Dreams of Doors and Roads [Gardens of Oneiromancy]

[Hyrune]

Miranda Roberta Clancy was waking up for the eleven thousand, five hundred and seventy fourth time. She is thirty-one years old, and she glances down with a look of hangover-induced bemusement at the prone body of the man sleeping beside her as she rakes a hand through her long, violet and indigo striped hair. Another one. A cute one this time, at least. She pulls up the sheets with a gentle, practised air, and peeks. Nice ass...


Nevertheless, she creeps out of the bed, stripping off the covers from her pale and too-thin body, rubbing her sleep-encrusted eyes as she tries to work out which way her jeans go on again.


She'd dreamed the dreams again. A white and shining darkness slipping and sliding in and out of knaves and aisles of paleness amidst the ringing, bell-like silences of genuflection before the dreadful horror of awe and humility and pain.


Her fingers itched to hold a brush. She had to get back to her apartment before the dream faded, as it was already doing. Having finally determined which shoe goes on which foot, she stumbles out the door, tossing a hurriedly scrabbled note on the back of a piece of cereal box cardboard with her phone number...

 

[Yu Jie]

Nalani Appleblossom


"Daaaaaaaad!" Nalani screamed out loud as she bolted upright in her narrow bed, fine wisps of dark hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Wide open blue eyes ignored the slightly untidy room around her. The last bits of the dream were still so clear in her mind as her fingers clutched, white-knuckled, at the rumpled sheets. Odd. She was sticking a needle in her father's arm. Insulin. In the strange way of dreams, she had gone in and stuck him too deeply with several large needles held parallel against his arm, somehow puncturing an I.V. tube that fed directly underneath skin and muscle, like some false vein on a horrible experiment. Blood backed into the line, rising higher and higher, clouding the clear liquid running through the length of tubing.


Frantically, she had pinched the tubing, watching in horror as her father got weaker and weaker, the tube running thick with crimson. She remembered being utterly terrified, screaming for her sister to help her. Only she had no sister. And she hadn't seen her father in years. He didn't even take insulin.


Kicking the covers away, she hurried into the small bathroom barefooted, the tiles cold under her feet. Even half asleep, her feet knew exactly where to step over her bag, her violin case and her laptop, all scattered about the floor. The ancient tap squeaked and rattled when she turned it, letting out a surly cough or two before water finally streamed out. Hastily, she splashed handfuls of cold water on her face as though she could wash the lingering dream away. Wiping the water from her eyes, Nalani stared at the slightly blurred reflection of her face in the mirrored surface of the cheap, plastic medicine cabinet. She stared numbly as water droplets ran down her pale, gaunt cheeks and collected at the sharp point of her chin before falling away, one drop at a time. The liquid reminded her too much of her dream.


It didn't take her long at all the brush her teeth and jump into the chipped claw-footed tub for a quick shower, hoping that all of the scrubbing would make the dream fade. Of course that never works. With her hair combed and still damp, Nalani slipped into a pair of soft, faded jeans and a top that hung a little too loosely on her lanky frame. There was only one thing left to do push the dream away.


Tucking the violin under her chin, she closed her eyes just as bow met strings. Her fingers flew, going over familiar scales up and down the neck. Leaning into the instrument, she felt her body start to relax. She sought her solace in the repetition of scales and melodies. Soon, the dark hallway of the shabby apartment complex hummed with the soothing strains of her violin.

 

[Hyrune]

To Nalani


Early morning light will sneak through dusty window panes like a particularly perky and eager thief (always early, for one thing) as you play. The street outside is still quiet though your neighbours (for the most part) will all likely be awake by now - or, if they weren't, they probably are now. The insulation isn't all that great, after all, as winter nights have proven time and again. Fortunately, with the Spring Equinox just next week, you will hopefully not have to put up with that much longer.


What are the bets the landlord will get the boiler fixed properly just as soon as the weather starts to warm up?

