Log:Introducing Shadow Faire

2022/01/07 Dreamer Grimm Bran Connor 

It's been a few days since stopping the prison escape at Tranquility Prison. While not a complete success, no hero who went died permanently at least and the team did reasonably well working together.

It wreaked havoc with your sleep though. At least tonight you got to bed early. Jack's on a stakeout with another detective so you couldn't tag along, but, after a nice dinner, a hot bath, and good drink, you settle in with some soft music and a book.

Grimm is nestled on the corner of her couch, wearing an off-the-shoulder oversized band t-shirt that's super soft, and a pair of loose comfy pajama pants with a faded skull print. Total lounge-wear since she has no plans to go out. The music is playing on a random playlist. There's some soft industrial haunting music, also secretly mixed with...musicals? Just a song or two from some eclectic dark ones. She reads a book borrowed from the Twilight Society on fairytale magic and lore. Occasionally she takes a sip from a glass of Riesling wine.

There comes a rapping, a gentle tapping, upon your chamber door. Well, more like you're front door, but a gentle knock nonetheless.

Grimm makes a motion with her finger that makes the page turn in her book as she uses her shadow sight to see who's come calling. She knows it's not Jack, since he has a key.

The Dreamer stands outside your front door. Behind him bustles a semi-Victorian street filled with all manner of fairy tale races and beings. It appears there's a market day, well, market night going on.

By semi-Victorian, one means 'looks like something from a BBC show set in the Victorian era, but details are off'...such as the gaslights being lit by will-o-wisps, the moths being little flying fairies, and some of the street urchins being goblins. Its...odd but not obviously a trap.

Grimm blinks as the exterior feels entirely out of sorts. She sets her book and glass of wine down and walks over to the door, brow furrowed, before opening the door just enough to peek her head out and looks around suspiciously left and right before looking at him. Her old decaying Victorian style home may fit right in to this place. "Dee?"

"Cha, no, the Dreamer, Gabrielle. I fear Dialydd is presently working in his shop." says the Dreamer with a gentle smile. "I was just wandering when I came across this Faire. And then, well, your house in the middle of it."

One of the goblin urchins

One of the goblin urchins already large eyes widen even further upon it sighting you. An 'Oh' expression crosses it face right before it runs off down the street like its seen a ghost.

Grimm opens the door a little more and squints at the urchin as he runs off. "What's it's deal...?" She looks back to Dreamer and opens her mouth to say something, pausing. "Ohhh. Then...sorry. I thought I was awake, so it'd be Dee. But...I fell asleep reading, didn't I?" she looks over back at the couch where she was a moment ago, and tries to use her qliphothic senses to peer at that spot in the waking world.

And indeed, you are asleep on the couch. Looks like you didn't spill the wine as it set beside the couch, but the book's definitely going to have a crease on that page. No danger of drool damage though...so far.

The Dreamer glances inside then back to you. "Have I caught you at a bad time? And I would imagine so if that is the last thing you remember, sera Gabrielle," he murmurs. "Can I tempt you to come out?"

He takes in your outfit then says in a teasing tone with a near grin, "And nice sleepwear. Looks comfy and non-restrictive. I imagine it gives the Detective a, cha, ease of access?"

Grimm laughs at that. "Oh, I wear sexier stuff when he's spending the night. When I'm wearing stuff. Sometimes I make a game of it. To see if he can tell if my clothes are an illusion or not. He's getting a little too good at it." She brushes something off her shoulder. It creates a rippling cascading effect, her clothes changing to something fitting for a gothic Victorian fantasy era. In black of course, with lace and webbing designs. She's like a person in mourning with expensive tastes. "There. This should be more suitable."

"Indeed, I think it does." He bows in the Jerin manner to you, then as he straightens, you note his eyes have all the starry universe contained within. That's happened before when he's views what he calls 'The Dream of Reality'.

"It is most appropriate. It even happens to match what your statue wears in the square." He offers a hand as he adds, "Shall we go see?"

Grimm closes her door and it locks on its own, with a bit of magical help. "My what now?" she asks with widened eyes as she steps towards him. "Is that why the goblin kid ran away?"

Dreamer gently takes your near hand to his right side and places it atop his lower right arm. Well, at a moment, at first he starts to place his hand on your arm, but changes it mid-motion.

"I think this place grew in the Dreaming, in fits and starts, when you read or dream of, cha, places like this?" He smiles down at you. "Great powers create vivid dreams. And sometimes, cha, they linger. Take on a, cha, life of their own."

Grimm's eyebrows pop up at that explanation, though she's smiling a bit as he tries to decide which hand placement to use. "That makes me worry about what my nightmares create. Though...I've had mostly good dreams lately. Because I haven't been alone through the night as often. Somehow, company keeps the bad dreams away."

"Cha, this Faire seems to be a, cha, an amalgamation. Its part trading spot, of both real and the unreal goods and services, as well a meeting place," murmurs Dialydd as you walk down the street.

Again, it's like bits and pieces of Victoriana from the start to the end of her reign, in style and technology. With the odd fairytale element added like the door knockers with eyes and mouths who watch you pass by. Or the little ghost girl urchin selling burned out matches on a corner to a hag dressed in a dark cloak.

You note that at each major intersection, the Dreamer turns right. Which should lead you back to where you were, but somehow, simply doesn't.

"I think the statue's a clue. But I only watched it for a moment as I walked by. After I traded a song for the way to your house with with a siren. I think she was a siren in any case."

Grimm is dressed for the gothic Victorian fantasy era. In black of course, with lace and webbing designs, a long dress, and a high collar, with her hair trussed up in a bun with some loose curls framing her face. She's like a person in mourning. She walks with her arm on Dreamer's as they walk along the cobbled street. "A song was all you needed to trade to find my house in this dreamscape? Interesting." She looks over to see the little ghost girl selling burned out matches to the hag in a dark cloak. "Oh yeah. This is from my dreams, alright," she finally believes Dreamer.

Bran's having one of those weird dreams again. Comes from watching any of the BBC dramas your sister's drummer likes. Always makes weird crap bubble up like being part of a crew of pickpockets preying on the 'gentry' which is apparently Brit talk for rich folks.

