2020-02-12 - Mutual Interests

The library isn't entirely empty on a dreary Wednesday afternoon, but neither is it particularly busy. School hasn't let out yet, and most people don't want to get out in the still-chilly weather just to pick up a book when the internet is far easier to access. Sparrow, however, has barely left her house in a few days and needs some time away. Some time alone. Which might explain why she's hidden away on the second floor, in the nonfiction section, plunked down on the floor in a row in the 600s, close to the front at about 615, between medicine and engineering. She might not be recognizable, pale as her hair is, stripped of all its brilliant color. She wears a white hoodie with pale grey patches on the elbows and sides, two black dots connected by a black line on the hood, resembling Baymax. Jeans, sneakers. She's decidedly dressed down. Even her make-up is muted though not wholly absent, just a touch of color to get through the day. Not that anyone's likely to see her up here where she's chosen to read, attention turned to a book that she's flipping through, seemingly in search of something.

What the internet doesn't have a lot of are books on Gray Harbor's local history. So it's an invaluable resource for someone still making an attempt to write a book about the area's spooky dealings. In contrast to Sparrow, Dante always seems to stand out - on purpose. Today's no exception. It's a rust-red three piece suit with a black pocket square. His jacket, which is a camel wool number is draped over the back of a nearby chair. There's a silver Chromebook sitting there, along with a stack of books. He doesn't recognize Sparrow, as he moves right by her, realizing he's in the wrong section, then does a heel-turn back towards history.

Sparrow peeks up and almost lets the man wander right by, clocking the movement before registering any of the details. Even then, there's a second or two lost as she decides whether or not she's up for putting on a social face before she chirps a curious, "Dante?" as she leans toward the end of the row to peek past in the direction he was heading. Her smile's a little more muted than usual, but it's a quieter venue than any of their previous meetings. Hell, the sun's still up and all. No booze! Lots of reasons she isn't just radiating brilliance everywhere right now, surely.

Dante is very nearly so deep in research mode that he misses the sound of his own name. But he does after a delay, then squints. It takes a second. "Ms. Bird? Ah, you've changed your hair. Quite dramatically, I might add." A smile, charming as ever. "So what's the verdict? Having more fun?" He's holding a book on the colonial history of the Pacific Northwest that looks a bit beaten up.

Sparrow, recognized and addressed, pushes to her feet and crosses the bit of distance between her hidden perch and where the writer is working. The book she brings with her has a trippy print on the cover over beneath the title DRUGS OF THE DREAMING. With a low-lidded dip of dark lashes, she croons, "Not yet," in a manner which might be more flirtatious if there were any followthrough, if she didn't crinkle her nose immediately thereafter and sour the effect. "I'm told it's taking some getting used to, and that just makes me want to change it again next week."

"Well, I don't ever let others dictate how I look. Unless it's a lover and we're having a fun dress-up night. But I think you look lovely." Dante grins, but there's a little more awkwardness to that than usual. He pats the book against his palm. "I've um, I've actually been meaning to have a chat with you. But I didn't want to be so official as to set something up via email or somesuch. But..." he tilts his head. "If you're out of sorts, it's something that can wait."

"Easier said than done," Sparrow replies dryly on that point of not allowing others influence over appearance. "The reflex to rebel is sometimes difficult to resist. But thank you." She seems sincere in that, appreciative for the appreciation. A touch of color comes to her cheeks at his suggestion that she might be 'out of sorts,' the little dip of her head suggesting that might not be as far off as she'd like. Still, her smile brightens as she nods. "I'm alright." Gesturing toward the table where he seems to be set up, her brows pitch upward as if to ask if this is a sit-down sort of conversation. Or a stand here awkwardly one. She's equipped for either.

"Oh, please," says Dante as he gestures to the table. He sits down himself, then scoots his laptop and the books carefully out of the way. "I wanted to...well, apologize a bit for my behavior the other night. And to say that I bear you absolutely no ill will, nor do I disapprove of your dealings with Cris." Dealings. Not the right word for it, but hey. "It was a...communication issue between myself and him. But we've talked it out."

Sparrow follows, setting her own book down as she takes the seat across from him with only a momentary glance around to see if they are really as alone up here as it sounds. And, really, it does seem like they are. She sinks forward onto her elbows as Dante talks, giving her pale-haired head a shallow shake. "You're fine," she promises. "I just..." Her nose crinkles a bit as she thinks about how to proceed. Her lips part once, twice, and then hold a thin press for a second. "Where are your lines? I don't want to cross any. I don't want to make things bad for anyone else. You tell me where your lines are, and I'll respect them as best I can."

