[Well. He's very clearly in a Wal-Mart, but it's Not Quite Right-Mart(TM), is it?
[He must be dreaming. Why is the floor so...wet? And a shelf halfway knocked over. Overhead in the electronics section, all the TV screens are playing QVC. He must have left it on.
[Weird that he's still sleeping somehow.
[In dream Wal-Mart, nobody can stop you from smoking, maybe. He lights up a cigarette and takes a few steps around, lazy and dull-looking. Faded blue hair half-obscures his eyes. Idly, he picks up a pad of rubber duck stationary. Is that thing that they say about not being able to write in dreams true? He tears the plastic off and grabs a nearby pen.
["Fuck this."
[Okay. So, not true, then.
[Jeremy should be showing up any minute, he figures.]
[Not the department store, exactly. Val knows what those are—like she knows about lots of things which her ever-limited existence doesn’t exactly offer. But there’s something awfully concrete about those buzzing fluorescents, the linoleum smell. And are people… talking? In unfamiliar voices?!]
[She’s a kid in a candy store, glued to the wall of TVs. Look at that, real flesh-and-blood human people! Selling real things! It doesn’t look like incomprehensible automated gobbledygook! Maybe characters dream of electric capitalism after all.]
Huh! Would you look at that. [Thinking out loud! The smell of cigarette, drifting from an adjacent aisle behind her, barely registers.] What’cha sellin’ next, Martha?
[There's a pause. He is not alone in Dream-Mart. Weird. If Chuck somehow followed him, he's officially going to chalk them up as a hallucination. But it doesn't sound like Chuck.
[With some vague sense of curiosity, he peers around the corner. Someone is staring at the QVC: IMAX EXPERIENCE like they've never seen a TV wall before. He takes another drag on his cigarette, politely blowing it up straight into the air once he's done.]
Probably more bakeware. That's usually what comes next.
[Hello Martha Stewart. Dera and you have become quite well-acquainted over the past several years...]
[That puff of cigarette, Val notices—and the voice, helloooo. She turns immediately, and oh lo and behold—]
Oh, you are the most coherent NPC I have seen in a while! [By which she means, there is a head. And a body, and a face, and generally more depth than some sketchy stick figure. Fascinating!]
[Well, he has...never been referred to as an "NPC" before. Maybe he should be offended, but...he finds that it's actually a pretty accurate assessment.
[Still, his voice is...dryly uncertain.]
Thanks...
[Another drag on his cigarette, which is feeling very real for a dream, by the way. Unsettling...]
You are the, uh...[Uh.]...Person I'm dreaming about, I guess. Nice to meet you.
[How often do people bother shaking hands with him? He reciprocates, but Valerie's hardy shake takes most of the spotlight. His wrist is a little limp, and his fingers are cold. Poor circulation.]
I'm Dera.
[And he is, if anything, a dreamer (derogatory, usually).
[He never knows what to say after the initial introduction...]
Do you, uh...[Quick drag. He pats the pack of Camel Blues in his pocket.]...Want one?
[Val releases his hand with flourish, and frankly she doesn’t know what to do after the introduction, either. She hasn’t had to do that in a good solid reset or two; four, even, if that’s how she spawned here. Eh, who’s counting.]
[An eyebrow raise, at the offer.] Smoking’s rather bad for you, y’know. [No judgment, more faint bemusement. If her… game, plane of existence, what have you, had cigarettes, Val is fairly certain she’d be a lot more familiar with them.]
[A very long, very pointed drag on his cigarette. He tosses it carelessly into the puddle at his feet, then immediately lights another one. That's his answer to that.]
Oh, don’t take it the wrong way. I’m fairly certain it doesn’t affect me, anyhow. [Easily offended, is the mental note. (This does not mean she will actually attempt to avoid future offense.) Nothing new!]
Let’s talk about the TVs instead, then, shall we? [Pointing up there, instead!] Any clue why this is playing?
[Dera, still under the impression that he's dreaming, doesn't take "I'm fairly certain it doesn't affect me," too seriously. At Val's question, Dera shrugs. He talks around the cigarette in his mouth.]
