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edenfallingI have decided, for simplicity's sake, that while natural dreams will continue to be in present tense and italics, shared dreams (a la Inception) will be written in normal font and past tense, as if they were reality.
Anyway. Here we are in Arthur's dream. Since it started out naturally and Ariadne entered later, he is both the dreamer and the subject; she is simply an interloper. (It is not directly stated in the movie that this can occur, but it's implied in the scene with Dom's memory layer trap.) [1,625 words]
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Weregild, part 7
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Arthur knew he was dreaming -- he had to be dreaming -- but he would almost have sworn he was awake. He stood in the empty warehouse where he'd first seen Philippa and James. Dust and unidentifiable stains covered the concrete floor, and a regiment of warped and rusted file cabinets leaned drunkenly along one wall. The other three were bare except for metal ribs running up to the ceiling, and thick, dust-coated windows twenty feet up. The corpses of the werewolf and his knife-wielding accomplice lay to the side, desiccating.
Ariadne was back in her working outfit, minus the keys and stilettos. Alternating iron and silver chains held her spread-eagled against the far wall. Crosses dangled from several links -- largely useless since Arthur wasn't Christian, but if he was using them at all they must have been blessed by someone who was, which made them slightly better than nothing. The little Torah charms dangling from other links were more effective. Arthur might not have faith in God, but he had plenty of faith in his people's history and traditions. And counterintuitive though it might seem to the more traditionally religious, so long as he had faith in something, and that faith could be represented with a tangible symbol, it didn't much matter what the something was. The symbols would burn.
His Glock 17 sat solid in his hands. His finger curled against the trigger. He could destroy Ariadne in a second. He wanted to. He should.
Ariadne swallowed convulsively, another strangely human gesture. "How did--?"
"Don't," Arthur said, forcing himself to take his finger off the trigger. "I'll ask the questions." He had to think instead of react. He couldn't afford to shoot her out of hand, no matter how badly he wanted to. Nobody had any right to walk through his mind, and if Ariadne had been spying for Jean-Claude... He shifted his aim from her heart to her forehead when she seemed ready to ignore him and trying speaking again.
Ariadne closed her mouth and glared.
That was odd. He could feel her power coiling through this unreal space, weaving through and around his own gift, whatever quirk of fate gave him an affinity for the dead. Her eyes held the same luminous darkness that had snared him earlier tonight. But the overwhelming mesmeric pull was gone. Arthur could meet her eyes without drowning.
They were, he couldn't help noting, beautiful eyes. In a very pretty face.
And this was not the time, as Dom would undoubtedly say.
"Did Jean-Claude order you to enter my mind?" Arthur asked, wrenching his train of thought back under control.
Ariadne opened her mouth, then paused and raised her eyebrows in mocking query.
"You can speak to answer," Arthur said.
"Thank you," Ariadne said, sarcasm practically dripping from her voice. "Jean-Claude did not order me to enter your mind."
She was being literal. Arthur gritted his teeth and debated shooting her in the knee or foot, somewhere painful, crippling, and not immediately fatal. He decided to hold off -- the pain might simply shock her into leaving. If she could leave. He had no idea what the rules were for this jointly constructed virtual reality.
"In that case, why were you eavesdropping on my dreams?" he asked.
Ariadne remained silent.
Arthur wanted to shake her until she cooperated. He wanted to grab her bare arms and squeeze until she felt pain -- impossible, really, given vampiric strength and resiliency, but oh, he wanted to do something, anything, to make her pay attention. Something to make her feel as violated as he did. She'd broken into his mind, touched his memories of Mal. She had to pay for that.
The chains pinning Ariadne to the wall tightened like snakes, biting into her throat and outspread limbs. One of the charms brushed against her bare thigh for a second and flashed with actinic light -- not enough contact to sear flesh, but enough to hurt.
Ariadne's eyes flew wide and she gasped, fingers twitching uselessly upwards as if to pull the chain from her neck. "Can't. Talk." A thin, whistling breath. "W'thout. Air."