And there's a pair right there walking down the edge of the street. Woman dressed in a black dress with like cobwebs designs on it and, um, why is that guy so weird looking. It's like he's a Scotsman wearing a kilt and nothing else. And with a silvery staff in his hand?

Bran tilts his head. Why is he looking like Oliver Twist? Right...he read it last year for school. He looks around for Fagin, but doesn't spot him. Good. Well, might as well see if he can actually pickpocket someone. Not the Scot. No pockets to pick, and he's not going for a sporran. That would be dumb.

Grimm has a slide purse that dangles by her hip.

Oh, yeah, you recognize the lady, she's someone who's cycle you fixed. Name starts with a.,,G?

And the shirtless Scot, yeah, he's that alien tailor. Dee, right? The one that made and fitted that arid suit. Wow, he's buff it seems. And did he get taller?

But, in any case, you're on the right path to get up behind them. The lady's probably got a purse, yeah, there it is. Grab it, then scarper off (WTF? Scarper?) to the others, and then to a fence. Then to the pub.

The Dreamer murmurs, "The statue is you, but not you, sera Gabrielle. I look forward to getting your impression of it." His deep, rich voice has a Scandinavian, but not quite, accent to it.

Grimm walks along, distracted by the sights from this dreamscape her powers and own readings and dreams helped spawn. "Ugh, am I going to be super embarrassed? A statue of me in the center of town is so not my style."

Bran sneaks up to Grimm, and manages to dip his hand into her purse as it swings loosely. He's quick about it, and he manages to pull something out.

Bran feels a mind reach out to his, the mind of the Scot, the tailor, that tall handsome alien. But, it doesn't make full contact.

The crisp notes in Bran's hand have the normal picture of the Founder of the Faire on them: the Queen of Trades. One part of Bran's mind notes her profile is a lot like the lady, G, who's purse you just stole them from.

"Do you have anything valuable in your purse, sear Gabrielle" murmurs the Dreamer, a faint smile on his face but a beat or two after Bran's dip is done and the Artful Branger's taken a step back from the couple.

"Hmm?" Gabrielle asks, having missed the thieving. "I mean in the waking world, usually just some cash, holy water, a shrunken monkey paw," she says with deadpan casualness. She looks to her purse and opens it to rifle through, not really realizing what just happened. "Why do you ask?"

Bran steps a bit further away, wondering why Grimm's picture is on the money. That's kind of crazy. But it's a dream, right?

"Because someone just took something from it. I missed him, so, if you want it back, it's your job to catch him," says the Dreamer with a mischievous smile. "After all, it's only fair."

Grimm pulls out one of the remaining bills and sees her face on it and groans. "Seriously? I guess my ego's secretly out of control," she says as she stuffs it back into her purse. Maybe it's not such a secret, since she's been more daring with using her powers for personal gain. She looks to Dreamer and scowls. "Wait, really? Did they take something important?" She twirls around in search of the scoundrel.

"I've no idea, sera Gabrielle," murmurs the Scot, the Dreamer, with that same mischievous smile. "I simply tried to make it into a spider, but, well, it's a very skilled mind."

Bran is still walking away from the pair, looking like a typical urchin type.

Grimm's shadow touch reaches out, almost visibly here, and runs over everyone nearby. Elf, Elf, Dwarf, Shadow Hound, Elf, Goblin, Goblin, Hag, Human, Goblin, Svartalf, Ratman, Ratman, Goblin, Elf, Hobgoblin are all the closest felt up.

The hag swats at Grimm's touch. "Manners," she snaps in a voice like cracking walnuts.

No one else seems to notice. Especially not the human, the human teen, the male human teen who's almost at the mouth of an alley. Who just let Raven note drop from his hand.

Bloody bits, one of the notes slipped out of your pocket, Artful Branger!

Bran continues into the alleyway, not noticing what he had dropped. He pockets the remainder, and tries to keep moving briskly.

Grimm's qliphothic senses spread out and reconstruct what transpired, a little like retrocognition. She jumps a bit at the swat. How'd she feel that. She withdraws her senses from the hag. Now that she's paying attention, she can 'feel' the lingering presence of a hand that was in her person, and the arm, body, and shape it belonged to. Something with unusual hair. She turns and sees Bran and the bit of cash fall from his pocket. "Another one of those urchins. Why are there so many urchins this dreamscape?" she sighs. "Just a moment," she says vanishes in a swirl of darkness and appears in front of Bran's path with her hands on her hips and eight shadow tentacles waving ominously around her. "Now look here, you thieving little--wait. You look familiar..." Her tendrils halt their threatening sway and withdraw a little.

"Ah, it'll be hot grop tonite, ey Branger?" wheezes a squeaky voice from about knee level as Bran proceeds down the alley.

It's Scrabbles, one of the little ratboys, literally, who work for the Thiefmaker, your mutual boss.

"Tha was good dip, it was. Thiefmaker'll be hap. And as your his favorite, he'll let you..." He squeaks in terror at the woman's voice. "Crikey, the Founder?!?"

The Dreamer stops walking as Grimm disappears. He looks around for a moment, then starts to walk towards the alley but with a slow stride.

A couple of goblinesses of negotiable virtue eye him and start to make their way to cross his path. Their hobgoblin pimp keeps an eye on them.

Bran takes off his hand, "Umm...I think you're mistaken, ma'am." That shows off his distinctive hair, which Grimm likely remembers from the repair shop.

This is a run down bit of it after all. Everyone knows the Founder's House is in the oldest part of the Faire, thirteen turns widdershins from the way her statue points.

Grimm knows in her bones that the male escorts are clockwise two turns from the statue.

Grimm blinks at Bran as he removes his hat. The hair is what helps her place him. Her tendrils quickly get drawn back into her. "Aww geez, what the...? Why did I dream of my mechanic? And as an urchin? Man, I'm afraid of what else I'm going to find in here. There's probably houses of ill repute with...with...male harems in them or something," she mutters with closed eyes as she pinches the bridge her nose, not realizing Bran is real. Well...connected to a real person. She finally opens her eyes and looks to Scrabbles. "Sort of the Founder."

