[L's posture is often curled and tense. The dream has unwound him into something still slouched, but relaxed and at-ease, and there's even a slight upward tilt to his chin when he glances over his shoulder at the approaching Faun with a pale smile. He pulls his heels and crossed legs a little closer toward his body, perhaps making an effort to sit up a little straighter as Myr joins him on the cushy spread of moss.
He's the one to break the silence, in the end, prefaced with a gentle sigh.]
I don't usually dream. If I thought it could be pleasant in this way, I might wish otherwise.
[A mage's lot in life was demons in his dreams, most nights, but now and again Myr had found himself in parts of the Fade controlled by gentler spirits who fed off a dreamer's wonder or nostalgia or joy. Those had been a welcome respite, and so this is too, made all the better that he can share it with one he loves.
That it's also an opportunity to get a real look at said beloved, undistorted by too many eyes feeding information to a brain three years out of practice in seeing... Ah, that makes it a double joy. Certain compensations needed be made for how dreams reflected a dreamer's ought rather than his is, but now that he can see L, he is unabashed and curious in his regard.]
We do get some lovely ones, here. [Among the frightening, awesome, and apparently prophetic ones.] I wish I'd the time to study more on what they know of dream-walking.
[One of the worms has followed him, breaking from its herd to make its slow and shambling way to where faun and detective are taking their repose.]
[Myr left his magic back home, and L experienced it for the first time in Aefenglom. While their backgrounds are profoundly different, it creates a strange kind of mirror image symmetry to know that they meet so amiably in the middle, in gentle agreement that the intimidating majesty of these fae dreams offer more than they threaten.
L's dark-eyed glances at Myr never last long, enough to take in the image of his Bonded before flickering away. The comfort of the dream's harmonious surroundings is interrupted slightly by the fact that L is used to Myr not being able to see him, allowing him a very certain kind of mercy and freedom. It doesn't help that the dream reflects perhaps a harsher version of L than what appears in the waking world; there is a surreal and spectral quality to his appearance, faded, nearly translucent in the bioluminescent underground glow.]
I've made some study of dream-walking, you know. It fits into the work associated with divination...but the associated risks are significant. I haven't gone further than theory yet, for those reasons.
[He takes note of the worm that seems to be making a beeline for their resting spot, raising a brow.]
[Where it might be disturbing to someone else, Myr takes a...certain kind of familiar comfort in L's ethereal qualities. It isn't so unlike how a spirit might appear, and even if Myr had always been chary of the Maker's first children after his Harrowing, it's yet the case some part of him misses seeing them in his dreams. That L reminds him of them in other ways, too, makes the analogy more satisfyingly complete.
...Which does not entirely erase the worry that comes in seeing L this way; but then, Myr had always known his Bonded was little more than skin and bone, had braced himself for the struggle of keeping the detective eating and caring for himself despite ingrained tendencies to do otherwise.
He does not miss, either, those flickering signs of unease. His own curiosity sufficiently satisfied, he takes his gaze from L--to the convenient distraction of the oncoming worm.]
I have, haven't I? They're sweet creatures. If we ever meet them outside dreams, I think I'd bring one home--provided they can live aboveground.
[He offers out a hand to greet the beast once it's near enough, smile softening as it brushes his palm with its antennae.]
How much of the foundational work in the area was before Monsters and Witches started Bonding in earnest, d'you know? [From cute animal buddies right back to magic. How the passions of the faun and the passions of the ex-mage sit strangely by each other, but not without harmony.] I know there's a considerable risk of becoming lost entirely to the waking world, but Morgana Drummond was fearsome powerful at it; I suspect she'd some way of mitigating that danger.
[L knows little of truly "sweet creatures"; animals are supposed to have a natural distrust for duplicity in humans, and L knows himself well enough to feel unease around any barking dog that can raise the alarm and alert others to everything terrible about him, even if it's only presented vaguely and broadly. He half-raises a spindly hand, not quite extending his fingers toward the worm even as Myr does with affection and confidence.
If it feels affection toward Myr, after all, it might feel protectiveness. Ergo, L might be left with a bloody stump for daring to come this close, even in a dream.]