Arthur stared at the chains, surprise shunting fury aside for a moment. Had he done that? He must have; Ariadne had invaded his dreams, not the other way around. They must still be in his mind. Everything here was under his control, conscious or not.
He focused on the chains, willing them to relax a fraction. They did. Fascinating. He wasn't used to lucid dreams -- even the communication he'd shared with Mal (and sometimes Dom) had been tangled in whatever stray bits of symbolism his sleeping mind had been dragging around. There was no way to mistake those dreams for reality.
Mal had been welcome in his mind, not a thief or a spy.
"Why were you in my dreams?" Arthur repeated. He corrected his aim, which had drifted slightly askew when the chains moved.
"I was curious," Ariadne said. "You're interesting -- you're an animator, you were a human servant, you travel with a weretiger, you're attractive..." She shrugged, as much as the chains would let her. "I wanted to know more about you. And you're trouble. Jean-Claude is worried about Saito and Fisher, and things that worry him tend to be dangerous. I like to know what kind of problems might be coming my way."
She thought he was attractive?
Not the time, Arthur reminded himself. Besides, he was still furious. And he'd caught an important implication from the things she had and hadn't said so far.
"Does Jean-Claude know you can dreamwalk?" he asked. He tightened the chain over Ariadne's neck for a second, to remind her that he could, then gave her slack to answer.
"No," she said.
"Does anyone know?"
"...No."
Interesting. Vampires rarely kept secrets from their masters for long -- it was simply too easy for a master to delve into a lesser vampire's mind, or force a servant to speak the truth. For Ariadne to keep her gift hidden, she would need to keep it so close and private that nobody suspected the secret even existed.
And she'd survived Nikolaos. He kept coming back to that.
"What did you learn?" Arthur asked.
Another restricted shrug. "Nothing much. You were Mal's human servant. Cobb and Mal had a pair of human children in their care; you rescued them from kidnappers and Peter Lebrun may have threatened them. You know the bounty hunter called Death. You're worried about Jean-Claude. You were or are angry with a person named Eames, who was or will be in St. Louis at some point. And you like pistachio ice cream." Ariadne smiled wistfully. "I never had pistachio ice cream when I was human. It tasted nice."
Mal used to smile like that when Dom or Arthur ate her favorite foods and let her share the meal.
Arthur held his gun steady. "Are you going to tell any of that to Jean-Claude?"
"How? Should I pretend I eavesdropped on you talking to Cobb in your motel room, instead of visiting your dreams?" Ariadne asked. "If I do that, he'll ask why I didn't tell him sooner. I'd rather not draw his attention."
"You could tell him tomorrow," Arthur pointed out.
"I could," Ariadne agreed. "If I thought you had plans to kill him, I would. Jean-Claude is the Master of the City. I live here on his sufferance and his strength protects me from needing to fight for territory of my own. I'd prefer not to throw St. Louis into chaos so soon after Nikolaos's death."
Arthur frowned at her. "What makes you think Jean-Claude isn't our target?"
Ariadne smiled, her lips drawing slowly back until her fangs were unmistakable. "Jean-Claude is not allied with Peter Lebrun," she said. "Nor is he allied with Fisher. Rather the contrary, after Fisher's actions during his visit to St. Louis thirty years ago. Jean-Claude is, of course, not allied with Saito either, but that could change if you convince him his self-interest lies in that direction. He's a practical man, under the sex and frippery."
"And I suppose you're suggesting you could help," Arthur said, oddly disappointed at Ariadne's display of typical vampire self-interest.
Ariadne continued to smile. "Not at all," she said. "I don't know what you want besides Peter Lebrun's death, and while I sympathize for your loss, it would be pointless for me to join your quest for vengeance. You're not that interesting. All I'm offering is to keep my mouth shut about anything I may piece together from hints in your dreams, if you keep your mouth shut about my ability to enter them."
"Given what you said you learned, that benefits you rather more than me," Arthur pointed out.