The brown rat boy is doing his very best to hide behind Bran. When Grimm says she's 'sort of the Founder' the ratboy's eyes get huge then he runs off full speed away from Grimm.

Bran furrows his brow and chuckles. "So...why did I dream of the person whose bike I worked on?"

Grimm opens her mouth to make a retort, but finds herself unable to come back with a fast enough. "Hm. No, wait, this is ..." she starts to realize by his response, maybe this isn't a dream construct. "...a dream, so who or what -should- you be dreaming up of?" Yes, kid, this is all a dream.

Bran chuckles. "Not about the book I read in high school last year, that's for sure. Rock bands? Artemis underneath a waterfall? Umm...beating up telekinetic rats?"

From behind Bran, you both hear the voice of the Dreamer. "Your mechanic, sera Gabrielle? And a mere youth?" He pauses for a moment, then says, his voice rich with humor, "He's dreaming as you are dreaming. Why here? Well, I'm certain he can figure it out."

"Yu need any company, guv'nore?" says one of the goblinesses behind the Dreamer.

As Bran lists off his dreams flashes of them appear on the wall of the alley. They linger on Artemis under the waterfall. Or cycle back to it rather.

Grimm's dreams also flash along another stretch of wall. Some of the men look like cowboys who look like Jonathon Vasilikos a bit.

Grimm shoots a look past Bran at Dreamer. "Hey, don't get any ideas...I'm not fantasizing about him." The people she does fantasize about are clockwise two turns from the statue. She scowls a bit at the goblins trying to get hired by Dreamer, then glances at the wall. She chuckles a bit at the image of Artemis under a waterfall. "Well, I can see what you're thinking--ahh!" she yells in shock at the images of cowboys. She quickly tries to clear her mind. No thinking about cowboys. Or Titan. Or Wade's butt in that photo of him squaring off against a space ship. Or whatever else weird buried stuff is in her head.

Bran points to the wall when Artemis appears, "Yeah, like that. I'm a nineteen year old guy, after all. That's a normal dream for me. At least that's what I've been told."

All of the things Grimm doesn't wish to think about flash across the alley wall. Dee is among her male ;suitors' as is a handsome man in his mid 30s. Two different ones in fact.

Bran's dream images do keep cycling back to Artemis. But then to Rira Gonzalez a couple of times too, one of the members of his sister's band.

Grimm sighs in relief to find out Bran is of legal age. At least Dreamer can't make her sound like she's TOO bad of a person. "Yeah, that's pretty normal," she admits, having been in a number of minds and dreams before. Like the time she went into Matt Regent's nightmares to help fight a monster that had taken root there.

She glances at her wall again and blushes as all of those things she was trying not to to think about show up. Her cheeks flush a bit. "Fine, umm, maybe you can forget all about what you just saw on my portion of the wall," she offers and snaps her fingers to cast a realistic illusion. Suddenly Artemis is there in the alley, soaked from her time under a waterfall as if Grimm had just teleported her there. A very realistic dream facsimile of her, anyway. She notices Rira as well and recognizes it. "Wait, you know Rira? Man, that's...complicated," she chuckles.

"I think, cha, that is about enough of that," murmurs the Dreamer. He raises his silvery staff in a broad sweep and the alley's walls cease to put on a show.

One of the goblinesses makes a shocked sound, then, as a pair, the two females back away from the alley.

Bran wakes up a bit confused. What did he eat last night?

In the Dreaming, Bran fades away as his gaze locks with the Artemis under the waterfall.

Grimm lets out a sigh of relief and dismisses the Artemis illusion. She hopes that distracted Bran from recognizing Jack on the wall. And...Connor? What was he even doing on that wall. She shakes her head. "Let's hope he doesn't remember much. Anyway...shall we?"

Dreamer smiles slightly as he murmurs, "Shall we what, sera Gabrielle?" Humor glints in his eyes.

Grimm purses her lips, then grins. "Head to the statue," she tsks at him. "Brothels can wait for later," she adds playfully.

The Dreamer raises his eyebrows in 'surprise' as her mention of brothels, but merely says in a mildly amused tone, "To the statue shall we go then." He offers places his hand on your arm as he guides you out of the alley and back to the street. "It's just another 11 turns clockwise now."

"Turns? I was wondering if we were going in circles, but...I guess we are," Gabrielle chuckles.

"Turns, spirals, up and or down? This Faire never turns back on itself it seems, but, it's said if one crosses the right palms with the right payment, shortcuts can be revealed," says the Dreamer in a soft voice. "Gossip, trush, who knows? But it's the talk of the pubs."

Grimm chuckles and glances up at Dreamer. "How much time have you spent in this particular dreamscape? You know all the juicy details."

"A bit, sera Gabrielle, a few days probably all told. It slowly changes. And, as its new, well newish, I can, cha, 'see' how it's Becoming." He's silent for a moment then adds, "I'm curious to see if it'll open eventually to Faerie, but, not certain if it every will. Seems more a dream of what a mixed human history and goblin faire would be like."

"You, it seems, have a vivid imagination."

Grimm chuckles a bit. "I guess maybe I inherited a little of that from my father's side of the family. But I know there are a lot more creative people than me out there. Just maybe not with the power to manifest something like this." She thinks on the comment about Faerie. "Mmmm. Maybe it will? I'm a little worried that my face is plastered on things, though."

"Think of it as your, cha, fingerprint on the canvas, sera Gabrielle," murmurs the Dreamer as you make another turn to the right. "And, cha, you have great untapped reserves in my estimation. All this?"

He gestures at the Faire. "This is how it gets expressed in the Dreaming. You are not unique in this. The fact that it lingers without you. /That/ makes it special."

"Untapped reserves? In what way? How am I making it remain without me being asleep?" Gabrielle asks, going back to observing her surroundings more and trying to pick out the influences she may recognize.

"I am an untapped reserve of Dialydd, sera Gabrielle. I exist and do not exist. And that, cha, potentiality is untouched, consciously, by Dialydd. So, when he is awake? I am active. When he dreams, I am part of him, inactive but aware."

"As to how? I've no idea. But it's fascinating, isn't it?"

Grimm nods wholeheartedly at that. "Yeah. This is something entirely new to me. I'm kind of curious. Though...is it just me, or do some people seem scared of me/the founder?"