Dante thinks a minute before answering. "Well, what I told Cris is...I am fine with him being with other people. For one, it would be highly hypocritical of me if I wasn't. Considering I am." He takes a breath. "But that I don't...want to be a third wheel, or sitting across from him while he flirts with someone else. I don't like feeling jealous, but it's hard to make my brain win out over my heart when it's right in front of me, you know?" He looks a little sheepish.

Sparrow's expression is apologetic as she shakes her head at that last might-be-rhetorical question. "Never really held onto anything tight enough to be jealous," she confides quietly. Again, there are a couple of false starts from the girl who usually just blurts out the first thing to come to mind, every word here more deliberate than usual. "From my side, for reference? I just wanted to make you feel included and seen. I feel comfortable in shared company. I'm alright being the odd one out. But I know that's not for everyone. And I know the context that night was..." Well, it made him the third. With a little nod, she confirms, "I can give you distance."

"And that was what Cris said as well. I know there was no malice from either of you." Dante twitches a soft smile. "So I'm not angry. Wasn't angry. Just..." he takes a breath. "He said he wanted to share. And while I appreciate the sentiment, part of the reason we're not exclusive is that he's more...adventurous than I am." Again, a smile attempts deflection, but it also betrays awkwardness.

Sparrow's smile comes right back up at the suggestion of sharing, plainly news to her. Dark brows pitch upward toward her pale hair as she admits, "You are hot as hell, but." With a little shake of her head, she admits, "I wasn't there. Not my intention. Not that I'm patently opposed to the idea, but." Shoulders lift high in a held shrug. "Pretty sure we don't have that kinda chemistry yet." Her smile skews to the left, a little more comfortable than before. "You do keep adventurous company. Do the same lines apply with Elias?"

"Ah," Dante blushes, both for her comment and the fact that it's' news to her. "Communication. Something dear Cristobal needs to work on. He certainly should have made sure that was something you wanted before angling things that way." He raps his fingers idly on the cover of a nearby look. "Knowing him and his libido, he likely went there because I appreciated your dancing." Then at the mention of Elias, he looks down, then up. "It hasn't come up yet. But all of this did make it clear to me that we should speak about it as well. I actually want he and Cris to meet so they're not abstracts to one another. They met once briefly, but." He clears his throat. "This is probably more than what you want to know. But if you know Elias at all, you know he's incredibly easygoing. I've checked in with him a few times, and he's always told me he was all right."

"I mean," Sparrow teases, maybe aiming to exploit that blush. "I might not've said no." She's looking a little more like herself, a little more at ease as the conversation deepens. The compliment about her dancing which sees her smile going wide again probably helps. "He is, yeah," she agrees of Elias' temperament. "One of the most magnificently chill people I know. Wonderful company. I'm, uh. Probably closer to him than Cris in some ways." Which causes her to stop short and glance aside again, just to be sure, before looking to Dante once more. "I was kinda figuring that with both of us studying under him, maybe we'd end up spending some time that way. Ya know. Fully clothed." Her head gets a bit of a wobble as she appends a playful, "Probably."

"He's too good to me, frankly," Dante's referring to Elias. "And very possibly too good for me." He threads his fingers together, sitting with posture straight, but not stiff. He's still a touch pink, but he's not the champion blusher that Itzhak is. He leans in a bit conspiratorially. "Which him? Studying under?" There's a lilt to that second word and a hint of that grin of his that edges on sharkishness.

Sparrow isn't much buying the first line, but she outright clucks her tongue for the second. She looks like she might just have something to say about that, those big brown eyes of hers going all sharp, but she's easily distracted by that grin which calls up her own. "Your gorgeous warlock to whom I am apprenticing? Some of the only under I really get into." Her chin lifts just a smidge as the left corner of her grin sharpens.

"Apprenticing?" Dante pauses a beat, "Warlock?" The two of them know each other in ways others don't, but they're both missing out on a few critical details. But he does sit back, cants his head and says, in a tone that tries not to be overheard, "What makes you think I'm under him?"

