The Hatter, the Hobo, and the Herald

[rassafraggin]

Raphaela has had dreams like this before. Not entirely complete dreams. Beneath is a pool of water mirroring the nothing beyond, nothing in which shards of mirrors float mid fall. They rotate and fracture the light and scenes in their own time, and their own size, creating and decreating fractions of other dreams in more or less concrete, temporary scenes. A beach, a machine world, tentacles, a starry night, all fracturing and adding to this empty world, some fragments longer and more stable, some temporal and vague. Parade of insane Jadean style is going through, and yet the quiet drip of water can be heard too, and scent and splashes of the sea, and ticking of distant cogs. Raphaela is wearing a silvery white dress, studying her inner reflections, with a resigned gaze. Funny she always wears dress here unlike reality.

Also, there is a purr.

And then there is one fragment that is pretty damn vague and fleeting, yet no sooner has it warped away then something almost the same floats back in. It edges in like an uninvited guest at the tea social, knowing it is unwelcome and yet that platter of biscuits is just sitting there like a separate, more open invitation. So that fragment slips in and out, dodging the disapproving stares and pretending to admire topiary, even resorting to claims of distant friendship, until it is almost close enough to reach over for the cookie...

Raphaela focuses on that fragment, cookies are good. Her eyes track the fleeting slither from one shard to another, a mirror swirls behind her, summoning a garden more fitting for Alice than baroness. The bunny hops out of it, and the table extends itself with tea and cookies (take two), platter of mushrooms and a nargila. Dreams can get literal dude. Come to the dark side, cookie monster. Raphaela sits at the table as butterfly slithers through the surface of the looking glass and gets lost in the mirror near by, smashed in the cogs. Whoopsie.

Raphaela has a hat.

Trust Lirre to be the party crasher in this, caught red-handed, *and* red-waistcoated, before the table as it stretches and sprouts mushrooms, and... nargila? (to google!) Considering the coat has been missing for some time now, he is just a little more surprised by its reappearance now than the presence of Raphaela and the pink rabbit. Witness to his casual thievery. Instead of snatching his hand back from the platter, the man slides his gaze away from the madcap hostess and takes great care in selecting three of the best cookies, which he serves onto a fine linen napkin. "Just here for the baked goods. No need to unleash the death contraptions," he explains soothingly, while the butterfly is ground to wingy bits. The napkin gets folded and tied, hobo-style.

He has a beard. Still.

Raphaela ponders the cookies "Some death contraptions are easier to hide. But I have no interest in that." she watches him, in her silver tophat with a blood red bow and bells that chime when her head tilts "Looking dashing as always. Plus the horrid nest of fleas under your nose." taking three from take two jar. Aw. He might just turn giant and pop his head on a mirror. She pours some rum in a chipped tea cup and sips.

Raphaela ponders then pours him some too. In a kettle. Should be enough. Bottle is small but it seems to pour without end.

Taking only the advised amount wouldn't be highwaymanly. He makes room in one red brocade pocket, withdrawing a glittering silver watch on a chain with a look of mistrust, then discarding it on the table. Stowing the bundle, he inspects the waistcoat, smooths the lapels and cuffs, and eyes Raphaela sidelong throughout. "I'll carve it all off someday.." The dark blond scruff is brushed idly with the back of his hand. "Time isn't right, yet." He looks down the length of the table at the bunny. "All this for just you and your special trinket?"

Raphaela watches the red outfit curiously and headtilts the other way "No, I sensed you might be coming." she looks up at the mirrors "I've heard from others about the war beyond dreams. Was hoping to see you again." she looks at him with a vague smile "I can't really find you in this realm, but I am patient. Thought you might show up." you is a very vague you indeed. She offers him kettle of rum. Sips her own. Nips the cookie. "How have you been."

Out of one mirror pours out Alice in Wonderland dream, into the vast emptyness of broken dreams, a table spreads through the looking glass with tea that is rum and cookies. Bunny is hopping around, from one mirror through another, playing a game of tag with fragmented dreams. Raphaela has a silver hat with chimes and red bow, matching silver white dress.