"Oh, definitely scared. But then, it's never light here. This is the brightest it gets: just before dawn or just after sunset. Goes from this to pitch black, no stars or moon. Just flickering shadows cast by any source of light. Spooks a lot of people especially visitors, dreamers I imagine."

Grimm rubs the back of her neck. "Right...you said this place is around even when I'm awake. So...other dreamers get pulled into her? Like my mechanic?" She finally looks up at the sky, since Dreamer mentioned it. "Wow. It's like there's no sky at all. Heh. I always loved the moon, too. I guess at least like this, the stars will never be right."

The Dreamer is silent for a long moment, then murmurs, "There is that, yes, sera Gabrielle. But then again, perhaps there are none because they've already been consumed?" His tone is contemplative.

He then shakes his head. "But, who knows? It's a dreamscape, not reality. And yes, other dreamers can come here. Like they can visit other places: the Abandoned School, the Haunted House, the Birthday Party, the Best Day Even, the 'I'm Late for a Class and Didn't Study and Why Am I Naked' school...Why humans have that one so often I do /not/ understand. Even when they're /not/ in school in the waking world." He comes back from his aside, "But it's out all there." He makes a vague gesture with his hand to

...to out 'there.'

Grimm stops walking as he mentions the possibility of them already being consumed. The fact that it's always night is already a sign of how the source of her powers have touched this place. But Dreamer is still walking, so she quickly starts walking again so he doesn't get yanked back. "That's dark as hell. Figuratively. And," she sighs, "so me." She winces at the naming of at least one of those places. "Man, I hate the 'I'm late for Class and Didn't Study and Why am I Naked' school dreamscape. Remind me to thump the person who came up with that one." And certainly not because she's ended up there a few times. "Eh, kids at that age, at least...human kids at that age, are hitting puberty. They feel really awkward and unsure about their bodies and school life, and that totally puts both those big things together?" she shrugs.

The International House of Jacks! Then you can have: Upper Class English Jack, Cockney Jack, French Jacque, Italian Giacomo, and Scandinavian Jack!

"Hmm, well, good to know that is so, cha, large a mental construct for humans. It is not so, cha, prevalent among the Jerin. But then, we don't have the same nudity taboos as humans but certainly more than say the Se'ecra." He smiles slightly. Of course, we are not hermaphroditic insectoids covered in chitin either."

Grimm smiles. "So...no dreamscape of 'Oh no I am surrounded by strange females without my veil or sisters' for the Jerin?" she prods playfully.

The Dreamer looks over at you then smiles gently, his eyes filled with humor and something else. "Cha, yes, for males. But, cha, depending on the male that can be a nightmare or a, cha, pleasant dream."

You all then turn a corner and enter a large square with many, many market stalls in it. Large prosperous businesses and banks and restaurants line the five sides of the square.

And in the center, on tap of a jagged pillar of obsidian stands a statue of you...no, of someone like you...no, its you...no, its the Dark Mistress of Tenebration...no, it's yet another version of you, you can can tell by the dress that now changing...

It's all of you, from everywhen, and the vast majority you have never met.

Grimm's mouth hangs open a bit at the site of the every shifting status. "Oh...kaay. So this isn't just my dreamscape. Maybe...a bunch of us are maintaining it all at different times because there's always one of me sleeping? I didn't know dreamscapes crossed dimensions."

The Dreamer watches your reaction to the statue, listens, then says with a gentle shrug, "Well, I am but a young god of Dreams, so, I fear< I cannot answer your question, sera Gabrielle." He then adds with another shrug. "But I can make guesses. Feel free to correct me..."

The Jerin youth intertwines his fingers in front of his chest. "It may be that given your...spiritual status is in flux, undecided for or against Reality, that this creates enough, hmm, potential to fuel such an anomaly. It may be that as alternates of you choose, the dreamscape may shift for good or ill." He looks over you. "Sound plausible so far?"

Grimm frowns. "I mean, it sounds plausible, but," she turns to Dreamer while motioning to the statue with an open hand, "How am I undecided? I'm definitely -for- Reality." At least uncorrupted as she is for now.

The Dreamer looks at you for a long moment then murmurs softly, "You are for Reality to this point in time, sera Gabrielle. But none of us can know if or whether you shall always remain so. The Enemy constantly assails your mind and spirit and while you need win every battle, they need but win one for you to...fall." He sighs softly. "That is the fear we all have who know what stresses you are under."

Grimm's scowl starts to fade into furrowed worry as he makes a point she's been avoiding or denying for a long time. She's still got fight in her, but what happens if she gets tired of the war? She lowers her hand and looks back to the statue, the Dreamer's words stinging. "You're all afraid I'm going to fall...?" she utters with an undertone of pain in her voice. Looking at the Everywhen statue of herself going through its shifting, some of which looking like dark queens or mad rulers, others more tempered, similar age, older, or old...it makes the reality of it set in heavier than usual.

"By we, I mean my father's family, sera Gabrielle," murmurs the Dreamer in a gentle tone. "I don't know the minds of anyone else. And, cha, we are...we've the fear of all survivors of the Enemy of their re-appearance. My father's family lost their Reality to the Enemy. And then nearly lost my mother's family's world and people to them as well."

He reaches out a hand, rests it on your shoulder, and gives a gentle squeeze. "I know not what the future holds, Gabrielle. But I am on your side until the end."

Grimm's shoulders sag a bit as he rests his hand there and looks to him, blinking rapidly a few times to avoid any tears. "Thanks. But if I become one of those evil versions, or whatever people like Lereau want to turn me into, you shouldn't be. Not if I'm not...me anymore," she struggles with the words.

The Jerin youth sighs softly. "I should be more clear." He looks at you with a gentle smile but sandess and resolve in his eyes. "I will be there until the end of /you/, sera Gabrielle Grimm. I will fight to keep you /you/. And, in necessary, I will make certain the Enemy-in-your-body does no harm should /you/ be gone."

Grimm blinks a few more times and wipes at her eyes, forcing a smile. "Thanks. I 'ppreciate it," she says authentically, even if it's a sad thought. She sniffs and looks to the statue. "Let's hope it'll be a while before that happens. Or that it never happens. Yeah, let's aim for never happening." She tries to think on the positivity and support her friends have given her. "Because I was starting to think after N'zrathol and everything that I might actually have a future I can start planning."

