itsjustabaddream

The couch that she's woken up on is anomalously comfortable. It's almost enough to make her not question overly much how she got here in between the pulsing of her headache. At least, until the previous day catches up to her, and she can only flop back the couple of inches she'd risen with her hands pressed over her face. She really wishes that she still had her sunglasses.

"Where...?" A peek between her fingers tells her that this is not somewhere that she's been before. She didn't end up in some new god's sitting room, did she? They're going to be getting a piece of her mind if so...

It is about this time that Dr. Neil West is wandering from his bedroom to start on his morning tea. He almost doesn't notice the stranger in his home, but when he does, he startles audibly. "Oh! My goodness, ah--- ho-how did you--- Who---" His hair is a mess, and he's in his nightshirt. How embarrassing.

They're both in the same boat here, when it comes to waking up looking a mess. She's in her starting clothes again, her hair lank and unkempt, stubble along her jaw rasping against her hands in a way that she is acutely aware of.

Muttering for a moment in her own language about throttling a certain little pain in her ass, then she barks, "turn out that light, would you?"

Sorry, Neil. She'll be friendlier when she's not actively dying.

"Ah--" He reaches over and turns off the light. "May I ask--- who you are and how you got here?"

The spike of headache from the light glaring in her eyes recedes when it's dark again. She says, the heel of her hand pressed into her eye, the glare that she turns on him a little less mutinous now.

"Where am I?" she asks, managing to at least not snap at him again. "Is this still Pumpkin Hollow? If I've been transposed again I'm going to find someone to throttle."

"Wh--- Yes of course it is." At this point the surprise is wearing off and Neil is starting to get huffy. "You're in West Dream Analytics, in Northwest Hollow. Which also happens to be my house. And I don't think it's too much to ask for the name of the person who is sleeping on my sofa."

"I didn't end up on your couch by choice," Magne points out, very carefully turning in place to sit on the edge of the cushions. "There was an explosion. It was quick, and there was ice... Vika. Her power...thing. It blew up.

"At least I'm still here," she mutters, scrubbing her hands over her face miserably. "And it's Magne. I work at the Oak & Iron." A thumb vaguely in the direction of the middle of town.

"Ah, I see." Neil's feathers unruffle at this. He'd been deeply concerned about a possible repeat of when someone else came into his home unbidden and began demanding information from him without so much as an introduction. (He still doesn't even know why that happened.)

"You must have resurrected here, then. The location tends to be quite random. You feel free to get your bearings, I'll put the kettle on." He bustles toward the kitchen, slippers shuffling along the hardwood. "I'm Dr. West, by the way. Or Neil, if you prefer."

(If she ever hears about that she might have some words on the subject herself, that's just goddamn rude.)

She makes a soft sound, only halfway managing to parse what he's saying but at least getting that she was just set down here for no real reason other than the Powers That Be deciding that this was where it would be most humorous for her to come back. It will probably be much funnier when she doesn't feel like death.

"Dr West. Thanks for not deciding to boot me just yet." She pushes herself to her feet with a groan, stumbles, and sits right back down again with her head swimming. "Oof, fuck... Okay, standing is a bad idea. Do you have green tea?" she calls after him.

"I just got some the other day, in fact. With ginseng. Will that be alright? If not, I also have chamomile and black." The stove crackles to life, the kettle clanking on the cast iron surface.

"That sounds lovely, thank you." It's muffed, as Magne keeps her head down against her hands to block the rest of the light out until she's feeling up to handling it. "What time is it? I need to let someone know that I made it back..."

"Oh, it's barely after dawn. The clock hasn't even struck 8 yet. You shouldn't rush."

Neil comes out with two cups of tea steeping. "Do you take yours with sugar at all?"

Well, it's a relief that she wasn't down for so long that she's missed half the day... Reaching up, she carefully takes her cup, starting to shake her head then immediately squinting her eyes closed with a grimace. "Ah- no, this is perfectly fine. Thank you," she murmurs, before taking a deep breath of the steam then a sip of the hot tea. It's a relief to feel the warmth spread through her chest.

"You said...this was West Dream Analytics? What is that? It sounds like the kind of thing designed to steal gullible peoples' money, but I'm guessing it's something else here."

"Well, that certainly isn't my intention." He chuckles. "West is my surname, and 'Dream Analytics' is just a succinct, if not slightly ostentatious way of describing my practice. I have a doctorate in psychology and in arcana, plus I have a rare psychic ability known as dreamwalking. I use this combination of science and magic to enter the dreams of clients and assist them in processing nightmares, to help heal trauma or alleviate insomnia. But I also happily offer regular talk therapy as well."

Neil takes a sip of his own tea and smiles warmly. "Now, in exchange for listening to my unbidden sales pitch, I should offer you recompense in the form of using my phone and an optional muffin."

"In my reality, those kinds of things are generally only put up by hucksters and con men, so my suspicion is entirely grounded in my own experience. If this is something that you do genuinely, then that's honestly remarkable. I don't think I've ever actually heard of a Quirk that allows people to step into others' dreams. Something about the metaphysical problems associated with stepping into other people's mental spaces and how it would almost certainly alter your perception to be able to fit more naturally within the space." She's musing out loud on the idea, stretching her somewhat limited vocabulary on the topic to its breaking point.

She cracks a soft smile, considering her state for a moment then dipping her head briefly. "A muffin sounds lovely. Then I can make the phone call."

"A Quirk? That's a new one--- I've never heard that term before, at least in reference to one's in-born power. It's certainly not inaccurate." He stands up, popping back into the kitchen and then returning with two enormous cinnamon muffins. "Does this imply you have such an ability as well?"

She sits with her arms wrapped around herself, still trying to stave off the cold that won't quite leave when she's not drinking something warm. She huffs a quiet laugh at his assessment of the idea of using the word 'quirk' in such a way. "It is pretty odd, isn't it? But we can't just call them 'powers' or 'mutations' because Quirks fall into both categories. I've got a power but not a mutation, for instance. One of my friends from home was the opposite way around, mutated but not necessarily having a power, unless being able to stick to things like a lizard qualifies." She reaches up to accept one of the muffins, and peels the paper cup away to take a small bite. It's lovely, rich but not heavy enough to be sickening. She appreciates having the sugar. "My Quirk is Magnetism. I can polarize other people like magnets and use that to manipulate other things or the environment. Used to have a weapon made out of an industrial sweeper magnet, but that's long gone now."

Neil brightens at this, seeming excited to listen. "Fascinating! What a splendid array of unique abilities. I imagine you're something to behold in combat, pairing such a unique and useful skill with your physique. I'm formidable at long range, but I regret to admit I'm a bit delicate."

She laughs a little in kind. "Don't worry, I've known plenty of glass cannons in my life. One of my closest friends, his power is Duplication. If he knows your measurements, he can make an exact replica of it that ends up destroyed if they take any real damage. He's convinced that he might actually be the same, poor thing. Avoids a direct fight at all costs. I wanted to protect him as much as I could and have his doubles as backup." She speaks with a great deal of affection for this friend, just like the others she mentions.

Inbox

Suddenly Post-BOOM houseguest

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject