kore_logs | [open] a friend in need's a friend indeed

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[open] a friend in need's a friend indeed

Who: Ned and OPEN
What: Random encounters & fallout from dream-walking tomfoolery
Where: House 20, the garden, anywhere around town
When: Day 89

It's been a long week. A long, mostly-sleepless, weird week during which Ned has seen far more of his friends' and neighbors' subconsciouses than he would have liked to. Plus, a creepy city made of crystals that everyone seems to have seen, but no one will claim as their own. Shady stuff. Today, he is determined to wear himself out. Perhaps if he's tired enough, whatever mojo the men behind the curtain have put on him won't be strong enough to stir him out of a deep and dreamless sleep.

It's probably a futile tactic, but he can't just do nothing.

So he is a bustle of activity - cleaning the house, walking around town, checking on the crops to see if they are holding up well (carefully, with an eye for any enterprising tigers roaming too close to the edge of the forest), keeping an eye out for new faces and an ear out for rumors of missing ones.

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"Hey," she said, holding her hands up, "I keep my room clean." Which was generally where she went to eat all her meals or be when she was in the house. But she also took them into the kitchen to clean them and leave them when she was done. Her sense of smell made the concept of trying to have nasty food dishes in her proximity a bit of a hardship.

Her small smile grew a little when she noticed that he wasn't as tense around her now. She nodded. "Yeah, I like to get out in the morning. It's more peaceful and I'm less likely to run into anyone that way. How about you? Are you okay?"

"I suppose in that case you're an ally against the dirt, or at the very least a neutral party. Like Switzerland."

Her question sounds more heartfelt than just a perfunctory conversational nicety to fill up the silence. Ned is glad; Riley is kind, well-meaning, and interesting. He could always use more people like that in his life. Perhaps she remembers what he said in her dream, about not really being as unapproachable as he might seem.

"Yeah. I mean it's all been a bit Alice in Wonderland these last few days. Anyone else show up in your head uninvited?" There's a hint of self-reproach and apology, there. She might not have thought she minded the intrusion while she was asleep, but now that she's awake, perhaps she's changed her mind.

"I am the Swiss, only without the chocolate, which is a total bummer."

She leaned against the side of the wall, hands in her pockets as she settled in for more than a casual 'hi' before hiding in her room again. "Not that I'm aware of. I managed to wind up in someone else's." The memory had a hint of a pink tinge rising to her cheeks, but she smiled. Balthazar hadn't been lecherous about it at all, and once they'd left the, um, activities, she'd enjoyed the chat she had with him. Much as she always enjoyed her chats with him.

"I take it you were in more than just mine?" It was less of a question and more of an assumption, especially after his reaction to her touches in her dream. It made her a little sad for him that he'd seemed to have been harangued by nothing but negativity. It also made her wish she could have found a way to just... open up the dreams she had that were like that one; nice, calming, non-terrifying, to anyone who wanted to visit.

Ned is observant, notices the blush, but doesn't inquire further. He, too, had stumbled upon one or two rather embarrassing sights in other peoples' dreams. Friends without their pants on, that kind of thing. Looks like he isn't the only one.

"Yeah, maybe half a dozen or so." Trust a baker to say half a dozen instead of six. "But yours was definitely the nicest."

It occurs to him, belatedly, that that might have sounded different than he'd intended it to. It is true, but Riley isn't likely to realize just how dark and unpleasant the competition had been, on the whole. Ned wonders if she's the only one in this place who isn't in the thrall of near-constant nightmares.

"Left me with a craving for guava, if I'm honest, only I can't exactly go to the store and buy any, here."

"Guavas and mangos. Great, now I want a smoothie." She grinned, kicking her shoe at the floor a little as a bit of a fidget. "You think it's over? The whole dream jumping thing?"

She kind of hoped so, if only to keep her from popping into anymore very inappropriate dreams, or worse. She'd heard about some of the nightmares her friends outside of Kore had dreamed and she could only imagine what some of the people in here had in terms of subconscious boogeymen. She didn't want to add to her admittedly small reserve of nightmare fuel.

