[There’s a point when using dream-share technology for any length of time where it becomes almost impossible to dream without it. It’s an inevitable consequence that every long-term dreamer discovers sooner or later, though whether it’s merely a starting point of the damage it can cause is another matter entirely. It’s been so long now since Arthur last dreamed of anything the natural way that he’s come to accept the fact that he probably never will again. And, considering the content of some of the dreams that once plagued him, he finds he doesn’t really mind as much as he perhaps should; it’s a small price to pay to continue working with something he loves.

That is, of course, until he returns home after months away doing a job he thought impossible and curls up on the sofa to relax, the exhaustion of it all finally catching up as he falls asleep.

He’s dreaming. But this is…different. It’s not how he remembers normal dreams to feel, he’s far too aware of the surroundings even if they are initially hazy. And, as far as he can tell, he isn’t connected to the PASIV. No, that he would remember, though he reaches for the red loaded die in his pocket and rolls it across the ground to make sure. But as he follows it with his eyes, it disappears. He frowns, unimpressed, and looks up from where he’s crouching to realise he’s in the middle of a road. It’s perfectly flat, appears endless, and the black tarmac burns beneath his touch. The sun is blinding, he realises, as he pushes himself to his feet and lifts a hand to shield his eyes, and he’s in the middle of nowhere with nothing but desert on either side.

Arthur does the only thing he can do and starts walking down the centre, staring forward into the overwhelming mass of blue sky that looks as if it’s meeting with the road far into the distance. He doesn’t know where the road is going to take him, or if he’ll ever get there, but he hopes he comes across company along the way. It’s always about the journey, after all, and Arthur can be a patient man, especially if it’s going to lead him to somewhere, something, or someone worthwhile.]

[Willow's been practicing, and practicing with intent. This is the second or third night of sleep that she's been at this. She's at a point in her life where she feels responsible, like she's the one who has to step up and take care of things now that Buffy's gone, so when Anya tells her that A, she's seen Buffy and it wasn't the Buffybot, and B, this is probably a dream, she immediately tries to deduce what's going on.

Conclusion: shared consciousness, as she'd thought. It explained a lot. Willow stands from where she'd been sitting cross-legged in absolutely nothing, and decides to try something else out. The current surroundings of pure, unrelieved white, massive blankness, are challenging to keep up. She'd had to stay in meditation for a good while to get it down, but she thinks she's getting the hang of this now. It's not so different from magic, just all mentally based and without the props.

Anyway, her new experiment. This takes a different sort of concentration, and in the fringes of her vision as she tries, the Summers house starts to bleed into the blank environment like paint on a canvas. An open, cheerful, lived in two story, it's a bit cluttered but clearly loved. Willow frowns in frustration, and it vanishes completely.

She tries one more time, and thinks she has it. When she speaks, it's directly to you, wherever you are - and if you answer, you'll find yourself suddenly, mysteriously beside her, in the way that abrupt shifts in dreams feel natural and unsurprising.]

Buffy, if you're out there, I need to speak to you. [The hard cast to her face, set and determined, relinquishes into an edge of vulnerability.] ... Please.

To everyone else - we're dreaming, and we're dreaming together. If you concentrate, you can learn how to change things, but it takes some effort to get the trick. Like riding a bicycle or learning to swim. I'd be interested to know what you've experienced so far; this is more than a simple dream.

[ooc: IF YOU DON'T WANT YOUR CHARACTER TO KNOW THEY'RE DREAMING YET, her mental 'call' failed for your character and they never got it. As in, feel free to ignore this. Otherwise, proceed. This post is a placeholder - I'm going to bed and will get to tags tomorrow. |D]

[ Peter has no idea how he ended up here, on a couch, listening to a bunch of middle aged women and a few other assorted people talk about Pride and Prejudice. He lost count of how many times he was nearly force fed a cookie by some woman claiming that he's too skinny, and this is starting to feel like all those dreams about showing up to class without any pants on.

He's barely said anything about the book since showing up, instead opting to just sort of listen, and nod every once in awhile. It's easier to just agree with everyone than to pretend he cares about a rich guy marrying some poor guy's daughter. Great, it's heartfelt and mooshy, he gets it.

