A Visitor to the Threshold.

[true_desire]

[OOM: Owen asks to see where Desire lives, poor man.The skies are shades of molten gold: The clouds drifting above are the deep red of roses or blood, the ground beneath is black and bearing no signs of life or growth. It seems empty here, the barren, tri-color landscape stretches out to the horizon, and though it seems Desire and Owen are standing

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[sorryimatwat]

Owen's gun is drawn before the world's stopped moving, though he doesn't seem sure where to aim it.

"You could've warned me."

[true_desire]

It's true: Desire could have, and probably should have -- but this is much more fun, at least for Desire. A long time has passed since someone new stopped by to visit.

"Apologies," Desire says, motioning Owen to follow her. "I didn't think you'd need it, working for Torchwood."

[sorryimatwat]

"We're good, but we're not that good", he says, softening a little anyway and lowering the gun. "And the surprises Torchwood gets have a way of trying to bite your face off."

[true_desire]

"Best warn you there are some more surprises coming up then," Desire says conversationally, the stairs moving them toward the top (much like an escalator without the belt or other outward movement).

It's really likely that Owen's noticed the similarity between the statue and his hostess by now -- and if he imagines her a little Narcissistic?
Well, no surprise. Desire makes little secret of how much she loves herself. Or how often.

[sorryimatwat]

"Appreciate it." He's eyeing the statue. "Did you build this? Or... create it, whatever?"

[true_desire]

"It's my realm," Desire advises, as if that explained everything: To Desire, it certainly does.

That said, they crest the top of the stairs, and are carried in through the open door -- and Owen is greeted with the sight of a wall filled with TV screens, a lounging platform (because it's certainly too large to be a mere bed) covered in what appears to be magenta fur, and pillows.
Lots of pillows.

The hundreds (or possibly thousands) of screens are each showing something different: If Owen pays attention, he might catch sight of Jack and Ianto on one of them before it blinks away.

Desire, however, keeps right on going, following a tunnel away from here. "Don't get lost, Owen -- You could wander a lifetime that way."

[sorryimatwat]

He was checking out the screens, eyebrows raised, but he drags his attention away and follows her.

"Classy little den you've got there."

Excuse the sarcasm. It's what he does.

[true_desire]

Desire may have invented sarcasm. Possibly.

Her response is cheeky, however. "Were you expecting something else?"

If Owen looks back at those screens, they're gone -- and in its place is an antique four-post bed and what looks to be a feather mattress, a fireplace and a large, plush-looking rug at its hearth on the other side of the room. A gramaphone turns its own handle and begins quietly playing some 1930's jazz.

She moves onward, though, the tunnel moving up and up.

[sorryimatwat]

He glances back and blinks.

"Cosy, that. Where're we going?"

[true_desire]

Desire knows how to do class, now and then -- and had she been trying to get Owen into it, Desire might have started with the feather-bed in the first place.

"I promised a surprise, didn't I?"

There's the impression of going up for ages (and yet, it's been hardly any time at all... Hasn't it?) and then the incline tapers off, leaving them in a round, almost sphereical room, with an astounding view of the horizon.

From this height, it's possible to see further -- and that might even be the shimmer of the Love Fields where they overlap into Dream's realm.

[sorryimatwat]

Owen stops dead still where he stands, then turns in a slow circle to take in the view.

And for just a moment or two, there's pure wonder in his eyes like there hasn't been (since Katie died) since before Torchwood.

[true_desire]

Desire doesn't say a word to intrude, just hangs back and watches Owen: There's a small smile, playing at the edges of her lips.

It might appear that Desire was trying to impress him.

[sorryimatwat]

He turns back to her, eventually, and his expression is mostly back to cool amusement.

"And you gave me a surprise. Not often I say this, but I've never seen anything like it."

[true_desire]

Desire inclines her chin in response, a mirror of that cool amusement: She slips into Owen's space, a fever-warm hand on his shoulder as she gently turns him back to some points of interest.

She explains about the Love Fields, and how this part is a tiny portion of it, the majority now in Dream's realm. She points out the dark marsh, a small bog she put in to banish Delirium's frogs from the Threshold -- they wouldn't leave, otherwise.
And so on, and so on.
She names each point that isn't flat, and when she's done, there's reports upon reports worth of information, should Owen care to write it (provided, that is, he remembers the details once he's left).

Once she's finished, she gives Owen a strange, thoughtful little smile.

"I'm parched," Desire says, and there is suddenly a wineglasses in her hand, an unmarked bottle in her other. "I think I fancy a drink."

"...Would you care for some yourself?"

[sorryimatwat]

"All that talking, I'm not surprised", he says with a grin, peering at the bottle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice warns against taking food or drink from the likes of her, but Owen ignores it. "Never turn down a good wine."

[true_desire]

Desire hands him her glass and pours out a small measure of liquid: Destiny's wine is very fine, more so than any other created after it -- which might well be why Desire filches a bottle, whenever she feels her eldest brother won't miss it.

She passes the glass to Owen, the scent both rich and tempting, faint notes of favored fruit dancing at the edge of one's senses.

And then another glass appears in her hand, pouring another measure for herself.