 

[Yu Jie]

Nalani Appleblossom


Nalani's hands finally started warming up by the time she got to the more intricate arpeggios. She was barely shivering anymore despite her wet hair, and her vivid dream was starting to loosen its hold on her. As the sun rose higher, her fingers curled and reached, up and down the smooth, ebony fingerboard, making just the slightest rasp now and again of fingers sliding over strings. Though the small living area around her might be in need of attention, her violin gleamed with the meticulous care she bestowed upon it. The maple top shone, not a single scratch marring the pristine surface. Nor was there a speck of dust on the finely carved scroll or the elaborate tuning pegs.


She was in the midst of one of her favorite Bach violin sonatas, one that she doesn't get to play much anymore, when the banging on the door started. Someone's fist was insistently hitting the hollow door squarely in the spot where it thudded the loudest. Her eyes narrowed at the sound, sporting more than a bit of annoyance. She deliberately played a few more bars before stopping and casually walking over to the door, undoing the various chains and latches, the former rattling each time the angry fist thumped against the other side of it.


Hinges badly in need of oiling squeaked when she finally got the door open, only to be greeted by the blotchy, badly made-up face of Shelly, the girl that rented the apartment next to hers. "Fucking hell, Nalani! It's barely seven and you're already playing? Some of us need sleep around here!" Oh, she could tell how worked up Shelly was by how much of her teeth were bared as she yelled. Several other doors in the dim hallway creaked open, the curious poking their heads out, always more than ready to witness the latest spectacle.


Nalani smiled at her, all grace and elegance, and in a voice that was just loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear, replied, "My apologies, Shelly, I forget sometimes how much in need of sleep you are. I do often hear you at three in the morning, repeatedly screaming out some guy's name while your bedposts slam against my wall. How thoughtless of me." Giggles and chuckles rippled down the hallway, instantly reducing Shelly to a quietly seething mass. She glared at Nalani one last time through smudged eye make-up before flouncing back into her apartment in her short, gaudy robe and slamming the door shut amidst much laughter from the rest of the apartment occupants. It really didn't take much to amuse them.


She gave a small wave to the rest of them, apologizing as she did so. "Sorry everyone, I just felt the need to play. I didn't really think about how early it was." Most of the tenants on her floor were a pretty understanding lot. They simply smiled, shook their heads and closed their doors again now that the show was over. Some, like Mrs. Morris across the hall from her, were just old and more than a little deaf. One of them though, Jon from down the hall, walked up to her just before she managed to retreat back into her own apartment. "Nalani?" His voice was soft, deep. She had to take a deep breath before looking up at him and smiling. He reminded her too much of that cellist she liked. Richard. He was roughly the same height, same hair color and the same smile. But Jon was quiet and shy in a way that Richard was not. "I've always liked hearing you play." Tucking his fingers into his jean pockets, he glanced at Shelly's door for a second. "Don't let her get to you."


It never failed. Jon always found a way to talk to her when she was around. She was gracious to him, smiling at him as she expressed her gratitude. "Thanks, Jon. I'm glad you liked it. I think I'm going to try to keep it quiet for a bit though. You know how Shelly gets." They shared a quick little laugh over their neighbor before she bade him goodbye. She was always careful to end the conversation whenever he looked like he would say something more. It was just easier that way. So far, he was always good about letting her go.

 

[Hyrune]

To Nalani


Jon will wave just slightly and will pad quietly back to his apartment, very carefully not looking back over his shoulder, very carefully closing his door with a soft click with that dignified hush of a true early riser. A pity Shelley did not subscribe to the same quiet lifestyle, but then again as you had already noted she was awake earlier than any of you...


You'll hear a soft chorus of locks and chains much like your own slide home even through your own closed door as neighbours, nice though they may be, continue to show distrust in the face of their experience of the world (and, more specifically, the neighbourhood). But it can never hurt to be too careful.

 

[Persell]

Rain, Rain go away to come again another day. Rain, Rain…


Mist and ice stretched out across the window pane. One born from the heat of the room while the other was a product of the cold outside, each warring against separate sides of the glass. Both could see one another, yet never would they touch. Opposites for the eternity of their brief lives forced to exist because of the other. Neither held anything of interest for the common onlooker, only annoyance that the view outside would be blocked and the walk to breakfast cold. Why then did she feel more kinship with the glass than with the body that lied in the bed next to her?


