Oh, he doesn't like those teeth. They remind him of something only half-remembered, of fire and fear and howling. He takes a step back, despite himself.
"Wow, I've never gotten called dumb by a weird dream monster with the wrong amount of eyes before!" he yells up into the abyss. "You're so fucking ORIGINAL! Tell me somethin' I don't already know, you Thousand Eyed freak!"
It's a dark void of a room, he can swear for real here.
"I've had worse odds. I'll figure out what you're up to, but I sure as hell can't do it if I go back to sleep."
His poker face slips at direct mention of Bill. Yes, he basically threw a tantrum, but to have that entire encounter laughed off like it was barely anything...
...never mind. He steels himself, hands balled into fists.
"Depends," he says. "You got anything worth hinting about?"
The room warps into a garden of various flowers, and one by one they all spark into flame. Lights float up from the fires, and the air feels... choking.
Stan wakes up in his home in the Faerie kingdom. The flowers in the window box are slightly singed. A glass of peach juice is on the table beside him.
He can't breathe and it hurts (but it's not real, it's a dream, he has to hang onto that--). The room lights up and it isn't a room but a garden. A garden...on fire. A dream on fire.
A great-nephew, trying to warn him about how the forest hurts people through their dreams.
Stan wakes up with a start, clutching his chest. There's a small flicker of blue in his vision, but it's immediately smothered with faerie glamor. Despite how shitty all of that was, he tries to hang onto it because it's real, unlike everything else they're stuck with.
He spots the glass of peach juice, and glares at it for a moment. Then, in one swipe like an angry cat, he smacks it off the table and onto the ground.
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sticksandbones2025-07-31 08:06 pm
no subject
You already were, old man. If you can't even figure this out, what hope do you have?
no subject
"Wow, I've never gotten called dumb by a weird dream monster with the wrong amount of eyes before!" he yells up into the abyss. "You're so fucking ORIGINAL! Tell me somethin' I don't already know, you Thousand Eyed freak!"
It's a dark void of a room, he can swear for real here.
"I've had worse odds. I'll figure out what you're up to, but I sure as hell can't do it if I go back to sleep."
no subject
A little chip with a chip on his shoulder. A child throwing a tantrum, dreaming too small... Not a lot of potential on that one.
The voice laughs, and laughs, and laughs some more.
Want a hint, little man?
if yes roll a d20.
no subject
...never mind. He steels himself, hands balled into fists.
"Depends," he says. "You got anything worth hinting about?"
He rolls...a 2. Oh boy.
no subject
Stan wakes up in his home in the Faerie kingdom. The flowers in the window box are slightly singed. A glass of peach juice is on the table beside him.
no subject
A great-nephew, trying to warn him about how the forest hurts people through their dreams.
Stan wakes up with a start, clutching his chest. There's a small flicker of blue in his vision, but it's immediately smothered with faerie glamor. Despite how shitty all of that was, he tries to hang onto it because it's real, unlike everything else they're stuck with.
He spots the glass of peach juice, and glares at it for a moment. Then, in one swipe like an angry cat, he smacks it off the table and onto the ground.