Oh and redcoated, bearded hobo is stealing all the cookies.

The platter of mushrooms is stil up for grabs.

So is nargila!

Miriam is spending quite a lot of time in Dream lately. There's a Queen to help keep safe after all, so she has been exploring a little to find more information on what's going on and who is behind it. However, she does also peek in on friends sometimes, just to see that they're well. It's Raphaela's turn, and she pauses as she looks over the setting. And looks a little puzzled by it all.

Despite his having successfully pilfered the cookie platter, Lirre does not prepare to pull a fade. If anything, his presence takes on mass as he eyes the kettle, then reaches over to pluck it from her hand by its brass loop. Bringing it close for an uncouth sniff, he affirms it is the good stuff, and reaffixes a studious gaze on Raph. "That's what it appears to need.. your hopes, and mine. I'd been thinking of you too, Silver. Raphaela of House Sorgo, rather." Gasp - he's trying! There's a chair, and a cup; he fluffs out the coattails as he sits, then pours. "I've been doing some wandering of a sort, my fight schedule's been rather empty of late, so whatever you've been hearing, it isn't my fault." He turns his chair towards her, scoots it closer over the turf, and sips rum.

Raphaela ponders with her fingers folded over cup and saucer in her lap "I don't mind you calling me Silver. It is better than being colorless as I see myself." Another misfit chair materializes as another visitor steps out into her dream from one fragment or another - all of them there and real - why just now the waves are almost under the table, as a passing beach fragment spirals by.

The pirate does have that red waistcoat on, perhaps to be well-suited to crashing a slightly bizarre tea party. He's just discarded a pocketwatch on the table, too. But, he is shipless and apparently not late for an important date, so there's that divergence. A thick, dark gold beard obscures the lower half of his face, another new thing since Miriam saw him last.

Miriam watches the two here, and then another chair appearing. Perhaps she'd have given them some privacy, were it not for the specific man keeping Raphaela company. He is of great interest to her. She purses her lips, then says to the pair "I'm sorry for intruding on your dream, Raphaela. But... may I join you two?" As usual here, she's dressed in her Tirian silver gown and slippers.

Raphaela plucks the pocketwatch, swirling it curiously in front of her eyes, silver orbs tracking, then swerwing towards Miriam, she smiles and gestures at the free seat.

"My sails are colourless," comments Lirre, "and then, they are exactly the right colours for blending into the sky, wherever I find myself. Colourless is a chameleon," he smirks at Raphaela. The surf shines the heels of his boots, but he takes that in stride... while seated. The appearance of another chair strikes him as odd however.. until Miriam speaks. He swivels in his seat and starts to bolt upright. When he sees who it is, though, there's a pause as he gathers his recollections then completes his rise more slowly, watching the dream guide intently. "No objection here. But, we were never formally introduced, fair lady." He twists halfway back to Raphaela, brows raised pointedly. Speaking of pale... now that is pale!

Raphaela bahs, is outpaled "Princess Miriam, hobo. Hobo, Miriam." she is meany. Or just hates the beard. Poor fluff of mangyness.

Miriam is startled into a slight jump, when Lirre starts to bolt. Caution isn't a bad thing, though. Dream has been very unpredictable the last few years, after all. And even moreso of late. They're both given a smile then, and she curtseys when indroduced before saying "It's nice t'properly meet you. And somewhere we can actually talk. I was hoping t'have th'opportunity." She is very, very pale, yes. Including those milky eyes that should be sightless but aren't. She takes the new seat then, to join them.

Lirre bows all courtly to match the curtsey, the remnants of seawater flicking from his boot sole. But his eyes stay open, tilted and watchful and just a little surprised by the designation. He doesn't even correct Raphaela's snerk, since Miriam seems satisfied with hobo. Sitting again, he gives the side of his jaw a righteous scratch, dropping a wink at Raph. Fleeeaaas. "Talking wasn't really an option, was it? As you can see, I've mellowed over the years. Rum, Princess?" he lifts the kettle with a shrug.

