birds singing in the sycamore tree

[baedalites]

As night falls on Baedal, the city is almost quiet. The streets have a few last minute workers returning home, but by now, most citizens have already gone by the temples and picked up their vurt, ready to lay down and dream.

After placing a not-feather in one's mouth, there's a moment where it fizzes against the tongue before sliding coolly down the back of the throat and pulling the user down into sleep. A series of impressions, more sensation than anything concrete, appears before the user and this is how one chooses which Dreamer to enter.

Comments

[hehaseatenthepancake]

"Likewise." He shrugs. "Close enough, anyway."

As they shake, he takes a moment to more closely look over Barbara's presentation.

"Some interesting symbolism there, now that I think of it," he says. "Not that I really do much with the cards myself, but in my line it pays to be familiar."

[bodilesswarrior]

"I'm no expert," Barbara admits, "but I know some basics." Mostly because she knows some basics about most things. She traces her fingers along the cool stone arm of the throne.

"Your line is supernatural, I'm guessing?"

[hehaseatenthepancake]

He shrugs. "A bit predictable, I know, but yeah. I'm a senior field agent with Hellsing. Been in the game most of my life, for probably obvious reasons." Being a supernatural being himself, he means.

"How 'bout you? What do you do, if you don't mind my asking?"