From what I understand, dream-walking has always been of interest to witches. As far as the risks, the way it was explained to me... if you were a hungry mouse, in the dwelling place of a human, there's an ideal way to be: undetected. At least, that's the obvious and expected answer, but it isn't the only one. A mouse could also be welcome... invited, with its own place to sleep and its food provided, but at the mercy of its host to roam or be relegated to a cage. Both have their advantages and drawbacks... it is a violation to enter a dream without permission if you can manage it, but once you have, there's more freedom to explore. It isn't a violation to enter a dream with permission, but you may be restricted access to all that you're interested in by a knowing party. So...
[A pause. It's a lot of odd information, presented in a dream and a dreamlike fashion to match, perhaps.]
Ideally, you'd need to be a mouse that is not only welcome, but allowed to go anywhere you'd like, with the cats shut in a crate by your host.
[The worm, by turn, withdraws a space at the motion from L, his clear mirror in uncertainty. It tugs Myr's smile a little melancholy to see and feel them so, his Bonded and his new friend each worried about the other's potential for harm.]
It's all right, [he reassures both of them.] He won't hurt you.
[Which is apparently enough for the worm, who folds itself into a more compact shape beside the two dreamers.
Myr isn't quite so bold to use it as a backrest--though it's in range for that, and likely soft enough beside--as he turns his attention fully to L, instead leaning in to rest an elbow on his knee, chin in his hand. His ears twitch with thought as he processes the analogy.]
So much of it's focused on how each dreamer here is--usually--a world unto herself, then? [It's still so strange to think of, even after months of living it; of course, the part of the Fade a given dreamer occupied would bend in around her as its residents tried to capture her attentions, but it remained the Fade even so. A dream was a journey that might intersect with the paths of spirits or dreamers or other demons, not a wholly internal experience that had to be broken into from outside. (With a few horrifying exceptions he'd heard of, now and again.)] And not this--wider experience that we Mirrorbound are given to?
[A pause, and something occurs to him--] If it's something you're keen on practicing with a willing subject, I'd not mind a visitor to mine, now and again.
[Dreaming entirely within the confines of his skull was lonely and isolating and alien. Even so, the idea he could ask a Witch to visit to relieve that...hadn't occurred until now. And there really isn't a Witch he'd trust with the possibility of what his nightmares contain--other than L.]
[In that frozen, hesitant standoff, L isn't sure whether Myr is talking to him, or the worm. Perhaps it's meant to be ambiguous, given that in spite of their surface differences, they share something poignant in common. Of the two of them, the worm might have the greater capacity for absolute trust, and stands down first, and thank goodness; L might not have been able to.
The bulk of the thing rests nearby; L endeavors to channel Myr's easiness with its presence so close. L was always more naural in the role of an observer, rather than a companion.]
For all the interpretations and higher meanings projected onto dreams... so much of it is simply a mind processing the day's events, as well as the memories and concerns of the dreamer. The magic of the Fae is different... more of a networked cojoining of minds aimed at a shared dimension... but for the typical dreamer and the typical dream, the world is smaller, more specific, and often incoherent or disorganized. The challenge of the dreamwalker isn't dissimilar to a book-binder tasked with assembling many scattered pages into something that makes sense, and fortunately... that's exactly the kind of work I happen to enjoy.
[Finding the patterns, the common strain, and drawing out a clear and bright answer from what confuses and frustrates others. The genius and the madman both know the feeling so well.
Though his shoulders are curled and his body is angled slightly away from Myr's gaze, self-conscious as he is of someone usually blind able to see him, he glances his Bonded's way at the invitation.]
We would need to take precautions-- waking while dreamwalking could be a disaster-- but... if you think it's something you wouldn't mind trying...
[He's tempted. The intimacy of dreamwalking, with permission, is at least on par with sex. Possibly greater, especially for a pair of individuals who so mutually admire one another's minds.]
[Dreams as just a mind processing the day's events. It isn't right or natural. (He kind of hates it.)
But the magic of the Fae-- Myr sits up straighter at that, his ears angled entirely toward L now with the force of his interest. Ever the mage at heart...]
That's what all of this is? They don't really have a Fade of their own, then? [...Which also feels neither right nor natural, but there it was; those were the rules that Talam operates on. Whyever the Sisters--or whoever else created it--had done such a thing was well beyond Myr's theological speculations--and worse, his capability to research, with the Coven's vast textual resources forever out of his reach.