Did Sparrow get that wrong? Shit. There's decidedly a bit of oops crossing her expression when he questions her verbiage, gaze unfocusing as she tries to track back over conversations where, sure, no names were used, but she really did think she understood. That third question, though, pulls her back into the moment, earning a bright laugh that she's quick to bite back as her own cheeks brighten a bit. "Fair," she concedes. "Though, uh. I was seriously referring to a student teacher sorta thing with regards to all the weird around here and, uh." One hand lifts from the table with a vague wiggle of fingers which might refer to, well, magic, but could as well be a dismissive gesture. Who knows! "But I am glad to imagine the two of you however you'd prefer. Feel free to fill in details."

Dante chuckles. "Elias has been teaching me a fair bit about the spooky bits of the town. Cris and I haven't really talked about it. At all, really. We've been pulled into a Fantasy-esque sort of...video game Dream twice. But we haven't discussed the implications, or how we feel about everything. In truth we've been um," he bites the lower edge of his lip, "...preoccupied."

Sparrow's shoulders visibly sink with relief as Dante confirms that she had it right, the worry that she was talking weird stuff with the wrong target evaporating right away. The last word earns a snort of laughter and a wide, lazy grin. "He is distracting," she agrees of Cris. "Pretty sure he gets how weird this place is. Talked about it, like. Just the barest bit?" But not much. Not enough to feel comfortable elaborating. "Elias, though? Think it was our third dream together when it finally clicked how much of all the strange stuff already made sense to him. I started calling him warlock in one of those dreams. Just a joke, but. It fits. In its way. So." It's stuck. She taps the book she brought with her, explaining, "I'm looking into oneirogenics after this conference I attended over the weekend. Figure I'll propose a venture to Elias once I've got something solid in mind, see what he thinks of it."

"Ah. Hah! I thought Cris was the warlock. I was quite confused. And wondering if I had a significant gap in my understanding of him. Yes, he's helped me cope. My first few Dreams were..." He makes a soft sound, "...disturbing, to say the least. He's told me some can be whimsical or even fun. But aside from a few moments in a few, it's mostly just been terrifying. Elias takes it all in with incredible composure." He looks down at the book, then looks up, brow furrowed, "Oneirogenics?"

Sparrow's faint blush brightens to a hue that might rival the red hair she's left behind, nose scrunching as she chirps a soft, "Sorry," for the misunderstanding. There's a good chance she's been called on that a time or two before, on the issues which arise when she doesn't name names. Her expression sinks toward the sympathetic as she nods, as she confirms, "My dreams, too. Very little that's pleasant. First one swallowed up my boyfriend and spat him out onto our basement floor, from one darkness to another. And the friend who told me a couple months ago that they can be great has died so many times in his lately that he refuses to go back to sleep. So." Yeah, she's not buying the line about whimsy, but the book gets a little tap again. "Chemicals which can alter or enhance dreaming, providing some lucidity and control. Mostly from plants. Like Salvia divinorum. And while I figure most of the research published has absolutely nothing at all to do with what we're going through out here, I'm curious to see if we might find some worthwhile applications and maybe navigate all this nonsense a little more safely sometimes."

"It's an interesting thought. I assume you're talking about traditional herbs and drugs that people have used for dream guidance and meditation?" Dante lilts up at the end of his sentence. "But that presupposes we're actually asleep in these scenarios, which I'm not certain is the case. If I don't go to actual sleep after these encounters, I find myself exhausted as if I hadn't slept at all. Which makes sense, as well, we actually get hurt in them." He's quiet for a moment as he considers. "It really is as fascinating as it is terrifying." And he is a horror writer. He's used to looking into the abyss. He just didn't know before he came to Gray Harbor that the abyss was real and tangible.

Sparrow gives her hand a little wobble at something Dante says, but her wide-eyed attention assures that she is right there with him, very much following his counterpoint. "I think you're right, that we're not exactly dreaming, though we are, often, pulled from our sleep, but. That's part of what I want to explore. Oneirogens don't require sleep, but they affect a dream-like state. We don't have to sleep to dream. So, if we are in some sort of waking dream, is there benefit to enhancing our faculty for engaging with that environment? Totally could go horribly wrong, but." She breathes a quiet, humorless laugh and nods. "I'm kinda tired of being terrified."

"So is your hypothesis that we're in some sort of ambulatory REM sleep? That the mechanism of the Dream places us in a sort of walking lucid dream state?" It's not often that Dante sounds like an academic. He's often just laying the charm on, or talking about his horror writing. But there are moments when his Oxford education comes through. "Interesting. I could see in that case how testing the methods used for trances and lucid dreams could be illustrative when applied to the Dream-capital-D space. But the question becomes..." he taps a finger against his lip, "...how do you make sure you're on the substance when you're taken into a Dream? Unless others have done research into a proper pattern."

