The Velvet Room

You awaken from slumber to find yourselves within an unfamiliar location, as opposed to wherever you found yourselves sleeping the night prior. The room is large, filled with bunk beds where you see other individuals stirring nearby, but otherwise seems empty. The bedding you find yourselves lying on is extremely comfortable, but something you can’t place refuses to allow you to return to sleep. The entire room seemed to be made mostly of concrete, with dark blue metal support columns at a regular spacing.

The entire room is pristine, without so much as a speck of dust or a single wrinkle in the bedding that wasn’t caused by the movements of yourselves. At the foot of each bed is a trunk that sits open and empty, and two similarly open empty lockers on each side of the beds. The bedding, lockers, and trunks are all in the exact same shade of blue.

One side of the room seems to stretch on forever, with seemingly endless rows of beds, trunks, and lockers. It ends in a concrete wall with a single metal door that sits slightly ajar, with a strange blue mist that seems to creep out from the other side.

---

@Letter Bee@Ryik@ctrlsaltdel@meri

Flint

The throbbing organ stared down at him with its single unblinking eye. Its veins or perhaps vines formed a web that streaked across the sky like an aurora. This, the domain of the god of love, was intimate and personal, with a sky so low he could almost jump up and touch it. It was small enough to be like his room at the church compound, and yet so expansive and free that it felt an insult to compare the two. It was warm and inviting, if nothing else, and it was one of the reasons he liked the god of love.

"Am I going to be alone forever?"

The god of love, as usual, did not respond. Father Dominic said that this was a place for love, and for those without love, it was a place to seek guidance. How the god of love actually guided, he did not know. Father Dominic said understanding its guidance isn't something that can be taught.

He sighed, then asked the god of love a question he had asked many times before.

"Will I ever understand you?"

It didn't respond, as usual. At least, not at first. Flint looked down at his hands, at the creases and folds of a short life of suffering and doing god's work, wondering if the god of love actually appreciated his efforts, or loved him like Father Dominic said it did. Shaking his head and lowering his hands, he turned his gaze back towards the sky, towards the god of love, and found it staring directly back at him. It usually looked down on its world in its totality, so it was easy to mistake its sight for its attention, but right here, right now, he could feel it. It was looking at him, and its attention held a power like that of a physical force. It didn't feel like gravity, or any push or pull, but like he was being enveloped by its attention; wrapped up and left wreathed in a force that made him feel like he was glowing.

And then he woke up.

Despite taking a Seed of Eden last night and having a dream about the god of love to show for it, he didn't feel any of the usual headaches that come with it the morning after. Perhaps he was still sleeping, given that he woke up in an unfamiliar blue room alongside complete strangers. Other followers come and go, but he didn't recognize any of them, and perhaps more telling, none of them were sharing a bed. Maybe not followers at all, then.

Although his strange surroundings were worth investigating, it had to be Father Dominic moving him to a new compound overnight without telling him or something. It's hard to wake followers while they're communing with the gods, so while this has never happened before to him specifically, it made perfect sense that it could. It seems... much bigger than their last place. In any case, there were things that are more important than understanding, such as saving these people from the evils of money. Though, as he surreptitiously did a visual check on everyone's pockets, analyzing the shapes of the bedsheets for their contents below as necessary, he found that everyone's pockets were empty. Perhaps they had already cleansed themselves, which would point to them being believers after all.

Not particularly wanting to wake the others, he decides to head over towards the metal door he could spot on one wall. He wanted to ask Father Dominic where his art supplies were moved, and also why he decided to get a place where everything was blue, but before he could make it all the way there, a loud gasp behind him gave him pause as one of the other people here woke up rather dramatically.

Radcliff

Jericho's music always made a party feel like a party. Even if his friend group weren't the type to do any dancing, it helped set the mood, which made a big difference whenever he brought his friends out on his boat because none of them liked fishing like he did. Everyone but Stephanie certainly liked the fish though. Stephanie's vegetarian. He packed tofu just for her.

