"Quite ready indeed, c'mon in." Facilier's voice sounded from the opposite end of the almost questionably long room -- did the walls of the building even extend that far? Maybe it was just an optical illusion from the way the shelves were placed, lining the walls and stacked full of the most peculiar odds and ends, some recognizable, some completely foreign, and all just slightly over the edge of sinister. Mismatched area rugs carpeted the floor beneath Tulio's feet, leading all the way up to where Facilier stood at the back of the room, right beside his card table. He gestured to the chair he usually occupied -- it was obviously more comfortable than the other wooden ones set at the opposite end, red velvet on dark mahogany, almost like a throne.
"You can have this one today," Facilier said with a little smile. "Wouldn' want you to fall out or anythin.'"
Creepy. Seriously. Creepy. What was wrong with a normal office with a normal desk and a normal chair? Then again, it probably only bugged him because he was so nervous about this entire process.
He tried not to dawdle too much or stare as he approached his offered chair. Taking a seat, he cleared his throat. "Uh. Yeah. Wait, fall out?"
Facilier chuckled. Rather than taking the seat opposite Tulio, he arranged his hands behind his back, pacing back and forth.
"Well, y'know it's called dream. Kinda assumes some level of subconsciousness, don't it? An' we're not dealin' with pleasant matters here. I thought about securing people down, but that'd get 'em too riled, I think. It'd probably interfere with what I'm doing, and that can get messy."
"Yeah." He really didn't like the idea of being unconscious around this guy, but he wasn't about to complain. He was paranoid, but he'd take any steps it took to fight against the mist. Especially after the last incident with Clopin.
"So what are you going to do to me? Er, well, what do I need to do?"
"Well mostly all you gotta do is take a whiff of this." Facilier brandished a tiny salt shaker from inside his jacket, filled with a faintly glittering purple powder. "Rather proud of it, if I do say so myself -- a light sedative to keep you under till you're done, a little touch o' this an' that to get your mind all nice and malleable, and then we're cookin'! I'll lead you through the rest."
He spun the wooden chair around and seats himself across from Tulio, setting the little shaker in the middle of the table between them. He regarded the man across from him for a moment, considering, then, "I do gotta warn you though, it's not gon' be all that pleasant. To help you fight against the Mist, I'm essentially giving you an immunity to it. And y'know how that works, right? Get the stomach flu a few times, and eventually you don't get it for years? It's a bit like that. I understand you just got back from somethin' of a rescue mission though, am I right?"
"It was Hell." Tulio couldn't sugarcoat it. A lot of things he tried to brush off when he was with people who weren't his intimate friends, but that was one subject he could answer about honestly with Facilier in this situation. There were still nightmares lingering in his deep blue eyes from it.
The idea of going through Hell again gave him chills, but he knew getting caught in the mist again and failing because he couldn't handle it, especially if the person he failed was Miguel or Chel, he wouldn't be able to live with it.
"I'll do whatever it takes. The mist seems to like me, and I don't want to be caught with my pants down again." He reached out to pick up the shaker, tilting it slightly to look at the power within.
He didn't realize how sweaty his palms were until he tried to grip it. He winced slightly at the sight of his nerves, swallowing against his dry throat again. "So let's do this."
"Aha, see, that's the attitude that makes me think this'll be easier on you than most. You've seen what it can do, and lookit that -- ya made it. Take credit where credit is due, my friend, you could be far worse off than you are now."
Facilier took up the shaker once more and poured a handful into his palm. "Now I want you to get comfortable," he said, and suddenly his voice had taken on a noticeably sleeker tone, deep and silvery. "I know it's hard, but I'm gon' need you as relaxed as possible. Get yourself there an' I'll take care o' the rest."
Facilier got a little half grin at the compliment, but Tulio couldn't truly appreciate it in that moment. He let go when Facilier reached for the shaker, and leaned back in his chair.
He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He focused on something that would relax him - like Miguel's mandolin. The lazy strumming he would do late at night, with only the moonlight shining on his pale hair.
After a few minutes of imagining that his tense shoulders finally began to relax.
"Thaaat's it." Facilier was sifting the little pile of powder flatter in his hand. "Ready, now." He drew a deep breath, and blew.
Maybe it was the effects of the powder making him feel so dizzy, but the room seemed to lurch away in such a way that suggested more than just dizziness. The floor was rocking gently beneath Tulio's feet, and the longer he stood there the more the rocking began to feel rhythmic, a steady ebb and flow. Open your eyes, Tulio, and you'll see nothing but a vast stretch of ocean before you, surrounding you on all sides. Your sails are luffing behind you, empty and windless, but the huge mound of Doradan gold is probably some comfort, right? It's a well-made boat, just as the chief promised, but there's only so much you can do about doldrums.
The dizziness was so disorienting that he didn't even realize he was standing until he opened his eyes. His jaw dropped as he took in his surroundings, baffled by the fact that this was more like his fantasy world instead of a nightmare.
"Dios mio!" He noticed the gold now. "Where did-- How... no no no, this is just a dream. Only a dream. Calm down, Tulio." He tried to psych himself out, but he kept inching towards the gold.
Unable to resist, he fell to his knees to pick up one of the large golden vases, bringing it up to rub his face against it. It felt so real. "Mmm... hel~lo~"
"Hello to you, too!" Miguel's head popped up from the other side of the mound of treasure, grinning widely. "Nice of you to join us, you were zoning out for a while, there."