Raphaela pours some rum from what appears to be infinite content flask, into another mismatched cup. When Lirre offers Miriam his rum, she claims the one she poured for herself, placing that cup in her old cup. All adds up. Bunny zips into existance over their head in mid flight out of a mirror, paddles in air, blinks and then plops on Lirre's head, staring at him upside down. Out of same looking glass a tentacle curves out, blinks at the crowd, yes blinks with many a black eye, then politely slithers to get a biscuit and slithers back with a slight lift of cookie to Raph. She tilts her hat at the unseen. All is very polite and civil. And utterly insane. Raphaela places a watch over hear ear, staring at the beard. She stares. then climbs over the table and scritches Fuffy's beard both handedly. She has a hat, but surely everyone knows by now she's mad anyway. Or maybe she is just being helpful.

(that is all, naturally, provided jumpy hobo doesn't run.)

Miriam accepts the rum from the kettle with another smile. "Thank you." she says, then watches all the strangeness going on around them. As well as Raphaela's own strangeness. It's Dream. All anyone can do is try to accept, and Zen their way through it. "And no, talking wasn't really an option. I don't understand why y'fight, though. You're brothers. Trapped together in a body, but still brothers. No?"

Privately, to Merrisol, Raphaela scritch scritch, pet pet pet. Pauses. Stares. Scritch.

Lirre gets sufficiently distracted by the cookie-filching tentacle that he can only stare in rigid consternation when Raphaela gets in his face.. into his face even. The beard is definitely grown, not painted or a novelty prop hooked over his ears. The windblown grooming goes all to hell under her grabby fingers while his eyes blaze I Beg Your Fucking Pardon Green. When she doesn't stop, he puts down his kettle and takes her wrists in his hands, even while responding to Miriam over Raph's shoulder, "You have any family, Princess? They're nothing but kicks in the... pants... waiting to happen." And he wrestles Raph off the table and onto his lap. "All you had to do was ask," he growls in her ear.

Raphaela meeps as is readjusted, looking apologetic, pouty and resigned at the same time, then she just makes grabby fingers, scratching the air as he holds her "Sorry, it's just so...grabbable." she look at Miriam "No wonder men like beards it is like having a pet, right under your nose." She writhes and leans over to slurp at the closest available rum. Out of his cup. "Brothers are a bore. But mine got along better among eachother than me." Bunny plops out of Merri's hair and onto Raph's hat.

Miriam purses her lips slightly. As she watches the pair, she says "My family's all trapped in Tir and th'lands beyond by a powerful curse and Karm Seal. Th'only brother I had who was free was killed when he freed some've my people from beyond and they attacked Amber. And I still miss'm terribly. Family might be a pain in th'ass sometimes, but they're still connected t'us. Is there no way t'have peace between you'n Sorensen?" She smiles again at Raphaela, on the matter of beards.

Raphaela's eyes resettle on Miriam "Do you want to break them free?"

Raphaela doesn't seem, like usual, as if she waits to judge, but both her bunny and herself look at Miriam, openly curious.

Privately, to Merrisol, Raphaela seems to feel cozy enough, and not at all awkward, although there might be a slight, fleeting grin at the growl. It is your basic feline behaviour. She is probably shedding on him as they speak.

"You'd better stick to tea, Silver.." He stares at the hostess for a moment like she's gone bananas, even though it's quite in keeping with the current state of the dream. It's him that needs to get with the programme. Relaxing a little, Lirre allows her to further pretendy-enebriate herself on his cuppa, although his chair starts to teeter from the two-occupant contortions. His attention has diverted back to Miriam, only partially comprehending the details of her reply. "That's just the way of things here, Princess.." he starts, hauling one leg up to anchor the underside of the table so the chair doesn't tip them tumbling into the nearest dream shard... just yet. "We have all the reason to go to war.. but none of the *reasoning*.. something to do with not having an actual brain anymore, I'm told. I only know what I feel to be true - maybe that's not really enough, but it's all the more reason to bring down the Tower, wouldn't you say?" He gets himself and Raph tipped all the way straight again, and releases her wrists so he can get them cookies or mushrooms, whatever he can reach. "Except I'm not doing that anymore, for all the good that came of it. It's still under attack. Eat this."