Things were winding down for the night. The sun was setting, and as he felt a tug at the end of his line, he stopped mid-conversation to reel in a nice yellowtail to go with the tuna he had caught earlier. It was about time he got started on dinner, which meant prepping the fish, putting away the inedible parts, (tossing them overboard isn't good for the sharks) and cleaning up the resulting mess. After finally getting everything ready, he tossed the tofu, then fish onto David's grill, because he wanted to try barbequing on a boat, and it was going pretty well.

His friends were just complimenting the smell when a crack of thunder sounded overhead. It was odd, since the skies had been mostly clear all day, with only a few clouds. Still, looking up, instead of the orange to purple to starry black gradient of a late sunset sky, he found himself right underneath a gathering of dark clouds. It was very strange, considering the forecast had been for no rain, and there wasn't even a hint of clouds coming their way during the day, except, no, there it is. It only came down in small droplets at first, though he could see, off in the distance, more intense rain disturbing the ocean's surface a ways away, albeit creeping closer. He handed the tongs to David, telling him to make sure nothing burns as he headed to the boat's helm. It may not keep them out of the rain completely, but it should buy them time to finish barbequing the food before bringing the party below deck. Despite his best efforts, however, the rain's approach ended up being faster than the boat, and within half a dozen minutes it was pouring. Given that it was headed towards shore and he didn't want to wander off into deeper waters to maybe avoid it, he would probably have to call off the plans to stay out overnight, since it came with winds that made the water choppy. His friends had gotten their sea legs but they still didn't like sleeping on a rocking boat in a storm. He stepped away from the helm to check on everyone, finding that the fish and tofu had been saved successfully, only for the boat to experience a sudden shake, as if bumping into something. If it was a rock, it definitely wasn't on sonar a moment ago, and he almost wondered if he imagined it when the others peeked out to check if everything was okay.

A few of his friends came out to make sure part of the boat wasn't suddenly missing, with Jericho going the extra mile of checking the exterior while David simply tried to secure the grill even further with a roll of duct tape Cliff had brought on board for this specific purpose. Jericho almost fell overboard from the boat's rocking, but eventually found that the boat's propeller had been wrecked by whatever that bump was. A whale, maybe? He set his jaw and told everyone to buckle down because things would get bumpy. His boat wasn't that tiny or fragile, but it wasn't meant to sail rough waters either, and they were still miles from shore. He could maybe do temporary repairs on the propellers with a lot of duct tape or something; just enough to get it to a state where it could take them to shore without self-destructing, but the storm had picked up shockingly fast, and the waves were starting to dump water onto the ship whenever it approaches one at a bad angle. The ship would be fine, but repairing the propeller would take a bit and the water could drag him, or others, overboard. He decided it was time to send out a mayday, in case the storm just continued getting worse.

Naia didn't come out at first, but eventually followed him back to the helm to make sure things were okay while the others headed below deck. While things kind of weren't okay, he tried not to worry her. He was able to reach the coast guard and they were going to send out a tugboat, but when their own boat tilted forward at around a 60 degrees downward angle, things started to get worrying. Naia had to basically lock him in a chokehold as she held onto him while he held the helm with a white-knuckled vice grip. All in all, they had made it out of that just fine, though the wall of water to follow tipped the ship over ninety degrees up as it failed to breach the top before the boat tilted backwards. The wave crashed down over the bottom of the boat as the ship fell back into the ocean at an angle that forced it to capsize. As the top of the ship hit the water, Radcliff fell out of his chair, Naia still holding on tightly, and hit the ceiling head-first, knocking himself right out.

And then he woke up.

Radcliff's awakening was a violent thing. He gasped awake covered in a cold sweat that his disoriented mind mistook for ocean water for a second. After shaking off a sudden unexplained drowning sensation, his mind jumped to his friends, not coherent enough to slow down and analyze. Blue bed sheets? Irrelevant. Other people? Then, they should be here, right? Without even catching his breath, he called out, "Naia? Jericho? David? Steph?" Where are they? He called out to them once more, practically yelling as he scanned the room and failed to find them, panic winning out over logic. "Naia!? Jericho!? Da-" He cut himself off as he saw someone else who had woken up before him, standing next to a door at a far wall who was giving him a weird look. He tried to stop and format his thoughts in a coherent manner, and failed. "Where- they were just-" He stopped to catch his breath, still breathing raggedly, before bringing a hand to his forehead in a futile effort to forestall an oncoming headache. "Where the hell am I?"