"I'm really not sure how else to explain some of the things we see and experience that are so very far beyond physical possibility, but yet so similar to, well, dreams or some other sort of psychedelic experience." Sparrow doesn't get to geek out like this often, either, so comfortable playing up the party girl rocker thing, but there's an ease here as Dante meets her right in her particular field of interest. Which doesn't keep her from frowning faintly at the problem he presents. "I have a friend who is sure he knows how to cross that line and, to some extent, get where he means to go." She sounds skeptical. "I've wondered if taking the right substance in the right place with the right intention might get you there, too. Figure it merits experimentation. Probably the first step, really. Can oneirogenics help us get there and back safely? Do they aid in the process at all?"

"Or does it alter our mental state enough that it makes the whole process more dangerous and terrifying?" Horror writer: going right to the worst-case scenario. Really, Dante and Cris don't make much sense until you consider that he has to be attracted to the darkness to have the career that he does. And to still be in Gray Harbor despite all that he's seen. "The Dream seems to be able to alter our physical bodies as well. When I was in the Fantasy Dream, I could fight in a way that I certainly can't. Alexander could do magic. Elias told me he swapped bodies. If we sustain physical injuries, then that suggests that our physical bodies are being changed as a result of these Dreams. Unless it's...a situation of the Dreamspace playing with our consciousness, then re-depositing us in our physical bodies and damaging us in a way that's reflective of our experiences." And he doesn't often get to intellectualize. He's learned it tends to alienate people. They'd rather just hear his spooky stories in a charming accent, not wax philosophical about say, why people like horror to begin with.

"Definitely gonna have contingencies for bad trips," Sparrow confirms, wide-eyed, for that initial inquiry, "even if I can't even begin to conceive of what that might be like in this context." Which gets a teensy head wobble and a quiet admission of, "We learn something either way," even if there is some small part of her that is wholly aware that she would snap at someone else for saying pretty much the same thing. She nods along to his points on the physical changes, a little more firmly for the body-swapping bit, having experienced that one first hand. "He was a rather handsome viking of a man that time. And the guy who got deposited into my body got all the brain chemistry to go with it." Which is maybe more than she meant to say, relevant to the conversation, sure, but more personal information than she intended to offer. Her blush flares again, uncertainty crossing her features as she presses on. "My working theory is that we are bodily transported elsewhere, but that our mental states, there, are altered and the external stimulus is translated into some bizarre shared hallucinations. Which isn't unheard of on certain psychedelics. Like DMT." Which has her thoughts rushing of in another direction, somewhere she hasn't yet explored.

"It is also entirely possible that what we consider science and logic simply does not apply." Dante takes in a breath and then gestures, "Which is terrifying. Because that means our definition of order simply refuses to apply to the Dream state. " He considers for a moment, finger tapping against his lip. "It's also possible that there is enough intelligence at work that there would be forces manipulating the results to play with us. And we're actually learning nothing except we aren't in control." He stops for a moment and shakes his head, smiling a titch awkwardly. "Sorry. Horror writer brain. Right to the darkest and most twisted depths. Sexy viking, yes. He mentioned that. Too bad the Dream doesn't let us just play with the sexy possibilities, mhmm?"

"No." Sparrow doesn't think before rejecting Dante's apology. "You're right. It's worth thinking about. Cuz I can't really explain some of the details, like what we learned about each other by swapping bodies. I mean. It wasn't just cosmetic." But she seems to be out of theories for now, head all full of more questions to consider, more possibilities to explore. Later. Cuz right now? She can't help but grin and follow along with that last question, noting, "I did propose an orgy in that dream and nobody was down. But I figure that if we've at least got some control over who we go in with and where we go..." Her head tips to one side as her grin grows in the other direction. "Not sure how safe sex over there is, but. Science, right?" Leaning forward just a little more, she tells him, "I like the way you think," without even making it sound entirely dirty.

"That follows, and lends credence to the theory that it is a physical change. If it was just a wacky yakkety-sax comedic bodyswap like some old episode of Bewitched, you wouldn't have learned things about one another. In a lot of ways, that sort of Dream, where the body is in some way physically altered, is the most illustrative about what is actually happening. If it were just that we were transported elsewhere, and came back with injuries, that makes sense. But I posited to Elias - what if you hadn't swapped back? Would you have found yourself trapped in another's body here?" Dante presses a finger against the table. "In the same way physical injuries carry over? Would that even be possible? If so, what would the implications of that be?" He inhales, then leans back in his char. He grins at her compliment. "I'm probably overthinking everything. A symptom of too much education and a career in horror writing. But..." he wobbles his head and tries to contain a grin, "...if this all was common knowledge, there would be so much potential for papers. 'Sex and the Veil' is an enticing paper title."