Running a hand down his face, he flips through the book again for what feels like the hundredth time, stopping on some page to skim through a paragraph, while another woman starts to talk about the historical ramifications of things that Peter chooses to ignore. At this point, he's pretty sure he's forgotten why he even agreed to this in the first place. ]

So what do you think about the book? [ And it's the first question actually directed at him. Oh yeah, this is exactly like those pantsless dreams he used to have, and now he's just... at a total loss for words. ]

[Just another day at Senkou.

Which means that Masamune isn't really paying attention in class. Honestly, why would he - even though he has a huge interest in the English language, he's already done the homework and actually skipped chapters ahead. He absently begins sketching something in his notebook, only to jolt when the teacher calls on him for a translation question.]

....

[He looks back down at his notebook, eye widening for a moment as he sees the samurai helmet he had drawn, complete with crescent-shaped ornamentation on the front. He shakes his head slightly before standing, looking pretty much bored before speaking:]

"No matter how people try to prevent it, war and conflict will always affect someone."

[The teacher is slightly dumbfounded, but satisfied, allows Masamune to sit down, to which Masa just lets out another sigh, glancing back down at his notebook. It didn't make much sense, but then again, not much in his life honestly did.]

This night for dreamers starts in blackness. Without form or shape, it may seem as though one is everywhere and nowhere at once. There are whispers rising from the dark from many voices, strange voices, more feelings than words. They speak of birth, life, and the inevitable death. They speak of something between death and birth, as well. Some are peaceful, others haunting. A chorus of the voices scream -- and a train whistles.

Flickering lights filter through the darkness, as well as the chatter of people, a conductor tiredly ushering them off and on. There are piles of discarded material around the train station, as though the whole city were half-scrapyard. The air is stifled and dirty, packed with noise. It drowns the whispers out until they are just white noise. And although the openness of the area suggests the outdoors, looking up will reveal no sky to be seen but a wide expanse of metal.

A young woman shifts a basket full of yellow flowers over her elbow as she looks over the people. The green of her eyes settle and with a soft smile, she approaches, her voice carrying ahead of her.

"Excuse me. Would you like to buy a flower? They only cost one gil."

And those who rummage pockets for change may find one. This is a dream, after all.

[Duffy is moving around the modest, country kitchen efficiently and with ease. It's a familiar space for him, and when he turns towards you you'll notice he's missing his left arm from just above his elbow. He doesn't let it hold him back though, as he smiles softly and turns on the stove. He's humming Pour Some Sugar on Me as he works. He seems to be cooking bacon and eggs for an army.]

Any requests?

[Anya is sitting behind the counter of the Magic Box, like she does most days. And she's going over one of the ledgers like she has been lately since Giles keeps making her double check everything. But she's still watching the patrons out of the corner of her eye.

If there's one thing Anya hates, it's people who loiter around and never buy anything. They are the leeches of Capitalist society, as far as she's concerned.]

If you don't want to be thrown out of the store, I highly recommend you actually purchase something.

Ignore this!!

[What a truly fascinating place this was! Sin had been trying to investigate it as much as possible, flitting between dream worlds and conversing with the dreamers until he discovered that it seemed to be just one big shared space for dreamers. A space he wasn't entirely in control of but he was a Spirit of Dreams, he could still weave his own. Yes, he would try to fabricate his own space for others to visit now and see who he would lure in. Perhaps an illusion of Agkelos, the legendary flying city from his world? Why not?

The Spirit set about manipulating his immediate environment to suit himself. What was just a plain and unremarkable city was now a place filled with beautiful white buildings that seemed to glow softly as the light in the sky dimmed. The stars began to come out as the night came, the buildings shining ever brighter. And at the highest point of the city was a great palace, stained glass gleaming like rainbows from the white stone, topped with golden domes.

On the outskirts of the city, the bare grassy plains were filled with white flowers that seemed to spread like a carpet to the far reaches of the ghostly continent. As the flowers bloomed and spread their white petals, tiny beads of light floated into the air, fading a short distance away from the flower they came from. The Prism Flowers looked gorgeous against the midnight sky and only highlighted the splendour of the city behind them.

Dreamers would find no people here however. The place was empty and silent, but beautiful. A place to reflect and explore alone. The further they travelled, the more beauty they would find. And if they wanted to speak with him, Sin would be waiting, observing the travellers as they moved and found one another.]

(OOC: Feel free to have your characters bump into each other here, come here of their own will and take a nice stroll together, poke Sin. Whatever you like! X3 )