"It does," Ariadne agreed. "On the other hand, you don't know if I was lying. And you can't keep me here forever."
Arthur tightened the chains again. The same little charm brushed against Ariadne's thigh and flashed with heat and light.
"We're in my mind. I make the rules," he reminded her.
Despite the pain she had to be feeling, Ariadne smiled. "It's your dream. But it's still a dream, and I'm dreaming too. You're not the only one who can change things."
There was a sudden noise off to the side. Arthur whirled, one breath too late to stop the shambling corpse of the werewolf from tackling him to the floor. The ragged woman, now nothing more than bones and Ariadne's will, sank her knife into Arthur's throat.
He choked on blood and pain, gun falling from nerveless fingers, all his concentration shattered.
"Until tomorrow night, Arthur," Ariadne's voice murmured, as their dream dissolved into static.
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End Part Seven
continue to part 8
back to part 6
---------------------------------------------
I am not thrilled with this section, but whatever, it's finished.
Question: whose POV are you most interested in seeing next? Ariadne reacting to this new twist on her ability (and what Arthur did to her), or Arthur quietly flipping out and wondering how he'll need to adjust his and Dom's plans?
Anyway. Here we are in Arthur's dream. Since it started out naturally and Ariadne entered later, he is both the dreamer and the subject; she is simply an interloper. (It is not directly stated in the movie that this can occur, but it's implied in the scene with Dom's memory layer trap.) [1,625 words]
---------------------------------------------
Weregild, part 7
---------------------------------------------
Arthur knew he was dreaming -- he had to be dreaming -- but he would almost have sworn he was awake. He stood in the empty warehouse where he'd first seen Philippa and James. Dust and unidentifiable stains covered the concrete floor, and a regiment of warped and rusted file cabinets leaned drunkenly along one wall. The other three were bare except for metal ribs running up to the ceiling, and thick, dust-coated windows twenty feet up. The corpses of the werewolf and his knife-wielding accomplice lay to the side, desiccating.
Ariadne was back in her working outfit, minus the keys and stilettos. Alternating iron and silver chains held her spread-eagled against the far wall. Crosses dangled from several links -- largely useless since Arthur wasn't Christian, but if he was using them at all they must have been blessed by someone who was, which made them slightly better than nothing. The little Torah charms dangling from other links were more effective. Arthur might not have faith in God, but he had plenty of faith in his people's history and traditions. And counterintuitive though it might seem to the more traditionally religious, so long as he had faith in something, and that faith could be represented with a tangible symbol, it didn't much matter what the something was. The symbols would burn.
His Glock 17 sat solid in his hands. His finger curled against the trigger. He could destroy Ariadne in a second. He wanted to. He should.
Ariadne swallowed convulsively, another strangely human gesture. "How did--?"
"Don't," Arthur said, forcing himself to take his finger off the trigger. "I'll ask the questions." He had to think instead of react. He couldn't afford to shoot her out of hand, no matter how badly he wanted to. Nobody had any right to walk through his mind, and if Ariadne had been spying for Jean-Claude... He shifted his aim from her heart to her forehead when she seemed ready to ignore him and trying speaking again.
Ariadne closed her mouth and glared.
That was odd. He could feel her power coiling through this unreal space, weaving through and around his own gift, whatever quirk of fate gave him an affinity for the dead. Her eyes held the same luminous darkness that had snared him earlier tonight. But the overwhelming mesmeric pull was gone. Arthur could meet her eyes without drowning.
They were, he couldn't help noting, beautiful eyes. In a very pretty face.
And this was not the time, as Dom would undoubtedly say.
"Did Jean-Claude order you to enter my mind?" Arthur asked, wrenching his train of thought back under control.
Ariadne opened her mouth, then paused and raised her eyebrows in mocking query.
"You can speak to answer," Arthur said.
"Thank you," Ariadne said, sarcasm practically dripping from her voice. "Jean-Claude did not order me to enter your mind."