"I wonder if there's any exotic fruit to plant around here. I know there's the basics, but an avocado or mango tree would be great."

Her question about whether it's over takes him by surprise. He'd been in Daneel's dream (or was it vice versa?) just the previous night, so the thought had never occurred to him. But if Riley hadn't shown up in anyone's subconscious for a little while, it is a likely question. One thing that he's learned in his time here is that these experiments don't go on forever. "I hope so," he answers, fervently. Though there have been pleasant moments, the experience on the whole has been an unpleasant one.

As for the exotic fruit trees he taps his chin, going over the list that he's been keeping in his mind of the fruit-producing trees they have in town. "I don't think so," he answers, regretfully, with a shrug. "It didn't occur to me. I mean, back when everything went sideways and peculiar the last time around and I was had magic tree-planting powers. I forgot about mango and avocado and guava. Probably wouldn't like the climate, anyway."

He shuffles his own feet, working his way up to saying something a bit more substantive than just chatter (albeit lovely) about the availability of particular kinds of fruit in this place. Eventually, he just blurts, "And I meant to say, about... what I found out about you, in the dream, I won't tell anyone. You don't have to worry about that." He mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key.

"They don't really give us much more beyond the basics, do they? No chocolate, no mangoes, no ostrich." Which, to her, had been a regular addition to her diet for a while. Don't judge, Ned.

The blurted remark has her stilling for a moment, but then she ducks her head, smiling a little as she looks up at him. "I was hoping you wouldn't. A few people know, but they're ones with secrets and differences of their own." People she wouldn't be outing either, so they were one big secret keeping happy little group. "I've heard there's a hunter in town here with us, and while I've also heard he might not be a problem, I'm still not sure how comfortable I'd be with someone like that knowing about me."

"Ostrich?" He's less judging and more, well, impressed. Ned knows now that she's lived here and there and everywhere across the world, but having eaten ostrich before surprises him. He wonders if she did so as a human, or as a jaguar, or both. Did things taste different when she was a jaguar? Is that the kind of thing he can ask without being terribly rude?

Ned can hear her talking her way around specifics, and nods. There's a different kind of community, here, one in which all the secrets don't have to be so carefully guarded. Some can be aired, identities that are cramped with the constriction of long hiding can come out into the air and stretch. But other secrets, he knows, ought to still remain that way: for the well-being of the person keeping them. He respects that she doesn't say any more than that.

"Well, this... hunter. If he does start to be a problem, let me know, alright?" A moment later he realizes that offer may not be immediately clear, and so he elaborates, "I'm friends with some people. People who aren't all that fond of the kind of guy who would make trouble for someone just because she's a bit different. People who can help, if things get out of hand." People being, of course, Bruce, River, Erik, even Charles.

"Yeah. It's more of a red meat than a white, which you wouldn't think because, you know, bird. Really good, though." Raw or cooked. Yes, she'd had it both ways. Chasing down an ostrich with her brothers and managing to get a kill had always been an exhilarating experience. When they were in jaguar form, they always strutted around a bit afterwards and came home smeared in blood from rolling around it.

Her smile grew, her head ducking down a little as she nodded. "You're the second person who's told me I can go run to them and hide if I need to. It's sweet." And hadn't been something she'd really been expecting here, but she was glad for it, even if she didn't think she'd need it. "Same goes for you, you know. My metaphorical skirt's pretty good for hiding behind."

"I'm a vegetarian," Ned says, with a rather apologetic half-smile. "Which doesn't exactly make things easy, around here." Things aren't quite so dire, yet. Elizabeth provided quite a bit of help, when she let him pull some baking supplies through a few tears, but those can't last forever.

He shuffles in discomfort and happiness when she says calls his offer sweet, because that wasn't his intention at all. He just wanted her to feel like she had backup, had someone on her side. It's important to know you have allies, and he knows that all too well, having gone without any for so long. Which is why her counter-offer means so much to him. "I'll keep it in mind."

