2019-11-03 - Post-Safeway Conversations

It is the afternoon after a certain ill-fated morning trip to Safeway, at least as far as Corey is concerned. Others may think this is just a day like any other. He's been to work, and having finished at 1pm is now sat on the beach, gazing out to sea, a bottle of something in one hand and a joint in the other. Drag, exhale, sip, stare. Repeat ad infinitum.

After a Bad Dream like that, Mason usually has to decompress. Mostly with music and solitude. But sometimes with long walks--on the beach or otherwise. Wearing himself out helps to curb the anxiety. Now he's kinda exhausted--his backpack and guitar are stashed somewhere, leaving him in just jeans, a t-shirt, and a blue hoodie, walking like his legs may give out. When he sees Corey though, he smiles, and plops himself down next to him. He doesn't speak just yet, just waves a little in greeting, looking out over the water. Mason has more or less decided Corey is a friend. To be fair, they went through something terrible together and survived, so that's sort of a bonding experience.

Barely seeming to notice the approach of someone else, Corey turns his head slowly when Mason plops down beside him, blinking once and then silently offering over the blunt, setting his bottle of cheapass vodka down between his knees. <<Do you prefer if I sign or speak?>> he asks silently, his hands making the gestures for ASL with a conversational ease.

Mason laughs. "I'm fine speaking. I'd have spoken in the Dream if I could. Just sometimes, my voice...leaves me." He shrugs, taking the blunt, and taking a hit before passing it back. "Dreams are fucked up. Panic takes over. Voice disappears." He breathes out the smoke slowly. "I'm glad you're okay. And the other guy, him too. We got through it." He pauses, and then says, softly, in a conspiratorial tone, "Maybe don't mention what I did in there to people. I don't want people being afraid of me."

Reclaiming his joint, Corey nods to the other guy's response. "I'm Corey, by the way," he murmurs, taking another draw and holding it, before exhaling slowly, the smoke hanging in the still afternoon air, dissipating slowly. "No problem." He seems like he's no stranger to secrets. "Though you're not alone in that."

Mason smiles brightly at Corey. "You handled yourself well. Not your first?" He lies down on the sand, looking up at the sky. "I've had a lot of terrible dreams like that. Not often someone else is with me. I was so worried for you both." And apparently fine with sacrificing himself so they could escape. "I try not to look too close at the...you know. Creatures. They're just...Well, they're real and not real, I don't know. A dream like that you can definitely die in. I've gotten hurt before in one and I came out of it still hurt. So it's not that that part isn't real. But also, they're sort of...I dunno what they are. They're dreams. So I don't look at them too closely. Having nightmares about...dreams like that...might lead to more dreams like that, right? I'm not making sense..." He pauses, unsure of himself suddenly. "Just. Try not to think about it too much. But we can talk about it if you need to."

There's a shake of the head from the student chef, and he takes a sip from his drink and another pull on the joint before offering the latter over again. Sociable, if not exactly chatty right now. "I get you," he confirms quietly to the notion of not having nightmares about Dreams. "I'm good not talking about it," he adds, shaking his head a little. He's got other people for that. "You got a name?"

Mason happily takes the joint, and takes another hit. "Mason Wylde." He says with amusement. Like his name is an inside joke or something. He takes another hit, and passes it back, breathing out the smoke, and sitting back up, cross-legged, looking out at the ocean. "The ocean is so beautiful. And terrifying. A lot of things are like that. Scary and wonderful. Making new friends. Mountain climbing. Lots of things."

"Nice to meet you, I guess? Maybe not how we met, but. Yo." Corey offers a slightly wan smile. "So, where you from, anyway?" he wonders, not recognising the other guy as a local, which he would do as they're about the same age and Gray Harbour is tiiiiny. "And why'd you come here?"

Mason considers the question. "I dunno. Maybe it was a good way to meet. You get to know someone's true colors in a situation like that, right?" He looks toward the water a moment, taking a breath. "It doesn't matter really. I'm from somewhere else. Nowhere interesting. And I came here because I sorta wander and...I wandered here. It's nice enough. Quiet. Nice beach." He looks down. "Certainly....an interesting town..." He shrugs. "Maybe I came here to meet my destiny. Maybe I'll leave tomorrow. Who knows?" He looks over with a sly smile. "Maybe I came here to save you from a Bad Dream."

One brow raising slightly, Corey fixes Mason with a look. "If you don't wanna tell me, just say you don't wanna tell me," he replies, sounding mildly irritated by the evasive answers given. He draws on his joint again, exhaling slowly, looking back out to sea.

