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Post By Visionary catches up on recent plotlines with a little help Sun Jun 18, 2006 at 01:13:32 am EDT |
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Fairy God-Dancer | |
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 “Sarah?” he asked, shaking her gently. “Mmmmm…” she smiled, rolling over from where she was curled up on her side. “Paul…” “Er… no.” Her brow furrowed. “Robert..? Hugh? Ted? Charles?” “Exactly how long is this list going to go on?” Sarah Shepherdson opened her eyes with a start. “Vizh?! What...? What’s going on?” The Regular shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that this is a dream... It’s got that fairly featureless plain with the classic blur around the edges, after all. As for what’s going on, I just found you sleeping here, apparently imagining yourself in the company of half the men of Parodiopolis.” She sniffed as she got to her feet. “I don’t know what you’re implying. There’s a perfectly logical, innocent reason I’d call out like that in my sleep... Those are all… nicknames I give my shoes.” “Shoes.” “Yes. I’ll have you know, Ted is a striking pair of cherry-red sling-back pumps. You can’t blame me for getting excited about Ted.” She crossed her arms in front of her, daring him to argue. “You have erotic dreams… about shoes.” Visionary stated, trying to go with it for the sake of his brotherly senses. “Well… shoe sales, on occasion. Only the store has replaced the benches where the customers sit with with oiled body builders on all fours wearing only…” she paused. “Wait, before I get into this, what are you doing in my dream?” “Your dream? I’m real, dammit… this is my dream.” “Really? Then what number am I thinking of?” Visionary blinked. “How should I know?” “If I were a figment of your imagination, then I wouldn’t know anything you didn’t know” she argued logically. “Since I do, that makes you the dream one.” “Oh really? Well, what number am I…” “Seven.” “…” Visionary scowled. “Lucky guess.” She looked smug for a moment, then noticed something. “Um… are you wearing furry underpants?” “No” he assured her. “Technically, I’d have to have some, well… overpants for that to be true. It’s apparently my Mythlands look. Johnstantine says we’ve all been outfitted based on my subconscious mind.” “Am I wearing a tutu?” “I’d like to point out that the man’s first name is Con , so we really shouldn’t give too much credence to his theories...” “Uh-huh. Why would you dress me in a tutu for the Mythlands?” Sarah asked with an arched eyebrow. “Not that I don’t have the legs for it, mind you…” “Er, well… I suppose it’s really one of the only “dancer” outfits I know of… aside from your normal outfit, or the ones CSFB’s mom wears. And while kind of magical in their adhesiveness, those don’t really fit the noble quest mold.” “But this screams Lord of the Rings, does it?” “Um… the cellophane wings are kind of a nice, whimsical touch.” “Hmmmm…” she said, noticing them for the first time and giving an inspection with a distracting shake of her shoulders and upper torso. “If it’s a dream outfit, you could have sprung for a set of real fairy wings... But I suppose I can make do with a strap on.” She noticed him shudder. “What?” “I’m just suddenly glad I didn’t dream up Lisa.” She smoothed out her glitter-laden tutu and bounced to the toes of her shoes. “I suppose I can live with being a disco-ballet Fairy God-Dancer via 4th grade class-pageant production values.” She looked at him critically. “Although, if this is all your doing, you’ve apparently got an awful lot of frilly pink things in the closet of your subconscious. Maybe the shaggy loin pelt is overcompensation. Did your parents refuse to buy you your own My Pretty Pony when you were a tyke?” “I’m getting tired of being blamed for everybody’s wardrobe malfunctions!” Visionary complained. “I didn’t dream these looks up!” “So if you didn't, then you admit to being a hallucination brought on by whatever it was Paul gave me at the club…” Sarah said cannily. “Sure, it said Advil on the pill, but I wonder…” “How can I convince you that I’m the real me, and not a dream me? For that matter, what would the dream me even be?” She thought on that. “Sean Connery” she decided. “With hair. And he wouldn’t drive a Pinto.” Visionary rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh… Okay, fine, whatever. But instead of being in a tutu, the dream you