Dreamer blinks. "And why should you /not/ start planning a future, Gabrielle? When one is faced with a challange, one still plan for the future. It's very embarrassing to arrive in the future having not prepared for it, yes?"

He gestures all around the square. "All these people plan for a future? Or don't, I suppose, but why shouldn't you?"

Connor had a busy day grading papers. Well, reading over papers since he's senior enough to not have to teach undergrad classes. Still, after a while, it's hard to keep one's eyes open. Maybe just a brief...

"Professor! Wake up!" comes the the voice of one of the proctors. "She'

Connor blinks and looks around. "Hmm?"

"She's back! I mean she's here! Well, not here here, Sir! But in the Faire! The Lord Mayor wants you to check it, well, her out!" says Cranberry. He;s the head proctor. Not a bad sort for a hobgoblin at all but a bit excitable at times. He looks you with his big btown eyes over his bushy beard and dusty black suit.

You note you are in your office at good ole IOU. Stacks of papers and books are on every flat surface. You must have dozed off after class. Probably that extra glass of port at the don's tabke.

Connor takes a deep breath and stands up, straigthening out his clothing. A suit, of course. Well, with a robe over it. He frowns a bit, but removes the robe to hang it up. "'She'? Who is the person the Lord Mayor wants me to check out, exactly? Keep in mind, I just woke up. Humor me."

Cranberry says in a fearfully reverent tone, "The Founder, your Professorship. The Dark Mother, the Mistress of Tenebration, the Lady of Trades, oh, I don't have time for all her names! She's here! In the flesh!"

Connor raises a brow. At least one of those names reminds him of someone. "I see. Is there something specific I'm supposed to be learning about her? Or from her?"

Meanwhile, in the five sided square at the center of the square right by the statue of the Founder, an elven woman dressed in the latest fin-de-cicle Victoian style complete with steampunk goggles around her neck approaches the Dreamer and Grimm. "A thousand apologies, my lady, but are you truly the Founder?" Her hair is fine a dandelion fluff and her skin as fine as alabaster. Her tone is fearful and reverential at the same time.

In the office, Cranberry says, "His lordship wants you to determine if it is her or some charlatan. And well, if she's fallen to the Enemy or not. If so, we'll need to call out the Old Guard, you know."

Connor smiles. "Um...of course. Thank you." He runs his hand through his hair to straigthen in, and grabs a hat from the rack by the door. A bowler hat. He pops it on his head, "I'll go check it out. Back in a bit."

The Dreamer looks over at the elven woman, his eyes still containing all the starry sky. His expression smooths into a blandly polite smile as he murmurs, "I apologize, sera, but do you have a name? The Founder needs one to address you by."

HIs hand, still on Grimm's shoulder, squeezes quicking twice before he lets go.

Grimm sighs softly. "Yeah, well, they don't assume they'd die young usually. I did. For a long time. I'm only just recently feeling like maybe I won't. I never thought about what I'd do after college. Or about being able to have a serious relationship, Or or or...marrying someone," she struggles with the M word and stammers.

Elsewhere, Professor Connor knows that IOU's central location to the five-sided square means he only need go do the street, past the bookshps, to the first turn and turn once clockwise to reach one of the five main roads to the square.

Connor mutters to himself as he walks, about places not following Euclidean rules like all good orderly locations should. He follows the normal instructions. Follow the street, to the first turn, and turn clockwise...then down the main road to the square.

Grimm falls quiet and realizes the elven woman is talking to her. She looks over to Dreamer, then the woman, and pulls herself together. She has a role to play in this place, and she's already dressed the part in her long sleeved, high collared black Victorian style dress. She looks very much like a prim and proper lady. Gods forbid!

Connor continues to make his way to the square...and he looks around for Grimm. After all, that's likely the person in question in his dream, right? Why wouldn't he dream about his friends?

Connor spots Grimm standing near an rough obsidian pillar atop which is a statue of her...which changes every few seconds to a different version of Grimm: older, younger, thinner, fatter, kind, cruel, wicked, saintly.

An elven woman with dandelion hair stands near her. And the Dreamer, clad only in his kilt and with his staff in one hand stands next to Grimm.

"Die!" shouts the elven woman as a sword black as night materializes in her hand and she lunges at Grimm. The sword seems to be cut out of the reality of this place and cold hatred radiates from it!

The sword goes straight towards Grimm's chest stright and true. Until it is knocked aside with with a deft swipe of the Dreamer's staff! It screeches down the silvery shaft of the staff until it

...until it forced aside.

The Dreamer's expression is still blandly pleasant as the elven woman hisses, her skin darkening and becoming scaly.

The assassin whose body keeps becoming more repitlian by the moment starts to slash at Grimm, but the Dreamer, being in a better position due the the block, acts first. He shifts the staff back then slams it forwards hard towards the assassin's chest. Sadly, it just slides off the scales on the assassin's now barrel chest.

The assassin for its part draws in a deep breath then spits at Grimm. A sizzling gob of green goo flies from its lips towards the Mistress of Tenebration!

Grimm fades to a dark shadow of her former self, the goo flying through her.

The green gob his the front of a cloth merchant's stall: Windrey's Fabulous Fabrics. It sizzles and dissolves a fist sized hole that continues to slowly grow.

Connor sees the fight starting, and he breaks into a run, trying to get over there. He finds himself wishing that he had dreamed about carrying his gear too. That would have made this so much quicker.

And at the end of the run, Connor realizes he is /now/ in his gear.

The Dreamer whips his staff around, putting himself betwenn the assassin and Grimm. But the true attack from him comes, probably from the multiple voices, old, young, male, female, whispering 'Sleep...dream...rest..."

The assassin lidless green eyes droop slighlty but it doesn't succumb to the voices.

The assassin goes still for a moment, then it's entire body, which has now morphed into a humanoid body on a snake's body, turns into shadow as it launches itself at Grimm. It's now shadowy sword just misses Grimm as it passess harmlessly through the Dreamer to slash at Grimm.