Mason's smile falters. "Not like I don't want to. Just can't." He runs fingers through his hair, and takes a breath. "Someone's looking for me and I don't want to be found. And if I tell you the whole story I'll just burden you, make you sad, or possibly scare you away. I don't really wanna do that, so I don't. I did sorta come here randomly though, it could've been anywhere. Anywhere I could hide out."

"Not everywhere has a thin veil," comes the dry reply. "People don't come here by accident, I don't think. The fact that you can throw lightning from your hand kinda proves that you're not here as randomly as you think." Corey's words have a slightly fatalist tone to them, a resignation that this is just how it works.

He looks over. "Maybe. I mean. They're stronger here. My...powers." He takes a breath. "So maybe I was called here. That's disturbing to think about." He looks over. "I don't throw lightning very often, for what that's worth. Mostly I read people's emotions. ... Sometimes that happens on its own, without me trying to. It happened as a kid a lot. Sometimes...when I want to connect with someone, you know...I just start feeling their emotions. I guess I've had a lot of practice. The...shooting lightning thing came much later. I don't really get how one leads to the other, but it seems to be part of the same thing."

Corey nods slowly. "The more you use it, the more Dreams you get. So you might wanna lock that shit down instead of letting it happen without thinking," he suggests softly. "It's all part of the same weird thing, I think. Stuff that happens where the veil between worlds is at it's thinnest."

Mason sighs. "Yeah, I've had a lot of Dreams. They aren't all horrible nightmares. Sometimes they're pretty okay. But they're dangerous. All of them are." He breathes out slowly. "It doesn't really matter. Shit happens. Whether you're fighting for survival in a dream or fighting for survival out here, it's pretty much the same." He cracks his knuckles. "I'm glad you aren't hurt though. I'd never want to be responsible for someone getting hurt, in a Dream or otherwise. That dream was probably my fault."

"I doubt it," Corey responds quietly. "Sometimes they just happen. Could've been either of us. Or maybe the other guy, the one who rode in the cart." One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug, uncaring as to why the Dream happened. "It was.. nice not to be alone in it, though."

Mason's smile returns, and he shrugs. "Yeah. And we got out." He brings his legs up and wraps his arms around them. "And now we can sit in peace and enjoy the sound of the waves. Sure I had to fight off a few panic attacks and basically exhaust myself with exercise before I got to this level of peace again, but here we are. There's good stuff happening, you know. It's not all terrible nightmare creatures. There's beauty in the world, and kindness, and love. There's goodness in it. People focus on the negative, and there's always negative, but don't forget all the good shit." A pause. "I find the best remedy for most negative feelings and experiences is connecting with another person. People need to be reminded sometimes they aren't alone. None of us are."

Digging his phone out and firing off a brief text, Corey fixes Mason with another brief look. "I know that," he replies, his voice still low, dragging again on what remains of his joint before passing it over to the other guy again. "Do you always share this much?" he asks then, curious rather than annoyed.

Mason takes the joint and takes another hit, considering. "Is it annoying?" He asks softly, passing the joint back. "I don't always talk this much. As you've seen. And I don't always feel like I can talk to people either. We went through some scary shit together. I kinda feel like we're past the point of simple introductions. But I can step back if you want. You never have to talk to me again if you don't want to. I'm not trying to push you. I'm just glad you're okay."

"I don't mind it," Corey replies thoughtfully. "Just a little bit strange for a stranger is all. But I guess stress-bonding will do it," he acknowledges a moment later, offering a slightly lopsided smile to the other guy. "No need to freak out over it, I don't just share my green with anyone."

Mason is silent for a bit, considering. Eventually he shrugs. "I have a sense for people. You seem like a good person. Why should I be defensive around a good person? People do this...slowly opening up to people so they can test the waters and stay safe. I don't know. Even if you end up hurting me that's fine, I'll just move on. I'd rather risk being open and possibly getting hurt than not reach out to people at all and live in fear. I do usually take it a bit slower but when we got out of that Dream I already considered you a friend. I don't have many here, yet, but you had my back in there, so I trust you. With my life. So we kinda skipped past a few steps."

"Mmn. I dunno about that exactly, but." Corey lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Maybe with my life but not my sanity. One of those is harder to come by than the other." Finishing off the joint, he takes a swig of his cheapass alcohol then pushes up to his feet. "I need to head to class. Good to see you're alive and well, though."

Mason shrugs, and waves. "Okay. I'll be around." He lays down again in the sand, looking up at the clouds. "We'll see each other again. Hopefully in the real world."