would be…” “With Sean Connery” she finished wistfully. “A dream is a wish your heart makes…” Visionary was worried he was losing her to another dream altogether… or worse yet, that he might somehow be replaced. “Yeah, well… If I were in control, you’d most likely be in a cheerleader’s outfit.” She nodded levelly. “You know, they say if you die in your dreams then you die for real.” “Er… aheh… Right. Hmmm…” Visionary pondered the dilemma, then snapped his fingers. “I know how we can prove who’s dreaming who! Why don’t we each tell something the other couldn’t possibly know? Then we’ll be sure the information is not just in our own imaginations.” She considered this. “Okay… here goes: Hatty is the new leader of the Lair Legion.” Visionary grimaced. “No good… Anybody could have seen that coming. Actually, it should be something verifiable.” “Oh! I got it!” she clapped. “Con has a birthmark. When you wake up, you could check for it!” He nodded. “That could work… where is it?” She told him. “That won’t work. That won’t work at all.” “Maybe you could ask Hallie to check for it?” Visionary frowned at her. “You’re determined to make this a nightmare for me, aren’t you?” She grinned. “It’s good to hear from you. Even hallucinatory you.” “Even if you’re all frilly and sparkly?” “Do you hear me complaining about the sparkles?” Sarah asked reasonably. She unhooked the accessory hanging from her side, a stick with a glitter covered star on the end. “And the wand!” she gave it an exploratory wave, and ghostly flowers bloomed in its path as it swept through the air. “Oooh… Very Alphonse Mucha! Although the visuals aren’t doing much to rule out the Ecstasy theory…” He managed a smile. “It’s good to see you too. Everything was such a mess when we snuck out for the Mythlands…” “Whoops! That’s right… I’m supposed to be Very Cross with you.” She turned a stern gaze on him. “…As evidenced by my Very Cross Face.” “It’s quite good” he offered in appeasement. She beamed. “Well, I am a professional actress.” “Really? You got a callback?” “And note my Very Cross Face again.” “Sorry. Isn’t it punishment enough that you sent Johnstantine with us?” She blinked. “Isn’t he helping? You want I should turn him into a pumpkin?” She raised her wand in readiness. “Bibbity-Betty-Boop!” she declared theatrically, punctuating things with a snap of her wrist at the end. There was a sudden flash and then the magic flowers died out. “Hmmm… the wand may need fresh batteries.” “Another Lisa image” Visionary shuddered. “Wait… why are you so tall all of a sudden?” “Or… not” Sarah noted, looking down at the pile of clothes surrounding a talking (though otherwise common) ground weasel. Visionary caught his ferret-faced reflection in one of his discarded shoulder pads. “No! Nonononononono! Dammit! I don’t have time to be transformed into a weasel right now!” “Mongoose” Dancer corrected helpfully. ”Gah! Whatever!” “Asil was quite clear on the matter, should it ever happen again, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.” She furrowed her brow as she examined the star-capped wand. “Anyway, sorry… it was my first spell. You’d think this thing would have a reverse switch…” she said, then blinked in inspiration. “Hey, wait a minute… Poob-Ytteb-Ytibbib!” She again shook the magical artifact in his direction, enveloping him in the shimmering foliage. Visionary’s eyes were screwed shut in a wince. “Did it work? Am I back to how I was?” “Well… mostly” his sister observed judiciously. “Although your loin fur’s gone throw-rug.” “GAH!” the Regular yelled as he scrambled to gather his clothes up off the ground. “Add the General Assembly of the U.N., and now we’d be in one of my old recurring LL Chairman dreams.” “Hmmph.” Dancer said with satisfaction, turning to admire her wand and let Vizh put his away as he struggled back into his outfit. “Shows all that time I spent in bed as a teen reading comics under the covers wasn’t wasted.” “Really? I used to do that to… Curled up alone with a flashlight…” “Er, yes… alone… Hey, speaking of the U.N…” she segued swiftly, “Mumphrey’s running the world right now.” Visionary was now decent enough that he could enlist her aid in fastening the remaining straps and buckles of his garb. “Er… Running the world?” “Commander in Chief, Emperor, Overlord… Something like that.” She waved her hand and shrugged to show her disinterest in the details. “Politics.” “I had to do that once” Visionary