nysalogs | november catch-all

Who: Sanderson Hawkins (

granularity) & you
What: November catch-all etc.
When: Nooovember
Where: Wyver!
Warning(s): None so far!

dragons and lunatics: [ When he takes the knife from her, the question of whether he intends to do what she'd suggested isn't much of one, really: the knife goes across his arm (palms need to move ALL THE TIME and they had more nerve endings: why would he cut himself there?!) to leave a strip of dripping blood. He'll wait till the dragons get the scent and start moving then, but it's going to be a challenge. Mostly because his body's biggest 'fight or flight' mechanism was turning into sand which, guess what, did very little to attract dragons.

...maybe he could just make walls to herd them into place? He'd put everything back where it belonged afterwar-

HOLY CRAP dragons!!1! ]

jungle heat: [ Sand's life hasn't exactly been conducive to romance. From the absolute burning wreckage disaster that was his first 'relationship' (is it really a relationship when she's kind of using you because she can't deal with her soul mate being her soul mate and you just kind of go along with it because she needs someone and you're literally Ridiculous? he doesn't know, and frankly, doesn't want to ask too much) to the giant gaping void that came after, it's just not something he's ever felt he had much skill at and he'd never really properly turned his hand to it. It doesn't help that most of the quote unquote 'lust' that he's ever experienced has been second hand through prophetic dreams and really really gross. Really, if he wasn't honest with himself about the fact that he actually would like someone in his life, he might have concluded it just wasn't for him a while ago. But regardless, it's always in the back of his mind.

That's why when the moon shines down, he's not really prepared for it to get shoved up to the forefront and he finds himself making his coffee run through a sea of distraction, looking at handsome men and beautiful women and almost walking into a pole to keep looking at them past when he really should. He's not trying to be rude. It's just... weird, and new, and difficult, what with the fact that he's also got so much more time on his hands and so much less to focus on. ]

build-a-blade workshop: [ He makes a point of waiting near where the guy asking them to go get extra ingredients is making his requests. When there's a few people around- ]

So I can talk to crystals and stone. Anyone wanna team up with me?

[ If that doesn't work, of course, he'll head out on his own to collect things. It wouldn't do to miss out on the opportunity, and lord knows he needs things to do. He'd never quite realized how much of a workaholic he'd been until he no longer had his Work to do. ]

coffee break: [ He doesn't have his powers anymore. Oh, he's still a geomorph, still has the whole sand thing going on, but he hasn't had a nightmare since he woke up, and that is the most double edged sword of all. Because they're terrible, his nightmares. But they're effective. They were the most horrible thing to have to think about, to have to dream about, but they still told him how to help people, how to save lives. He feels more than a little blind now, wandering around the city at all hours of the night, listening for trouble. He doesn't KNOW where it is anymore.

And the coffee he stops for in between rounds of walking around? Well, that's more a preference than it is a requirement. He sleeps like a baby, which feels more than wrong, and the bags under his eyes have actually faded away at this point. He hasn't worn the mask proper in what feels like a lifetime and his eyes go a little distant on a particularly corner as he sips at his coffee and considers what Wes would think of all this. And, with a sinking drop, he realizes he'll never know.

Without the dreams, he loses his link to Wes. It's, well... a blow. A blow he covers by taking a particularly long sip of his coffee before pushing away from a wall to continue his circuit. Coffee. Coffee coffee coffee is good. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The way he looks at Bruce, it's like he'd suggested that a fish might know a good place for water. Or that a supervillain could really use an abandoned warehouse by the docks. ]

...I had that figured out first day here. Requirement of existing in a city is knowing where the good coffee is.

Follow me.

[ Guy's not had time for shopping. Rooftops need a good look-see first. Bruce isn't in any especial hurry, he'll do a brisk walk at best, otherwise leisurely. ]

[ Coffee is a necessity in his life. It's what he runs on, more than anything. Everything else, yeah, he couldn't tell you where to pick up a good chair or even where the best food is. But coffee is coffee.

