It is polite for there to be a knock, and thus there is in fact a knock at the door. It's rather higher than it should be, but this has more to do with Dream's not quite getting human heights without a reference than it does with anything else.
It doesn't mean Sallie was precisely expecting one, so when she answers the door and cranes her neck upward (she's not short, but Mal breaks six foot because of his father) there is a momentary startled look.
"Hello."
She recovers quickly enough, and stands to one side. "Please -- come in."
"Good evening, Sallie." Dream states, dipping his head and reducing himself somewhat. Unlike his Milliways aspect, Daniel is all white and green, no black or red at all. "I brought some fruit as well."
"Oh! Thank you so much; you can put it down on the counter. I'll set some water on."
The first floor of Sallie's house suits her life as it is rather well -- browns and greens and blues decorate most things within view, with all proverbial roads in said house leading to the kitchen. The only thing that breaks up the pattern to it all is the stray hat or audio chip Jack left on an endtable.
Sallie moves over to the stove, turning on the flame under the omnipresent tea kettle. "Does anything you brought need prepping? Cracking open or some such?"
Never hurts to ask, Sallie figures, pulling out a small bowl for Daniel's Dream's offering.
"Only the tea." A packet is handed over, of something rich and delicate; the kind of tea that can be drunk at any state between black as sin and with all sorts of milks and sugars without being ruined, and then long-fingered white hands fill the bowl with fruits both of earth, and those found only in dreams. "I have never quite understood food, and most of that which is dreamed is easy to eat."
"True enough. Never heard of folk dreaming of pineapple only so they can sit there and strip the thing."
Not that Sallie's had pineapple except in Milliways. Maybe one percent of Shadow's landmass is tropical enough for pineapple. Sallie is not so much with the tropical way of life, really.
With the tea set prepared and the water heating to a boil, "There are some chairs on the far side of the island, but I figured we can sit in the living room. More comfortable."
Sallie turns her eyes back to the fruit bowl. Pears!
"The living room will be fine, thank you. Your house is lovely." the castle in the Dreaming is finer, of course, but it is also empty of anything except dreams and Dream. There is a reality to human things that the pale Endless has an ill-defined hunger for, and lacks even the words to state the fact that he hungers.
The field of green stars that are his eyes don't hold emotion, no more than stars can weep, but his face is honestly interested in the mementos of her life.
"Xiexie." And there's a bit of a blush there that Sallie doesn't really attempt to hide -- there wouldn't be a point to it.
With the tea prepared with sugar and milk to one side, Sallie arranges the tray between the two couches and the living room table. The effect of the L that the couches form faces outward toward the sliding glass door. It's a nice view, and vaguely reminiscent of the forest of Milliways when it's warm out. If one squints a little.
Sallie lets the tea brew for just a minute or so more, pouring a cup for herself and her guest. Adding just a tiny bit of sugar, she lets her cup sit for a little.
"Thank you for this," Sallie holds up the pear she'd been eyeing earlier. "Milliways makes it easier, but fruit isn't generally in open season around Jefferson."
"I had hoped you would like it." Dream admits, a faint smile (just slightly, indefinably, more human than Morpheus') touching his lips, "I am fond of fruits as well." Mostly, it must be admitted, because birds are fond of fruit; and Dream has always been fond of birds.
The initial scurry of movement on Sallie's part -- an almost reflexive set of actions filed under 'Welcoming Guests' -- has calmed, leaving a lull.
"Well -- this is my house, as you've probably figured out by now. I'll give you the tour later if you'd like, but -- "
A hand, pointing in order to the bookshelves and pictures against one wall, Jack's room, the kitchen and the view of Reynolds Ranch beyond the glass doors.
"This has always been a lovely view." Dream agrees, nodding and letting his gaze stretch over it, "I had a conversation with the planet, before it had cooled. This portion was shaped to be beautiful."
His smile, when he flashes it again, is what could be called impish if he were a boy rather than an Endless, "I am the Dream of planets as well as humans.
The pear's down to a core, and placed off onto a discreet napkin somewhere. Sallie's paying attention to Dream closely now, like she'll miss a detail of the best-loved story in the 'verse if she doesn't do so.
Even with the white of Dream's skin, the eyes fleck green, and it's a color Sallie's thought of all her life.
"I don't think many folk would recognize that as it is. It's not the easiest thing in the world, trying to remember that you're not the only one concerned with...your aspect on things."
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It doesn't mean Sallie was precisely expecting one, so when she answers the door and cranes her neck upward (she's not short, but Mal breaks six foot because of his father) there is a momentary startled look.
"Hello."
She recovers quickly enough, and stands to one side. "Please -- come in."
Reply
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The first floor of Sallie's house suits her life as it is rather well -- browns and greens and blues decorate most things within view, with all proverbial roads in said house leading to the kitchen. The only thing that breaks up the pattern to it all is the stray hat or audio chip Jack left on an endtable.
Sallie moves over to the stove, turning on the flame under the omnipresent tea kettle. "Does anything you brought need prepping? Cracking open or some such?"
Never hurts to ask, Sallie figures, pulling out a small bowl for Daniel's Dream's offering.
Reply
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Not that Sallie's had pineapple except in Milliways. Maybe one percent of Shadow's landmass is tropical enough for pineapple. Sallie is not so much with the tropical way of life, really.
With the tea set prepared and the water heating to a boil, "There are some chairs on the far side of the island, but I figured we can sit in the living room. More comfortable."
Sallie turns her eyes back to the fruit bowl. Pears!
Reply
The field of green stars that are his eyes don't hold emotion, no more than stars can weep, but his face is honestly interested in the mementos of her life.
Reply
With the tea prepared with sugar and milk to one side, Sallie arranges the tray between the two couches and the living room table. The effect of the L that the couches form faces outward toward the sliding glass door. It's a nice view, and vaguely reminiscent of the forest of Milliways when it's warm out. If one squints a little.
Sallie lets the tea brew for just a minute or so more, pouring a cup for herself and her guest. Adding just a tiny bit of sugar, she lets her cup sit for a little.
"Thank you for this," Sallie holds up the pear she'd been eyeing earlier. "Milliways makes it easier, but fruit isn't generally in open season around Jefferson."
Reply
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"Well -- this is my house, as you've probably figured out by now. I'll give you the tour later if you'd like, but -- "
A hand, pointing in order to the bookshelves and pictures against one wall, Jack's room, the kitchen and the view of Reynolds Ranch beyond the glass doors.
" -- this is the best part o' things, I think."
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She repeats the motion while staring out at her land.
"...Hunh." Another chunk disappears from the pear in one hand. "I can see that."
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Even with the white of Dream's skin, the eyes fleck green, and it's a color Sallie's thought of all her life.
"I don't think many folk would recognize that as it is. It's not the easiest thing in the world, trying to remember that you're not the only one concerned with...your aspect on things."
Reply
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