Must be some kind of way out of here, said the joker to the thief...

[blackmagus]

Who: Fortescue, Jazz, and anyone who wants in!
What: Dream-sharing, both her own and the City itself.
When: Days 83 - 88
Where: Dream-space!
Warnings: Violence, humans as h'orderves, maybe some language. Will update if necessary.

1 } There's too much confusion...

The smell of diesel permeates the air, as Fortescue finds herself in a very familiar memory. It's sunnier than the actual day, but such is the way with dreams. She's standing in the utilitarian corridor that runs through a Germanian gunship, wearing her most nondescript black clothes and boots. This can't be traced back to Imperium, officially, though unofficially there's no chance it won't. They're high over the ocean on a training exercise, and it's her job to bring them down. It's a small attack fleet — two large gunships, shiny and brand new, and four smaller skirmish boats.

Her orders are simple, and so is her plan. Wreck the two largest, use them to disable three of the skirmishers, commandeer the fourth back to land.

They're full of soldiers, of course, and the first Nazi to spot her gives her a sneer and asks what she's doing aboard. Fortescue doesn't bother with a quip. She simply shoots him, before he can raise an alarm, and heads for the top deck of the airship. While a gunship is dwarfed by one other class of airship, its size is nothing to sniff at; it's just slightly smaller than a water-bound battleship. This one has the latest Germanian weaponry, two canons that utilize particle beams, and that's her destination, cutting down anyone who gets in her way. She knows how to make her foot steps near-silent, even on steel plates. Almost no one sees her coming.

2 } I can't get no relief...

It's a year earlier, and she's meeting one of her contacts in New York. Cash Gillingwater, some sort of agent in the OSS — though she's not supposed to know that last part. He has information for her, and she has some for him. They're supposed to talk business, but she's known Cash for several years. He's another ghost, like her. Nonexistent on official records. The conversation will be pleasant, at least.

New York's summer is sweltering, but the sidewalk cafe she's situated herself at has the benefit of a breeze from the very close ocean. All around her are the sounds of the city, very different from most Earths in the 1940s. Hover cars, people talking on cell phones, elves dotting the crowds, tiny personal computers and tablets. Fashion is truly all over the place, spurred by discoveries in other universes; some of it is nearly seven years past what it should be, some of it "right" but with missing or accentuated details, and some of it is its own version of "retro," almost with a steampunk feel. She herself is outfitted in a navy-colored, spangly sort of dress, but in this crowd it doesn't stand out much — which is the point.

Fortescue drinks her coffee and waits, but the memory stands out because of how isolated she feels. There are at least ten other customers sitting near her on the sidewalk, but no one looks at her. It's as though she's truly invisible.

3 } Businessman they drink my wine...

Elben Mahr Hollows, the Elven version of a City, are disconcerting, at first. The space is magical to begin with, and as such some of them become gigantic — though the same could be said of all Hollows. But the Elben Mahr like to keep things dark, and the ceilings are cavernous with small tinkling lights. If not for the comfortable temperature and the lack of a breeze, it would be easy to think you were outside. This is one of the many parties that their elite throw, in honor of the war efforts, and the leader of this particular Hollow has something that Fortescue needs to steal. She knows this memory all too well, as she dreams it too often for her own tastes; even in real life, the experience didn't end well.

The Elben Mahr are beautiful, for all their extremist notions. They're nocturnal Elves, rarely leaving Hollows except at night, with pale skin and hair that varies from deep blacks to dark browns and russet reds. Six foot on average and built lightly, they wear particularly glittery fair for this gathering and know how to make themselves look alluring.

Fortescue is pretending to be a Germanian ambassador's daughter. No one looks at her too closely, on account of being human, which makes it easy to move about the party in a little black dress and silver jewelry. She tries not to look too closely at her surroundings. They're elegant, with seating areas centered around square black marble firepits, but the Elben Mahr are infamous for their preference of human flesh. She's been cautioned to avoid the food, as normal looking as it might be. She threads her way through the crowd with a champagne flute, Jazz on her shoulders.

4 } Plowman dig my earth...

Fortescue has never had any kind of control over her dreams. Falling dreams end in her hitting the ground, and she's never had the ability to change them like some do. But this is a completely new thing. Crystal cities haven't been a facet of her imagination or subconscious before, and Fortescue is well aware from mandatory psychological evaluations that her mind is stuck in the past and places emphasis there. There are no such cities on Earth, not even constructed in elven Hollows.