Raphaela's fingers pluck cookies from his coat and return clock inside, eating a droplet of mushroom. She starts shrinking. "Well then..." she plops and suddenly there is only hat in his lap.

Drinking is not the problem here. It is a dream.

Privately, to Raphaela, Merrisol forgot to mention, he's wearing a ring that looks like a bunch of red metal strands woven together. Easier to see when he has her wrists!

Miriam is used to weird things, so she takes them in stride. Though, she doesn't ignore it all, certainly. She listens to Lirre, then says "But th'Tower keeps th'mind've th'Queen of Rebma separate from yours and Sorensen's, doesn't it? What do y'think would happen'f it came down? Isn't't better t'keep her separate from you two until we can move her back to her own body?" Meanwhile, she sips her rum.

Lirre has a little trouble keeping up with the crazy. "Well...yes, if that's what is really happening." He distractedly shoos the rabbit from the hat, then lifts it up from his lap, peering for Raphaela. "Brat.. There's enough trust asked of us in these matters to fill an ocean... and that's one thing in my books that's always teetering into the red."

Raphaela clings off the hat and smooches his nose "We are here for you guys. Just a bit slower than you. I'll say hi to Maggie if you say hi to other one." the mirrors start vibrating, and her mini eyes peer at Miriam "I will be leaving shortly." She says that in helium voice. She hops off to Lirre's beard, climbs off and tumbles down the red coat. Climbs up to the table, with a hand if provided.

Miriam nods to Raphaela, and says "Have a lovely day, my friend." Then she looks again to Lirre. "It seems th'most reasonable thing that's happening, doesn't it? Look, t'my knowledge there's nothing we can do, t'separate you'n your brother. You're both Merrisol now. Maybe that'll change in th'future. But y'have t'know that Maggie'd never do anything t'harm either've you. I don't know'f you sense much've Merrisol's life, but he's one've my dearest friends. I won't do anything t'harm him. So yes, I'm asking for trust, because I want my friend back. We don't know what'll happen t'all of you, if the assassins get past th'Tower, and get t'Moire. All I'm asking's that you'n Sorensen stop attacking th'Tower for now, so't can better protect her from the assassins. So we can focus again on moving her out've th'body."

Not the beard again. It could be the sign he needs to finally saw it all off. For now, it's good for masking his smile. Both of the pirate's hands are up, cursed mushroom chucked randomly to one side, and moving to catch Raphaela in the bowl made from his palms. He holds her up a bit closer to his face first, gone a bit cross-eyed as he now frowns at her. He mutters, "You could do a /lot/ more than 'hi' on your side, Silver. That'd make it a fairer trade." He pauses, listening and nodding to Miriam slowly, then moving to release Raph onto the tablecloth. "Little brother's always been set on repelling attacks, he hasn't stopped now. I.. finally stopped my siege, due to trusting Flame.. Maggie. Of course, now the raison d'etre's gone, I'm resorting to raiding tea parties..." He smirks at Raphaela, but he plunks the silver top hat on his head with a jingle.

MiniRaph pauses, folding arms on her back, to listen to Miriam. Some of this she is hearing for the first time. She is not entirely feeling welcome in Rebma anymore to participate actively. She waves to PartFuffy "And then you will have to live knowing that Queen of the Deep touched your man bits." buahahhahhahah, evil grin "And thank you for thinking of me hobo, and crashing my party. Take care of yourself. I am fond of all three of you, Fuffies. If you need me, I am here." she is adressing him and behaving as she would with actual Fuffy. Poor Merrisol. Raph is hardly making any more sense out of a dream. She contemplates "Fine. I'll snog Maggie in your absence, if you ruffle his hair." She thumbs up as she fades out, grin last, and the mirrors and all else, for one reason or the other, ploofs out in silver feathers.

OOC> Miriam appreciates the irony that Raphaela had to wake up so you can sleep.

Privately, to Merrisol, Raphaela waggles her brows even.