I must have fallen asleep with it on, I guess.
[Do dream conversations usually involve so much...dream talk, come to think of it?]
[Normal people in a normal world with actual channel variety might find that sad. Val is none of the above.]
Really! [She turns back to the wall of bakeware, as if entranced—though Dera is the only person she’s watching.] They must have some awfully riveting programming on [just a glance back, to read the station name] “Q-V-C.” Quality Video Content?
[The line between sarcasm and genuine… whatever-it-is, is the name of Val’s game. Figuratively speaking. Lines are an abstract concept, anyway, and she exists to disregard them all.]
Background noise, then! [Dera doesn’t sound too interested in it, huh?] Order anything good? All those cigarettes, maybe? [She is very well aware these nail-polished women do not sell packs of Camel Blues. Probably.]
I have not! [Slurpee? 7-11?? What novel things.] As you may have noticed, I’m not exactly familiar with [waving a hand towards Q.V.C.] specific brands. In my… dreamscape, if you will, there’s not much of anything specific at all!
Well, this isn't a 7-11, but I bet if we go to the freezer section they'll have some sort of thinly veiled off-brand Slurpee knock off you can eat with a spoon.
[—Not the expected response! Better, actually. Val likes this fellow.]
That sounds delightful, my dear Dera. [The only thing stopping her from throwing an arm around his neck (in camaraderie, you see) is that he seems to be very real indeed, and that might futz with the illusion.
[So instead, she takes a slight bow, one hand behind her back, and points the other off in whichever direction.] Lead the way!
[Dera nods, turning on his heel (not with much gusto, albeit) and waving his left arm over his shoulder in a “follow me” gesture. Hold music that sounds suspiciously like Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic” plays softly on the overhead speakers as they make their way to the freezer section. It’s weird how the off brand flavored ice is right in front of them the second they get there—-
[Or it’s the…only thing on the shelves in the freezer section…? Weird, but.]
Bingo, I guess.
[He pulls out one of the boxes and tears it open, removing two of the little cups (one red ice, one blue) and tossing one to Val. There’s a little plastic spoon attached to the lid. He takes the blue one, by the way.]
These really aren’t anything like Slurpees. I shouldn’t mislead you. Same principle though.
[Time to put out his cigarette. He tosses it to the floor again and stomps it out.]
I don’t usually do that, by the way. But. You know. Dream-Mart and all.
[Music and everything! This store just keeps getting better and better.]
[That the desired item is not only in front of them but also the only item the section has to offer… does not phase Val. It’s more defined than the vague outlines of a lazy artist, yes? And just what they’re looking for. Win-win.]
[Val fumbles the catch but just manages to avoid a spill anyway, and promptly helps herself as Dera talks. She gives herself brainfreeze instantly. What do you know, that’s a thing she can get now! She ain’t even mad.]
Hm? [The cigarette.] Oh, that. Eh, who’s cleaning? [Punctuated with a generous slurp, and with it a fresh little headache. Feeling things is great!]
This is divine, by the way. What are the odds, red and blue! [Pointing towards his hair,] That your token color?
Red and blue are pretty standard Slurpee colors - or Slurpee variations, as we see here.
[His voice still sounds like he's watching paint dry, by the way. He takes a few good slurps of his own.]
Watch out for brain freeze.
[But to answer her question:]
I'm kinda fixated on blue, yeah. Always have been. I mean, it doesn't belong to me or anything, but. [Slurp break.] Kinda does.
[He takes a long lock of his hair between two fingers, squinting at it to see if he can make out the color from a close distance. He knows from the last time he looked in the mirror that it's properly faded to a light denim, and that his dark roots are showing again.]
I dye it with Kool-Aid, actually. Most of the time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
PSL with @invalidvalue
[Well. He's very clearly in a Wal-Mart, but it's Not Quite Right-Mart(TM), is it?
[He must be dreaming. Why is the floor so...wet? And a shelf halfway knocked over. Overhead in the electronics section, all the TV screens are playing QVC. He must have left it on.
