smash_logs | I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming

I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming

Who: Everyone
What: DREAMS
When: A whole 24 hours spanning from September 14th-15th
Warnings: Creepy nightmares? Innuendo? I don't know, the usual.

There had been so much buzz about those stupid lollipops for weeks now. Not only out loud, but in her head - thoughts ranging from what's the deal with those things? to gotta have more to pricy as fuck. Eventually, she confused the cravings of others for her own, and it just so happened that her very own roommate had a box right on her side of the room!

Casey wasn't supposed to touch it, but she didn't see why. Money issues, or something. She didn't get the big deal about money either. She wasn't a Meowth, so there was no reason for her to have any. Therefore, the rules about it didn't apply to her.

That was her logic, anyway.

When Ai was asleep, she opened up the box and put her telekinesis to good use. Five of the candies lifted into the air - two green, three yellow - and the wrappers tore off in perfect synchronization. Too bad nobody was watching. The Abra opened her mouth wide and crammed all of them in at once, because she had no concept of savouring anything.

Shortly after, she fell asleep, the sticks still poking out of her mouth. That had to be bad for her teeth.

Soon the dreaming began...

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Casey's power had reached pretty dang far tonight; not just the school, but the area around it too. Not far enough to reach the place that Bulba was dreaming of, unfortunately, but it did reach into somewhere else green and ancient and still.

It might not have been the forest Bulba wanted, and it might not have been the thing he lacked, but that place could at least offer him something: the muted sound of hooves in the loam, stopping next to the solitary saur at the edge of the glade. Even if this place was very much not his, it wasn't observed with anxiety; no matter how different the voices, and no matter the variance of the melody, the age-old beat of their shared song was a constant. It was, perhaps, not very winter-hearted of him, but why drag himself down with the how and the why and the where? Warm sun, the sweet perfume of flourishing life, and a friend: presents like these were meant for embracing.

"Hello again, familiar face." Kieran told the Ivysaur beside him.

The constant shifting between two forests came to a stand still. A third forest had come and taken the land for itself. None particularly seemed to mind. Bulba might have been concerned, if it weren't for the approaching sounds and the voice he had not heard for a while now.

The Ivysaur looked up from his watching, taking in the sight of a very summery deer.

"Hello, friend," he greeted softly.

He lowered his head down to the level of his companion, though he stayed on his hooves still; this wasn't his place to rest, and he knew it instinctively. It was easier to single out the scents he wanted when he was at more-or-less eye level, though: the fragrance of a golden bud, stronger than it had been in the wintertime, and a try at a hint of the reptile supporting it, too.

"You smell even nicer than the last time we met," Kieran concluded, then turned his head over toward the ones that Bulba had been watching before the deer's arrival.

"Who are they?"

The Ivysaur made a small giggle in his throat over this scent adventure. It was light and brief, and Bulba couldn't help but smile a little. He would have complimented Kieran on his excellent green foliage, as that was definitely new since the last Bulba had seen of him, but the focus had already shifted to that of the other saurs that peppered the landscape ahead of them.

Bulba watched them again, unsure of how to answer. The dream answered for him, disregarding the longing and wishes he held for a different answer.

"Brief acquaintices."

Kieran pondered this response. He already knew that Bulba was a child of the forest who was not of the forest -- it made sense that he didn't have a place like this marked as his home, when his roots had already been laid somewhere else.

On the other hand, if they were not acquaintances of any significance, then why was this the place the forest had brought Bulba to?

Kieran cocked his head, studying the distant saurs.

"Is that why you're over here and not over there?"

Bulba thought about that too and nodded again.

"Maybe. We met once, but because of someone else. It's not really my place to go back uninvited, I gueas."

Kieran tilted his head even further. How confusing! He understood, but he didn't. On the one hand, he had picked up on the air of secrecy that this place held; even if nothing had been said and none of the far-off saurs had displayed any hostility, there was still a vague sense -- a funny sort of itch in the base of his antlers -- that visitors were not welcome.

On the other... having spent his whole life in the arms of a forest, it was hard for him to wrap his head around the idea that someone would actually need an invitation to be within it -- let alone a kindred spirit. Maybe Bulba was undergoing a journey year of his own? Something like that? Kieran lowered his head, antler-foliage rustling as a back hoof scratched at his head. It was surprising to think that the ways of fellow children of the forest could be one of the things outside his understanding, but his own journey year had definitely taught him just how naive he really was.

"Why not?" he finally ventured. If you lack the knowledge to follow along, you ask. Simple as that. "Did you offend them last time you met?"

Edited 2012-09-18 21:06 (UTC)

"No," Bulba admitted slowly as he thought back to it. "I was really nervous about meeting them, but it seemed to go okay. I wasn't really sure what I was doing, and they were all really nice." There was a complete and astounding 'but' that remained unsaid at the end of that sentence. The Ivysaur stayed quiet for a bit. He had been hesitant to admit much to the deer before. It all seemed rather silly saying all of it to a child of the forest that understood the forest more than Bulba could ever hope to. In a way it just made all of the inadequacies he felt seem that much more prominent.

But in the calm woods of dreams, it was a lot easier to be honest with a kind face.

"I didn't belong." Bulba looked up at Kieran and gave a shrug, his flower swaying as he did so. "They're connected to everything around them, you know? To their forests and their gardens and themselves and I'm... Just not, really."

Another idea that shook up his worldview just a little. A grass type being unconnected was nothing he'd ever had to consider before; each one that he'd met, after all, had been born and raised in nature's embrace, just like him. Every grass type had roots laid down somewhere, no matter how migratory they were. Though Kieran had understood loneliness during the solitary moments of his journey year, he had never come to understand the feeling of being disconnected, alone in a crowded space, rootless.

For want of a better answer, he went with his impulse; he brought his nose down to Bulba's level again, nudging a leaf aside gently to plant a lick between his ears. Something to try to drive aside an ache he couldn't fully grasp, at least, was better than nothing.

"It's only what I know, but from my experience... the forest is not an exclusive, unaccepting thing. The heart of every herd is love, and love isn't something that you have to be judged worthy of."

Not that he was going to claim Bulba had no reason to feel uneasy: if that was how he felt, telling him his feelings were baseless wasn't going to be the least bit soothing. Acceptance, not denial -- bend like a sapling in the wind. That was what the herd taught.

"I don't believe you can't belong, if that's where you want to belong. I do believe that maybe, you're not ready to take that step. That's not something to mourn, at least as far as I can tell. If we were born already bearing fruit, then we wouldn't know what it's like to bear flowers." He paused, head set back on its bemused tilt. "...Am I on the right track, Bulba?"

The comfort of the deer's touch was felt, though it was brief. Being a dream, he wished it could have lasted a little longer. There was just a sense of clarity in the moment where he didn't need to think. But good dreams always seemed to be the ones that faded the quickest.

The Ivysaur looked up at the Sawsbuck, gold eyes searching for something in the deer's face that he just couldn't find. "... I don't know," he finally whispered back, sounding as lost as he felt in that moment. "Maybe it's as easy as saying that's what I want. I think it might be, a little, but... even if I want it, I don't know. I'm missing something now, but if I'm with them will I find it?"

He shrugged, glancing down at his feet.

"I can't answer that," Kieran replied. He'd never been one for anything but the up-front truth, and that included admitting when something was beyond his limited reach. "You're not searching alone, but... the thing you're looking for is yours to find, whatever it is."

There was, of course, nothing wrong with looking downward; the ground, after all, was rife with eager green things, all perfectly wonderful to look at. Looking down like that, though... well, maybe it was just because Kieran was tall, but he decided he liked Bulba looking up better.

"I wish I could give you your answer," he announced. "You carry a small sun on your back; I like it when your face is just as bright." And, because part of his mind was still on the wonderful green things below, he paused to graze on a mouthful of greenery. He both did and didn't taste it -- more a memory of something pleasant-tasting springing up than the sensation itself. His expression gained the faraway, focused look of someone trying very hard to recall something.

In person, it would likely have eluded him, but in the realm of the subconscious, the words floated to the surface quickly -- or the closest recollection of them he could manage, at least. "What was it that I said when we first met, Bulba? That was what made the realm of the gods so special, right? That it was so outside of everything I knew. It was scary... but it was wort the fear, wasn't it?"

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I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming

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