Bemused, she wanders, not talking to any of the 'natives' she sees. For now, at least. Jazz threads around at her feet, his own consciousness tied with hers due to their unique bond.

5 } None will level on the line, nobody offered his word...

It's illogical, but she feels tight and small and weak and the feelings don't go away. This dream is also a memory, with some details wildly different from what happened before. She's in the government medical facility, and the door to this particular waiting room's just been closed. It's white, sterile, and somewhat uninteresting, the design utilitarian in most aspects. But even in this place, it still shows how drastic Imperian culture has been changed. There's a framed picture on the wall that's an LED display warning about the dangers of not taking something called De-Nox ("It Will Wipe You Out of Service!"), which occasionally changes to an ad about eye implants and how they can change your life.

Fortescue was a child, when she was truly in this space, and so the chair she's in feels giant and uncomfortable. A man's just left the room. She knows what he told her, as the words have never faded out of her memory. A heavy file lays on her lap, full of documents, and she stares at her feet, wondering what would happen if she told him "no" when he comes back. No one else is in the room; all of the ten white chairs are empty. The only sound is the quiet beeping of medical technology, eighty or ninety years ahead of its time, somewhere in the rooms that connect to this one. Jazz isn't present at all. Perhaps he's dreaming of something else. This is, after all, before they had met.

[ooc: Lemme know which number you're going with, when you reply! If you'd like something different from these options, give me a shout; I'm flexible. More info to be found here. Any and all are welcome. ♥]

Comments

1} There's too much confusion...

[bluesrat]

The entire scene is just as bewildering to Rat as a man smashing his guitar to pieces and lighting it on fire would be, and either one leaves him feeling distinctly uneasy. He doesn't quite know where he is, or why, but he does recognize a Nazi uniform when he sees one, and that sends him ducking down a corridor in a hurry. He's just lucky they didn't see him first.
Lacking spy skills, or even soldier skills, however, Rat moves down the hall on edge and is perfectly likely to blunder straight into one form of trouble or another.

[blackmagus]

This dream is tiring, but she's used to it. She's doomed to repeat it, however, as it unfolds almost as it did in real life — but with a few too many close calls that make her feel more on edge than she really was at the time. Even on a Nazi airship high above the ocean, she keeps her cool. This isn't her first rodeo, to use a very tired American saying. Jazz keeps just behind her, cautious of shrapnel. Fortescue often wonders what her little soul-bearer thinks of dreams.

She ducks through a few doorways, the hum of the engines getting louder and louder as she makes her way to the deck, and tries not to use her magic too much. For the grand finale, she'll need all the energy she can get. Luckily, she has many rounds for her gun, a souped-up pistol imbued with the finest nautex available.

Two officers attempt to waylay her at a corridor junction. Fortescue can still feel the blood on her hands from when she'd killed them with magic, before. This time, she punches one in the throat, grappling for a moment, and shoots them both. That's about the time she spots Rat, down another corridor in the junction, and she stares. People rarely make it into her dreams. Her subconscious didn't like to pull people in. It was the isolation, her therapist had informed her — during another psych eval where she struggled not to punch him in the throat.

Apparently her brain is... trying something new, tonight?

"Rat. Watch it, there are soldiers all over the place, here," she warns what she thinks to be just a dream projection, reloading her gun. Jazz scurries up to sit at her feet.

[bluesrat]

He whirls around at the familiar voice, and flattens himself against the corridor wall. In his usual shabby clothes and with his doorframe-threatening height, he stands very much out of place. "I... noticed that." He blinks at her, thrown for a loop. Not only is this a totally unfamiliar dream, but he wouldn't have expected her in it... although she seems to have a hell of a lot better idea what she's doing here than he does.

He just hopes the Nazis don't notice him, or this could take a very bad turn. He's unarmed, of course.

[blackmagus]

"Do you know how to fire one?" she asks, nodding her head at one of the prone bodies at her feet who still retain their weapons. She picks up one of their pistols. While it's similar in design to what a Nazi might have had on another Earth, it has a lot of modifications that are different. "Might as well take his. He won't be needing it."

Fortescue speaks briskly, business-like. She's lived this dream so many times, she can predict it. Even with the tiny little differences. And she's certainly no stranger to killing.

"Follow me," she adds.

