. Something is wrong.

I fall back onto the bed and reach over to shake Valmont's shoulder. "Darling," I whisper urgently. "Wake up."


[Open to Valmont first, then Glass, Chester, and anyone else in the vicinity of the Whitechapel]

Comments

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"Someone mighta torn a hole 'tween the dreamrealm n'this one." Oh, bloody perfect (http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/467504.html#t11722032).

"Can you say if it's done by accident or intent?" I say. "As given the last time dreams had some particular weight," I say, "there was intent, and it wasn't bloody kind. And I'd care t'know if we're seeing that again." As last time I bloody died of it.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

Glass's daughter is a plant? I cast a worried look at Hermia, thinking of our child inside her... And then Chester appears. For once I'm pleased to see the furry fellow. He suggests someone has torn a hole between dream and reality.

"But how can dreams just walk around?" I say, running a hand through my hair. "That's quite different to when we were all dreaming - yes, the dreams were dangerous, but in reality we were still in our beds." I look at how I'm hovering. "This is very strange. The abbey seems like a good place to consult," I add. "Should we bring anything with us? Supplies? Weapons?" I'd prefer to be prepared for any eventualities.

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

I scoop Chester up and hold him close to me, drawing comfort from his familiar weight in my arms, even if his words bring me no reassurance at all.

"Someone mighta torn a hole 'tween the dreamrealm n'this one."

"Can you say if it's done by accident or intent?" I say. "As given the last time dreams had some particular weight," I say, "there was intent, and it wasn't bloody kind. And I'd care t'know if we're seeing that again."

"That's one of the things that we can try to find out," I say to Glass. "And who did it, of course. Whether it was intended or not, there are very few people or creatures who have the power to do that." I glance over to the Tower, where it looms in the distance above the town. Very few creatures, and the thing in the Tower is at the top of the list.

Only when Glass gestures to her cloak does it catch my attention fully, and only then do I notice that there is something...odd about it. "The cloak is supposed to hide you? How? Where did you get it?" If magic is going wrong, then my options are going to be limited. I must talk to Noma. Nanshe. And all her people at the abbey...

"But how can dreams just walk around?" I say, running a hand through my hair. "That's quite different to when we were all dreaming - yes, the dreams were dangerous, but in reality we were still in our beds." I look at how I'm hovering.

"The dream realm is...a sort of place," I explain to Valmont. "Our minds go there when we dream, but our bodies stay here. Last time, our minds were trapped there and our bodies were trapped here. But this time, things are traveling the other way - bits of dream are coming here, because of the break in the barrier. Like the river overflowing its banks."

I can explain it all very well, as if it made perfect sense for dreams to go walking. Well, in Excolo, that actually makes more sense than some things.

"This is very strange. The abbey seems like a good place to consult," I add. "Should we bring anything with us? Supplies? Weapons?"

"Yes. I'll gather whatever magical supplies of mine that I can get to without going into the sitting room. And you can bring whatever weapons you can use well. Er," I hesitate, as another thought strikes me. "Blades rather than guns, perhaps? Fewer moving parts means fewer things that can be corrupted by whatever is happening. And, check on Alice when you go."

[chester-excolo.livejournal.com]

Glass an Hermia discuss the matter of intent or accident an' even though Valmont is confused about how dreams can become physical he accepts Hermia's explanation with no argument, and so that discussion turns to how to a trip to the Abbey to find out more and what if anything should be brought with us.

As well there is is the matter of Glass' cloak. I draw a deep breath in and then gently reach out one paw to let my etheric hand brush the edge of the cloak. The only obvious thing about it is that it smells a bit of dreamstuff but not wholly made thereof. It feels quieted but not dead.

It's an interesting puzzle but not as important as the problem of dreamstuff pouring into this realm. I look around and try to see if I can feel where this rent between realms is. It feels stronger towards main street.

"Much as we might want the reach a gun could give us, I gotta agree with Hermia bout maybe simpler is better right now. It feels like the dreamstuff is flowin' from the same direction we're plannin' on headin'. Means we c'n expect things to get weirder."

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"The cloak is supposed to hide you? How? Where did you get it?"

"When we're all sleeping and I died, someone used their own hair to weave up the feathers I bled out, and gave it to--" Azrael, which I cannot say so light, not when I'm not setting out the truth of him-- "Death. To bring it out of the dream. In the waking world, it's some part of the cloak of mists, to break sight and keep one hidden. Now..." I shrug a little. "It's warm, is all."

Blink a little at Valmont's weight on where folk really were, but Hermia sorts it well enough, and we're to matter of setting out. I've my knife, as one does, and... "I've my bell-jar, you think it'd have weight or use," I offer. "Leave me know if I can help, going back in for aught particular." Gesture to my feet, which are still aground. Don't imagine we'll be here long, but don't mind helping for the moment afore we move.

[valmont-vicomte.livejournal.com]

[cont here] (http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/467504.html?thread=11732016#t11732016)

[hermia-sophia.livejournal.com]

I give Valmont's hand a quick squeeze before he floats off. I hate to see him go, but at least I can take comfort from the knowledge that he's going to see to Alice. I just hope that her dreams last night were not the ones that frighten her so...

I sense Chester reaching out to touch the cloak, and my head tilts as I study it more closely…and try to still the shivers that run through me when Glass says so casually that she died, there in the dream.

"If the cloak is a thing of the dreamworld, then perhaps it can help close the gap." I'm still astonished at how steady my voice sounds. But I don't have time to be afraid; I must concentrate on solving this problem. Time enough to be afraid later. "Or it might be useful in some other way. I don't know if the bell jar would be needed, but it can't hurt - certainly, if we need to keep other harmful things at bay, it will be good to have that. Especially if the dreamworld is going to get closer and stranger as we get near to the abbey," I add, nodding to Chester. "There's no telling what sorts of things we'll find there. Or whose dreams we'll find there."

[glass-beddau.livejournal.com]

"...oh bloody hell," I say, as Hermia mentions who may yet be dreaming. Well, could be worse. Donner could still be around. "Aright. Well, minding that... Can't leave, I don't think. Well enough." Run my hand back through my hair and twist it up and back out of the way, down the back of my collar. I'd have none of this, given my choices, but plain enough my child is growing leaves, I'm not guessing Kate'd throw off town, and I don't even care to imagine what Dorian's gotten himself into. So (http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/467504.html#t11734832).