"...I'd kinda like to know that too." Flint glanced at the others that were waking up from all the commotion. "I take it it's the same for you guys?

---

@ctrlsaltdel@Letter Bee@meri

---

---

Her eyes began to flutter open, but Ami squeezed them shut. She had never been a heavy sleeper, and she had learned that the best way to deal with waking up in the middle of the night was to just pretend it hadn't happened. Without even looking at the time she rolled over, pulling the covers around her and sinking into the sinfully comfortable mattress. Oh yes, she was definitely going right back to sleep.

Except for the shouting. Not from next door, either--the voice was unmuffled by walls or doorways. At first, sleep clouded her hearing, and she thought it was her mother--home drunk in the middle of the night. But even as Ami moved to pull the blanket over her head, she realized that the voice wasn't her mother's. Wasn't anyone she knew, in fact.

Ice rushed through her veins. Someone was in their apartment. She bolted upright, almost jumped out of the bed--

--and tumbled from the top bunk to land in a heap on the ground.

"Jesus fuck!" Ami winced, clutching her back where she had fallen. She latched on to the nearby bedframe to pull herself up, finally taking a good look at her surroundings.

Well, the good news was that there weren't any strangers in her apartment. Her eyes roved over the strange surrounds even as her mind raced.

Think, Ami. You went to sleep, then woke up in a weird room you've never seen. Gotta be a dream. That helped; some of the adrenaline that had been building up started to drain away, and she dusted herself off. She hadn't had a--what are they called? Loosey dreams?--dream where she knew it was a dream before. The experience was a bit strange, but she might as well see where it went, right?

To-Do

• Figure out what this place is

Her target was obvious at a glance, and she walked up to the door just as the pale young man was turning to address the room.

"You could safely say," she confirmed. Ami was only slowly realizing how many other people were here in her dream. She wasn't sure whether that was unusual. She turned to the other man (who she now realized had been doing the shouting) and gave him a loose wave to catch his attention. "Hey, boss. I don't know what you're worked up about but, uh. This is just a dream. So chill out." She punctuated her sentence with a solid, serious nod.

She’s a light sleeper. She likes to blame it on her mattress. Too bad it’s on the lam. Left her with this slab of pure miracle—a nice enough parting gift, but a poor substitute for the excuse. Insomnia isn’t exactly what she’d call it, because she doesn’t exactly call it anything. If she doesn’t get enough sleep, that’s her problem. No use complaining, and if anyone asks, well, it’s the mattress. Really ought to get a new one. Wish granted. Christ.

A footstep plucks her from her delirious thoughts in an instant. It comes from somewhere across the room—what room—what—she opens her eyes and is greeted with an utterly unfamiliar sight. Slats locking snugly into the sides of a frame, the underside of a quilted mattress—again the mattress—not—where—

A shout. Panicked, putting forth some word, some phrase that escapes her half-awareness. She freezes. Every muscle locks, but not quite as tight as those slats, and she can’t take her eyes off of them. And she can’t look, and she can’t—oh, this has got to be some sort of nightmare, or dream, really, because somebody falls right past her from on high or something, and that’s too silly to be a real nightmare. Hysteria bubbles around her teeth. She swallows a laugh. Maybe if she just lies here and pretends not to exist, she won’t. She can wake up on her shitty mattress and pull a citizen’s arrest on it. Vigilante justice sounds great. Stomp it right into the curb. Ha! The fallen angel or whatever curses really loudly. Maybe this is a fun dream.

“...just a dream. Chill out.”

Right. Just a dream. Chill, she’s so chill. She rolls over and sits up. Across the room, two others have also awakened. Blue mist swirls vaguely across her focus before she flicks it back to the closest figure. Clearly strong, but not actively threatening. She doesn’t seem to have noticed Katherine yet. Everything is fine. This is totally a dream. It is. “Yeah, man,” she says casually. See, she doesn’t sound afraid. She’s fine. She’s fine. “Chill out.”

