3rd Kick [action]

[windsorknot]

[The scene seems normal enough. It's an office on the first floor within a larger office building with grey walls, a few framed images (M.C. Escher's work, mostly), and a mahogany desk. Someone's seated at the desk in a very comfortable-looking leather chair, his hand idly playing with a red die on the polished surface of the desk as he gazes

Comments

all the go inbetweens ][

[overreached]

[ Lightning's first reaction to waking up into this dream is to scowl.

What?

Her own dreams are few and far between, fragmented moments, images, and so on.

Standing at the edge of the water she squints at the figure in the distance, made even smaller somehow against the brightness of the mahogany desk. A glance behind her only confuses her, which she also appreciates exactly not at all. Grey water. The way people paint rain.

She mutters under her breath before making a quick way to the stranger who, as she nears, shows himself to be no stranger at all. ]

Arthur.

[ It isn't a question, because she knows no one else who looks like this, though the intensity of the boredom is a new spin on him. Arching a brow, she waits for him to lose interest in the die. ]

Re: all the go inbetweens ][

[windsorknot]

[ The unfamiliar voice is enough to make him look up. He takes a few moments to look Lightning up and down, a raised eyebrow the only sign of recognition on his face. When he answers, his tone is calm, though his voice sounds rough. ]

Yes?

all the go inbetweens ][

[overreached]

What is this place?

[ She asks, not ever one for beating around the bush, crossing her arms and glancing briefly back over her shoulder before returning her gaze to Arthur. Does he know her? Sometimes it becomes difficult to tell, in the City, in dreams, anywhere. Tricks are a little too easy to play.

But a number of things feel off, and the missing wall ranks considerably low amongst them. ]

all the go inbetweens ][

[windsorknot]

[ He leans back in his chair and considers Lightning for a minute, as though trying to decide on something. ]

It's limbo, I believe.

[ a pause ]

Or nowhere. Either answer works.

[shifts]

[ This is interesting, and the last place Eames would expect to be. His toes are digging into warm sand, and he can feel water lapping up against his heels. He sees the building up ahead and, defensively, focuses on forging himself into someone opposite of him. After all, this could be a trap of some kind - and he didn't want to give himself away if there was little reason to.

This is a dream.

Eames steps forward, wading barefoot through the sand towards the office building. The open panel facing the ocean is on the first floor, and he peers into the room. ]

Arthur? Fantasizing of the holidays, are we?

[windsorknot]

[ He stops playing with the die and looks up, noticing the unfamiliar woman in the distance. He blinks a few times before finally answering in a listless tone. ]

Something like that.

[shifts]

Hm.

This yours, then?

[ He shakes out his feminine feet before stepping onto the hardwood flooring of the office, keeping the forge for now. After all, he had to pin whether or not this was truly Arthur, first. ]

[windsorknot]

I guess? [ He eyes the woman uncertainly. ]

It doesn't really matter at this point, does it?

[byweavinglives]

[Saya hates water: she hates beaches, so she's in the office, her dress a similar gray to Arthur's suit, her hair tied up for once.]

You seem suitably and ridiculously bored.

[windsorknot]

[ He traps the die under his right hand and glances up at Saya. ]

Just waiting for something.

[byweavinglives]

The number six?

[She reaches over and gently strokes his suit]

Very nice.

[windsorknot]

[ His eyes dart to her hands before going back to her. ]

It's random. Six is just one possible outcome.

[ His expression darkens. ]

Are you looking for something?

[fromlegal]

[It's a fluid and somehow jolting movement from the desert to the hallway that seems to have only one door. Natasha's modified fatigues are still in place, dust and sand covering her to the knees and smudges across her face. Her wristlets are down a few charges, her AKS74U close at hand.

Her eyes flick between the inhabitant and the view upon her entry.]

Am I interrupting?

[windsorknot]

[ He turns around, his fists clenching when he notices that she's armed. ]

It depends. Who are you?

...ihu, livejournal.

[fromlegal]

My name's [it's at this moment that she lets the gun rest on its strap at her side to holds her hands out] Laura. I just came inside from the heat.

notifs?

[windsorknot]

Laura. [ He tries to think of anyone that he knows by that name. Anyone that would match this projection in appearance. His memory is, unfortunately, uncooperative. His memories of reality are becoming fuzzier with each passing... he doesn't really like to call them "days." ]

Sorry about that. I must not have noticed before. [ Not that he'd ever felt particularly uncomfortable. The beach has always been just the right temperature for him. ]

[veritaphobia]

[ Every dream he's woken into so far has been a wreck, horror or the promise of it-every image so dominating that, for an instant after the transition, Alan fails to process the world framed around him. From the middle of the office, he takes two stunted steps towards the open shore before he notices that he isn't alone. Part of the problem, of course, of dressing in the same color as the walls. Stopping, Alan blinks. ]

Oh. Hello.

[windsorknot]

[ Arthur looks up and regards Alan with a neutral expression. ]

Hello.

[veritaphobia]

[ Older, but not scared. Alan knows a few people whose nightmare would be just this: a flat landscape whose only escape is as dreary as its niche. But he knows, too, that it's never good to underestimate the citizens. ]

I keep looking for an exit and wandering further in. I hope I'm not interrupting you.

[windsorknot]

You aren't. There isn't much to interrupt.

[ He considers Alan's statement for a moment. ]

Where did you come from? The beach?