"No, I guess not. I don't exactly see a variety of soy or tofu products for you to snack on." She gave him her own half smile, feeling a little sorry that the man couldn't eat meat. Most of her diet consisted of it for both preferential and genetic reasons. She'd never met a vegetarian were. Not that they didn't exist, but she'd never had the pleasure.

"Make sure you do." Riley gave him a pointed look. "I'm not as meek as I look, I promise. I'm fully capable of taking care of myself or anyone else that might need it. It's not like you'd be throwing me to the wolves, pun not intended, if you asked for my help. Besides, I kind of like you." Her smile was teasing now as she crammed her hands deeper in her pockets.

"I manage." If things get truly desperate, Ned knows he'll have to start eating meat. It will be complicated, and probably not all that pretty at first, but he'll get by. He'll have to. He's just hoping to put off that day for as long as humanly possible.

It takes him by surprise, her just coming out and saying she likes him like that. He really isn't accustomed to that sort of open, even careless friendliness. It'd be one thing if she wanted something from him. He's used to manipulation in friendliness' clothing. But that doesn't seem like what's going on, so Ned half-laughs, head falling forward.

"Uh, same." He hesitates a moment, then says, "Look if you ever want... I mean I know it's not the same and all, but there's an ocean, and if you ever feel like going for a swim..." he trails off again, letting his offer be implicit. Ned hasn't gone into the water much in his time here: there are tales of giant squid, and it never seemed all that safe to go on his own. But if there was someone else there...

The offer has her smile widening in genuine pleasure. "Really? Maybe if we stick to the shallower end, we can avoid the boogiesquid." Truthfully, she didn't want to believe that it existed, but after seeing what she'd seen in the woods, she was less likely to just dismiss it out of hand.

Then her smile went back to the teasing one of before, only a little more evil. "I even promise to find something to wear when we go." She remembered his discomfort in her nudity, let alone his own disrobing down to his skivvies.

But the idea of having someone to go swimming with did sound fun, and she could suffer through wearing a tshirt or a bathing suit, if she could find one.

"That would be preferable," he says. Boogiesquid may be a cute nickname, but he has a feeling that the actual creature won't be terribly cuddly.

Her comment about finding something to wear while swimming embarrasses him, unsurprisingly. He hunches his shoulders forward an inch more, smiling half-apologetically. At least Riley's maintained her good humor about the whole thing. He'd feel bad if, once outside the dream, she felt shy and upset over the whole thing. Apparently he's still going to be shy enough for the both of them (and maybe a few other people too).

He can tell that she's teasing him, but it feels friendly rather than malicious. "Probably wise. Wouldn't want to scandalize any seagulls."

"We have to think about the seagulls." She nodded sagely, trying not to grin and not exactly succeeding. "Maybe I can find a pair of swim trunks for you as well? Might be better than swimming in your underwear."

She couldn't help it, really. He was just so easy to tease. And it was nice to be able to. To have a little bit of familiarity with someone here that she could use in a playful manner. It was the little things like that that made her feel less alone here.

She was infinitely grateful for both Ned and Balthazar at the moment.

"Already have a pair," he says, grinning. There isn't much to do in this town, after all. He'd gotten over his reluctance at snooping through someone else's things within the first week. The room he'd adopted as his own hadn't had any clothes that fit, but one of the other unoccupied ones had, and Ned had... appropriated them, quickly. Amongst those clothes had been a pair of swim trunks that would fit him, even if they are a garish color of lime green.

"Listen, um..." Ned pauses, feeling a bit awkward but offering, "Have you had breakfast? If you want I could let you go get cleaned up and I could make you something..." he trails off, shrugs, lets his invitation stand as is. Ned's not exactly the best at the whole making-friends process, it's still a work in progress, but offering to cook for people is one of the few surefire techniques he knows.

She gives him a wide smile, nodding as she pushes off from the wall. "I'd like that, Ned. Thanks. I promise I won't take long."

She just planned to grab a quick shower and change and that shouldn't take more than ten or fifteen minutes. "What's for breakfast?"