Daniel Palaiologos

Dad met Mom again. They're marrying so I am no longer an illegitimate child. I am happy.

That was what happened yesterday, before Daniel slept - One good thing before a disaster he did not know he was stumbling into.

He dreamt, then woke up among strangers, in a room filled with shades of blue. Cabins? A barracks? What is this place? Had he been kidnapped?

Terror. A flood of briny fear flowing through his psyche. But he had been shaped by love and pain, the crucible of soft and hard. So be it; he was silk and steel.

He was weaponless among people who did not know what was happening, were convinced it was a dream. But they have not scented the mist at the end of the room, nor gone to the unlocked door the mist was from.

So he walked there, ready to face the terror which lay beyond. What was the worst they can do? Kill him?

At fourteen, the boy did not lack courage or smarts. He knew that the fear of death came from fear of the unknown, of severance, of not being able to do what he wanted anymore.

Daniel Palaiologos opened the slightly ajar door. If allowed, he went into whatever lay beyond.

He was the first to answer the call of Fate.

@meri@ctrlsaltdel@Ryik@Bacon

Radcliff

Radcliff was still catching his breath when a couple of girls told him to calm down... in a rather strange way.

"This is just a dream. So chill out."

“...just a dream. Chill out.”

He pinches himself, just to make sure. It certainly doesn't feel like a dream, but then... what could it mean, to have woken up here? Where were his friends? A kidnapping doesn't make any sense, never mind the lack of restraints, and this isn't like any hospital he's seen before. There wasn't any medical equipment in sight, and he's pretty sure hospitals don't use bunk beds. The most likely explanation was that someone found him, washed up on shore... and no one else.

He covers his mouth with a hand, as if to keep the violent scribbles he calls thoughts in his head. The idea that they were just... gone--- it didn't feel real to him, yet, and the possibility that it was was terrifying, like- well, like a looming tsunami on the horizon. Was he supposed to just pretend things were fine for now? That the wave wouldn't come for him? Ignoring it seemed like it'd make it hurt more.

Then the guy by the door drives home his fears just by pointing out the obvious, and he can't keep from gritting his teeth behind his hand. If they died, then...

Flint

"This is just a dream. So chill out."

“...just a dream. Chill out.”

Waking up here was most certainly not a dream. His dream had been about the god of love, and when it ended, he woke up here. He's yet to experience anything so contrived as a dream within a dream, and while consecutive dreams are typical, they don't really happen after taking a Seed of Eden. Also, unlike some people he's met before, he's never failed to recognize the difference between dreams and reality. He supposes that there's a first time for everything, but doubting reality just because someone told him to is no way to live.

As he considers how to approach an unreceptive audience with things they do not want to hear, something he's had plenty of practice doing, a young boy wordlessly gets out of bed and walks through the open door he had been heading towards previously. Hmm...

In regards to everyone else, he could just ignore them, though if they're other believers, they might be sticking around, and it would probably be better to disavow them of any misunderstandings. Other people don't remember their dreams as well as he does, so they have a tendency to get confused by what they see after taking a Seed of Eden.

"This isn't a dream."

Now, as he has had practice doing, it is time to leave before they can beat him up. He follows the young boy through the door, answering the call of fate.

Of course it's not a dream. Of course it's not. When you're dreaming, you accept whatever nonsense the unconscious cooks up, you don't think to yourself, ‘oh, what a dream this is’. Delusion is reassuring, though. She studies the man's face with a resentment she knows is unfair. Still, it rankles her—the ease of his statement, the ease with which he opens the door. She barely caught a glimpse of the first person to go through. This isn't a dream, so how do they charge into the unknown with such confidence? What the hell is going on?

Standing, Katherine tugs at the hem of her sweatshirt. At least she still has something from home. Her mind veers to the alternative—if she woke up wearing different clothes, what could have happened during the vulnerability of sleep—and she wrenches it back on course. Focus. There’s only two other people left in the room. The man hasn’t said a word since she awoke. At least he seems appropriately confused. His heavy brow settles like sediment over his eyes. She steps up beside the woman who fell, trying not to startle her. Looking between the two, Katherine says, “Okay. Um. We may not know what’s happening, but we’ve got to stay calm.” She hooks her thumbs in her pockets. “I’m Kathy. Hey.”