They're not far from the door that leads onto the gunship's deck. It will be a messy fight, as it always is, and she's steeling herself for the inevitable migraine that will ensue from using so much magic when she gets there.

[bluesrat]

"Not... really." He'll take it anyway, if she insists, but he may not be very useful with it. The long-fingered hands that are so clever on the guitar strings are suddenly clumsy, holding a gun.

He dos follow though, crouching just a little, alarmed by their surroundings, and keeps his voice to a murmur that carries less than the hiss of a whisper would. "Where are we, and how did we get here?"

[blackmagus]

"We're on the..."

Suddenly, she can't quite remember what the name of the airship had been. And while its name is plastered on most of the equipment, it's smudged and impossible to read. Her memory is usually a lot better, and she frowns, distracted. Luckily, no one's in their vicinity at the moment. Fortescue doesn't insist. It's a dream, she figures, though she still doesn't want to see him get hurt, even if it's not real.

"We're on an airship," she explains slowly, "of the Germanian air-fleet. We're above the ocean. This is one of their newest gunships — her maiden voyage. I'm turning her into scrap metal."

3 } Businessman they drink my wine...

[reluctantsword]

Wallie dreams of Earth, and he dreams of the World, and this is neither, and even if a large and tattooed swordsman is out of place in a ballroom, the inhabitants of the dream pay little attention to him. He has a drink in his hand, though he can't recall where he got it.

There is a shadow behind him, a remnant of his own dreams that has followed him here, shaped like himself and indistinct as shadows are, but somehow not himself either, in the way things of dreams often are. He ignores it, though he's aware of it.

Fortescue is familiar, and in this unfamiliar and fantastic place, he seeks her out. It seems natural to do so. He intercepts her on her path, smiling broadly.

"Fancy meeting you here." Though where 'here' is, he has no idea.

[blackmagus]

Her gaze is dragged off a nearby elf leering in her direction, just as she remembers him doing. In the dream, it's a lot more noticeable. And frightening. He isn't leering at her like she's a potential partner — more like she's one of the many silver trays with food on it. There are rumors about the elite of the Elben Mahr, rumors that she quickly tries to forget as Wallie appears in front of her.

Wait. What's he doing here?

"...hello," she replies, after a brief frown. "Enjoying yourself?"

[reluctantsword]

Is he? He's not sure, but it's easy enough for him to settle down into a situation and relax. Still, there's something off about things, some undercurrent of tension that runs through the dream. He's not oblivious to it.

"It's quite the party," he observes. "The food looks good, but I haven't tried it yet."

[blackmagus]

Fortescue wonders if there's any point in warning him about the food. It's a dream, after all, and she'd never had any of it to begin with. Elben Mahr cooking, despite what they occasionally prepared, had been renowned before the War, especially at parties like these. Before they'd sided with Germania, and everything had gone downhill.

"You might want to hold off on that," she decides. "The Elben Mahr have very... exotic tastes."

Or perhaps it was tastes that weren't exotic enough, but she's not sure if she wants to delve into jokes that are, for her, cannibalistic. Not in this place, with her skin crawling. Jazz peers curiously at Wallie from his place on her bare shoulders.

[reluctantsword]

"Oh?"

Wallie raises an eyebrow. That's a worrying statement, and he glances at the food with a new perspective. "Exotic" could mean many things. It could mean "unusual delicacies" or it could mean something far more sinister. He's not sure which one she means.

"Do I want to know?"

[blackmagus]

"Probably not."

One of the closer elves starts to eye them, and so Fortescue gently loops an arm around Wallie's to lead them to a less populated corner of the massive room. Though it hardly looks like a corner. Like the ceiling, the walls seem more like utter blackness. It makes the room look near limitless, but objects are positioned at certain points to prevent anyone from walking into it.

"Let's just say the Elben Mahr want to go back to the old days. When humans were their, ah, slaves."

And other things.

1)

[burnburnburn]

Dilandau doesn't recognise this place at all. It's alien and odd, down to the clothing he wears, matching that of the other soldiers around him. He looks around carefully, wondering where he might be.

And then Fortescue bursts into the room, shooting the people around him. He dives behind a table and pulls out his own weapon, which goes from gun to familiar sword in his hand. Once he hears enough screams to account for the people who'd been with him, he yells out.

"Woman! If you shoot me I'm going to run you through!"

