Darn that Dream

[bluesrat]

Who: Rat and wide open like anything.
Where: In a nightclub, in a classroom/battlefield, in his old apartment, but all of the above inside Rat's sleeping brain.
When: Days 83-88
What: Three dream options, just list which one in your reply and away we go?
Warnings: Death and war themes (dream 2), depressing stuff (dream 3)


The Good

It's a good night. The low lighting of the club is hazy through smoke, giving the place that dreamy quality that just makes the music sound all the better. There's plenty of appropriate applause after Charlie's sax solo, and when the song ends and Willie announces a short break in the set, Rat sets his guitar down and his gaze goes straight to the stool at the near end of the bar.
He's young, and Willie keeps telling him he's got his whole life ahead of him, a great future as a musician or a teacher, or maybe both. With that comes the warning not to settle too soon, or maybe just not to settle for her, but there she is. Marietta has a waterfall of black curls, dark eyes, and a sultry smile. She's also wearing a dress that hugs every curve, and when he looks for her, she's looking back at him. His Italian princess has all the passion and fire to match his quiet calm, and he's been head over heels for months, now.
Something about the scene is a little distracting, though. The person sitting beside Marietta seems very familiar, but he just can't place them, and his mind races desperately to figure out where he knows them from as he comes over to see his girl.

((Younger Rat! Your character doesn't have to be sitting beside his girl, if you've got other ideas, but it's an easy in. He might take some talking to to recognize anyone he did not know at that point in his life.))

The Bad

He's leaning over helping a freckled boy with glasses, teaching him the proper fingering for a chord, when the distant whistle starts. At first, He doesn't even pay any attention to it. The noise is unfamiliar, but he's got a classroom full of twenty-some middle-schoolers all with various musical instruments, so as long as it's not the kind of noise that sounds like trouble, it's just fine. Experimentation is a good way to learn an instrument, and the kids know they're allowed to mess around with them while he's focused on helping someone.
The whistle gets louder and closer, fast, and that's a little weird. He looks up just in time to be nearly blinded by the explosion. All around him is dark and muddy, ruined ground. Bodies lie strewn in positions too awkward to be the poses of the living. It's a battlefield. The second World War is being fought across an ocean, and Rat was deferred as a teacher, yet somehow now he is here, in the middle of a war zone.
So are his students, still chatting softly and playing around with their newly budding music skills. Two girls giggle as one of them gets a very undignified sound out of her flute. The bombs are still dropping all around, and the sound of close gunfire makes Rat flinch. He sees figures running and yelling nearby, through a haze of smoke, or possibly gas.
Then the bright walls of the music room are around him again, a safe, secure perimeter. Except there's still bodies on the floor, and the sounds of war all around. The boy with the guitar, no longer getting his teacher's attention, tugs Rat's sleeve. "My fingers keep slipping, though..."

((Likely possibilities for interlopers in the dream are to be put in the spot of a student, or a soldier. The scenery is likely to flicker back and forth and mix, so what scene your character perceives and what Rat perceives at any given moment may differ.))

The Ugly

It's been raining, but the sunset is reflected in the puddles as Rat steps off the bus. He didn't mean to stay so late after school, working on lesson plans, but he's got a substitute job tomorrow between the classes he usually takes, and then he's hoping to spend most of the weekend keeping Willie company. He's tired, and every morning it takes an effort to drag himself out of bed and face life, but just for this moment he can appreciate the beauty of the light on wet pavement. Things smell a little cleaner, after a good rain.
As he opens the door to their apartment, Rat calls out to Marietta, "It's real pretty outside, just now. You should come lo-"

The place is empty. Not just empty of her, although that's the note that really rings out clear in his head. Their broken-down sofa is still there. The drapes are still there. They really don't have all the accoutrements of a settled, married life that they should, at their age, but it's still pretty obvious the place has been more or less ransacked. Every photo is turned face down. His guitar is smashed and hanging against a corner of the coffee table. In the middle of the table, there's a note, and the loopy handwriting is all hers. It's labeled 'Markus' on the folded flap.
Somehow, he's not sure he needs to open it and read the rest. She's gone. She took most of his life with her.

((Your character is welcome to be wherever you'd like, wandering the apartment, coming up behind him from the street, whatever!))

Comments

The Bad

[purplishgreen]

She's fighting in a war, and she's a soldier, that's what she was trained to do, but somehow this is not any battle she's ever been in. Around her is not an elite asari commando unit, fighting as much as with biotics as with firearms, but humans, and the gun in her hands is nothing like the weapons she's familiar with. The smell of gunpowder is sharp in her nose, and that's strange, too.

And then she's stumbling into a classroom of all places, full of children and music and everything that should be good and safe; she looks up to see Rat, and there's a flicker of acknowledgement in her face.