The Velvet Room

The blue metal door let out a creak as it pushed open, a thick blue mist rolling from beyond the door. As the door opened, the mist thinned, and the next room became visible through the doorframe.

Beyond the door, the next room is entirely different, more like something resembling a war room. A long wooden table sitting prominently in the center of the room with over a dozen chairs, and a long silk tablecloth covering a strip down the center of the table. The walls of the room look as if they’re covered by velvet, almost like soundproofing or a padded cell. The padded walls of the central room, finery on the table, and the cushions on the chairs all are in an identical shade of blue to the bedding, trunks, lockers, and door.

A bald, disproportionately thin man with a freakishly long nose and bulging eyes sits at the far end of the long table in the center of the second part of the room, dressed in a suit and staring intently at the group with a curious expression. His fingers were tented, mere inches from his long nose as he stared at the two who pushed towards the door intently.

Standing at either side of him are a young man and young woman standing at his left and right sides respectively, each with sharp facial features, similar builds, and the same snow-white hair and yellow eyes. Judging by their appearance, one could guess the pair to be in either their late teens or early twenties. The man is wearing a suit, with his hair in a crew cut. The woman is wearing a pan suit, with hair tied back into a braid that runs down to her shoulders. Both of their clothes are in that same shade of blue, both seem to be wearing berets that share that same color, and both of them rigidly stood at a parade rest. They seem to be waiting for either something or someone, as the long-nosed man nods to the first two to enter. His voice carries across the room despite not raising his voice, as he speaks in a welcoming and almost friendly tone. “Welcome to the Velvet Room.”

---

---

Ami is unconvinced. Refuses to be convinced, really. She doesn't argue, though, just watches the young man turn and walk through the door with an expression of mild interest. A kid--a bit younger than her brother, she judged at a glance--already bypassed the group altogether to enter. The whole gravity of the dream is pulling her in that direction, and she sees no reason to resist. This is kind of nice, really. For just a bit, she can stop worrying about the future. The surroundings are a little spartan, even for her taste, but other than that it feels like a little vacation.

“I’m Kathy. Hey.”

She looks over at Kathy, gives her a brief but friendly nod. Her introduction is similar. "Ami. Nice t'meetcha." Gesturing at the doorway: "I'm not sure what the deal is either, but I bet we can find some answers through there. I'm gonna head in, if you guys wanna come with." Without waiting for an answer, Ami casually strides in after the other two.

The barracks--she realizes now it could only be one thing--were utilitarian enough that she hadn't thought about her clothes. This new room, though... Well, the dream was good enough not to leave her in her actual sleeping dress, but the outfit she was wearing (stained t-shirt, ratty basketball shorts) was so out of place in these surroundings that she might as well have been standing there in her underwear. Hopefully this dream wasn't about her getting chewed out.

"Uh, thanks. Sir?" She thought about saluting, then thought she remembered that civilians weren't supposed to. Besides, none of them were actually wearing military uniforms. "I'm glad it has a name, but what is this place?"

Flint

This place is... bringing up some bad memories. Not the place itself, technically, but the unfamiliar environment and the strange people in strange uniforms acting friendly. He knows now that those men from back then were police officers carrying out some kind of religious persecution. It had been explained to him while he was under the auspices of the prophet of the god of stars, and father Dominic elaborated on the situation, explaining to him that the police can't be blamed for their ignorance. Though the god of stars ultimately failed him in the end, it was a shame to see how the police would harass a perfectly harmless place of worship like that. They act like the liberation of the root of all evil is a crime! He has father Dominic to thank for the god of love never having those people breathing down their necks, though he's always wary whenever he sees one of them.

In any case, the uniforms aren't the exact same, particularly for the man with the large nose that seems to be their leader or boss, and while suddenly waking up here didn't paint a great picture of their character, if they were like the police, it was important to show confidence in front of them. He had already paused, lost in thought, long enough for the other three people he saw in the beds to join him and the young boy, and long enough for one of the girls to beat him to the punch in addressing the man. Not willing to display any more loss of initiative to the long-nosed man, Flint waltzes over, pulls out a chair, and seats himself right next to him.

