ruffians | → LET'S PARTY

Entry tags:

!ic,
*open

→ LET'S PARTY

Pick a loser.
(there are specific posts for eames, destiny characters, and overwatch characters)

Leave a comment with your character and put which one of mine you want in the header.

Leave a prompt! Be it a picture or an idea or something you hijacked from a meme.

If it's a meme overflow, link the original thread because I'm a baby with a bad memory.

Or leave it blank and I'll try to think up something.

NSFW content goes here.

And a great time was had by all

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She nods. "Alright. Time to learn how to dream, then." She holds her arm out to him, her skin pale enough that the blue veins are visible.

She pauses for one moment, before he inserts the IV. "And if I'm awful at it, you'll send me back to Fagin?"

"Probably," he doesn't look up at her, focused on uncapping the needle and gently pushing it into her arm while she's distracted by the conversation. It's obvious he's done this a lot, quick and confident as he attaches the tube and stands to move around the desk to take his seat.

Eames rolls up a sleeve and sticks in his own IV, putting his feet up on the desk to get comfortable, "depends on how bad you are."

Nancy winces as the needle goes in, but she makes no other indication of discomfort.

"Great." She's got to be good at this. She can't face going back to Fagin. He'd kill her, more like than not, for failing this so poorly.

"Close your eyes. Relax."

She doesn't really need to relax, but it certainly helps. Eames leans forward to start up the PASIV and relaxes in his chair.

Provided nothing goes horribly wrong, when next she opens her eyes, Nancy will find herself waking on a bench in an Italian(-ish) vineyard. It's beautiful — acres of farmland with workers picking grapes in the sun, a maisonette in the distance. It's realistic enough, sun warming the skin, the smell of the fruit and plants, but it's shallow. No depth beyond this. But it's a good enough base.

Eames is standing about a foot away from the bench, dressed in a linen suit and sunglasses, hands in his pockets as he looks out at everything while he waits for his guest to wake up.

"Easier said than done." But she closes her eyes and braces herself.

The light is far too bright and Nancy blinks away the bright lights of the Italian(ish) sun. When she can see, she inhales, looking at the sprawling landscape in front of her. She's dressed in what she slept in, worn-in jeans, light green hoodie.

"How'd you get that!" Is what she asks first, when she notices Eames near her. "Woah- is this- I'm in a dream?"

It's not the worst reaction anyone's ever had to this, that's for sure.

Eames turns his head to look at her and nods, tilting his head and pulling his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to look at her, "mine, specifically."

"This is outstanding!" The world Eames brought into his dreams was bright and colorful, straight out of a magazine.

"You'll get used to it," he starts to walk down the rows of crops, gesturing for Nancy to follow.

Nancy trails after him, running a few steps to catch up with him.

"I wouldn't ever want to get used to it." She looks around, tilting her head toward the sun. It's something out a movie, about some smart young thing taking a few months in Italy to perhaps write?, and at some point Nancy's imagining herself as the heroine, dark blue dress fluttering behind her, big white floppy hat. Her next step makes her realize that her sneakers are gone, replaced by a pair of sandals.

"Look!" She does a twirl for Eames.

Eames' eyebrows twitch up in amusement when he looks at Nancy and he shakes his head. "The dreams aren't always like this," he reaches out a hand absently as they walk, feeling the leaves touch his fingers. He can tell the difference between this and the real thing, but a less experienced person wouldn't. It's good enough. "For your first time, I figured we'd start with something nice."

"Well that's a pity, then." She stops twirling and falls into line with him, trying her best to keep up with his pace. The platform on her shoes make it a lot easier to keep up.

"If it's a dream, I imagine it can be... anything."

"Theoretically, depending on how good you are at building them." Eames gestures vaguely with a hand and some of the plants grow and twist around eachother, forming an arch over their heads, "making a dream is different to letting your subconscious fill it in, it takes a lot of attention to detail you might never even consider to avoid breaking the immersion."

Nancy prefers Eames in the dream world, she's decided. Back in the waking world, she's still not sure. But this place was amazing.

"So my dress?"

"What about it?" He looks at her over the rim of his glasses-- it's a nice dress, there's not much to say on that topic.

"It's not real enough, if you look at it?" It looked decent enough, but she realized as she looked at it there was no stitching, no zippers or hooks. "I'm trying to get a grasp of what you're saying."

She picked that out pretty quickly. Eames nods approvingly, "that's your subconscious-- it'll fill in with a general feeling than anything precise."

He gestures broadly as he speaks — flowing hand movements to illustrate the subconscious and more rigid ones for the other — and when he continues, he opens his jacket he gestures to the silk lining, "building a dream is a different animal, consciously making those choices is something you'll learn."

Nancy frowns in deep thought. "Alright. Pinterest in your mind, kind of. But with... a whole world, I suppose." It was interesting, and incredibly complicated, but for her, relating it to something she knew was making it just a bit easier.

Well that's a way to think about it, sure. Eames doesn't comment, either way. Instead he leads the rest of the way up the path to a set of french doors framed by lattice fencing and flowering ivy, and slides them open.

On the other side is a little paved area with a small table and seats that overlook a hills and fields. It's a beautiful scene, vaguely European with an early afternoon sun.

"So, first step--" He walks over to the table and pulls a chair out for Nancy, "I'm just going to try a few things to get a feel for your aptitude."

The doors seem so perfect in the vineyard, like they'd always been there. She steps through them wordlessly, admiring the new view in front of her. With a nod of appreciation towards Eames, she glides into her chair, crossing her legs at the knees, and leaning forward.

"Alright- hold on." She closes her eyes for a moment and screws up her nose. This is a dream. She can imagine whatever she wants. When she opens her eyes, there's a bottle of rare gin on the table and a martini glass. Absolutely perfect. And time to see if you can drink in a dream.

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