She was being literal. Arthur gritted his teeth and debated shooting her in the knee or foot, somewhere painful, crippling, and not immediately fatal. He decided to hold off -- the pain might simply shock her into leaving. If she could leave. He had no idea what the rules were for this jointly constructed virtual reality.
"In that case, why were you eavesdropping on my dreams?" he asked.
Ariadne remained silent.
Arthur wanted to shake her until she cooperated. He wanted to grab her bare arms and squeeze until she felt pain -- impossible, really, given vampiric strength and resiliency, but oh, he wanted to do something, anything, to make her pay attention. Something to make her feel as violated as he did. She'd broken into his mind, touched his memories of Mal. She had to pay for that.
The chains pinning Ariadne to the wall tightened like snakes, biting into her throat and outspread limbs. One of the charms brushed against her bare thigh for a second and flashed with actinic light -- not enough contact to sear flesh, but enough to hurt.
Ariadne's eyes flew wide and she gasped, fingers twitching uselessly upwards as if to pull the chain from her neck. "Can't. Talk." A thin, whistling breath. "W'thout. Air."
Arthur stared at the chains, surprise shunting fury aside for a moment. Had he done that? He must have; Ariadne had invaded his dreams, not the other way around. They must still be in his mind. Everything here was under his control, conscious or not.
He focused on the chains, willing them to relax a fraction. They did. Fascinating. He wasn't used to lucid dreams -- even the communication he'd shared with Mal (and sometimes Dom) had been tangled in whatever stray bits of symbolism his sleeping mind had been dragging around. There was no way to mistake those dreams for reality.
Mal had been welcome in his mind, not a thief or a spy.
"Why were you in my dreams?" Arthur repeated. He corrected his aim, which had drifted slightly askew when the chains moved.
"I was curious," Ariadne said. "You're interesting -- you're an animator, you were a human servant, you travel with a weretiger, you're attractive..." She shrugged, as much as the chains would let her. "I wanted to know more about you. And you're trouble. Jean-Claude is worried about Saito and Fisher, and things that worry him tend to be dangerous. I like to know what kind of problems might be coming my way."
She thought he was attractive?
Not the time, Arthur reminded himself. Besides, he was still furious. And he'd caught an important implication from the things she had and hadn't said so far.
"Does Jean-Claude know you can dreamwalk?" he asked. He tightened the chain over Ariadne's neck for a second, to remind her that he could, then gave her slack to answer.
"No," she said.
"Does anyone know?"
"...No."
Interesting. Vampires rarely kept secrets from their masters for long -- it was simply too easy for a master to delve into a lesser vampire's mind, or force a servant to speak the truth. For Ariadne to keep her gift hidden, she would need to keep it so close and private that nobody suspected the secret even existed.
And she'd survived Nikolaos. He kept coming back to that.
"What did you learn?" Arthur asked.
Another restricted shrug. "Nothing much. You were Mal's human servant. Cobb and Mal had a pair of human children in their care; you rescued them from kidnappers and Peter Lebrun may have threatened them. You know the bounty hunter called Death. You're worried about Jean-Claude. You were or are angry with a person named Eames, who was or will be in St. Louis at some point. And you like pistachio ice cream." Ariadne smiled wistfully. "I never had pistachio ice cream when I was human. It tasted nice."
Mal used to smile like that when Dom or Arthur ate her favorite foods and let her share the meal.
Arthur held his gun steady. "Are you going to tell any of that to Jean-Claude?"
"How? Should I pretend I eavesdropped on you talking to Cobb in your motel room, instead of visiting your dreams?" Ariadne asked. "If I do that, he'll ask why I didn't tell him sooner. I'd rather not draw his attention."
"You could tell him tomorrow," Arthur pointed out.
"I could," Ariadne agreed. "If I thought you had plans to kill him, I would. Jean-Claude is the Master of the City. I live here on his sufferance and his strength protects me from needing to fight for territory of my own. I'd prefer not to throw St. Louis into chaos so soon after Nikolaos's death."