"I agree. What brings people like us to a place such as this?" Flint managed to keep the nervousness out of his voice and demeanor as he uses the first line of defense against cops: play dumb. Whenever they act nonchalant with their greetings or questions, half the time they're just trying to bait you into confirming that you did something they don't actually know you did.

Radcliff

It takes a while to notice that the beds seem to just go on forever in one direction. It was the kind of endless abyss worth staring deeply into just so that you could see it staring back at you, but now really wasn't the time for non-Euclidean geometry. Everything seemed to take a backseat to the swirling dread above his head, but it was so opaque and erratic that it was hard to actually process. Was now really the time to try?

Like tucking an oil slick into a shirt pocket and feeling it drip down his chest, he reluctantly tried to ignore the thoughts about what actually happened to his friends. He was apparently dealing with, what, the supernatural? A technology indistinguishable from magic? A carnival fun house? It was, regardless, a level of nonsense he had to devote his attention to right now. It put him in a dour mood just to do so, but he supposes it gave him the flippancy to ignore the blue mist, the strange décor and stranger nose, the nonchalance the ratty-looking adult man seemed to be giving the situation as he took a seat, and the two girls who may or may not have been content with pretending this was all just a dream.

Cliff slams his palms on the wooden table like a lawyer hearing a contradiction. "Answers. Just cut to the chase. You brought us here, whatever 'here' is. Why, then how. he said, commandingly. The long-nosed man didn’t put them in binds or anything, which implied he needed their cooperation in some manner. That wasn’t to say Cliff believed them to be above reprisal, he just didn’t particularly care; couldn’t bring himself to, frankly.

Daniel

Daniel faced the person who called himself the proprietor of the Velvet Room and said, “I had my hopes up that this was some sort of… supernatural phenomenon and not just a kidnapping. As it is, the endless line of beds is the only evidence I have of such and it could just be an illusion. So I echo the big man’s question; why are we here?”

The boy’s disappointment was palpable as he continued to observe, “You’re outnumbered and without guns or weapons unlike more experienced kidnappers. Even if you can take us, we can cause chaos and wreck what you find useful in us. So give us a reason to not to resort to violence; preferably conclusive proof that this is more than some grand trick.”

Daniel knew that if he rushed the old man, he can lay hands on him before his ‘employees’ struck back, and when that happened, the other kidnapees will rush to help him… if he got what he wanted across.

He then mused as he inched closer to the old man’s desk, “I’ve always wanted to see Magic… Sad that this is all perfectly mundane...”

Katherine returns the nod Amaranthe—pretty name—gave her. Watching her stride confidently through the door, she relaxes slightly. That she can keep a level head in such a bizarre situation is reassuring. Again, Katherine finds herself wanting to follow suit—whether this is a dream or not, there’s no use worrying. Might as well find out what’s going on so she can freak out about it more specifically. Awesome.

Stepping into the next room, she immediately notes the two figures flanking the man. Guards? Soldiers? They’re certainly not strengthening her resolution not to panic. At least her fellow prisoners share this sentiment. Their demands flurry against the cold blue of the war room. She keeps her mouth shut. Anything she could add would be redundant. Better to let the others take the blame if this strange man finds their questions disrespectful.

The Velvet Room

As Daniel approached, the young man started moving to intercept him with an intensity in his eyes, and a grimace across his face. “If you dare to lay a hand on our master, you will not leave alive.” He said, his tone as forceful as his words, despite the soft volume of his voice. A large silhouette appeared behind him briefly, that of an armored humanoid figure with a staff or spear, though it is impossible to tell further detail. The woman stepped forward, wearing a slight smile on her face instead of the young man’s grimace. “While my brother may be a bit too aggressive, I share his sentiments that you should not threaten our master.” As she spoke, her voice carrying a certain soothing quality, despite her harsh words. Another silhouette appeared behind her, that of a little girl that radiated terrible power and a menacing aura.