Grimm manages to turn just in time to avoid the blade, surprised that this thing was prepared. Being a shadow won't keep her safe from it. She returns to flesh and blood as she holds a palm out to the assassin. A shimmering wave of darkness flies out toward the assassin.

The blast ends up striking a cabbage cart beyond the assassin. The goblin vendor wails, "My cabbages!"

Connor uses his gear to get much closer...folding space to cross the remaining distance. But then he unleashes a magic spell. Light jumps from his hand: raw magic of Order. The magic of Reality, to try to strike the would-be assassin.

The shadow naga's hit by the light and screams in pain as the attack hits. It manages to roll with the attack and ends up on its coils, still conscious, but stunned and solid once again.

The Dreamer steps out of the way of the two of you as he moves his staff to a defensive position. The voices start up again as he keeps his gaze on the naga.

The naga's eyes slide shut and it slumps into its coils, the sword slipped from its hands as it falls asleep.

As you take a breath, the sword then leaps from the ground and slams into the naga's throat. Its dark blood sprays in wide arc, smoking in the air as the naga convulses!

Grimm gasps as the Naga is slain by its own blade. "No!" she cries out and rushes over to try and do something. But healing isn't something she can do.

The dark blade floats next to the Naga's body then starts to quickly float away through the five-sided square towards an ornate building in the center of one side. The clock towered building all but screams Victorian government building.

Connor furrows his brow, and rushes over...and attempts to heal the Naga. Though it may be too late.

The wound on its neck seems to resist being healed. The wound closes but the Naga does not start breathing again.

Connor sighs. "I was too late, Gabrielle. Sorry."

Connor says, "Or there's something else that happened due to that blade. A soul effect?"

The starry eyed Dreamer approaches, stepping carefully around the arc of blood shed by the naga.

Grimm sniffs a bit, then looks up at the man helping her as she recognizes the voice. "Connor?" she asks in surprise. She looks a little comforted. "Even dream versions of you come to help out." Because she assumes this isn't the real him. She nods and looks toward the sword. "It's vampiric in nature. Or...contains one? It's weird. It feels like a vampire in sword form." She looks to the Naga and then looks above it, watching something rise up. "Its spirit just faded away. Maybe...maybe we can still track the sword."

Connor nods to Grimm, but he uses finger quotes. "'Dream versions of me'. I'm the one dreaming all of this."

The Dreamer says, "It's heading straight twoards the Lord Mayor's palace," indicating the building it's heading towards.

"And, point of fact, you are both dreaming. But are in a dreamscape created by sera Gabrielle...somehow,

...the Dreamer adds.

Connor furrows his brow, "I was asked by the Lord Mayor to check on you, Gabrielle. To see if you were...influenced by The Enemy, whoever that is." He gets up, and goes to follow the sword before it gets too far away. He then nods to The Dreamer, "That is...interesting. I seem to remember sharing a dream or two previously."

Grimm chuckles. A dream version of him might say that. "Right. I'm just your dreamy version of Gabrielle," she says with a playful, flirtatious tone to prank him.

Grimm follows after them toward the Lord Mayor's palace. "Awww, you're ruining my fun, Dreamer," she play-pouts, not sure if she should mourn the death of a dream being. It...might be real. But also it tried to kill her. Rude! "Who exactly IS the Lord Mayor of this place?"

Connor raises a brow as Grimm gets flirtatious, but he doesn't say anything about it.

The double doors of the Lord Mayor's palace open to reveal:

A incredibly handsome man stands before the open double doors of the Lord Mayor's palace. He is tall, well over six feet, muscular while not being muscle bound, his features strong, noble, sensual, and so very very handsome. His pure white hair falls in waves around his alabaster, no obsidian, no both yet neither. HIs eyes likewise shift from one color to another. He's dressed in a flawless scarlet morning suit completed by black top hat and opera cloak.

The sword floats to his open hand, seeming to shiver for a moment, then is absorbed into him with a faint sighing sound.

Grimm slows her running as the man is revealed. "The soon to be former Lord Mayor, we...er.. presume?" she gets caught off guard as she perceives the man differently as she gets closer.

The Lord Mayor laughs softly then says, his voice rich and deep and velvety, "I but follow the last instructions left by you, well, one of you, Founder: try, once, to kill any who appear who look like you. Display their bodies in a gallery. If one lives, let her be the Founder."

Connor raises a brow, and says to the Mayor, "And you do...whatever you're told to do. Right?"

The Lord Mayor laughs deeply at Connor's words. "Of course not, Professor, but I always do as my lady commands. Even if her commands contradict each other."

He then bows deeply to Gabrielle then casts a wary eye on the Dreamer. "Dreamer, how..pleasant of you to visit again."

Grimm folds her arms over her chest. "So no trying to kill me again? How many have you killed?" She looks to Dreamer. "Did you know about that? Do they really die if they die here? Do I?"

"Ms Grimm, the Dreamscape is immense, as limitless as human imagination, so, no, I know few details of this realm. I have visited twice before and you have never been here. I know now how many may have died at the Lord Mayour's han..."

At which point, he's cut off by the Lord Mayor, "None, as of yet, Ms Grimm is it?" murmurs the Lord Mayor. "It has, after all, been but a day since the Queen of Shadow gave me my newest orders. Barely enough time to employ a sept of naga assassins. Shall I continue to retain them, Founder?"

Connor raises a brow, and looks to Grimm, "Seems like you might be able to give orders."

The Lord Mayor's features, eyes, and skin tone continue to seamlessly flow one into another appearance while hie overall body and white hair remain static.

The crowd that formed following the ruckus starts to break up as no more mayhem seems about to break out. Several people actually form a queue a bit away, looking hopefully from the Lord Mayor to Grimm and back again.

"Only a day? No, don't retain them. No more assassins. And no more attempting to kill other versions of me."

The Lord Mayor smiles toothily, revealing slightly longer and sharper than normal canine teeth. "Is that your command, Founder? An Important point of order, you understand." He glances at Radical. "I am certain the Professor can explain it."

Connor thinks about it. "Grimm, be careful of that wording. You said 'No more attempting to kill OTHER versions of me'. You're not included in that."

