OPEN and INCOMPLETE.

[dreamesbig]

Characters: Eames (dreamesbig), Arthur (specificities) and any one else around!
Setting/Location: Streamdrab.
Date & Time: Day nine.
Warnings: none!
Summary: Just another one of those "waking up" posts. Everyone is free to join!

Comments

[fixdpointintime]

Jack opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Not an 'alive again' breath. That was good. Well, no, not really, but it was less awful. He smelled pine. Not the artificial pine scent that was used to mask the musty tang of recycled air that had been filtered one too many times - not a space pine, but a real, planetary, dirt and water and sunlight and growth and death pine. That was wrong. There were no pine trees in this place. The hydroponic systems could barely produce enough edible vegetation to keep a skeleton crew from succumbing to mineral deficiency, and even that hadn't been active in years. Decades? No, only years

[dreamesbig]

He’d gotten just a little carried away as he typed his way through the network, although not too efficiently with his lack of spelling glamour, and quickly discovering that it wasn’t him or perhaps even Arthur that had messed up; it was something much greater than the works of dream thieves, especially after witnessing that conversation between Arthur and that… Cassandra. (And what the hell kind of question was ‘are you dead too?’ anyway?)

Eames closed the Junogam as soon as he’d read enough, having a difficult time dealing with the new information. He should be in his hotel room right now, after all. …So why the hell did he wake up outside?

“Looks like Cobb isn’t here,” he said, almost defeated, “Not yet, any-shh!” Eames tossed his head around as soon as he heard footsteps. “Did you hear that?

[specificities]

Whether or not what Eames had heard had been friend or foe, Arthur was sure that with as much as the brit yapped their position was more than announced. He nodded curtly, eyes darting about the forest before he tugged - not too kindly - on the fabric of Eames' jacket to direct him. Being weaponless, finding a way out was of most importance - a way out of the forest, a way out of this dream-not-dream, perhaps even a kick. So far, Arthur had determined, he was simply surrounded by crazed persons that would be of little use to him. Cassandra... she seemed as if she was the type of person whom had just come off of psychiatric medicine. The thoeries, the paranoia... No, Arthur would not be one to consider such things. Waking up in another place was everything akin to a dream - the only thing that remained was that he was dreaming his totem correctly. As was Eames, apparently.

"Let's move," he uttered quietly, pocketing the Junogam. "We don't have time to waste."

[fixdpointintime]

The incredibly loud 'shush'ing had indeed defeated its own purpose and alerted Jack to the presence of other people ahead of him. He didn't particularly want to find people, but he also didn't care enough to change direction. He got the impression, from the way the wildlife had formed around the meandering path he was taking, that at one point it had been a somewhat well-used trail or road. It was subtle, and he might have been mistaken, but he doubted it. Roads led from one place to another, which meant he was going in the direction of the beginning or the end. In either case, he'd find something more interesting than creepy oversize nature

[dreamesbig]

Oh, was that too loud? Eames didn’t exactly pay attention to the volume of his voice, obviously. He was more sloppy with his work than usual…possibly because he wasn’t how to react to a mock reality or whatever the hell it was, and never had he questioned reality as much as he had this day. And on top of that, he never liked being ‘partnered’ with Arthur, but unfortunately, he was the only person Eames could trust as the moment.

“All right,” he replied, still looking around, “You lead.”

[specificities]

Of course he would lead. Arthur rubbed at his itching cheeks irritably before carefully maneuvering past a threatening looking bushel of stems and leaves. There was a thin track of dirt that could have once been a trail, but while Arthur noted it it wasn't as if he could base his directions upon it. After all, it seemed to lead deeper into the forest, not away from it. He loosened his tie to unbutton his collar, sweat rolling down the back of his neck as he put forth the effort to not make so much noise against the rustle of the forest floor.

[fixdpointintime]

Now that Jack was listening for them, the subtler sounds of people moving through the forest were much easier to pick up on. Hand still on the butt of a small plasma gun, he angled his way through the disproportionate growth, avoiding actually touching anything whenever possible. Right ahead of him now, definitely only two. He could just barely see them through the leaves. Covered in mud and looking disheveled, like bankers on a camping holiday. They didn't belong here, he didn't even have to know them to see that.

They also didn't move like they were armed. Jack relaxed a little at this. People who knew what was going on would have been nice, but in the absence of that he preferred harmless idiots to strapped and anxious idiots any day of the week.

"Your quiet voice," he said, directing it at the one not completely caked in mud, "...not as quiet as you think." Best to just get this over with. Taking a detour around them completely would take too long, and he had no UPPS to keep him headed in the same direction.

[dreamesbig]

Eames whirled around as if he was going to get shot as soon as he heard a new voice, his hand instinctively going where his gun would’ve been. Even dreaming bigger wouldn’t help him at this point, but after utilizing the couple seconds to register what the man had said, Eames’ shoulder visibly relaxed, slightly tilting his head to the side to get a better look at the stranger. Well, while it was unlikely that he knew what was going on, Eames couldn’t pass up on still-ten percent chance that he did. The only thing he was basing his logic off of was the way he was dressed, anyway. Perhaps residents of the Icelandic… jungles, woods or wherever they were did dress quite handsomely. Hell if he knew.

Nope, forget it. The familiar accent was quite a giveaway, after all. Well, if he really wanted to make conversation.. “Perhaps you just have excellent hearing,” he quipped; the subtle joke earned himself a small smile of amusement. “I would ask if you were resident here, but it seems as though you’re lost as well.”

[specificities]

Arthur, for his part, was significantly less amused. His lips pressed into a thin line briefly, looking at the newcomer not with weariness but a distinct amount of distrustfulness. His eyes focused on the weapon by his waist and, already at a disadvantage, he scowled. Eames was right, though, the man did look as if he didn't really belong. Something about the vintage coat combined with the dress shirt.

He opened his mouth to comment, but the junogam was whirring up again in an announcement, and in the near distance something was roaring, enough to make the leaves tremble on the trees, a few falling to swirl around them. If his ears weren't aching, it might have been vaguely poetic.

[ ooc: after your reply ophelia, we can jump on over this event ]

[dissentive]

[ ooc: y 8D ]

[fixdpointintime]

Jack opened his mouth, possibly to answer the men, possibly to say something completely unrelated... possibly to yawn. His attention was completely diverted by the noise in the distance, however, not quite as distant as he'd have liked. Now he did draw his weapon, eyes narrowed and cold.

The gun was sleek and cold looking, small, but leaving no question of its capability. The smooth lines, the matte black surface, the faint glow, and the hum as it readied a shot - it was not vintage. The counterpoint to the Webley still in its holster at his hip. With purpose in his bearing and confidence in his movements, Jack headed toward the noise, disregarding the men as he passed them. They were no threat to him, but they weren't the only things he was sharing this planet with.