The pair stopped as the long-nosed man raised a hand. ”Clerval. Safie. There shouldn’t be any need for that.” The long-nosed man said, as the pair stepped back and the large silhouettes vanished just as quickly as they appeared. The long-nosed man nodded, before turning back to address the assembled. “I apologize for my attendants. Though, I would advise against violence. Rest assured that we do not intend you harm, quite the opposite in fact, as you are guests here.” He said, completely unphased by both the threat from Daniel and the display from his attendants.

“Regardless, I will answer whatever questions I can. Though I cannot answer everything.” The long-nosed man said, as he first turned to address Ami and Flint. “Allow me to start with your question. This is a place between the worlds of sleep and waking. Physically at least, every one of you is asleep right now. As master of the Velvet Room, it is within my power to bring people who possess a certain gift here. As individuals who possess this gift, I called you here so I might speak with you.”

The man then turned to address Radcliff. ”As for why you’re here, if I attempted to explain everything now, you would not understand. And besides, there are some things that you simply must find out for yourselves. However, all will be revealed in due time. For now, I will explain what I can.” The man then leaned forward in his chair, tenting his fingers once more as he began. “The world as you know it is on the precipice of oblivion. Under normal circumstances, I would call on a special individual to save it, but unfortunately they have turned away from that path, and the world, in the current state, is doomed.”

---

---

Ami's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. This dream is getting dark fast. She would have liked a bit more of the meeting new people part before the pronouncements of doom; the other people her subconscious had cooked up didn't seem like the friendliest bunch so far, but chewing the fat was definitely more relaxing than talking about the end of the world.

Well, at least the strange-looking man who had welcomed them seemed nice enough. He seems sincere; Ami immediately decides--contrary to the others--that he can be trusted.

Instead of voicing any of that, she says aloud, "Um. Doom? Can you be any more specific?" Ami looks around the military... themed (seemed like as good a word as any) room, and the two attendants, then back to the man. "Is there going to be some kind of military coup? I know how to use a gun but I'm not one of those people who dressed up and plays soldier on the weekends." A short pause, as she looks thoughtful. "And what do I call you?" The urge to address him as long-nose is rising; probably best to get a name before that happens.

Daniel

There it was: Proof of the Supernatural's existence shoved onto his face. Daniel stepped back, then gave a slight bow; when he lifted his face up again, the eyes were shining with wonder.

His next words were, "I must apologize for the disrespect I've shown towards you and your... employees, then. My only excuse was that I didn't know that I had reasons to trust that I had been taken here for a good reason. Nevertheless, I'm convinced. So, we're technically dreaming, yet also not, and we're here to fill in for a Chosen One who threw aside his duty."

A pause as he mused, "When does the world end? Do we have enough time to prepare? How can we keep in contact with each other once we are back in the waking world?"

And of course, he had to ask, "Do we get cool powers? I have a Dad and Mom I have to protect once the world ends."

Then the full implications sank into Daniel's mind as he realized what he had said, what the mysterious old man had said. The World was ending. It's not necessarily the planet, but definitely civilization. What came after would be anarchy and lawlessness, fighting for food supplies and power. The loss of knowledge and learning because people were too busy surviving to preserve it. And all because a Chosen One ran away... or joined the bad guys.

His eyes blazed with fury, confirming others' suspicions that he was quick to go for the direct, violent solution as he said, "Where can we find this Ex-Hero? If he's one of the bad guys now, can we kill -"

He corrected himself to avoid coming off as a psycho from a horror movie, "I mean, beat him up and lock him away in some prison dimension? And how do any cool powers we get work?"

@meri@ctrlsaltdel@Ryik@Bacon

Radcliff

“You’re outnumbered and without guns or weapons unlike more experienced kidnappers. Even if you can take us, we can cause chaos and wreck what you find useful in us. So give us a reason to not to resort to violence."

Radcliff had to side-eye the kid. He can acknowledge that he was being confrontational himself, but making threats of violence to assumed kidnappers didn't really seem wise. He supposes he can't blame a kid as such, though to have such a dire worldview as to make such threats, with the immaturity to wield them so loosely...

