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Himself. Oneiroi. MingJung. All in the same room. Still not a care in the world. {[whispers]This is so awkward.} The Dream Lord interrupts. *What is it you think you are doing?* {[whispers] Oh look, the worlds best sleep paralysis demon with great cheekbones. Has anyone told you you could put a shelf in the elf with those things? I mean really. They're fantastic.} *I beg your pardon?* {[whispers] What was it they said? Man creates God. God creates man. Dinosaurs Eat Man. Woman inherits everything?} There is slightly something off. Its subtle. *You are disturbing a place of peace in this palace where it should be quiet. What I am doing here is my responsibility, and what you are presenting in this moment has made itself to be unclear. Among this chosen form it appears to not done you any favors.* {[whispers] Is it the jacket? I got it from your mothers closet. It was between this and the military one from high school. This one had more pockets.} Oneiroi looks offended. To put it lightly. And Sam has now taken out the polaroid camera. The rat in the ceiling wall is starting to move closer to Kazeyeh as this faint conversation is still going on as the rat Prince is still knocked out to the sleeping wind. The witches phone in the pocket starts vibrating. She takes her hand off momentarily and answers it. >>I'm going to have to call you back. I'm in the middle of a shoot. There is a bit of a pause in this conversation. >>Next week won't work. Headquarters decided privately they wanted to take over Disneyland until 2 in the morning for everyone. >>Yes, that's fine. >>I'll see what I can do. >>Ok, bye now. {[whispers] Stay right there. Your mother wants this for the photo album.} A flash goes off. An abrupt polaroid photo is taken of all 3 of them somehow in this frame at the same time. He attaches the camera back to one of the loops on his vest and puts the picture in his pocket. *You dare..? Have you gone mad?* Oneiroi looks to Sam's shoes. He is wearing a pair of PF Flyers. And this Dream Lord is now visibly upset. *You truly believe this is a Sandlot for your antics?* There's an awkward pause. {[whispers] Don't make me take away your binky. Come on!!} *You speak upon the wrong shadow.* >> What are you two doing down there? Would you hurry up? {[whispers] Spooky snake?} Oneiroi says nothing but overall seems content with the second guess. He has now taken his sand pouch out. Sam is leaning on the frame above everyone and has somehow managed to balance himself on with the edge of his feet with the help of the pulley system. He's hovers over this sleeping body from above. Oneiroi places small grains of sand from his pouch into Sam's hands. There is now a small chant. *Through eccentric dysfunction and designer complications, the Bohemian Grove is where this invitation kindles anew inside this American Dream. Here let the leap be taken upon pleasurable feeble nights to.. Bang.. Bang.. Bang. May these chronicles of time we have been granted unfold to flower into a new waking. From dream to name no boundary will stop what is in motion, and even among in solitude, even isolation erodes.* And. Amazingly. During all of this. Like a fish out of water. They has managed to infiltrate this magic sand into the rat Prince. The small mouse in the ceiling has now bee-lined for the witch. It startles her, abruptly causing Sam to fall. She is momentarily forced to let go of the pulley rope. And we find him halted just in time, sprawled into the classic starfish just barely hovering. But the two rubber chickens have subtly for now been set off, resonating a loud squeak. The first prince has heard this abrupt noise and starts to walk out of the room. There are parts in places where they should probably not be in this free for all spin which is not set in Las Vegas. And we are now placed in this abrupt predicament of having to hear the chickens go off for a second time. | |