Fantasy Save Point! [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

“I fell asleep on the bus….”

It was the only conclusion that the pink-haired Vega Janson could draw as she stared out at the setting sun upon a world that looked like it came more out of a Renaissance festival than the well-lit downtown street she had just left behind. Not that this street wasn’t well lit, exactly. There were street lamps lining the cobblestone path, but there were few buildings lit up. Some had signs that designated what they were with symbols, but others had what Vega could only assume was writing on it.

“You can’t read in a dream, right?” Vega wasn’t sure of that, trying to wrack her brain for any time she’d read in a dream. Being aware it was a dream wasn’t foreign to her. She’d fallen asleep before work before, and managed to wake herself up by finding a pretzel gate – something too bizarre to exist that it jolted her awake.

She sought out something bizarre in the myriad of storefronts and street vendors that seemed to be packing up, ‘I can’t afford to miss my stop!’

Nothing stood out, not the fruits that seemed like hybrids of foods she knew, not the writing she couldn’t comprehend, not even the beings moving around that seemed to show sentience by offering glittering currency – despite looking more animal than human. All of that was just standard fair from shows she watched.

No, the only thing her eyes paused on for longer than a few seconds was a plant growing through the cobblestone, like a weed, but it hadn’t been removed despite how tall it was. In fact, it looked protected, a curious humming sound coming from a semi-transparent dome barrier around it. The plant was at least to the height of her knee! And, of course, she couldn’t help but approach it, wondering why this wasn’t breaking reality as she reached out to touch one of the red bell flowers dripping down, wondering if she could even reach through the strange barrier.

Her hand was slapped away from it before it ever made contact. “Are you mad?”

Vega looked up into the frightened face of a blonde woman, with a boy clutching at her skirts. “I…what’s wrong with the flower?”

The woman only looked aghast at her lack of knowledge, “That’s a Death Bell!” Vega looked back to the plant, supposing the red was a bit like blood, “They’re poisonous to the touch.”

“Then why hasn’t it been removed?”

The woman shook her head, exasperation painting over her horror, “There’s no safe way without the proper magic. That’s why the barrier is there. They die quick enough, it’s easier to just bar them off. Where do you come from you don’t know about these?”

“Um, Illinois?”

No recognition to that name at all. “Well, you’re lucky. Don’t go touching the Death Bells, all right?”

Vega nodded, and the woman stepped away, then hesitated, “Are you…are you trying to get somewhere?”

‘Home.’

It didn’t seem she was going to be waking up easily from this dream. She rose, and noticed she was in the same clothes, which was strange – well, maybe not. The Study Grounds didn’t have a uniform, but it had rules, so she’d started just wearing simple black slacks, matching tennis shoes, and then any sort of solid color shirt. This time it was purple.

Actually, it was strange she even had pink hair, since she usually dreamed less recent hues.

Telling this woman she was trying to get home wouldn’t work. She didn’t know her home. ‘Okay, where do things usually happen?’

“Um, I’m looking for the, uh, tavern. I was going to meet someone there.”

“Which one?”

Of course there was more than one. This town looked big. “The one near the…gate? I got a bit turned around when I went to find my room at the…inn?” She needed to stop making everything sound like a question.

“Well, you’re on the main road,” the woman said, and then pointed down the way, “Head that way, and just keep going. There’s a tavern right outside the gate,” she pursed her lips together, “and be careful. It’s a fine enough tavern, but…some less reputable sorts go there since it’s further from the knights barracks.”

“Ah…right. Thank you.”

She followed the cobblestone road straight down, continuing to take in all she saw, and continuing to realize it was feeling much less like a dream than anything she’d ever dreamt before. ‘Have I ever been truly lucid this long?’ Draconic people were laughing outside a fruit stall. ‘Usually I can just make things happen when I’m lucid….’

She looked down at her hand, and tried to will a spark of light into it. Lightning! She should throw lightning if this was a dream!

No sparks.

‘Flood the streets with lava, like that one time….’

No lava came.

Rain did, sprinkles that started to disperse those outside, before thunder cracked, and brought a downpour.

She ran, forgetting it was a dream, forgetting that this definitely should have woken her up. Water always did, especially water as bracingly cold as this! At least running helped her get to the tavern all the quicker, although once she stepped in to the sounds of jaunty music played on an instrument that, well, mostly resembled a piano, and the din of conversation, she was stricken with a too-lucid, too-waking feeling: anxiety.

What the hell was she going to do here? She had expected something to be going on and waiting for her like any good dream, but it was just people enjoying their evening.

And she probably looked like a drowned rat as she pushed back her wet hair and tried not to laugh at her own situation and confusion, the smile mixing onto her face likely already a touch insane as she stepped further in to get out of the doorway, and find someplace to exist in the bar as she regrouped.

 

[Sam136]

Olivier's eyes blearily open. Consciousness drifts in and out, as he eyes his surroundings while only half awake. He'd probably have fallen right back to sleep if it weren't for the beginnings of his hangover. He'd gotten good at telling when those were going to hit him, a sixth sense granted to those who embarked on the path of alcoholism.

He groans and pushes himself up. He was starting to gain his bearings, starting to take in where he was. The smell of alcohol and people made it obvious, it was a tavern. That wasn't strange, he'd fallen unconscious at many a bar and been subsequently kicked out during closing time by an irate inn keeper.

His hand reaches out for his mug which had somehow made it through the evening without spilling, maybe it'd have something.

It's just as his fingers are about to clench around the handle that an infuriating figure reaches over and pulls the mug away.

“Rosa… give it back”, they growl out.

The tan heavy set woman doesn't even glance at him as she tosses the mug away. Anyone else might have felt some level of worry about pushing a man like him, but not her. Not Rosemarie, matron of the Mended Drum.

“Said it before and I'll say it again, Liver. I'll serve ya, but if ya want to drown yourself in booze ya can find another tavern. The city is filled with them”, she says cleaning a glass, completely uncaring of his glare.

Olivier would have said something but it wasn't worth the hassle. Rosemarie was the worst kind of woman, she was a mom.

Oh, she wasn't literally speaking a mother of any kind, but she had the personality of one. The kind of woman who'd see poor lost souls and pick them up and give them a chance to turn their life around. Half the serving staff fell in that category.

Olivier wouldn't give a shit but she'd seemingly lumped him into that same group. Oh she hadn't ever actually said anything but Olivier wasn't an idiot, he could tell from the way she sometimes looked at him, like she wished she could help him.

Bitch.

Mood soured, he pushes off his seat and makes his way to the exit. He wasn't getting any more booze here, and he'd promised Rosemarie he wouldn't play around with any of her staff, so there wasn't any fun to be had either.

Or rather… that was what he was going to do. Before he saw her.

Olivier blinks at the stranger, that seemed to scurry into the tavern like a nervous rat. A pink haired lass with a strangely brittle feeling expression on her face. Still, pretty enough though.

All that wouldn't be too strange on its own, he'd seen beautiful women before.

No, what drew his attention were her clothes. What in the heavens was she wearing? He'd never seen anything quite like it. It was not the kind of thing he'd ever seen before.

Where in the world was this stranger from?

“Hey there, are you OK? I couldn't help but notice you seem almost dazed”

He hadn't even realized he was approaching her, before he'd even thought anything though he'd laid a hand on the stranger's shoulder and was flashing her a comforting smile.

“Why don't you take a seat? Get something to drink and eat, you look like you could use the food”, he says with another smile.

Maybe this strange pinkette could entertain him. Most likely this whole mystery surrounding her would have a completely mundane explanation, but it was a way to pass the time. If nothing else she was attractive enough company, he could try his luck with her.

“Ahh! Forgive my manners my lady, I have yet to even introduce myself. You can call me Olivier”, he says, giving a small bow.

“And would you do me the honor of sharing your name…?”

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Okay, yeah, this has to be a dream.’

How else was Vega to explain the white-haired pretty boy that approached and addressed her, albeit a bit queerly? It was always the white-haired pretty boys she had a soft spot for in anime and video games! They were also usually the antiheroes, but that still had ‘hero’ in the name, so this couldn’t be bad, right? Sure, he was maybe a bit gaunt, and definitely a bit disheveled, but this was a tavern.

Disheveled wasn’t unusual.

She did tense up a moment at the touch, eyes flicking to his hand, before she willed herself to relax and accept the comfort, and the move to a table, a chair. Food and drink was mentioned, and she worried again over currency, a hundred thoughts flooding her with his introduction, and her attempt to keep grasping at this being a dream.

Shouldn’t she have stopped dripping wet? Dreams rarely followed logic. Rarely remembered she had just been out in the rain.

“I’m Vega, ah, Janson,” she swallowed, answering, “Sorry, you’re right, I’m not quite…oriented.” Obvious, by the way she looked around as if she’d never been in a tavern before, by the way she trailed off as she tried to grapple with the sights inside it.

It wasn’t just any old renaissance faire tavern. The lights flickered in blue-white hues, sparking up from stones, not bulbs, not even fire, though the illusion of the flickering could make one believe it was flame. More of the not-quite humans were within the tavern, as well as plenty of things she was assuming were humans, though now she was starting to wonder.

She couldn’t help but notice a few other eyes had now fallen on her, though some looked off, rolling their eyes after a glance at Olivier.

They all knew something she didn’t.

Well, that was no surprise, considering she knew nothing.

“I don’t have money to buy anything, unless,” the thought struck her that while maybe the dollars she had from tips were meaningless, the coins might be worth something? She shifted, pulled her wallet out of a back pocket, as well as her phone, and set both on the table. She dug into the wallet and let the coins drop on the table, “Are these worth anything here?” the faces of the coins had to be foreign.

The language, too, she realized, given she didn’t understand the writing here.

At least she understood the speech.

“Sorry, this must be odd to you. I’m not from this area of the world, at all.”

Although by how she was acting, she probably didn’t seem from their world, at all. Though she didn’t know how big this world was. Maybe this wasn’t too abnormal. Maybe people with pennies and quarters fell out of the sky often enough.