Renata let out a tired sigh of frustrated emotions. Her breath spread across the window pane so that the fog of the glass could find some lasting sustenance. Let the dance of ice and fogs continue for a moment longer while she stared through them. There was nothing for her to see except the past here. See a past filled by a landscape of such ice and fog, a place where dreams went to remain suspended. That place where her screams had hung for all eternity, where her beauty had been realized with sharpened knives. Absently she touched her cheek where the first cut had been made. Through that tiny pane did she see the garden again? A single fingerprint interrupted the image as she had struggled to touch those rolling fields of snow.


That place was lost. She had escaped and become more than what she was before. More than just another sniveling choir singer, more than just another face in the crowd. She was something more than everyone around her now and she knew it with more than her heart, she knew it with her soul. Another breath was given to cover up the smudge made. Fog once more crept up against the glass but never was it the same as before. No longer was the expanse smooth and pristine. Renata had altered it with a single touch, had changed the battle ground on which the fog might fight. Ice crept forward to mock while the fog struggled against the touch left behind. She had so much more in common here than with so many others.


Many might be sad by that thought. Some would cry themselves to sleep at night when such loneliness plagued them. Renata would know, she had done that so many nights in the past. Now she only found comfort that she was different, was special. That realization simply another mark of what set her apart from all those around her. Proudly she tipped her chin upward to look through that smudge and see her past once more. The cuts had hurt then, but now they were radiant. Her screams had become songs that now enchanted the masses, which soothed the aching souls of the lonely. Now she understood the long hours of having those cries of agony plucked from her body, saw the beauty in the pain. Fingertips touched her stomach where the cuts had been made.


Flecks of water touched her knuckles, falling from her eyes. That she cried was neither due to the pain of the past or the sadness of the present.


Rain, Rain come again another day. Rain, Rain…


Thoughts broke their reserve as the shouts came through to her world. “Ren, put the damn heat on it’s too damned cold!†The mound of comforters and blankets cried mercy to her. “Are you deaf or retarded! Gah!†The sound of stomping was heard while the brown haired girl moved past her. Renata made no motion to assist her, made no movement to comply with her request. Renata liked the cold, especially in the morning. Yet she did not stop the woman either.


“Sorry,†she whispered under her breath and turned away from the memories.

 

[Hyrune]

To Renata


You'll hear your room-mate, Krissy, angrily turn up the thermostat, forcefully enough that you can hear the dial clicking from all the way over here. She'll ignore you coldly (ironically enough) as she tries to warm up, retreating to her little igloo of comforters and blankets whilst waiting for the room to sluggishly heat up.


Not much to do today - it's early Saturday, no classes. But the library is open more or less 24/7, with a student body of 6,000 it pays to cater to night owls who simply must cram for tomorrow's exam as well as early risers who just enjoy the quiet of a soft morning break from the usual hustle and bustle of the campus during the day. Despite best efforts even the library can be noisy around lunch-time, but not so right now.


It's about ten minutes away from your dorm, on foot. Or you could just stay in your room, but eventually you'll have to venture forth and get breakfast anyway. The Drop-Inn, a local diner/cafe/restaurant which was initially a little out of the way has become a frequent meeting place for students as the campus gradually expanded to absorb it. And they do good scrambled eggs...

 

[Yu Jie]

Nalani Appleblossom


Nalani's door was the last to click shut. She only paused for the briefest moments, her palm still flat against the door after closing it. Raking her fingers through her long hair, she quickly tidied up, picking up what she could in her tiny apartment as she made her way back to where she kept her messenger bag. It was in its usual spot, leaning against the end of the worn and slightly lumpy couch. The small pile of discarded clothes in her arms was swept into the hamper in the bedroom. She sighed in resignation. Eventually, she'd have to go to the laundromat again, but she wasn't going to worry about now. The more pressing matter would be getting a decent breakfast.