Sand leads him directly to a certain shop, slipping into line like he's been here for months instead of a couple of weeks. ]

I don't need the coffee like I used to, I guess. But at this point, it's as close to 'lifeblood' as it gets.

[ He casts a glance around. Quiet little place, bustling with friendliness. The body language is at odds with the content of the question, voice pitched low, ]

How long have you had your abilities?

Depends on which ones you mean.

The sand stuff, that's been since the forties, technically, though I only got a proper handle on it maybe fifteen years ago?

The visions started a few years after Wesley's death. Once-

[ A pause as he realizes something. ]

Do you know about the Endless?

[ Depends on what's there — but hey, he's getting front row seats to an explanation. ]

I hope you have money for more than one cup of coffee.

[ That's a no. And he's also not paying. ]

[ Of course not: Sand's paying. He budgets for coffee like most people budget for food. ]

I'd have a problem if I didn't.

And [ woof ] okay, that's going to take some explaining.

[ He waits until they both have caffeine in hand and they're walking. ]

So... in our reality and in all realities connected to it, our little... cluster? There's a set of beings known as the Endless. They're... beyond gods, the name is what it is for a reason. Most civilizations only sort of brush up against them and history is riddled with them, even though most people don't know they exist.

I do because I'm connected to one of them.

[ One of them who used to be someone else. He knows that jawline, after all. No matter the strange ethereal quality of the man. ]

[ actually the last thing he wants in the world is more godlike beings, Bruce doesn't do long-suffering, but he brushes off his irritation. It feels like impossibly forever ago that his world was interrogation rooms in Arkham and rooftop chases. It'll never be that small again. ]

And that's the source of your visions? Can you feel them now?

Nope. Because Dream's in one of those tubes, same as any of us, apparently. As long as he's out, my visions are caput. He's my connection to the Dreamlands, the collective unconscious of our world. It's how I do what I do. Or did.

[ There's a pause. A distinct beat of non-action. ]

He might be dangerous to them.

[ Or any number of reasons one would imprison another. But Bruce can pull on those threads later. ]

Did you see any of the others of these Endless?

Don't know.

Don't know what they look like. But I'm pretty sure one of them would have shown up to talk to me about the whole thing if they were out. So I'd guess they're all healing.

[ Certainly doesn't fill one with confidence. Bruce gestures, ]

Continue.

With what, exactly?

[ He looks back at him. ]

I'm not trying to be difficult, but if I know what you're trying to find out, I can help you a lot better.

[ He's thoughtful, and nods, ]

Your connection to the Endless. What you do, and how it affects you.

[ Oh. He takes a breath in, lets it out, and keeps walking. ]

I never got the full... discussion, I guess, like Wes did. For me, it just started happening and I rolled with it, using what I'd learned from him.

Dream... he gives me nightmares, visions... a connection to the minds of the worst of humanity. Shows me what they're going to do, gives me as much information as you can get from a dream on where and what.

If I'm good, I can stop it from happening. Gather evidence, call the cops, get them put away before they do too much harm, or catch them in the act. Find their victims, intercept them, save people.

If I'm not good, I get justice for the dead.

[ He doesn't look at Bruce. ]

My life's work is making sure I'm damn good.

[ He very pointedly doesn't look at Bruce. The question pops, but he decides not to pursue that line of questioning. He's angry enough about the way his family died, about never catching the man that did it — that thread left hanging is part of him now. The facts matter... but this is the truth that he's known. ]

[ Silence lapses. Then, ]

Have you heard about Dream doing this with anyone else?

[ Because he thinks of his own dreams, the way they change and stay the same, and keep coming back. ]

Of course.

[ He glances over at Bruce as if that was a bit of a silly question, softening it as he realizes- ]

The Endless don't take 'sides' exactly, but Dream has a certain sense of justice.

[ That's a grin. ]

Probably gets it from his parents. Anyway, the dreams first came to my mentor. When he died, they came to me. But we're just the main conduit.

If Wes was dead and I was- hell, I might have still been out of commission where you're from, then he'd use the best conduit he had.

november catch-all

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject