lostcarnival | ⇨ THE REALM OF DREAMS

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⇨ THE REALM OF DREAMS

Who: EVERYONE!
When: S1:D8 - S1:D18
Where: Visiting the Realm of Dreams.
What: The carnival arrives at a new location and has its first performance week with the new cast, as outlined here. This is a general mingling log for convenience purposes, but players are welcome to make as many other logs for this purpose as desired.
Warnings: Could be a lot of things, around these parts.

THE REALM OF DREAMS↴

As the carnival arrives at its first stop since its recruitment phase, and prepares to put its new band of workers to the test. In the meantime, there is a whole new world of dreams and nightmares to be explored, and threats to be faced on carnival turf. As of S1:D11, the carnival will be opening its doors to the creatures within, and the carnival will be open daily from noon to midnight, though the connection to the realm will be constant.

This is an all purpose mingle log for the full duration of the stay, so please mark top levels with some estimate of what days they'll be occurring on. Please bring any mod questions to the original plotting post.

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Zecora made a mental note to provide him a supplement or two. In the meantime, she pressed a hoof to Sans' sternum as she leaned over to peer into his eyes, then his mouth.

"Go to sleep,
You crazy creep," she said with some affection as she stepped back.
"And as for you,
A little brew
To flush your chest
Would be the best."

Sans is used to this, at this point, and opens his mouth for her convenience in order to allow it to be over faster. As usual, there isn't much inside his head besides intangible networks of magical energy, forming an almost entirely etheric nervous system.

He casts a nervous glance over at Greg, though. Has the human given it away? He isn't sure. More than anything, the uncertainty of whether or not anyone else knows is what makes him feel anxious. His tail starts flicking back and forth, subconsciously showing off his apprehension.

"... Wait, Zecora," he starts, stumbling through his thoughts. "Some of those nightmares are bad news tonight. Gotta let the night shift know."

Greg looks anxiously between the two of them for signs of how he ought to take all this. They're both veterans, and between doctor and superpower laser zombie he feels like they should be the ones who are most accustomed to this stuff.

"Is--is that not normal? Are they usually that bad?" Because boy howdy he is not gonna be able to do this every night.

"I'll pass on the warning
Before we go closer to morning.
But you'll do no good
For our neighborhood
In your current state.
You are not doing too great." Wry, Zecora backed down from him, though she kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't try to move.

Sans raises his hands in a show of surrender, signaling to Zecora that he'll stay where he's told. Now that that lingering concern is gone, he's getting particular drowsy again.

"Not usually so aggressive... or sneaky. Ringmaster needs to tell her dumbbell dreamlord friend to keep the garbage on their side of the fence." He yawns. "S'stupid. With these new people." His glance lingers on Greg ruefully for a moment, before finally closing them again.

Despite their largely casual attitude, it doesn't ease Greg's concern. He only survived all that because he happened to annoy Sans at the right moment.

"I'm just supposed to work the lights," he tells the jar of paste. Greg sighs and finishes applying the goo. Only, what, fifty more weeks of this?

"I am sorry that working the lights
Should lead to such a night of frights," Zecora said, turning her attention fully to Greg. She paced around him, checking on his progress in applying the unguent, and making sure it was doing the job.

God, what a sad sack. Not that Sans has any place to speak in that regard, and that quality alone probably makes them kindred spirits. He chuckles to himself, half asleep, his tail lazily curling around his body.

"Well. Thanks for seeing us so late, Doc." He wasn't super sure what to do with it, so he kinda caked a lot on. It's easy to get carried away when you're in pain and you think it's supposed to help. "Knock on wood this isn't how it usually plays out."

"It is my duty and a delight,
Whether middle of day or dark of night," Zecora said cheerfully.

Stepping back over to her bench of goodies, she scooped up her radio to call in the nightmare alert. She'd be as good as her word, of course.

Sans resumes snoring, for real this time. He'll probably sleep late into the next day if no one wakes him. Until then, he won't even realize he isn't wearing pants.

"You enjoy your job, and do it well. The best way to be, from what I can tell."

With Sans snoring and Zecora making her call, Greg finally feels... well, certainly not safe, but not in immediate danger. He lets himself sink into his cot, mind slowly working itself down from prey mode and into how to make tonight into a song.

"The doctor, she can cast a spell
After a night of raising hell.
And if you--no. Wait, that... nn." His brow furrows. This would be easier with a guitar. He waves Zecora back over. "Doc, I can't think of a good rhyme for 'bones.' Help me out." A far bigger crisis than burns.

"I'll help his tired bones
And also ease your moans," Zecora said with a warm chuckle, as she came back over to Greg to reclaim her jar.

"Rhyming may have its appeal,
But first tell me how you feel."

"No no, I got it. Let's see." The fact that he's getting worked up about his rhyming schemes should indicate well enough he's feeling better.

"The pain's improved, and I've been... soothed..." Greg tilts his head, chewing the thought over. He then snaps his fingers, victorious. "Well, your stuff was just the thing to take away that burning sting.

"Any aches or pain?
Lingering muscles strains?"

She was just checking at this point, confident that she'd treated what really could have bothered him.

"So these nightmares could use fire.
Our danger is growing higher..."

"No, no, that was actually..."

He hesitates. Even if it's the result of Sans' laser, Greg would hate to make it sound like it's his fault. Greg more or less made him do it, after all.

"They were like big leeches? Tried to... um... to wrap around me, and..." Trying to describe it out loud brings it back, and his jovial exhaustion gives way again. "Well, I couldn't tell what they were doing, but it might've been acid. I dunno."

"The story becomes stranger by turns,
But those were not acid burns." Zecora was on to you, Greg, and though she didn't sound accusatory she regarded him with an even, patient look.

Greg spreads his hands, conceding. He should have known better than to play coy with a magic doctor. "Well... y'know." He inclines his head towards the sleeping Sans. "He had to get them off me somehow. I would've been more than toasted if he hadn't."

"Ah, I see. A fire spell --
Or its equivalent, just as well."

Zecora made a mental note to stock up on more burn ointment.

"I am sure he did what he felt he must
And I'll take it as a show of trust."

"Yeah. He really stuck his neck out for me tonight."

More than he would have to if Greg hadn't gone and gotten himself eaten on purpose. He starts to rub at his beard, then winces as the ungent sticks to the hair. He is so, so glad that he finally has access to a real, actual shower.

"Eesh... uhh, how long am I supposed to leave this stuff on, doc?"

"Whenever you wish, it may go.
It has done its work, you know.
If the skin is tender or starts to itch
Then come back to this zebra witch."

Not that she considered herself a witch, but she'd been called that often enough over the years that the irony suited her. Especially since Greg seemed a little surprised at how well her treatment had worked. He wasn't used to magic, it seemed.

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⇨ THE REALM OF DREAMS

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