[Weird that he's still sleeping somehow.
[In dream Wal-Mart, nobody can stop you from smoking, maybe. He lights up a cigarette and takes a few steps around, lazy and dull-looking. Faded blue hair half-obscures his eyes. Idly, he picks up a pad of rubber duck stationary. Is that thing that they say about not being able to write in dreams true? He tears the plastic off and grabs a nearby pen.
["Fuck this."
[Okay. So, not true, then.
[Jeremy should be showing up any minute, he figures.]
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[Wow, this is new!]
[Not the department store, exactly. Val knows what those are—like she knows about lots of things which her ever-limited existence doesn’t exactly offer. But there’s something awfully concrete about those buzzing fluorescents, the linoleum smell. And are people… talking? In unfamiliar voices?!]
[She’s a kid in a candy store, glued to the wall of TVs. Look at that, real flesh-and-blood human people! Selling real things! It doesn’t look like incomprehensible automated gobbledygook! Maybe characters dream of electric capitalism after all.]
Huh! Would you look at that. [Thinking out loud! The smell of cigarette, drifting from an adjacent aisle behind her, barely registers.] What’cha sellin’ next, Martha?
the mcrib icon btw
[With some vague sense of curiosity, he peers around the corner. Someone is staring at the QVC: IMAX EXPERIENCE like they've never seen a TV wall before. He takes another drag on his cigarette, politely blowing it up straight into the air once he's done.]
Probably more bakeware. That's usually what comes next.
[Hello Martha Stewart. Dera and you have become quite well-acquainted over the past several years...]
mcrib fucks!
[That puff of cigarette, Val notices—and the voice, helloooo. She turns immediately, and oh lo and behold—]
Oh, you are the most coherent NPC I have seen in a while! [By which she means, there is a head. And a body, and a face, and generally more depth than some sketchy stick figure. Fascinating!]
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[Still, his voice is...dryly uncertain.]
Thanks...
[Another drag on his cigarette, which is feeling very real for a dream, by the way. Unsettling...]
You are the, uh...[Uh.]...Person I'm dreaming about, I guess. Nice to meet you.
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[The hesitation about “person” is duly noted, and also not remotely bothersome.]
Wait, you’re [a point to him] dreaming about me [and to herself]? Now, how could you possibly know about…
…unless....
[Lightbulb moment.] You’re not familiar with an unfinished visual novel about a card club, are you?
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[The lightbulb sputters, fizzles, and dies.]
Huh! Well, so much for that.
[A hand offered, instead, for a good hearty shake.]
The name’s Valerie! You can call me Val. And you, dreamer?
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I'm Dera.
[And he is, if anything, a dreamer (derogatory, usually).
[He never knows what to say after the initial introduction...]
Do you, uh...[Quick drag. He pats the pack of Camel Blues in his pocket.]...Want one?
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Dera! Swell to meet you, Dera.
[Val releases his hand with flourish, and frankly she doesn’t know what to do after the introduction, either. She hasn’t had to do that in a good solid reset or two; four, even, if that’s how she spawned here. Eh, who’s counting.]
[An eyebrow raise, at the offer.] Smoking’s rather bad for you, y’know. [No judgment, more faint bemusement. If her… game, plane of existence, what have you, had cigarettes, Val is fairly certain she’d be a lot more familiar with them.]
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I do know that, actually.
[A very long, very pointed drag on his cigarette. He tosses it carelessly into the puddle at his feet, then immediately lights another one. That's his answer to that.]
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[A handwave, then.]
Oh, don’t take it the wrong way. I’m fairly certain it doesn’t affect me, anyhow. [Easily offended, is the mental note. (This does not mean she will actually attempt to avoid future offense.) Nothing new!]
Let’s talk about the TVs instead, then, shall we? [Pointing up there, instead!] Any clue why this is playing?
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I must have fallen asleep with it on, I guess.
[Do dream conversations usually involve so much...dream talk, come to think of it?]
This is pretty much all I watch, so.