"Oh, I'll cobble together something," he says, waving a hand through the air vaguely. For perhaps the millionth time he wishes the food situation in this place were different, that there were supplies refilled regularly and reliably, that there were enough around for him to make Riley a fantastic breakfast rather than something merely passable.

The again, maybe it's a good thing that's not the case. If it were, he thinks it would be all too easy for him to get very comfortable with this place, to stop thinking of him as someone who was kidnapped and start thinking of this house as a home, cameras or no cameras.

The cameras were what reminded her every day that this was not home. She wanted to know who was behind them and what it was they thought they were playing at. She wanted to get an answer instead of yelling into them fruitlessly for an hour.

She grabbed a clean set of clothes from her room before heading into the bathroom to shower and change, coming out fifteen minutes later much fresher and with a bounce to her step as she went into the kitchen to look for him. "So, what's for breakfast, barkeep?"

Since Riley left, Ned's put away the cleaning gear and set out the breakfast things on the table. It's not much: tea, some slices of the loaf of bread he'd baked yesterday, a few jars of his jam, and a little plate of scrambled eggs for each of them.

Ned raises his eyebrows at the barkeep comment. "Aren't you a bit young for bars?" he teases.

She sat down, waiting for him to sit and join her before she started eating. "Depends on what country you're in."

She paused as she reached for the tea, grinning. "Sorry. I know that was a joke, but, it's still true. Lots of countries don't quite have the same strict age limits on alcohol that they do here. Or, well, in North America, where I think we are."

"Good point. I'd forgotten about the whole world-traveler thing," Ned says, joins her at the table with a contented smile. "Though I'm not sure this is North America. The climate might be the same, but River says the stars are wrong. So who even knows. Doesn't exactly look like the North America I'm from, anyway," Ned comments, poking at the eggs with his fork.

It could be the result of being in a different version of reality, where the constellations have shifted. Or, for all Ned knows, they could be on another planet entirely, one made to imitate Earth. Or they could be false stars they are looking at in a false sky that is really just a dome. Or countless other possibilities.

"So, um. What were you up to back home, before you got snatched? Are you in school?"

"It smells North America-ish. The trees, the air, most of the vegetation. Each continent has a different scent depending on what's indigenous to the area." He probably didn't need to know that, but it just jumped out of her mouth before she filled it with a forkful of eggs.

The constellation thing was definitely news to her, but she hadn't spent much time stargazing recently.

"I was actually about to start my year-long exploration. We sort of... take a year off when we hit our majority and go see what there is to see without having our families around us. Lets us see if we want to settle anywhere else or if we want to stay with our family."

She took a sip of tea before continuing. "As for school, we were all home schooled. Mom's a teacher, so it just seemed easier than having to jump from school to school when we moved."

"Do you have, like, enhanced senses even when you're in human form?" Because he definitely wouldn't be able to identify a continent by its smell, and he considers himself relatively attuned to his olfactory sense.

Her explanation of the traditional exploration sounds reasonable enough, though he can't quite fathom it, himself. But Ned knows that his view on this sort of thing is different from most. He'd been living on his own since he was eighteen, had been living essentially alone amongst a crowd of other boys for another nine or so years before that. He knows from books and movies and some of the people he'd dated that people who grew up with stable families often feel stifled by them, long for a chance to be on their own. But there's nothing romantic about being alone, to him.

"Did you have any idea what you were planning to choose? I mean, between staying with your family or leaving them?"

"Yeah. They're not as good as when I'm shifted, but they're better than a human's." She wrinkled her nose a bit. "Like I know there's something edible that's rotted that hasn't been cleaned up yet in the living room still.

Eating another bite, she gave that next question a bit of thought. "I haven't. I mean, I love my family to death, but I might want to go out on my own, when I'm not being used and studied. But this is also making me realize how much I miss them. But then I think of how I'd be able to call or visit them and I can't do that here, which makes it worse. So, um, no. I don't know." It wasn't really much of an answer, but she hadn't really had much to go on to answer it yet.

[open] a friend in need's a friend indeed

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