Grimm gulps as she missed that. "Thank goodness you're here. What he said. No more killing any Grimms, myself included. Are there any other orders the other Queen of Shadows put in place?" She looks over to Connor pensively. "It really is you, isn't it?"

Connor nods. "It's really me."

"The most recent one reviewed all of the previous commands, as it her wont, and removed some while only adding the one I have already mentioned. She did request, but not commanded, that I contact her should another arrive and live, but failed to command me on the matter." He smiles gently. "Shall I contact the Queen of Shadow, Ms Grimm?"

The Dreamer leans against his staff and just watches and listens. His star filled eyes keep watch over the crowd and you all.

Grimm smiles at Connor's answer. But a dream version of him would probably say that, too. But if Dreamer vouches for him, it must be. "I guess I better watch my subconscious then," she muses, then looks back to the Lord Mayor. "Don't contact her. But tell me what you can about her."

The Lord Mayor laughs softly. "Look in a mirror, fairest, for her appearance. The clothes were more, ah, wanton than your current weeds, but suited her well. The skin, eyes, hair, and the rest were as you, but her spirit, well, darker. Her shadows whispered unquietly of those dead at her hands," he states.

His gaze goes to the growing queue of citizens of all species and social class. "Shall we retire inside. Perhaps some tea while you decided whether or not to receive petitioners, Ms Grimm?" His eyes flick to Connor and the Dreamer. "And you gentleman, are welcome as well."

Connor raises a brow, and looks to Grimm to see what she decides.

Grimm is staring smittenly at the Lord Mayor from time to time. "Umm, yes. Sure. Tea. Just tea. Uhh, Petitioners? I think I need more details." She looks to Connor and shrugs.

The Lord Mayor glides forward with a feline prowl and offers Grimm his arm. "Then shall we retire out of this miasma, Founder? And, welcome home, again, fairest." He waits for Grimm's response.

The Dreamer, standing a bit behind the rest of you, rolls his eyes very slightly. Apparently the Jerin do that as well as humans.

Grimm points out the Dreamer. "Oh, and he's with me, too. He should come with." She gazes up at the Lord Mayor and absently accepts the offered arm as she stares.

"A command, Founder? Then, yes, the Dreamer shall always be welcome. Shall I have some clothes fetched for him?" the Lord Mayor murmurs as he walks Grimm into the lavishly appointed Mayoral Palace. Brass, dark woods, dark velvet furnishings, the very height of Victorian over decoration. But, less croded with furniture than true Victoriana.

The Dreamer murmurs in a cool tone, "I doubt I'll catch my death of cold here. My thanks for the offer, Lord Mayor."

Connor follows as well, taking things in as they walk. He pays particular attention to the magics surrounding the mayor.

Grimm is enchanted by the mayor and is distracted by his looks. Very distracted. "Yes. A command that Dreamer and the professor are welcome. If Dreamer wants, but I think he looks fine as is," she replies to the Lord Mayor.

"I just do not wish you to be distracted by all that lovely flesh, Ms Grimm," says the Lord Mayor as he leads you all into a lavish sitting room.

He guides Grimm to a near throne-like push chair at one end a large oval table. Another slightly less regal chair sits to its right and then, lesser charis, around the table.

Two wan looking maid comes into the room carrying a tray with all the necessary high tea accoutrements. The attractive young women, hair under caps, collars high necked, silently go about setting up the tea while you all speak.

Connor says to Grimm, "The maids have a spell on them to remain quiet and obedient. And...I suspect the Mayor has been feeding on them. Vampiric? High collars?"

The Lord Mayor sighs softly. "Of course I feed on them. They have debts to the Faire." He shakes his head. "Really, Professor, you should know..." His voice trails off then he smiles slightly. "Ah, you are not our Professor are you? A dreamer. One connected to Ms Grimm."

His gaze turns to the Dreamer. "You're doing, alien?" he murmurs in a cold tone.

The Dreamer smiles gently, "Not consciously, no, Lord Mayor. But, a happy chance for Ms Grimm."

Connor says to the Mayor, "Please refrain from trying to influence Grimm's mind and emotions. I will ask only once."

Grimm blinks a few times as she snaps out of her gazing to look to Connor. "What?" She looks to the Lord Major. "You're a vampire? And what is the professor you're thinking of?"

"Professor, if I could separate myself from the Founder, I would most assuredly do so," says the Lord Mayor with a not-so-gentle smile. "I am bound to her. And she to me while here in her realm."

As he reaches for the tea and begins to pour Grim m her favorite blend of tea, "I am but desire made 'flesh' by the Founder, Professor."

The Lord Mayor looks at Grimm. "Yes, I am vampiric. I feed on both blood and spirit even emotions in extremis, fairest. And I know not what the Professor fears fully. Is that your meaning, Founder?"

Grimm accepts the tea, her brow furrowing at the explanation of them being bond together. "My desire made flesh? Or...the last person's desire?"

The Dreamer still continues to just listen and watch, his head cocked to one side, a gentle smile on his lips. He seems curious about what's going on but perhaps leaving it to you all.

"She is the Founder. You are the Founder. All of you are the Founder. Therefore, all of you shaped me when you shaped this realm," murmurs the Lord Mayor.

He turns in head to Grimm in profile as he pours a cup of tea for Radical. "Let us be on holiday style, shall we? Sweeten or cream your own tea and pick your own snacks from the trays? I won't betray our breach of decorum to the newspapers," he says with grin.

When he turns away from Grimm, for a moment he looks just like her first crush as he appeared in her dreams.

Connor nods as the tea is poured, but he doesn't reach to drink it. After all, he knows enough to be wary about eating or drinking things while in the fae realms. Or when it was Mother Gothel offering him such. And he certainly doesn't trust the Mayor enough.

It is a lovely almond scented tea, pleasantly golden. And completely different from what the Lord Mayor poured Grimm.

He moves on to pour the Dreamer some tea put the youth holds up a hand. "I ate just a short time ago. Please, none for me," he murmurs with a gentle smile.

Grimm reaches for her tea, still distracted by the vampire as she takes a sip. "Okay. I think you need to explain more about this place. Petitioners. The professor..."