[blackmagus]

So much of combat is pure muscle memory and instinct that it takes a moment for Fortescue to fully process the voice she's hearing. She frowns, Jazz still out in the corridor for safety. Have her dreams really put him in here as a Nazi?

"...Dilandau? Is that you?"

She's so startled she actually uses his name.

[burnburnburn]

He glances around his protection, and when she doesn't immediately attack he pops out. His uniform resembles those of the dead men around him, apart from the insignia, which is now the eye of Zaibach.

"Yes, it's me. No, I don't know how I got here. What are we supposed to be doing?"

[blackmagus]

Fortescue feels an irrational amount of relief at not seeing him decked out in swastikas. She lowers her weapon, listening to the corridor behind her for anyone trying to approach. "I'm bringing this airship down," she tells him bluntly, frowning, wondering if this is now going to be a regular thing.

She hopes not.

"Grab their weaponry if you like."

Each soldier has, at the least, a sidearm. They're not as fancy as the gun that Fortescue has, because they're strictly for grunts, but they work much better than guns in this age from other worlds.

[burnburnburn]

He prods a corpse with his foot, examining how the man died before sheathing his sword. Though it's the weapon he's most used to, it won't stop a bullet like that. He grabs a pair of pistols instead and grins.

"Don't kill everyone we meet before I get to try out these."

[blackmagus]

That's an attitude she can get behind. When these are her targets, anyway. She flashes him a smug smile, leading the way back out into the corridor. Jazz hangs back as he's been taught, to avoid shrapnel and bullets, though he regards Dilandau with a wary gaze.

"All right. We're going up to the deck. Follow me."

He'll have plenty of times to try out his guns, because several soldiers throw themselves down the corridor in their direction, pulling their weapons and yelling. They sound fairly frightened, as they've guessed what's on board the airship with them. And they know the Black Magus' reputation.

2 } I can't get no relief...

[perfectantidote]

He doesn't know this city, or how he got here. Cas looks out of place in his beaten clothes, unkempt hair and just slightly too long stubble. He touches his belt, but there's no gun there, and he's not entirely sure why he felt like there should be. Something draws his eyes, and he's next to her table without a conscious thought of having moved there.

"Is, uh, this seat taken?"

He looks away from her for a moment, towards the sky somewhere far above between tall buildings, can't shake the strange feeling of wrong, strange, weird, then glances back to her. He smiles, and it's genuine.

[blackmagus]

Fortescue blinks up at him. This is far from the first shared dream that she's had, now, and it's... well, it's slightly disconcerting. The shared dreaming that she's used to is accomplished through invasive Seid magic, and the Elben Mahr, who make up the core of the Inveterates, her enemies, are the best known for it. But even if it's some malicious play by their captors, it seems to be accidental enough from her fellow citizens of the Cape.

So, she smiles back. "Not at all, poppet. Welcome to New York."

4 } Plowman dig my earth...Day 86

[nevermindtherunning]

There would only be one clear figure in Forestcue's dream - the Doctor, which might seem a bit strange given he was still reported as missing. Or was he?

Fingers traced along the crystal glass, and he paused to lick a fragment, hoping to gather more clues; however, nothing was registering. It was all unfamiliar, as blurry figures moved past him until he spotted a visually clear familiarity just down a way's. Drawn towards her, he moves closer and closer in hopes to figure out who it is.

[blackmagus]

It's unnerving, how quiet and unfocused this place is. In cities this large, Fortescue's used to airships and hover cars making a racket in the sky. She keeps Jazz close by at all times, prepared to grab him if things turn south. When she notices that someone, finally, looks less fuzzy, she calls, "Hello?"

[nevermindtherunning]

"Hello!" He calls, but the figure doesn't come into clarity until he was just a few feet away.

Oh, she looked awfully familiar... Fortescue! Oh brilliant! He knew her, "Do you know this place?" A blurred figure walks past him, followed by a gaggle of blurred figures.

[blackmagus]

"...Doctor?" she asks slowly, frowning. Not entirely sure what's going on, in the slightest, she shakes her head. "Wherever we are isn't somewhere I've been before. Have you? I don't really, um... I don't really dream about places like this."

Not since she'd been a child, at any rate.

[nevermindtherunning]

"Somewhere similar, but not here..." He comments softly before turning back around and tracing fingers once again on the crystal glass. "I don't know where we are."

He begins walking off in no particular direction, before turning back, "Does any of this appear familiar to you?"