(Though there surely must be workarounds, and then it simply becomes a matter of time. And that's so often thin on the ground, too.)
He takes in the rest of L's explanation as eagerly, though, and notes the way his Bonded looks at him. This...would be a solution to a great many things, wouldn't it? A solution and a welcome meeting of minds, something deeper even than the Bond gives them. It would be a less lonely way to dream; it would give L an opportunity to practice a magic he clearly takes joy in. (And it would be another way to keep the detective close and out of trouble.)]
More than wouldn't mind, [he decides aloud.] I want to try it. With you. [So there's no mistaking: As much as it's about relieving a loneliness he hadn't thought could be remedied, it's only L he wants this with.]
[L's laugh is soft, unpracticed, a touch jittery. He nods; he knows that Myr's experiences with dreams are more in line with what the Fae present that is so very unique to the Mirrorbound experience. More fantastic, more connected... related, perhaps, to the Fade he knows.]
It seems similar, from what I've heard, but... I couldn't conclude that definitively.
[He's limited this way. As he mentioned, before, he doesn't typically dream on his own. It's either black and heavy, or fitful and broken to the point where it never dips into a replenishing REM phase to begin with.]
I'd like that, if you are sure...
[And he sounds like he's tempering his hopes, in case Myr does change his mind]
...we'll go to sleep in the same bed after drinking a bitter herbal tea. Close proximity helps... an experienced dreamwalker can do it at a distance, but I'm not that, yet. As you know.
[He fidgets, clearing his throat.]
A dreamwalker has the capacity to either hurt or heal the mind he's exploring... and dreams can be dangerous.
[Like human dwellings, to mice.]
But, I trust you, and so... it could be exciting...
[A life without dreams--even the limited, crippled sort that everyone must dream, who hasn't a Fade beyond the edge of their waking world--holds a special horror for Myr, being as it is a hallmark of the Tranquil. It therefore doesn't come as a surprise--though maybe it should, and maybe it should worry him--to know his Bonded's experience in the realm is limited. But then, L doesn't sleep nearly as much as he ought, either, and that too was poison to dreams.
Really, knowing that dreamwalking practice would make the detective rest more, even if it's only his body and not his fever-bright mind would almost be inducement enough to do it.]
I'm certain, [he affirms.] I trust you--and Maker, Linden, it's not as if I've not been at risk from my dreams every night of my life. [Except for those months of it he's spent on Talam, where there weren't demons to be had.
It's foolhardy, he knows, to dismiss the risks of an unknown magic entirely out of hand. But they're ones he's well-prepared to take, and not so foreign to be frightening.]
Let's get you that experience. Is there aught I can do to make it less of a risk to you?
[Even if he doesn't find himself in the Fade every night, he's still a lucid dreamer--and when one's dreams came entirely out of oneself, that resulted in something nigh on a Somniari's powers. Too bad he'd such a small space to flex them in...]
[L nods, with the same sort of tempered cautiousness he originally posed the possibility. Because the types of dangers Myr has faced in dreams, and the kind that dreamwalking might pose to their minds and their Bonds, are not necessarily unequal, but certainly different.
He laughs again, the same sort, as one who never quite learned the right or natural way to express something so gentle and sincere. It's an unknown valley between humor and empathy, neither of which come easily to the detective.]
Whatever you would do, to prevent a nightmare. If you dream of a tidal wave, I could be crushed... in a dream of a hungry pack of wolves, I could be eaten. Death in a dream accessed this way doesn't bode well.
[He leaves that hanging, preferring not to go into detail, but he's heard of witches who have died of horrible injuries that no medical examination of their body can detect, no physical healing effort can reach.]
I also cannot overstate the importance of sleeping soundly.
[It's a little uncanny, that laughter, but it's an uncanniness that's of a piece with the rest of Myr's Bonded and so does little to unnerve him at this point. L is his, beloved and brilliant, for all his faults.
The tacit warning and the implicit information the Bond provides on what might happen, should L be caught in the flux of a fatal nightmare, gets a wide-eyed look out of Myr. Here he'd just been thinking of--]
Maker's breath, so I'd really be one of the Somniari, [Dreamers, the spell translates,] at least so far's a visitor's concerned.