"All rulers have something their lessers want: power and influence. The petitioners seek your aid, approval, revenge, even rarely, justice. So they seek you out. And, depending on the Founder, they may or may not receive. For this, they pledge different things: devotion, money, the souls of their enemies or their children, it varies from Founder to Founder each time and each petitioner," says the now darkly handsome teen who for the moment the Lord Mayor resembles. (Connor may, or may not, recognize the lord Mayour, at that moment, a famous boy band member from 15 pr so years back.)

"As for the Professor, well, he's been here for a number of years. A favored advisor to the Founder and, when you are not here, to myself." He sighs. "But now, I suppose he'll be here less. As he's Awake to this realm now."

Grimm gasps softly as she clutches her teacup. "An evil professor, huh? Wait, he's gone because he just woke up after years?" She looks to Dreamer. "Does time pass that differently here?"

"A dream version of yours of, cha, Radical as the Professor was here, yes, Ms Grimm," says the Dreamer. "Just as everyone you've met, or seen, or passed by, may be here. As well as various dream spirits and astral travellers. Not to mention just dreamers drawn here by their own desires." He gestures. "This realm is, somehow, formed by you and your alternates. You are all the Founder of this realm."

He sighs softly. "I suspect it is a, cha, side effect of your darker nature. A way to bend Reality, even if only in dream, to your darkest will." He then smiles slightly, "But it seems tempered by your humanity."

"Well spoken, Dreamer," says the Lord Mayor with a gentle clapping. "Mysterious and informative at the same time, bravo!' He then popus himself a cup of a thick, dark 'tea' which he seems to relish as he sips.

"So...there are just dream versions of people here, too?" Gabrielle wonders then where Jack's dream equivalent is and what his role is. If it was her conscious secret choice, she has some ideas of where he'd be. She smiles to herself and restrains a chuckle. She then clears her throat. "Interesting that the latest founder is a killer and had someone like the professor as her advisor. So then...I can change this place? Make it nicer for the spirits here? And what's your role in all this?"

Connor folds his arms, watching the mayor curiously to see the answers.

"In order, yes, there are always dream versions here, until they Awake, fairest. Then they are aware of this place. This realm is more 'solid' that most places in the Dreamscape. As solid, let us say, as Puerto Muerto or the House Where You're Always Being Chased," the Lord Mayor states as he pours himself some more tea."

He then continues, "Any changes you institute can be undone by the Founder, Founder," says the Lord Mayor with a toothy smile. "And my role? I am your good right hand in all things, Founder, whether a velvet glove or an iron fist." He then says a deeper tone as gazes at Grimm through narrowed eyes, "And, of course, your most devoted body servant as you wish it."

Grimm sips her tea and gulps hard. "Let's go with velvet glove. Super velvety. The velvetiest. Umm. Body servant?"

The Lord Mayor chuckles softly, then says gently, "I serve your body in the way that pleases you the most, fairest. In whatever manner you wish. I am, after all, at my baseest self, the sum of all your desires, lusts, and, yes, even loves when it comes to that. I exist to serve you."

His cool tone grows warm as his eyes rise to meet Grimms.

Connor coughs, "...and he's a vampire. So there's that."

Connor smiles. "Listen, I know I'm dating a vampire and all, but this guy is setting off...basically every warning bell in my head. All of them."

Grimm laughs lasciviously. "Ohh. I see. So then...you're a creation of ours?" She looks over to Connor, snapping out of her flirtations when she puts a damper on things. She raises a brow at the hypocrisy before he explains himself. "Warning bells? Like what? I mean...he's been obedient." She just can't see it. Some of her self control and caution is gone in the dreamscape.

Connor points to his drink. "Smells like almonds. Classic poison? I mean, come on."

Grimm's eyes widen at that. Her head snaps to the Lord Mayor. "Did you try to poison him!?"

"To say I am vampire is to do me a disservice, Professor Radical," puts in the Lord Mayor. "I am, more a, hmm, incubus, perhaps even a lord of that kind. Not some mere animate corpse." His tone is laced with dark humor. "And of course I try to poison you. You are a threat, perhaps, to my fairest's survival. Better to remove one who cannot see through the simplest of murder plots tha risk her."

The Lord Mayor sighs softly at Grimm's tone. "And now, see? She's angry because she does not remember that I exist for her." The Lord Mayor looks fully at Grimm. "You have but to command me to not to control my actions, fairest. And a part of you resents the Awakened Professor for some reason, just as a part of you desires the Dreamer which excites my jealousy. I must respond to what you feel unless you command me otherwise." His lips quirk up in small grin. "You do have such a need to control deep in your heart, fairest."

The Dreamer's eyes widen at the words of the Lord Mayor and his skin darkens under his cafe au lait complexion. His eyes dart to Grimm then seem to find a painting of a sinking ship fascinating on the wall to one side of the table.

Grimm looks more uncomfortable at the revelation of a need of control. It's not wrong. "This professor would never be a threat to my survival. You are not to attempt or succeed at harming, poisoning, or murdering him," she says firmly.

Connor takes a deep breath, and makes a note for himself. Okay...sunlight might not be the best weapon against this guy. What would harm an incubus? Divine power?

Bob smiles warmly, "And there is the confident Founder I usually encounter. Professor Connor, the Radical, is safe from my hands, powers, and words. I cannot, of course, protect him from the dangers of the Shadow Faire, fairest. But, I can assign him a bodyguard if you desire?"

He refreshes Grimm's coconut tea then murmurs, "Try the lady finger sandwiches. They are not, I assure you, made from ladies. Just bread and fillings"

Connor shakes his head, "It's Professor Duran. Not 'Professor Connor'. And I don't need a bodyguard."

Bob smiles toothily, "But your dream self was such a good friend, Professor Duran. And I'd hardly call him a Radical. Politically, he was neutral, neither for or against the Government of the Founder."

The Lord Mayor starts to say something else, but it's all rather fuzzy. The room seems to spin slightly and get darker. The last thing you hear is the Lord Mayor saying, "And what about you, Dreamer? What is your part in...." and the dream ends.

You find yourselves waking up, in your own homes, wherever you fell asleep. Was it truth, a dream, a shared experience? It's clear in your minds whatever it was.