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[Normal people in a normal world with actual channel variety might find that sad. Val is none of the above.]
Really! [She turns back to the wall of bakeware, as if entranced—though Dera is the only person she’s watching.] They must have some awfully riveting programming on [just a glance back, to read the station name] “Q-V-C.” Quality Video Content?
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"Quality, Value, Convenience."
[It is sad that he knows that, by the way.]
It's a shopping network. Like. They show you the products on TV, and then you go order them online. Or on the phone, I guess. If you're old.
Mostly, I just watch it though. It's kind of like leaving the radio on for a dog when you go out of town.
[Funny, but not a joke.]
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[The line between sarcasm and genuine… whatever-it-is, is the name of Val’s game. Figuratively speaking. Lines are an abstract concept, anyway, and she exists to disregard them all.]
Background noise, then! [Dera doesn’t sound too interested in it, huh?] Order anything good? All those cigarettes, maybe? [She is very well aware these nail-polished women do not sell packs of Camel Blues. Probably.]
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I have not! [Slurpee? 7-11?? What novel things.] As you may have noticed, I’m not exactly familiar with [waving a hand towards Q.V.C.] specific brands. In my… dreamscape, if you will, there’s not much of anything specific at all!
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I mean, I'm not sure I want to attribute a flooded Wal-Mart to my usual dreamsc--
[Actually, considering his actual usual dreamscape...]
This is a rude question, but are you, like...real?
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Oh, no.
[Flashing a grin.]
Absolutely not.
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[He feels better.]
Well, this isn't a 7-11, but I bet if we go to the freezer section they'll have some sort of thinly veiled off-brand Slurpee knock off you can eat with a spoon.
[Interested?]
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[—Not the expected response! Better, actually. Val likes this fellow.]
That sounds delightful, my dear Dera. [The only thing stopping her from throwing an arm around his neck (in camaraderie, you see) is that he seems to be very real indeed, and that might futz with the illusion.
[So instead, she takes a slight bow, one hand behind her back, and points the other off in whichever direction.] Lead the way!
[. . . What is with that flood, anyway?]
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[Or it’s the…only thing on the shelves in the freezer section…? Weird, but.]
Bingo, I guess.
[He pulls out one of the boxes and tears it open, removing two of the little cups (one red ice, one blue) and tossing one to Val. There’s a little plastic spoon attached to the lid. He takes the blue one, by the way.]
These really aren’t anything like Slurpees. I shouldn’t mislead you. Same principle though.
[Time to put out his cigarette. He tosses it to the floor again and stomps it out.]
I don’t usually do that, by the way. But. You know. Dream-Mart and all.
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[Music and everything! This store just keeps getting better and better.]
[That the desired item is not only in front of them but also the only item the section has to offer… does not phase Val. It’s more defined than the vague outlines of a lazy artist, yes? And just what they’re looking for. Win-win.]
[Val fumbles the catch but just manages to avoid a spill anyway, and promptly helps herself as Dera talks. She gives herself brainfreeze instantly. What do you know, that’s a thing she can get now! She ain’t even mad.]
Hm? [The cigarette.] Oh, that. Eh, who’s cleaning? [Punctuated with a generous slurp, and with it a fresh little headache. Feeling things is great!]
This is divine, by the way. What are the odds, red and blue! [Pointing towards his hair,] That your token color?
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Red and blue are pretty standard Slurpee colors - or Slurpee variations, as we see here.
[His voice still sounds like he's watching paint dry, by the way. He takes a few good slurps of his own.]
Watch out for brain freeze.
[But to answer her question:]
I'm kinda fixated on blue, yeah. Always have been. I mean, it doesn't belong to me or anything, but. [Slurp break.] Kinda does.
[He takes a long lock of his hair between two fingers, squinting at it to see if he can make out the color from a close distance. He knows from the last time he looked in the mirror that it's properly faded to a light denim, and that his dark roots are showing again.]
I dye it with Kool-Aid, actually. Most of the time.
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universe fuckery begin!
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cw: self harm (I guess I use CWs now idk)
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extremely rare icon unlocked
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