[He is not sure he likes having that power; in one way, he'd always held life and death in his hands as a mage (though he'd been kept so hedged and mazed in rules to never consider it that way before he had the sense to not use it), but knowing he could crush out someone's life in a dream and leave them never to wake... That's a different sort of thing again. An inexperienced dreamwalker would be helpless against it.
It isn't fair, is the problem.]
Good thing I've never seen much of the ocean, then, nor'm I much inclined to inviting in wolves. But--point taken. [Sleeping soundly might actually be the harder part, come to think, given his own irregular sleep schedule. But there were potions for that, weren't there? ...Come to think,]
How soundly, exactly? Does it matter if it's drugged?
[He knows himself well enough to mistrust his own impulses when he wants something this badly, to check himself before running off on assumptions. If he were the only one at risk, he might not, but...]
[L cants his head at the unfamiliar term and strange translation that doesn't quite seem to fit, as with a few of the things Myr has imported from his own world and attempts to invoke in such a melting pot of cultures and backgrounds. Would he be frustrated, if he knew? L nods, choosing to trust context in this case; he knows some of Myr's relationship with dreams, and the unique danger they could pose to mages in the Circle.
The point is more important than the details, as they both know. L nods, face remaining drawn and somber even though his eyes are alive with the prospect, nearly eager.]
Soundly enough so you know you won't be waking. Drugged is... how it's normally done, for all but those who have a great deal of control over these matters. When it comes to mixing potions a fair amount of accuracy is assured.
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faithlikeaseed) wrote2019-08-01 12:00 am
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He's the one to break the silence, in the end, prefaced with a gentle sigh.]
I don't usually dream. If I thought it could be pleasant in this way, I might wish otherwise.
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[A mage's lot in life was demons in his dreams, most nights, but now and again Myr had found himself in parts of the Fade controlled by gentler spirits who fed off a dreamer's wonder or nostalgia or joy. Those had been a welcome respite, and so this is too, made all the better that he can share it with one he loves.
That it's also an opportunity to get a real look at said beloved, undistorted by too many eyes feeding information to a brain three years out of practice in seeing... Ah, that makes it a double joy. Certain compensations needed be made for how dreams reflected a dreamer's ought rather than his is, but now that he can see L, he is unabashed and curious in his regard.]
We do get some lovely ones, here. [Among the frightening, awesome, and apparently prophetic ones.] I wish I'd the time to study more on what they know of dream-walking.
[One of the worms has followed him, breaking from its herd to make its slow and shambling way to where faun and detective are taking their repose.]
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L's dark-eyed glances at Myr never last long, enough to take in the image of his Bonded before flickering away. The comfort of the dream's harmonious surroundings is interrupted slightly by the fact that L is used to Myr not being able to see him, allowing him a very certain kind of mercy and freedom. It doesn't help that the dream reflects perhaps a harsher version of L than what appears in the waking world; there is a surreal and spectral quality to his appearance, faded, nearly translucent in the bioluminescent underground glow.]
I've made some study of dream-walking, you know. It fits into the work associated with divination...but the associated risks are significant. I haven't gone further than theory yet, for those reasons.
[He takes note of the worm that seems to be making a beeline for their resting spot, raising a brow.]
I see you brought a friend.
[A more welcome companion than Niles, certainly.]
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...Which does not entirely erase the worry that comes in seeing L this way; but then, Myr had always known his Bonded was little more than skin and bone, had braced himself for the struggle of keeping the detective eating and caring for himself despite ingrained tendencies to do otherwise.
He does not miss, either, those flickering signs of unease. His own curiosity sufficiently satisfied, he takes his gaze from L--to the convenient distraction of the oncoming worm.]
I have, haven't I? They're sweet creatures. If we ever meet them outside dreams, I think I'd bring one home--provided they can live aboveground.
[He offers out a hand to greet the beast once it's near enough, smile softening as it brushes his palm with its antennae.]
How much of the foundational work in the area was before Monsters and Witches started Bonding in earnest, d'you know? [From cute animal buddies right back to magic. How the passions of the faun and the passions of the ex-mage sit strangely by each other, but not without harmony.] I know there's a considerable risk of becoming lost entirely to the waking world, but Morgana Drummond was fearsome powerful at it; I suspect she'd some way of mitigating that danger.