Not one to fuss over her attire, Nalani slipped into a hoodie, the long zipper making a sharp rasping sound as she tugged it halfway. The pea coat that she donned over that was one that she found at a consignment shop, but the vintage style suited her well, not that it mattered to her one way or the other. The important things went into her bag. First the laptop, her iPod, and then always, the Glock pistol that she carried with her wherever she went.


Thick soled boots were quiet in the outside hallway. She was still winding the thin scarf around her neck as she made her way down the stairs, her steps quick and light. As soon as her feet hit the sidewalk, her hands went deep into her coat pockets and her head bent to look down at the pavement in front of her. And just like that, she was just as anonymous as anyone else walking down the street. Barely anyone noticed the thin, waif-like girl that made her way towards the local eatery that morning.

 

[Hyrune]

To Nalani


It's a goodly walk into town-proper. Ivyvale has retreated, almost, from the lakeside which gave it its origins so many years ago, so that now the only people who live in this part of town are the people who still find work on the Docks to their liking, or the people who simply can't afford better (not that there's anything wrong with that).


It does mean, however, that there's a distinct lack of a decent diner, coffee shop, or even some sort of delicatessen nearby. There's a store quite close to the apartment block but do you really want to have to make do with some sort of snack bar? There's a quick bus into Main Street, on the other hand, which will take you past the Station - owned by two Satraps of the Spring Court (Jacob, and Seán Whisper), it's technically an ice-cream parlour, but lately they've started doing a few basic extras in the morning, like bagels. And they've always had great waffles...

 

[Hyrune]

To Sam


"...need to get breakfast today, can't start the day without breakfast, most important meal of the day..."


Monologue Monty makes his distinctive way into your apartment, heavy boots clunking on the stairs which lead up to his room directly below the clockwork machinery; given his nature and Durance, this is both surprising and hardly surprising at all.


The Manikin's heavy tread on the stairs cannot help but wake you; you have no need for an alarm clock, Monty seems incapable of deviating from his schedule. Perhaps he is (best not to dwell on that). You can hear him make his way twice around the communal kitchen/living room - he's never used the kitchen as far as you can tell, and it's rare for you to find him watching TV. In another minute and a half he'll make his way out the door, and probably head to The Station, the local ice-cream parlour, for some waffles, maybe a blueberry muffin.


The ceiling stares back at you with off-white indifference.

 

[Persell]

Options for the day were becoming slim. Now that the roommate was awake, there would only be an hour or so more of peace. Then she would get up and begin her ritual. Renata did not why she had hoped this girl would be different from the others. Perhaps the wild clothing and dark humor had spoken to her, but at her core she was no different. Different paint to cover the same worn spot. Nothing like she had been hoping for and so instead she blew against the glass once more. Breakfast or books, a horrible situation. Breakfast and then books was reasonable, but books and then breakfast was not so appealing. The gnawing at her stomach made the final decision.


Renata was not so self-absorbed when she left the confines of her dormitory. Tennis shoes brushed at the cracked walkways to guide her along the campus interior. Hands pressed down into the pockets of her DKNY hoodie, those pink letters proudly displayed. She enjoyed labels because it took little thought and understanding to impress everyone around. Simply know which brands were popular, purchase a couple at outrageous prices and then instant acceptance. An easy smile was worn over her pale lips while the strands of the soft straw hair fell forward against her cheeks. Piercing blue eyes dared to meet the look over each person she encountered that smile expanding just a little more should they return the look. There was something to be said for going outside amongst the people.


Her enjoyment was diminished by the growl of her stomach. Hands pressed through the material of her outerwear in genuine shock at the intensity. Perhaps she should not have skipped dinner in an effort to practice her solo performance. Those denim encased legs began to move a bit faster toward the familiar image of the diner.

 

[Hyrune]

To Renata


The Drop-Inn is an old-style diner which tried to look like an old-style log cabin, so the wooden walls clash with the large, clean glass windows and the chatting people breakfasting at each of the polished, varnished tables with their laminated menus and the soft neon lighting over the main counter, a number of people drinking their coffee (black, milk and sugar, espressos, lattes...) and reading their papers.


It's sort of peaceful, despite the bustle and fuss.


