revenance_rpg | (no subject)

Who: Flynn and anyone else
What: When you haven't really dreamed in centuries, it can be a bit overwhelming
When: After Fourth Wall
Where: Traverse Town, first district
Warnings: none

It's bright, so bright.

What is this?

There's colour and sound, and for a moment Flynn blinks, staggering just slightly, a hand reaching out for something that's not there. When he opens his eyes he has to reach up to wipe away tears with his sleeve, blinking blearily as he attempts to take in what's going on.

He's sleeping, but this isn't like any dream he's had in ages.

He moves, slowly, testing his gait, testing where he's found himself. Reaching out, fingers brushing against a wall. There's no prickle of static, of a circuit completed. No panel, no godly connection to the world around him. Solid wall. He runs his fingers up the wall, feeling the cracks and rough surface. It feels so real it's startling.

He turns to look around again, scanning things critically. His eyes aren't watering quite as much, though he has to squint a little due to how brightly lit everything is. It's that orange-yellow of incandescent bulbs, a light wavelength that he's so completely unused to anymore...

Is this a dream? Would it be affecting him this much?

But where else would he be?

He begins to walk again, carefully fielding stairs, using his hands to seek out rails and walls while his vision attempts to adjust to this place. It's nothing like the blue-and-black reality of the Grid, or even the small amount of creature comfort he made for himself. It's... alive in the physical sense, not in the digital sense...

"Didn't think I had any dreams like this left in me," he says to no one in particular, managing a quiet laugh. "Better enjoy it while it lasts!"

And he continues patiently up the stairs, waiting to see what else this dream can do.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He certainly could, at that. Still, he nods at Flynn's comment before turning back to the Pricklemane expectantly. He might be used to have non-human things following him around, sometimes, but K-9 had certainly been better behaved. As had the original Harry, come to think of it. He might not always have been terribly helpful, but at least he hadn't had a tendency to run off with things.

"Besides," he continues on, picking up the thread of conversation he'd been having with Harry very much as if he hadn't stopped to say hello to a stranger, "if you had wanted something to play with you could have simply said so, instead of running off with something. Much less taking it right out of my hand!"

There's a silence then, before Harry carefully drops the screwdriver at the Doctor's feet.

"That's better."

He does have to bend to pick it up, but he doesn't seem to mind that part any, and it vanishes back into his pocket as he straightens back up.

"I'm sorry about that. He will be an incorrigible nuisance, if I don't tell him otherwise."

Flynn waved a hand dismissively. "No worries, man. Pets... will be pets, right? He probably just wanted to play or something." If one could consider the prickly beast to be a pet... then again, sometimes people kept strange pets. Stranger than technicolour porcupines, that he wasn't sure, but who was he to judge the bond between man and beast?

That and the other person he'd seen had another one of the brightly-coloured creatures. Was there a theme?

"Does everyone in this dream have one of those?"

"Oh, probably. But he didn't have to do it with that. Even if I should have known better than to leave out of my sight for a moment."

But he's managed to get it back where it belongs and that's all that matters. And next time he has something that needs the sonic screwdriver, he'll have a better care as to where he leaves it after. More to the point, there's been a more relevant question asked, and for all that he hasn't been in the dreaming realm for too long, he can at least answer that question.

"Everyone I've met so far. The moogles should have given you enough pieces for one, if you don't have one yet."

Ah, so that's what those were for. He'd tucked them away into the fold of his robe, a makeshift pocket, till the time was right for whatever they were. Now he knew, at least.

"I'll look into that. Thanks, man."

He looked down at the prickly creature again, shaking his head with a smile. "It's always the most important stuff... it's like they know the best way to get your attention."

"Maybe they do," he answers, with a a shrug and a grin. "Especially when it's something that sees at least some sort of use."

As has been the case here. Not that the sonic screwdriver has been as helpful here as it has been in some of the other places he's been to, but that's certainly no reason not to try. Especially when he's never quite been to a world like this one before. But it works out well enough and in any case he doesn't seem to have any further complaints about Harry, now that he's not trying to make off with something.

"Ah, and I'm the Doctor, since I don't think I mentioned it earlier. And he's Harry." There's a nod in the Pricklemane's direction, at that second, presumably in the hopes of making it clearer who he means.

"Just call me Flynn," Flynn responded, offering a hand for a shake just in case. One never knew with people from whatever worlds, after all. "Nice to meet you. Don't suppose you have any suggestions for a new guy here?" He had no problem with exploring, but it was nice to know if there was an actual goal in mind to this place."

The handshake is returned without if a flicker of pause. He might not always be the best at various customs, but the ones of Earth are at least mostly familiar. Not always ones he wants to bother with, but there's no harm in a simply handshake.

(Not if Flynn is as human as he looks, at least.)

"Oh, the usual. Mostly to keep an out for the Nightmares. That's usually what the Dream Eaters are for, although I suppose you could fight the Nightmares on your own, if you really wanted to."

"Suppose I should get on with that then, unless you have to go looking for trouble for it to find you." The idea of creation was intriguing, inspiring in ways he hadn't felt for a very long time. Even if it was dream-stuff rather than code... "Where can a guy find these Moogles?"

"There should be one somewhere in this district. They're the little white creatures with the wings and pompom. Terribly hard to mistake to for anything else, too."

Exactly where the moogle in this district has gotten to he can't quite say, but there's very certainly one around somewhere and that's certainly better than not having one around at all.