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If it feels affection toward Myr, after all, it might feel protectiveness. Ergo, L might be left with a bloody stump for daring to come this close, even in a dream.]
From what I understand, dream-walking has always been of interest to witches. As far as the risks, the way it was explained to me... if you were a hungry mouse, in the dwelling place of a human, there's an ideal way to be: undetected. At least, that's the obvious and expected answer, but it isn't the only one. A mouse could also be welcome... invited, with its own place to sleep and its food provided, but at the mercy of its host to roam or be relegated to a cage. Both have their advantages and drawbacks... it is a violation to enter a dream without permission if you can manage it, but once you have, there's more freedom to explore. It isn't a violation to enter a dream with permission, but you may be restricted access to all that you're interested in by a knowing party. So...
[A pause. It's a lot of odd information, presented in a dream and a dreamlike fashion to match, perhaps.]
Ideally, you'd need to be a mouse that is not only welcome, but allowed to go anywhere you'd like, with the cats shut in a crate by your host.
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It's all right, [he reassures both of them.] He won't hurt you.
[Which is apparently enough for the worm, who folds itself into a more compact shape beside the two dreamers.
Myr isn't quite so bold to use it as a backrest--though it's in range for that, and likely soft enough beside--as he turns his attention fully to L, instead leaning in to rest an elbow on his knee, chin in his hand. His ears twitch with thought as he processes the analogy.]
So much of it's focused on how each dreamer here is--usually--a world unto herself, then? [It's still so strange to think of, even after months of living it; of course, the part of the Fade a given dreamer occupied would bend in around her as its residents tried to capture her attentions, but it remained the Fade even so. A dream was a journey that might intersect with the paths of spirits or dreamers or other demons, not a wholly internal experience that had to be broken into from outside. (With a few horrifying exceptions he'd heard of, now and again.)] And not this--wider experience that we Mirrorbound are given to?
[A pause, and something occurs to him--] If it's something you're keen on practicing with a willing subject, I'd not mind a visitor to mine, now and again.
[Dreaming entirely within the confines of his skull was lonely and isolating and alien. Even so, the idea he could ask a Witch to visit to relieve that...hadn't occurred until now. And there really isn't a Witch he'd trust with the possibility of what his nightmares contain--other than L.]
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The bulk of the thing rests nearby; L endeavors to channel Myr's easiness with its presence so close. L was always more naural in the role of an observer, rather than a companion.]
For all the interpretations and higher meanings projected onto dreams... so much of it is simply a mind processing the day's events, as well as the memories and concerns of the dreamer. The magic of the Fae is different... more of a networked cojoining of minds aimed at a shared dimension... but for the typical dreamer and the typical dream, the world is smaller, more specific, and often incoherent or disorganized. The challenge of the dreamwalker isn't dissimilar to a book-binder tasked with assembling many scattered pages into something that makes sense, and fortunately... that's exactly the kind of work I happen to enjoy.
[Finding the patterns, the common strain, and drawing out a clear and bright answer from what confuses and frustrates others. The genius and the madman both know the feeling so well.
Though his shoulders are curled and his body is angled slightly away from Myr's gaze, self-conscious as he is of someone usually blind able to see him, he glances his Bonded's way at the invitation.]
We would need to take precautions-- waking while dreamwalking could be a disaster-- but... if you think it's something you wouldn't mind trying...
[He's tempted. The intimacy of dreamwalking, with permission, is at least on par with sex. Possibly greater, especially for a pair of individuals who so mutually admire one another's minds.]
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[Dreams as just a mind processing the day's events. It isn't right or natural. (He kind of hates it.)
But the magic of the Fae-- Myr sits up straighter at that, his ears angled entirely toward L now with the force of his interest. Ever the mage at heart...]
That's what all of this is? They don't really have a Fade of their own, then? [...Which also feels neither right nor natural, but there it was; those were the rules that Talam operates on. Whyever the Sisters--or whoever else created it--had done such a thing was well beyond Myr's theological speculations--and worse, his capability to research, with the Coven's vast textual resources forever out of his reach.