"Miguel!" He hopped up to his feet, clutching the vase to his chest with a look that screamed 'hand caught in the cookie jar'. "What are you doing here?!"
"Uh, pretty sure we came together," Miguel said with a laugh, then gestured just out of Tulio's sight. Edge to the side and peer around the pile of treasure, and he'll see Chel organizing gleaming tableware close to the starboard edge.
"Uhhh, no. I'm training and-- Oh." He rubbed at his chin with a bit of a frown on his face. This place felt real, but like the mist it was probably all fake. He had to give Facilier credit - he was really fooled for a moment there.
"Well back to Spain, of course! God, Tulio, you know we have provisions, right? No need to resort to seawater." Miguel eyed Tulio suspiciously, then rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
"Anyway, you're on navigation duty, remember? Chel here's just... well, she's doing her thing, and I'm doing inventory below deck, so make sure we don't run aground, will you?" He pointed up at the capain's deck as if to say 'get a move on!'
"Uh yeah, sure." He wasn't even able to make a snappy comeback like he normally would, just from the pure fact that it was wigging him out that this situation wasn't even real.
Not to mention Miguel was doing something responsible like doing inventory. This was definitely a dream.
He chuckled a little to himself and set the vase back down on the pile. He stared at it for a little while longer before he went to check on their destination.
Good winds, a full sail. He took in a deep breath of the salty air and set his hand lightly on the boat's navigation prop.
"If I were in Hell, I suppose disaster will strike the first second I relax." Ah, Tulio the cynic.
"You can have this one today," Facilier said with a little smile. "Wouldn' want you to fall out or anythin.'"
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He tried not to dawdle too much or stare as he approached his offered chair. Taking a seat, he cleared his throat. "Uh. Yeah. Wait, fall out?"
He had such a bad feeling about this.
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"Well, y'know it's called dream. Kinda assumes some level of subconsciousness, don't it? An' we're not dealin' with pleasant matters here. I thought about securing people down, but that'd get 'em too riled, I think. It'd probably interfere with what I'm doing, and that can get messy."
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"So what are you going to do to me? Er, well, what do I need to do?"
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He spun the wooden chair around and seats himself across from Tulio, setting the little shaker in the middle of the table between them. He regarded the man across from him for a moment, considering, then, "I do gotta warn you though, it's not gon' be all that pleasant. To help you fight against the Mist, I'm essentially giving you an immunity to it. And y'know how that works, right? Get the stomach flu a few times, and eventually you don't get it for years? It's a bit like that. I understand you just got back from somethin' of a rescue mission though, am I right?"
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The idea of going through Hell again gave him chills, but he knew getting caught in the mist again and failing because he couldn't handle it, especially if the person he failed was Miguel or Chel, he wouldn't be able to live with it.
"I'll do whatever it takes. The mist seems to like me, and I don't want to be caught with my pants down again." He reached out to pick up the shaker, tilting it slightly to look at the power within.
He didn't realize how sweaty his palms were until he tried to grip it. He winced slightly at the sight of his nerves, swallowing against his dry throat again. "So let's do this."
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Facilier took up the shaker once more and poured a handful into his palm. "Now I want you to get comfortable," he said, and suddenly his voice had taken on a noticeably sleeker tone, deep and silvery. "I know it's hard, but I'm gon' need you as relaxed as possible. Get yourself there an' I'll take care o' the rest."
Reply
He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He focused on something that would relax him - like Miguel's mandolin. The lazy strumming he would do late at night, with only the moonlight shining on his pale hair.
After a few minutes of imagining that his tense shoulders finally began to relax.
Reply
Maybe it was the effects of the powder making him feel so dizzy, but the room seemed to lurch away in such a way that suggested more than just dizziness. The floor was rocking gently beneath Tulio's feet, and the longer he stood there the more the rocking began to feel rhythmic, a steady ebb and flow. Open your eyes, Tulio, and you'll see nothing but a vast stretch of ocean before you, surrounding you on all sides. Your sails are luffing behind you, empty and windless, but the huge mound of Doradan gold is probably some comfort, right? It's a well-made boat, just as the chief promised, but there's only so much you can do about doldrums.
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"Dios mio!" He noticed the gold now. "Where did-- How... no no no, this is just a dream. Only a dream. Calm down, Tulio." He tried to psych himself out, but he kept inching towards the gold.
Unable to resist, he fell to his knees to pick up one of the large golden vases, bringing it up to rub his face against it. It felt so real. "Mmm... hel~lo~"
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"Nevermind! So where are we headed?"
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"Anyway, you're on navigation duty, remember? Chel here's just... well, she's doing her thing, and I'm doing inventory below deck, so make sure we don't run aground, will you?" He pointed up at the capain's deck as if to say 'get a move on!'
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Not to mention Miguel was doing something responsible like doing inventory. This was definitely a dream.
He chuckled a little to himself and set the vase back down on the pile. He stared at it for a little while longer before he went to check on their destination.
Good winds, a full sail. He took in a deep breath of the salty air and set his hand lightly on the boat's navigation prop.
"If I were in Hell, I suppose disaster will strike the first second I relax." Ah, Tulio the cynic.
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