Of all the things that the horror writer's said today, nothing gets a more genuinely terrified response from Sparrow than the prospect of living out her life in that borrowed body rather than her own, the color promptly draining from her cheeks as she shakes her head in denial of that possibility, simply unwilling to consider it. Well. Not in any serious capacity beyond that initial terror, anyway. With a snort of laughter, she admits, "Sounds like a bad cop procedural. College co-ed swapped into the body of a homicide detective. She's gotta close cases while he keeps her grades up while they try to figure out how to switch back between all the weird rough mindfucky sex. Cuz I would totally be into this." No shame, she gestures right to herself, but doesn't linger on that thought, refocusing on Dante as she tells him, "I am one hundred percent down to be on your research team. You ask the right questions and aren't afraid of asking the wrong ones too. If I, uh. Write something up, hypothesis and proposed methods? You wanna give it a look over?"

"In the right hands, that sort of thing could be quasi body horror erotica which," Dante's tone grows wry, "...trust me, there's a market for. But then, there's really a market for everything. It's just if you can find it." He sounds sort of like he's speaking from experience? Or he could just be taking the piss. Then when the term 'research team' comes up, he sits up a little straighter. "Ah, I'm not that kind of academic. I'm an English major. I'm better at a thesis on a philosophical level. I've only ever dealt with things that are only proven out on paper. Like whether Satan was the hero in Paradise Lost, for instance." To take an absolutely classic high school paper topic. "I deal more in thesis and supporting arguments rather than research methodology."

Sparrow might be the market for that. The way her brows go up as her lips press thing makes that pretty plain. Sure, sure, the reality is terrifying, but the fantasy's another matter entirely. "That's alright," she answers easily for the clarification on Dante's areas of expertise. "I'm totally the research methodology type. Like it or not. Chem major. I know how to write that shit up. Where I do not excel is finding all the theoretical holes and twists which you've just laid like it's nothing over the course of a fairly casual conversation. I could use that kind of proofing. Make sure I'm asking the right questions, that I'm not losing sight of all the ways in which it could go horribly wrong." She shrugs up a shoulder and adds, "And maybe go on freaky sex adventures on the other side of the divide when we get that far along," far too casually.

"I am good at the what-ifs, it's true. It's the basis of my business. What if...the monster under your bed is real? What if...all the folklore tales about stone circles being portals to another world were actually true? But the fae are demons who want to eat you? That sort of thing." For a guy who seems proper, Dante's bread-and-butter is actually the dark and twisted. He chuckles at 'freaky sex adventure. "Which sounds like the pornographic sequel to Bill and Ted. But how would you peer review a freaky Veil sex adventure?" That toothy grin reappears.

Sparrow issues her best, "Excellent!" in undeniable approval of this possible parody. It might be about all she remembers of the movies which were undoubtedly well before her time, but it's passable. "There are other research groups," she assures on the point of peer review. "Some of whom have, uh." Her brow furrows a little as she reconsiders, frowning unevenly. "My ex. Whose opinion on such matters I'd trust even if I still think his methods are shit." She slouches heavily for a second before pushing upright. "Pretty sure I just shorted all my happy thoughts, so I'mma go, but. I'm glad we talked. And I'm serious about the research. Ish. Seriousish. We'll see where my head is once I take some more time to think it through." It looks, for just a second, like she's got something else on her mind, but waiting doesn't do any good. Nothing more comes.

Dante doesn't push, but he tries to show in a look that he would be willing to talk more. If not now, another time. "Mhmm, let's put a pin in it, shall we? I don't know if I'm ready to start experimenting with the thing I only recently discovered exists. But we can certainly collect observations?" He looks back to his pile of books and his pushed-aside laptop. "And I should return to my research, such as it is."

"Swap stories sometime," Sparrow agrees easily as she gets to her feet. The smile she offers shows very little evidence of unhappy thoughts running through her head, but there's certainly a whole lot less energy to her than the last few times their paths had crossed, and that holds when she walks off with her book in hand, heading downstairs to go check it out and, very probably, head back home to hide and let all these odd and awful thoughts percolate a bit.