Miriam can't help smiling again, as she watches the play between the two. Yes, it's all insane. Insane's kind of par for the course, though. When Raphaela finally fades away out of her dream, she chuckles. Her expression is one of fondness, though. Once she's gone it's up to the dream mage to keep the setting. She at least keeps the tea party part, though some of the weirder elements she allows to fade with their dreamer. She has another sip of rum, then focuses again on Lirre. "I'm sure she appreciates y'wandering into her dream. And thank you, for trusting Maggie. Just be careful'n your wandering. There's bad people here, determined t'harm dreamers, and I do not want t'see y'hurt."

Lirre seems disappointed when Raphaela departs, along with the bizarreness that was part of her subconscious, leaving only the persistence of the trivial surroundings. Even the hat perched on his head has lost some internal pizzazz. He lifts his gaze back up, scanning the table for obvious changes, then centering on Miriam again. "I'm one of those bad people, technically," he drawls, but is unable to hide his uncertainty. "There was one lass, she'd twisted my sense into knots, somehow got into my head. If Maggie hadn't come along and straightened me out, I'd probably still be hitting my head on mirrors."

It's true. Miriam can't do pizzazz nearly as well as Raphaela. Few can. She thinks about his first words, and says "We've all got good and bad in us, Lirre. I've certainly got more bad'n me than I'd like t'admit. But Maggie loves you. Raphaela obviously cares for you a great deal. That means something, even'f you don't see't in yourself." Hearing of the lass causes her forehead to wrinkle, and her lips to dip downward. "I'm glad she was able t'save you from that one."

"I needed that ever so startling reminder that I was in complete control of my own reality," Lirre nods, absently patting one of his coat pockets, the one Raphaela had monkeyed the watch into, stealing back her cookies. "I'd eseentially trapped myself.. with some help. Dream magic's same as what you can do, Princess?"

Miriam nods to him. "So many're lost, because they don't undertand what can really hurt or control them, and what can't." she replies. "And yes, though I'm far from a master at't. Many've my people work'n dream."

Lirre thinks on that, though he appears restless just sitting at an overly appointed table for a garden party of two. "Do you suppose that maybe they are around here, wandering free, these people who are trapped by curses and seals in the waking world?"

Miriam reaches for a plate of very crispy little cakes filled with cream and covered with chocolate that weren't there before. The sort that's hard to have in Rebma even coated in gel. She takes one, and offers them to Lirre as well. "I don't know. I've tried many times t'reach those beyond Tir here, but they are truly sealed away. There are strange beings, though. I met one, when looking for Merrisol here. I think he was attracted t'my search for someone who just didn't exist here."

Lirre takes a second too long to decide to shuffle a couple of the treats onto his plate. Wary of the dream mage, even if she is still learning all the tricks and a dear friend of the man who... "Just doesn't exist here," he muses on that last point first, subdued. After another moment, he says, "There're always people to be found, day to day.. but then I come across a real person.. like you, like Silver and Flame.. and the difference is stark as betwixt the sun and the moon. The others are rendered as ghosts. I don't know but it's lonelier to remember most of it's been just a dream of my own devising." He toys with a crisp, pops it into his mouth.

Miriam nods to him after a bite of cake and a little more rum. "There's certainly a difference, between people who are simply dreaming and those who are some variation of less real. And I feel so badly for you and Sorensen, trapped here. I really want t'see it fixed. I'm not sure how't works for you two in th'waking world, though. Do you remember anything've Merrisol's life?"

Chewing slows to less of a mechanical operation, to a more thoughtful, appreciative one. Lirre's beard ripples as he surreptitiously runs his tongue across his teeth for errant crumbs of flavour. He picks up the other piece from his plate, examines it while saying, "Memories.. that runs into that whole issue of brain access again I'm afraid, Princess," and then bites more carefully into it, savouring everything with his eyes closed. When he looks at Miriam again, there's a dawning new respect, and of course the sneaking piratical speculation that she could be worth carrying off. "That's not the entire truth," he then admits quietly. "There are some notions that must have presented themselves so strongly, I don't need a mental picture show of an event to know what I know. I just *know*." He lowers the other half of the crispy stuffed wafer, unfinished. "Flame tells me I'll wake soon and we'll all be happy again. And I want to believe her... but I do not *know* it to be true."

