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.

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SANAA

[baedalites]

Everything is very flat and brightly coloured in this dream. Visitors may find themselves outside of their bodies, watching a 2D representation of themselves interact with a stylised and equally 2D version of what must be inspired by the Apache back home in Baedal. The perspective may be odd, but the feeling, the music and the drink is absolutely familiar.

[requiresssacrifice]

He's doing this for science. That's what Rex tells himself, anyway, when he puts the "feather" on his tongue and drifts to sleep. Ideally, this will give him some glimpse into the psyches of others while not revealing anything new about himself.

Despite his propensity towards the monochromatic, Rex is initially drawn to the brightness and the colors of this dream. There's something strangely... familiar about it. He can't put his finger on why, and he doesn't try to. The less he dwells on himself, he assumes, the better. He wouldn't want too much of his own influence bleeding into the dream, if that's indeed how a shared dream works.

Rex looks down at his hands-- or, rather, he watches himself watching his hands. He doesn't question it, because while he's in this dream, it just feels right. What isn't right, however, is how he's dressed, all decked out in his dress uniform like he's back in the army.

Impressive though it is, it's not something he actually wants to advertise, so Rex squeezes his eyes shut and tries to just... imagine a different outfit. That's how it works, right? Or, rather, that's how it should work-- in Rex's case, it seems to have no effect whatsoever.

Apparently, he has no knack for dreaming.

[bodilesswarrior]

That's how Barbara's been justifying this to herself, for the most part. Beyond that, though, beyond looking after Steph - she can't help but be curious.

She fades from one dream into another, and here she's flying.

No, that's not quite true; she watches herself floating several inches above the ground as her cape flows behind her.

Her - what?

She sees herself reach up to feel a mask that isn't there, and glance down to see a bat emblazoned in green.

"Well, at least I'm not conspicuous," she mutters, and she attempts to focus on something different, something normal as she drifts through the vibrant colours - when her gaze leaps to Rex.

Apparently she's not the only one in uniform today.

[requiresssacrifice]

Rex relaxes his shoulders when he finds that he's not the only one dressed for the occasion. With the way Barbara looks right now, it could be safe to swing his outfit as a costume-- it's a party, after all. And, really, who cares that he's wearing his dress blues?

Well, Rex cares. He doesn't like it when his history comes back to hit him in the face. But it's not as if it's anyone else's concern, so...

He puts a smile on his face as he approaches Barbara, looking friendly enough. His voice is playful when he speaks. "Do you often dream of being a superhero?"

[bodilesswarrior]

Barbara returns his smile; it's a bit strained at the edges, she's sure.

"When I was a little girl, yeah." It's not a lie; those fantasies were her refuge, once upon a time. She just fails to mention that she fulfilled them.

"How about you?" She gestures to the uniform. "Dream or memory? If you don't mind me asking."

[requiresssacrifice]

He considers the pros and cons of lying. Pro: it keeps people from knowing too much about him. Con: several already know about his history, and secrets always have a way of getting out. That's a lesson he's learned the hard way on the Barge, and it's stuck with him. Such a detail isn't worth making himself look untrustworthy in the future.

"Memories long past," he says, looking down at the silver caduceus pinned to his lapel. He rubs his thumb over it. "But I wasn't cut out for military life, so it didn't exactly stick." Wryly, he adds, "There's a lot more creativity in private contracting."

[bodilesswarrior]

Barbara nods, determinedly ignoring the fleeting guilt of her own deceit.

"Better to get out while you can, if it's not what you want." She considers, for a moment; she can at least offer something sincere.

"I know it's not the same, but - that's one reason I forwent police training. Bit too rigid."

[requiresssacrifice]

Rex nods, then chuckles softly. "Although I can't imagine politics is free from rigidity, either." He cants his head slightly. "Super hero, police officer, politician... You seem to have a passion for public service. It's admirable."

Or a sucker's game. But he can't exactly make friends if he says what he really thinks.

[bodilesswarrior]

She grins ruefully. "One reason I only had the one term." She drifts downwards, the tips of her toes just brushing the surface.

"Thanks; first time I've heard vigilantism called public service, though."