A bright and cheerful young waitress will approach you. "Renata, right?" Lily, one of the Drop-Inn's best servers, is well-known for her near photographic memory. "Table for one?"

 

[Yu Jie]

Nalani Appleblossom


Nalani's stomach made a pitiful growl. Slightly annoyed that she had to be ruled by such a petulant organ, she made her way quickly to the bus stop. Walking, she seemed to glide, not quite a strut that belonged in a catwalk, but one that showed equal fluidity albeit lacking in flamboyance. Anxiously awaiting the arrival of the bus, she was already thinking of waffles. She was just hungry enough that she decided that she would ask whether or not they've expanded the menu a bit more since the last time she was in. Those waffles would taste so good with some bacon and eggs. Despite her waif-like frame, she could eat.


Each exhalation she made produced a tiny, foggy cloud in front of her. Watching it, there was a strange little echo in the back of her mind, as though she had spent countless hours doing the exact thing - marking the passage of time with each breath. She shivered, but not from the cold. Nalani knew it was normally useless to try to focus on the memory, like a photographer fiddling with a broken lens, the more she tried to get the image to gel, the blurrier it became.


"Come on, bus, I'm starving," she mumbled with more than a little agitation, looking down the street yet again for the familiar boxy shape, even going on her tiptoes to get a glimpse of it. Sometimes she wished for a car, but that involved paperwork, and names. She was mostly fine with minor inconveniences if it kept her hidden and kept her safe from anyone that might come looking.

 

[Hyrune]

To Nalani


That familiar, boxy shape will keep you waiting for another five minutes or so, trundling around the corner with a sharp, lurching turn. The bus (and driver for that matter) are not at fault but the street itself, this older part of the town being possessed of narrower streets and occasionally unexpected bends in an otherwise predictable grid-system. It pulls to a slow stop before you, the doors opening with a soft "hisssss" of expelled air, or whatever it was that made automatic doors...well, automatic.


The driver accepts your fare and before you know it (and amidst further protests from your stomach), you'll find yourself on Main Street. The bus, conveniently, stops just outside The Station. The lot which the ice-cream parlour slash cafe now occupies was previously a bus terminal (hence the name) but it was torn down years ago. It kept the stop on the bus schedule, however - a true boon for business, according to Jacob.


The upper half of the building blends well with the faded umber bricks of which all buildings on Main Street are built, though a discerning eye can tell The Stations are just a shade brighter, newer. At ground level, however, the shop-front is a wash of vanilla-white moulding and glass and bright, sky blue neon lighting - sans buzz, but including faint strains of light, classical music. Seán and Jacob bickered over their disparate tastes in music, the former must be controlling the radio right now.


Looks busy inside, but not overly so.

 

[Chaka]

Sam Lightfoot


Groaning, Sam rolled to his feet. He didn't bother asking Monty to keep it down anymore. Poor guy couldn't seem to wrap his head around doing anything different sometimes.


"Guess you just came back wrong, eh boy?" Sam muttered to himself. But then again, who didn't? You act like you aren't tired because you stayed up until 4am staring at the stars. Again.


Rolling his shoulders, Sam begins to do his morning exercises. Gotta stay in shape. Being in the Family was nice, but oneiromancy didn't exactly keep you in good physical shape, and you'd never know when you'd need to dance. Or fuck. Or run.


And Sam liked to run.


Another beautiful day.

 

[Hyrune]

To Sam


The fridge is kinda empty, despite Monty's apparent disdain of the kitchen. You'll have to grocery shopping later, and unless you fancy a mayonnaise sandwich that's very heavy on the mayo and rather lacking in bread, you'll have to head out for breakfast. Fortunately, the Station is quite nearby. Ice-cream this early in the day would be a bit... well, ridiculous, but Jacob and Seán would (and could) try selling sand to the desert.


But they'll surely have something more traditional on offer for breaking your fast.

 

[Chaka]

Sam


Grimacing at the slightly rank mayonnaise, Sam pulls his coat on and ties his shoes. The shoes are spats in perfect condition; rather out of keeping with his otherwise casual attire, but for those times when he needed a quick getaway, good footwear is always handy to have. Pulling his hood up, Sam heads out the door.