recalled with a shudder. “It’s why I still have the UN dream.” Dancer nodded in sympathy. “To be fair, I’m sure that particular one would make Kofi Annan wake up screaming as well.” She tugged the last strap of his shoulder pads into place and patted them down. “Okay, now it’s your turn to dish… What’s Faerie like? Is it romantic and magical?” “It’s… mostly very dirty, so far” He noted. “I think the peasants here have even found a way to weave dirt into outfits. And sleeping on the rocky ground loses appeal after you find a woodchuck family curled up in your furs.” She eyed his outfit suspiciously. “We’re talking about your bed and not your loincloth, right?” He blushed. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” “Right. So any news from the quest to pass along?” Visionary grimaced. “We’ve run into some unexpected difficulties… Tell Hatty and Mumphrey that the Parody Master has amassed an army to do his bidding here.” She sucked in her breath, and then sighed. “Well, we had reports that he might try something like that. Do you need the cavalry yet? Donar’s itching to come break something. Or somebody, rather.” “Not just yet… We’re going to try to keep a low profile and avoid the fighting, if at all possible. We’ll be arriving at some kind of Fairy Fayre tomorrow… Con seems to think we’ll be able to find some leads on Naari there.” Dancer nodded with conviction. “You’ll find her… I know it.” “Yes…” Visionary agreed quietly. “How is everything there? How are the Juniors?” “Er… well…” “What?” “There’s this tiny problem with the Juniors and Badripoor. Really small. Miniscule.” She smiled gamely. “Nothing to worry about… we can handle it. Um… can you pass the dream to Fleabot for a moment?” “I don’t know that Fleabot dreams” the Regular admitted. “Or even sleeps. Unless he’s not wound, that is… and he’s usually wound pretty tight... Especially since Asil threatened to have Flapjack pocket him the next time his spring ran out.” Visionary shuddered. “After what happened when that serving wench in the last camp tried to fish out the tip Flapjack had for her, well… I think those pockets are pretty much myths altogether.” “She fell for that old trick? Lemme tell you, as a waitress, that means she’s either new or very, very lonely.” She stared out into the blurry landscape for a bit, before reluctantly voicing the subject they were both avoiding. “We won the 1066 thing… but Uhuna…” she swallowed. “She didn’t make it. She died saving Dreamcatcher.” Visionary’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes sadly for a few moments. “I really liked Uhuna… always wanted to get to know her better” he managed quietly. “Hallie loved her as a friend.” Dancer nodded. “We all did.” “I’ll… have to think of some way to tell her about it” Visionary stated, then paused. “I think I may be a little in love with Hallie” he blurted, not knowing what to say. Sarah smiled softly. “You’re supposed to tell me something that isn’t obvious, remember?” she teased. Surprise penetrated his melancholia. “Wait… what?” “Never mind for now. You have enough concerns ahead of you… What can you give me to verify your news?” He blinked and pondered it. “Oh! Quoth gave me a black feather before we left and told me to stick it under my pillow at night. She should be able to corroborate that.” Dancer nodded. “Right, that’ll work. Why place it under your pillow?” Visionary shrugged. “She said it was for luck.” The living manipulator of probabilities stared at him and waited patiently. “Oh!” He exclaimed, finally catching on. “For…” He looked at Dancer. “Oh, well yes… that does make sense, doesn’t it?” His adoptive sister grinned at him. “Right, well… maybe it’d be best if you got a little more rest so you can be extra sharp tomorrow at the Fayre.” “Yes… okay…” he agreed. “If the feather will work again, I’ll try and check in with our progress from time to time. But otherwise… Take care of yourself. And Kerry! And… Yo! And… well, it’s a long list.” “Will do” she promised. “You guys take care, and I’ll send all the luck I’m able to muster your way so you can hurry back with my niece.” She hugged him as the blurry edges of the dream began to overtake them. “Ooh! And bring me back something pretty!” “Like what?” he called, fading away. “Non-cursed jewelry… an enchanted rose… an elf that looks like Orlando Bloom…” she winked at him. “You know… whatever’s handy.” |
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