As one of the people standing behind the long-nosed man answered the boy's threats with one of his own, a armor-clad figure simply materialized behind him. There was no better word for it. It was only briefly, but go to the level of holograms for such a hoax beggared belief. The most rational explanation remaining was that they were on some kind of reality TV show that wasn't afraid to either break the law or drug their actors... No, even with drugs, and allowing for the outlandish possibility of subjective time travel by disabling the creation of long term memories, it's a lot of effort to go through for a TV show that could only be controversial and difficult to manage. After all, even if everyone signed up to be here, it was obvious that, should the scenario be repeated with many people, some of them would lash out violently. It didn't make sense. An infinite barracks back in the other room could have been a simple optical illusion, but holograms now? There were no obvious projectors he could see, and the blue fog machine - wherever they're hiding it, would have been liable to interfere. Perhaps it was hidden in the ceiling somewhere, but no points of light stood out.

As the long-nosed man went on with his explanation, it was somehow more outlandish than the best he could come up with. The man said they were dreaming, but as Radcliff crossed his arms to surreptitiously pinch himself again on the bicep, he was having difficulty with basic suspension of disbelief. Refusing to answer the 'how' and 'why' of their arrival here with a boilerplate 'you wouldn't understand' certainly wasn't helping his case.

The man said they were tasked with saving the world, and that the 'real' chosen one turned down the position. That gave him pause, since it conflicted with the idea that this was all some kind of TV narrative. While it would avoid placing unfair importance on any one character, it also implied that they were being set up to fail. While an underdog story might have been more popular, it would also be unacceptably anticlimactic for them to suffer failures, which meant that, if his theory was true, they were either in a snuff film, or... or what?

And if they were in a snuff film, would the correct path forward - fighting and surviving, actually be any different than blind belief?

The idea that he was asleep, that he had just been knocked out and could be awoken, still on the boat, with everyone still okay...

How very serendipitous.

As he began to consider the logistics of going forth with whatever the long-nosed man wanted for now, one of the girls - Ami, was it? And the young boy echoed his thoughts pretty straightforwardly. The weapons they would need to accomplish such a task and, reluctantly, the targets that were involved. Assassination would be the way to go, he supposed.

Ah, right, before he goes further down that train of thought, if they were expected to work together, whether it was him and the others who woke up here or all of them with the long-nosed man, they should know how to address each other at the very least. Two more names were already mentioned. He nodded towards them as he said their names. "Clerval. Safie." He turned towards the long-nosed man; "My name is Radcliff. How should I address you?" He then swiveled his head to look at the others in the room. Now was as good a time as any for introductions, and he's pretty sure he was the only one to overhear the girls exchange names.

Flint

“Allow me to start with your question. This is a place between the worlds of sleep and waking. Physically at least, every one of you is asleep right now. As master of the Velvet Room, it is within my power to bring people who possess a certain gift here. As individuals who possess this gift, I called you here so I might speak with you.”

Ah, now things were starting to make more sense. Father Dominic always said he had a gift, though he didn't think remembering dreams was that special. As for why the five of them were needed, though...

“The world as you know it is on the precipice of oblivion. Under normal circumstances, I would call on a special individual to save it, but unfortunately they have turned away from that path, and the world, in the current state, is doomed.”

"So, it's simple then. We save the world instead." Flint nodded to himself. Of course Father Dominic would never purchase a place like this. It makes much more sense that they're simply not in the waking world.

Hmm... "What are we saving it from, though? A wrathful god? Can gods even be killed?" He mused, aloud.

Then, derailing the topic, the upset man from earlier spoke up, seemingly having regained his composure.

"My name is Radcliff. How should I address you?"

He was clearly talking to the long-nosed man, but then his gaze shifted over him next since he was sitting at the table next to the man. He then looked toward the boy and the two girls. It was an expectant look; an open invitation. They weren't fellow believers, but it seems they would have to save the world together. Getting to know one another was a good idea. "I'm Flint." All that being said, he wasn't sure what else to say about himself, and so just didn't say anything else as the moment passed and the others went on to make their own introductions.