Re: The Bad

[bluesrat]

He's taller in person. Much taller, but right now instead of an apologetic smile he's wearing a slightly shell-shocked look. The button-down shirt and tie looks a little out of place for a battlefield, but it's also a lot nicer than what he was wearing last.

"I... what...??" He blinks, attention torn between the student and this new figure. The fact that she's green wins over his concentration, though, and he gapes at Shiala. "...What??!?"

Re: The Bad

[purplishgreen]

"Are you a fool? Do you wish to die?"

She's caught up in the immediacy of the moment, and there are too many variables to keep track of -- the fight, the children, Rat here in front of her looking entirely out of place but she's not even certain what that place might be.

"We must get to safety, all of us."

Re: The Bad

[bluesrat]

"...Wh-where?" Rat blinks as the scene flickers around him, a distorted mix of classroom and battlefield that coexist in a way nothing in the waking reality he knows possibly could. He's never even been a soldier. This battlefield is conjured from the stories he's heard from those who lived to return home.

A little girl squirms in her wood-and-metal chair, raising her hand. "Mr. Rathbone, Mr. Rathbone, are we going to play it again from start?" She waves her recorder.

There's the whistle of another bomb a distance away.

Re: The Bad

[purplishgreen]

Breathing hard, Shiala stares at the classroom around her, baffled, the reality (or lack thereof) of the situation beginning to dawn on her. She looks at Rat for an answer, since if this is a dream, it certainly isn't hers.

"What is this?"

She steps closer to him, lowering her gun.

Re: The Bad

[bluesrat]

"It's... my classroom." He sounds a little befuddled, himself, gazing around at the students. He can't quite remember their names, and he isn't sure they were all in the same class at the same time, yet they seem familiar. "Back... before I lost my job." His hands clench and unclench, once, and he flinches as another bomb falls close.

"It wasn't like this! The war wasn't here! And I never... fought in it. They gave me a deferment because I was a teacher. But my friend Charlie..."

The student in the chair close beside him tugs at his sleeve again, only it doesn't look like a child any longer. The pose is the same, and he's holding a guitar still, but now the figure in the chair looks like one of the corpses on the ground. He's dark, bloody, in filthy fatigues and helmet pushed back. "C'mon Rat, show me that chord again? My fingers keep slipping..."

The Good

[dowhatisays]

While Charlie isn't entirely sure how he got here, it's not an unusual enough situation for him to question it much. It's a bar. He orders a drink. And then takes a moment to appreciate the good-looking broad next to him. He has a strange sense like he's about to wait for something to happen. In the mean time, the locale's not so bad.

Re: The Good

[bluesrat]

The music's not bad, either. But then there's a break in the set, and the back-up guitarist ambles down off the stage and makes a beeline for him, lighting up a cigarette. The lighting may not be great, but the most obvious thing about the fellow is that he's very tall, and then there's a pretty impressive nose, and then he's sidling up to the girl but giving Charlie an almost apologetic 'do I know you?' kind of look. That sort of expression can be threatening, but in this case it's about as dangerous as a feather.

He does slide his arm around the girl, though. "Hey beautiful."

She leans up against him, although she just may have been eyeing Charlie sidelong, a moment ago. "You sound real good tonight." She has an accent, a mix of Chicago and American-Italian.

Day 85; the Good

[nevermindtherunning]

It had been a while since the Doctor had been to the bar, especially this type of atmosphere. Although there was that one time in the Ytur space colony...

He feels the eyes upon him, and he turns. Something about the man looking in his direction looked awfully familiar. The Doctor couldn't place where exactly he had seen him, but knew he had... somewhere... somewhen. And then he notices he's more focused on the woman beside him.

"I think he's looking for you." He nodded towards Rat, indicating for her to look over.

Re: Day 85; the Good

[bluesrat]

The woman smiles, sultry and easy, and her gaze flicks up and down the Doctor. "Because he knows I like a tall drink of water..." She winks, then turns to give the approaching man a less seductive, warm smile. Rat's dreams have the disadvantage of hindsight on the people in his life. And they do have a certain physical quality in common, both being tall, lanky men.

The big-nosed, familiar face smiles uncertainly at the Doctor as he slips an arm around the girl, but he seems oblivious to any flirting. "Evening..." His expression is open and friendly.

[nevermindtherunning]

The Doctor leans forward, like an eager child, resting on his forearms before eagerly speaking, "Great playing out there! Really, it's quite good!" Live music seemed like such a lost art in so many times. Of course it has a resurgence in the 67th century as 'retro' and 'vintage' ways of living became popular again for about a decade or so.

"You're quite lucky to know such an artist." The Doctor grins to the woman next to them.