(Though there surely must be workarounds, and then it simply becomes a matter of time. And that's so often thin on the ground, too.)
He takes in the rest of L's explanation as eagerly, though, and notes the way his Bonded looks at him. This...would be a solution to a great many things, wouldn't it? A solution and a welcome meeting of minds, something deeper even than the Bond gives them. It would be a less lonely way to dream; it would give L an opportunity to practice a magic he clearly takes joy in. (And it would be another way to keep the detective close and out of trouble.)]
More than wouldn't mind, [he decides aloud.] I want to try it. With you. [So there's no mistaking: As much as it's about relieving a loneliness he hadn't thought could be remedied, it's only L he wants this with.]
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It seems similar, from what I've heard, but... I couldn't conclude that definitively.
[He's limited this way. As he mentioned, before, he doesn't typically dream on his own. It's either black and heavy, or fitful and broken to the point where it never dips into a replenishing REM phase to begin with.]
I'd like that, if you are sure...
[And he sounds like he's tempering his hopes, in case Myr does change his mind]
...we'll go to sleep in the same bed after drinking a bitter herbal tea. Close proximity helps... an experienced dreamwalker can do it at a distance, but I'm not that, yet. As you know.
[He fidgets, clearing his throat.]
A dreamwalker has the capacity to either hurt or heal the mind he's exploring... and dreams can be dangerous.
[Like human dwellings, to mice.]
But, I trust you, and so... it could be exciting...
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Really, knowing that dreamwalking practice would make the detective rest more, even if it's only his body and not his fever-bright mind would almost be inducement enough to do it.]
I'm certain, [he affirms.] I trust you--and Maker, Linden, it's not as if I've not been at risk from my dreams every night of my life. [Except for those months of it he's spent on Talam, where there weren't demons to be had.
It's foolhardy, he knows, to dismiss the risks of an unknown magic entirely out of hand. But they're ones he's well-prepared to take, and not so foreign to be frightening.]
Let's get you that experience. Is there aught I can do to make it less of a risk to you?
[Even if he doesn't find himself in the Fade every night, he's still a lucid dreamer--and when one's dreams came entirely out of oneself, that resulted in something nigh on a Somniari's powers. Too bad he'd such a small space to flex them in...]
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He laughs again, the same sort, as one who never quite learned the right or natural way to express something so gentle and sincere. It's an unknown valley between humor and empathy, neither of which come easily to the detective.]
Whatever you would do, to prevent a nightmare. If you dream of a tidal wave, I could be crushed... in a dream of a hungry pack of wolves, I could be eaten. Death in a dream accessed this way doesn't bode well.
[He leaves that hanging, preferring not to go into detail, but he's heard of witches who have died of horrible injuries that no medical examination of their body can detect, no physical healing effort can reach.]
I also cannot overstate the importance of sleeping soundly.
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The tacit warning and the implicit information the Bond provides on what might happen, should L be caught in the flux of a fatal nightmare, gets a wide-eyed look out of Myr. Here he'd just been thinking of--]
Maker's breath, so I'd really be one of the Somniari, [Dreamers, the spell translates,] at least so far's a visitor's concerned.
[He is not sure he likes having that power; in one way, he'd always held life and death in his hands as a mage (though he'd been kept so hedged and mazed in rules to never consider it that way before he had the sense to not use it), but knowing he could crush out someone's life in a dream and leave them never to wake... That's a different sort of thing again. An inexperienced dreamwalker would be helpless against it.
It isn't fair, is the problem.]
Good thing I've never seen much of the ocean, then, nor'm I much inclined to inviting in wolves. But--point taken. [Sleeping soundly might actually be the harder part, come to think, given his own irregular sleep schedule. But there were potions for that, weren't there? ...Come to think,]
How soundly, exactly? Does it matter if it's drugged?
[He knows himself well enough to mistrust his own impulses when he wants something this badly, to check himself before running off on assumptions. If he were the only one at risk, he might not, but...]
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The point is more important than the details, as they both know. L nods, face remaining drawn and somber even though his eyes are alive with the prospect, nearly eager.]
Soundly enough so you know you won't be waking. Drugged is... how it's normally done, for all but those who have a great deal of control over these matters. When it comes to mixing potions a fair amount of accuracy is assured.