Conversation Space: The Ultimate

[powersthatbe]

You feel as if you've stepped through a door.

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[iseethe]

"It is how you might have been," a smoky voice says from behind her.

[flumine]

"It takes more than a kiss to wake girls in glass coffins," River murmurs. "The prince never found his prize."

She straightens slowly, deliberately, and turns her back on her false reflection to face the new voice. Or no - not new, newly tangible. For certain definitions of the word.

[iseethe]

The figure is dressed in a silver sleeveless sundress over her boyish figure, with a pale grey crocheted vest on top of that. She is barefoot, her silken skin only a shade or so darker than the vest, and that skin in turn is a grey a shade lighter than the masquerade mask that is her face. Her hair is a cloud of shadows.

"Perhaps, then, you still have yet to wake."

[flumine]

River studies the figure, slow and assessing.

"She won't," she says at length. "That's the curse. Modern medicine has yet to find a cure for dreaming."

[iseethe]

"May it never," the figure intones. "That would be the first step towards finding a cure for myself."

[flumine]

"It's a hazard of being classified as an affliction in several cultures," River says, solemn, though not entirely unsympathetic.

[iseethe]

"Some would say there is wisdom in madness," the figure replies. "My preferred synonym is 'lunacy.'"

[flumine]

"It's a reflection," River says, the corners of her mouth twisting in a grimace, slightly pained. "The light hits a surface and warps as it's transmitted back. The forcible shift in perspective reveals details that would be otherwise obscured."