 

[Hyrune]

To Sam


The local bus slowly revs into life and pulls away in front of you as you make your way to the street and attempt to cross the road. The Station - a "just-this-side-of-tacky" affair of moulded plastic and neon with a slightly incongruous line of..."class" running underneath - sits brazenly on the street between a greengrocer's and a well-known florists'.

 

[Yu Jie]

Nalani Appleblossom


Sprinting from the warmth of the bus, Nalani shivered just a bit during the few steps it took to get to The Station. Tugging the door open, she let out a sigh of relief at the warmth that greeted her. In from the cold again, the music soothed her. Automatically, she picked out the strains of the violins, her head forming the notes in her mind while she found the darkest spot to sit in. That was always a booth somewhere in the back, away from the windows. She threw in her messenger bag on the seat, sliding in after it.


Seán's taste in music suited Nalani quite well. She hummed along, not even needing her iPod for entertainment. Good thing she got here before there were too many people. Shrugging out of her coat, she nodded in greeting at Tabitha, waiting until the other changeling approached to place her order. She didn't even need a menu, her stomach knew exactly what she wanted. "Morning, Tabitha. Could I get a nice stack of waffles, light on the butter, and maybe some bacon and eggs, over easy? Orange juice too, if you have it." She'd beg Seán or Jacob directly if she had to for the bacon and eggs.

 

[Hyrune]

To Nalani


The young Woodblood pulls a pencil from behind her ear, her bright evergreen hair rustling with a prickling sound as the pencil skritches across the page between fingers of the palest brown, tiny slivers of wafer thin bark shedding from each joint and falling to ground but never quite making it, vanishing. Her entire body seems...stark, as if the background was just slightly less real than the Elemental, and if you care to pay attention to it, it seems slightly colder around her.


Her breath mists. "Coming right up, Nalani. Bacon might be a bit tricky but I'll see what I can do." Another patron will catch her eye and she'll skip over to them, surprisingly light on her feet, despite her serious (but caring) demeanour.

 

[Hyrune]

To Nalani


"Is this seat taken?"

 

[Yu Jie]

Nalani Appleblossom


Nalani, distracted by digging around in her bag for her laptop, turned towards to voice, her face carefully blank and unreadable. The seat being taken always depended on whoever was asking.

 

[Hyrune]

To Nalani


The woman stands with a pronounced lean towards her left, whilst her head is cocked to the right, as if you are somehow interesting but in a purely scientific fashion. She is dressed in a deep, deep blue dress of congealed seawater, foam gracing the lace at the hem and occasionally allowing bubbles to rise through the fabric. Two shawls, one of deep green wool and another of cerulean tint with twitching silver worm-threads in the tassels lie across her shoulders, one atop the other, and seated atop those is a long, white, ferret. It wrinkles its nose at you as its mistress stares down at you with shadowy eyes, dozens of brief but sometimes startling sparkles of colour dancing across and through them. You've noticed those self-same colours in your own eyes infrequently over the last month, just starting.


It's Aisling, Ivyvale's resident "Mother" of the Family of Silent Nights.

 

[Chaka]

Sam


Breakfast time.


Rifling through his pocket idly for spare change, Sam heads on in.

 

[Hyrune]

To Sam


Hands buried deep in your pockets, your Mask's reflection will gleam back at you from the meticulously cleaned windows (one of the owners is anally retentive about stuff like that, you'll recall - "oh, the health inspector"; sure...) but that's not enough to diminish the rich and powerful aroma of good smell that wafts towards your nostrils in a welcoming gush of warm air as the door closes just ahead of you as someone enters.


As you follow suit, you'll see the place isn't hopping - yet. The strains of classical music filtering from the radio sets the slow, well-paced tone. You figure you can just take a seat and wait for one of the waitresses (Tabitha or Misty, probably) to take your order or head right up to the counter and get served there - there are a number of unoccupied stools lining the polished enamel and chrome-lined countertop for precisely this reason.