[bluesrat]

The taller man looks a little bashful, but grins anyway.

"Mmmhm. Don't all artists need a muse?" She tilts her head against the musician's chest briefly, and strokes his arm.

"Definitely. And thanks, but Willie's the lead, I can only hope to be that good someday. Um... sorry, but I feel like I should know you from somewhere... I'm Markus Rathbone. Or just Rat." He offers a handshake.

[nevermindtherunning]

The Doctor meets the handshake, lingering for a moment to place that name, and then it hits him - He knew him!

And yet why had he been dreaming of so many people from Kore. Why had he been dreaming at all? That wasn't like him.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor!" He didn't elaborate on the question, only offered a smile before finally releasing his grip and turning around. "We've met before. In a different place, I believe."

[bluesrat]

The Rat the Doctor has met is a couple of decades older, and shabbier, and they've never really spoken outside the meeting. It's no wonder he might not recognize him right away.

"A doctor?" The younger Rat smiles a little. "I'm not sure I know anybody, but you're definitely classing the joint up, between the two of you." He squeezes the girl gently against his side, then lets go a little reluctantly. "Where did we meet, before? And I'm sorry if I've forgotten..." Immersed in the dream of a memory, Kore is far from his mind right now.

The Ugly

[burnburnburn]

Dilandau found himself in the bathroom when he entered the dream. It's been a few days since this all started, so he stayed still until he heard Rat's voice. That's not anyone he has to worry about consequences from.

He wanders out into the main room, taking a good look at the pathetic little space and the expression on Rat's face.

"It looks like you've been robbed." He lifts up a photograph to have a look, more curious about the surroundings than whatever suffering Rat might be experiencing at the moment.

Re: The Ugly

[bluesrat]

Still standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, Rat's expression shifts from quiet devastation to sheer bewilderment. "Yu... I..." He blinks, brain whirling as he pulls from the time of the memory he's revisited over and over for years, to the more recent familiarity of that face. "...You shouldn't be here. How are you here?"

The Ugly

[burnburnburn]

"I'm not here because I want to be."

He cocks his head as he looks at photograph and then around the room once again.

"So your woman left? I can't blame her, if this is really the state you lived in."

Re: The Ugly

[bluesrat]

Rat is pretty damn sure he doesn't want Dilandau to be here, either, so at least they're mutually unhappy with the arrangement?

"...It didn't look like this. She... trashed the place, when she left." Granted, it's a pretty cheap apartment, spartan and worn down because that's all they could afford, but it was at least neat and clean up until then.

Re: The Ugly

[burnburnburn]

"You should have kept her on a shorter rein." He's casual, obviously unsympathetic. He decides not to mention that the place looks as shabby as Rat tends to come across.

He leaves the photos alone to perch on the sofa. He's never seen the man in a crisis and he's curious about how he'll react.

"So what are you going to do now? Break something? Drink? Weep?" He keeps watching Rat from the corner of his eye as he leans over to take that note on the coffee table.

Re: The Ugly

[bluesrat]

The presence of the boy has tugged his brain to catch up with current events, which is probably for the best, under the circumstances. That's not to say this memory has lost its ability to hurt him. It's like a raw, old ache, an injury that's never healed up right. He just frowns at Dilandau, though.

"...I'm not about to take romantic advice from you." He strides over with long, long legs, feeling angrier than he's usually inclined to let on. If it looks like he's bearing down on him to do something violent, though, that's misleading. He only reaches to try to snatch the note away. He's got long arms.

The Good

[servingmichael]

Raphael settles on his seat. There's a drink in his hand, who knows where it came from, and he doesn't seem too invested in downing it quickly - under the best of circumstances, he sips his drink rather than gulps it. He knows he shouldn't be here, for many reasons, but he's content, for now, to let this play out.

Re: The Good

[bluesrat]

If he's content to go unnoticed and observe, that contentment will be interrupted. The curvy woman with the dark curls gives Raphael a sly smile, reaching into her purse to reapply her lipstick. Every aspect of the movement is clearly deliberately tailored to be flirtatious, and it's directed right at him. When she drops it back into her purse, she leans over a little, flashing cleavage.

[servingmichael]

Directed at him or no, it flies right over Raphael's head. Instead he's focused on the music, sipping slowly on his drink, subtly tapping out a beat in time with the music.

Finely he asks, "Do you know the band?"

[bluesrat]

She nods, recrossing her legs to better lean towards him. "I know 'em...You're a music lover, hmm?" Her smile is deliberately charming.

[servingmichael]

"I do, my family is quite musically inclined, my elder brother taught me to sing." His voice is fond, even warm. Lucifer had sung so beautifully once, even if he'd rarely thought about it now. And Gabriel was always full of joy.