Arthur frowned at her. "What makes you think Jean-Claude isn't our target?"
Ariadne smiled, her lips drawing slowly back until her fangs were unmistakable. "Jean-Claude is not allied with Peter Lebrun," she said. "Nor is he allied with Fisher. Rather the contrary, after Fisher's actions during his visit to St. Louis thirty years ago. Jean-Claude is, of course, not allied with Saito either, but that could change if you convince him his self-interest lies in that direction. He's a practical man, under the sex and frippery."
"And I suppose you're suggesting you could help," Arthur said, oddly disappointed at Ariadne's display of typical vampire self-interest.
Ariadne continued to smile. "Not at all," she said. "I don't know what you want besides Peter Lebrun's death, and while I sympathize for your loss, it would be pointless for me to join your quest for vengeance. You're not that interesting. All I'm offering is to keep my mouth shut about anything I may piece together from hints in your dreams, if you keep your mouth shut about my ability to enter them."
"Given what you said you learned, that benefits you rather more than me," Arthur pointed out.
"It does," Ariadne agreed. "On the other hand, you don't know if I was lying. And you can't keep me here forever."
Arthur tightened the chains again. The same little charm brushed against Ariadne's thigh and flashed with heat and light.
"We're in my mind. I make the rules," he reminded her.
Despite the pain she had to be feeling, Ariadne smiled. "It's your dream. But it's still a dream, and I'm dreaming too. You're not the only one who can change things."
There was a sudden noise off to the side. Arthur whirled, one breath too late to stop the shambling corpse of the werewolf from tackling him to the floor. The ragged woman, now nothing more than bones and Ariadne's will, sank her knife into Arthur's throat.
He choked on blood and pain, gun falling from nerveless fingers, all his concentration shattered.
"Until tomorrow night, Arthur," Ariadne's voice murmured, as their dream dissolved into static.
---------------------------------------------
End Part Seven
continue to part 8
back to part 6
---------------------------------------------
I am not thrilled with this section, but whatever, it's finished.
Question: whose POV are you most interested in seeing next? Ariadne reacting to this new twist on her ability (and what Arthur did to her), or Arthur quietly flipping out and wondering how he'll need to adjust his and Dom's plans?
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(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-03 04:59 pm (UTC)I'd vote for Ariadne next. Arthur flipping out seems less vital to the character progression. *grins* It's already clear he's /going/ to flip out, being the worrier. Ariadne is less predictable at the moment.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-04 03:41 am (UTC)I'd vote for Ariadne next. Arthur flipping out seems less vital to the character progression. *grins* It's already clear he's /going/ to flip out, being the worrier. Ariadne is less predictable at the moment.
*ponders* Yeah, that makes sense. Actually, I will see if I can manage a short POV section for each of them -- first Ariadne, for a reaction shot, and then Arthur to set up the lead-in to the next chapter. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-03 10:47 am (UTC)Sorry, too brainless to crit today, but i really enjoyed this dream sequence. Also yay some clarifications of background/goals! ohohohohoho. ♥
I kinda want both, so I have no idea what you should write next. XD; ...both? though, would anything else happen with Ariadne? If it's just a reaction to this scene with no new plot to introduce, maybe it'd be better if you write Arthur's scene first and then merge Ariadne's reaction scene with her next action/plot scene. Dunno, depends on what you've got planned.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-04 03:46 am (UTC)The thing is, Ariadne's next action/plot scene won't happen until the following night -- vampires being "dead" during the day and all -- and I have an entire chapter of stuff for Arthur (and Eames, who will be appearing shortly as the third POV character, yay!) to do before then. But yeah, they both need to react. Hmm. I think what I will do is try to get them both into the next part, in very short scenes -- Ariadne for her reaction shot, and Arthur to give me a lead-in to the next chapter. Because all the previous sections have only been chapter one, so help me. *beats head against computer table*
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-05 02:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-06 03:51 am (UTC)