| test drive/open post (the outsider)

[cetea]

Comments

[blackflamed]

[She's never seen anything like that before. She doesn't have her camera here, and she wishes she did, but then she thinks it probably wouldn't work, anyway. Dream stuff isn't like real stuff. That's kind of the point, really. It felt... not like floating, or flying, or even drowning, but... like trying to build something out of ash.

Well. It's green now. And growing!]

Somebody sure likes summer, huh? [All it needs are cicadas.] Oh! [The grass feels like grass, when she steps forward through it.]

[cetea]

[There are no cicadas here, or birds. The tree makes a sound like wind moving its leaves, but someone forgot to add the actual wind. Oh well.
The Outsider smiles faintly at her reaction. It has an innocence to it. A kind of honesty.]

She was an artist. But out of all the beauty in the world, growing things were her favorite.

[blackflamed]

Yeah, it's really nice here. Do they grow forever? Or do the leaves still fall down when it gets cold?

[Doot doot doot exploring continues.]

[cetea]

[He'll float along with her exploring. Welp.]

They will grow forever, or until nobody imagines them anymore.

[blackflamed]

That'd be a really long time, huh.

[what goes in here? more exploring.]

Hey, if I thought of it, would it rain? Or get windy?

[he did say imagines, right?]

[cetea]

[There's a circle of arched doorways that don't go anywhere in particular. At the center there's a stone altar, but there's nothing on it now.]

You could try.

[Her chances are pretty good. He might help and pretend that's not cheating. Maybe.]

After all this is a dream.

[blackflamed]

[she'll be hanging out in one of those doorways now. Doesn't wanna get rained on that much, after all!]

Okay! Hmm... Oh! Maybe... try thinking about rain...?

[Couldn't hurt, right? So she thinks of rain. The light showers and the downpours and the kind that's more like mist ad the kind that feels cold on a hot day and the kind that feels cold on a cold day.]

[cetea]

[She thinks, and he can sense her think, her imaginations and memories, and one way or another, the Void reacts. Water falls, dripping out of the make-believe sky without the aid of clouds. It's saltwater though. And once it hits the ground and gathers back together into big enough drops, it drips right back down.

When it strikes leaves and blades of grass, they whisper.]

[blackflamed]

Hey, it's salty! [No, she didn't stick her tongue. Why would you even think that.]

What are they saying? [The grass, she means.]

[cetea]

[Out of all the things, the down-and-up-again rain, the saltwater, the lack of clouds, that's the thing she asks? Interesting.]

They whisper secrets. Some of them, men or women were too scared to speak of.

[Or too broken.]