stars shinin' right abooooove you

[theworstmagician]

Who: Marty and Felicia
What: A witch and a sorcerer hang out in dreamworld.
Where: MARTY'S BRAIN.
When: Nighttime
Notes: You know you're screwed when this guy knows more about this dream walking stuff than you do :V
Warnings: IMPLIED DREAM NUDITY. And heavy drinking.

Marty's not an anxious person by nature, but sometimes it gets him. Contrary to his appearance, the way he carries himself on the Network, he's starting to get a little... just a touch concerned about his future. The acting job doesn't pay much, some muggers made off with his spoils from the all-out monster attack, and he might have gambled most of his start-up money away while under the impression that he was going through a lucky streak. It ended prematurely.

For the most part, he keeps his agitated state under wraps. It's not interesting; nobody needs to see it, and it doesn't jive with his image-- or the image he hopes to have, which is: one cool dude. And anyway... Anyway, he's working on building up his fortunes. It's just a little slump, that's all, nothing he hasn't been through before. Once he gets on the gods' good sides, he'll be set.

Yeah.

Just. Be patient.

Be patient.

That's his mantra as he stumbles, consciousness fading in and out, out of the Apache.

Patient patient patient.

The word makes less sense the more he repeats it. It becomes gibberish, some slurred-together noise that, unknowingly, leaves his mouth as he falls back against a nearby wall and shoots a half-assed glare at the bar. Fuckers wouldn't let him take his last drink to go. Like it's their responsibility to make sure he doesn't end up dead in a gutter somewhere. Whatever.

He closes his eyes, unsure of how much time passes before he opens them again. It feels like an eternity, like he's time travelling. He does it again, imagines he's jumped forward a few hours-- maybe he does, in a way. He blinks, turns his head to look at the bar, shoots it the finger, and starts back towards the inn. All he's gotta do is make it back. That's it.

The walk seems to take forever. The distance just keeps stretching on and on, or maybe he's just really fucking drunk. Who knows (no, it's the latter, anyone can tell).

Still. He's patient. He makes it back to the inn, somehow, closes his eyes, opens them, and bam. It's like he's just teleported into his bed. Like fucking magic.

(Or he zoned out for a few moments while somebody on staff helped him to his room.)

See, that walk wasn't so bad. Everything worked itself out. It always does for Marty Williams.

He just has to be patient.

"What time is it?" he murmurs before finally blacking out for the night-- or what remains of it.

The next thing he knows, there are lights on him, all around. People are talking, but he can't really make them out. Nothing but a crowd of silhouettes, thanks to the spotlights hitting him. Marty squints, trying to make out some faces, but then he feels a breeze and looks down.

What the hell is he doing in a woman's silk robe, and why are instructions being barked at him in some language he can't quite make out? A bulb flashes and he looks up again. Is that... a camera?

Wait.

He's naked under this robe, isn't he.

Marty may be a shameless bastard, but there's one thing he can't do: nudity and cameras.

Talk about a cliched anxiety dream. A shame he doesn't know that's what's going on yet. No, instead he's standing there, clutching the kimono-or-whatever-it-is close to his body, certain that his penis is going to fall off if he opens it.

Shit shit shit. He's gotta get out of here.

Comments

[theworstmagician]

"Huh?" His eyes follow her finger, and it takes Marty a few beats to realize what, exactly, is going on here. Well, shit. "Uhhh..."

He backs up from the rapidly deteriorating section of the boat. This feels entirely too familiar, all of it. What happens now? What does he usually do?

"Jump!" he yelps, throwing himself overboard. If he were a more considerate person, he'd grab Felicia and hurl her over with him. As it is, he figures she can take the leap herself.

He hits the sea with a splash, his eyes opening suddenly as he awakens covered in sweat.

And.

Why is he half-hanging off the bed?

And why is he thinking about the girl who did makeup for him?

[quiescence]

While he splashes around, Felicia's waking up covered in sweat and nauseous as ever. It's the usual after-dreamwalking effects, but as she trudges to the bathroom, she hopes Marty is the kind of guy who forgets his dreams because all Felicia needs now is another person saying they dreamt about her.

Anyway, she's just going to lie here on the ground until the room and her stomach stops spinning, thank you very much. This shit has gotten old a long time ago.