Miriam watches the man as he enjoys the cakes she manifested, and looks pleased. She reaches for another plate that wasn't on the table a moment before, and sets down in front of him a cheeseburger. Very important things, here. She then takes a flask from elsewhere, and offers it. Probably a better rum than he's been finding here for himself. "We're working on it, and won't let this continue a moment more than it must." she says, in a manner that's a promise. "It's important that we do all we can for her Majesty. It's also important that we do all we can for you."

Lirre gives the cheeseburger the once-over. Minosian fare it is not, but the perfectly-realized presentation and accompanying aroma are ringing all the bells. He sits up straighter at the offering of the flask, however, taking it from her to uncap and put to his nose for a second, drawing back like he'd been slapped. "Blue bloody hells.. if you'll forgive my Cibolese, Princess," he mumbles, nodding to her. The flask hovers at his lips, but he's studying her again, really absorbing her ethereal appearance and regarding her moon-blank eyes with keen inquiry. He pulls at the flask, draws back with a blinking swallow, and then sinks into a half-slouch, grinning, "Where's a pretty slip of a maiden as yourself from knowing what real rum tastes like?"

Miriam continues to look very pleased that she's able to provide something more satisfying for him. "I'll forgive your Cibolese." she replies, then watches him taste it before laughing at his reaction. "I know a pair've Minosian Captains pretty well." she explains. "I don't drink't a lot, of course. But't doesn't hurt to indulge occasionally." She eats ones of those small cakes then, before adding "I tell y'what. If I can convince Sorensen t'stand down any attacks on th'Tower, I'll come more often t'bring you both something better than th'usual dream stuff you usually have. It'll be less time I have t'focus on keeping th'Tower secure from so many attacks, so those defenses can focus on th'real enemy."

Lirre takes another swig, pausing over the shot of warmth, then waving the flask in a negating fashion. "The kid doesn't take shots at the Tower, I'm telling you. Empress's Tower, he calls it. That's why we clashed all the time, before I stopped. Last time I saw him he was pitting his bedeviled foghorns against winged craft that flew high above the waves. Nothing I'd be able to shoot down, myself." He goes back to scrutinizing the cheeseburger, muttering, "Well, not that I've tried. Just because I've called off my war, doesn't mean I'm going over to Junior's side."

Miriam ohhhs as he explains, then nods. "Good. I'm glad." She looks curious though, about the winged craft. "Strange. I'll go have a look. See'f they're anything I've seen before, in Dream. It doesn't sound familiar, though. A craft that flies... Maybe something Begman? Or from shadow somewhere? I'm not very well traveled'n shadow." she admits. "Martin takes me out sometimes, t'get a break from responsibilities, but we've only been a few places."

He looks up from taking the burger apart, checking out what's under the crispy-glazed top bun, teasing his dream-senses before taking the plunge. "Martin.." he echoes, dredging up an emotional response from deeper within. He shakes his head, putting it aside. "Later, later... Can you get there on your own? I can take you there on board the Eclipse," he puts the offer out there, before succumbing to the juice-dribbling meal. Probably don't count on any replies for a little while.

Every time Lirre enjoys something she's created for him, Miriam smiles again. It's nice to make someone happy like that. "I can get there, but't would take more time than'f you just bring me. After you enjoy your cheeseburger, of course." Priorities, right? For herself, she manifests a chocolate milkshake. It's good to be a dream mage.

"Mmhm. Mmhmm." Lirre agrees with everything while he keeps the indulgent combination of tart and savoury flavours going with every bite of dreamburger. The pirate leans forward over the table, the vibrancy of the setting keeping him conscious of his coat and the desire to keep it clean. Already he could be falling into that willing state in which he might eventually be strung like a marionette by a wily dream mage. Some of that fades as his anticipation shifts to the horizon, where a seascape now waits to be drawn closer, carrying with it a Corsair with sails that ripple in the colours of the sky.