bigapplesauce | when visions in the final end must shatter like the glass [open to multiple]

When Jay opens his eyes, he stares into a white wall. Around him is the noise of a city, though the rumble of automobiles is so much louder than he's used to, merging into a sort of feral buzz, a cross between angry bees and static. The noise of the crowd is interwoven into this hum, a hideous counternote. Jay shudders and tries to figure out what sort of wall he's staring at. He reaches out to touch it, then thinks better of it and instead turns around.

He's standing under a marble arch that stands at the entrance to a park. He stumbles back into the inner wall of the arch, suddenly feeling dizzy. It's the noise, the hideous noise that's tunnelling down his ears to his brain, making him feel like his whole head is vibrating. He screws his eyes shut and leans against the wall, shaking. He wants to throw up, but he's very aware that he's in public and he does not want to be unseemly.

He has no idea what's going on. It feels like he's lost some time, for he cannot remember the last thing he was doing, only the distant morning, breakfast with his twin. And now this. He shudders. He wonders, briefly, if he's hallucinating and the idea makes him moan in dismay.

To anyone who may be passing by, it appears as though a lavishly dressed, young, black person of absolutely indeterminable gender just popped into existence of nowhere. He's wearing a suit that looks like a New Romantic gone distinctly Regency, with a floor-length, pleated black skirt rather than trousers. A fur stole drapes around his shoulders; his hands are bedecked with rings, his face is painted brightly. He's wearing boots with pointy toes and high heels, elevating him to a height of 5'8", rather than his natural 5'5".

And he looks so very overwhelmed and sick.

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Iman frowns. He's not doing super well, even she can see that, but she's not sure what she can do about it.

"Well," she says, taking her hand back settling both hands in her lap. "There's two different organizations in place to help people like us find their feet in their new world. Or you can make your own way - that's harder, of course." It's what she's doing, but not for much longer. "They set rifties - uh, that's us - up with homes, money and phones. The basics."

She hesitates before going into any more detail. Callie had the benefit of being in one of the dreams before coming here - Jay was completely unprepared.

"Look, this is too much to take in right now," she says decisively. "Do they have liquor wherever you're from? Do you want to get drunk? That's what I did my first day and it was great. My treat."

Okay, look, nobody said Iman was good at this.

"Ahhh," says Jay, a long and drawn-out syllable of dismay. He wants to ask so many questions, but they all jostle for attention in his head and he ends up stumbling over them, unsure of which to pick. He sighs.

"A drink would be lovely, dearest," he says. "A drink or ... or five. Ten would be ideal." He gives a slightly manic grin along with this statement. Drinking really does sound like just the thing. Something to make him forget, for a little bit, the enormous mess he seems to have ended up in. He can think about where he'll be sleeping later. For example, when he wakes up with a hangover.

She grins in response and stands back up, offering a hand. "I just gotta get my groceries home," she says. "I live right around the corner, and there's a bar near that. I think you'll like it." By which she means he won't stand out there. This is a bar that does drag shows every week, and at this hour it won't be too crowded or loud either.

"Don't worry, okay?" she says as she walks him back out of the park. "This'll take some time to get used to, but you'll be all right. I'll make sure you don't get lost in the shuffle."

Jay takes her hand and gets up, shakily. He smiles at Iman, though it's brittle and tense, a fake smile plastered on for the sake of appearances.

"I'll trust your judgement, darling," he says and there's an echo of his usual smarminess in his voice. He's far from recovering, but he's on his way to faking recovery regardless.

"Thank you," he says and his voice is suddenly curiously flat again. "I ... I appreciate it."

"Sure." She takes his arm again, wanting to stay friendly. At some point Jay is going to have to deal with this stuff, but as far as she's concerned, he can't deal with it properly until he's gotten a bit more settled. Right now he needs distraction, and that she can provide.

"You wanna hear something embarrassing?" She smiles genially. "I actually came here on purpose. I'm a scientist - empirical alchemy and dimensional physics, to get precise. I've spent nearly my whole academic career trying to cross between dimensional barriers, and the first time I succeed it's here. Rift snapped me up mid-transit, and I couldn't get back. So much for that."

She says this lightly, with a self-deprecating laugh, but wow, she is still super bitter. She needs those ten drinks as much as he does, if she's being honest with herself.

"For most people it's more unexpected," she says. As they near her building she shifts her groceries around awkwardly to dig her key out of her pocket. "But everyone adapts sooner or later. And it's not necessarily permanent. People get sent back. At least I assume that's where they go."

Not very comforting. Good job girl. Repressing a sigh, she lets go his arm to unlock the front door, holding it open for him.

"No one really knows how it works," she says. "But that's gonna stop with me. This rift could be the discovery of my career. Not to mention the biggest problem solving opportunity ever." She beckons him to follow her up the stairs. "So, you know. There's hope."

Jay follows Iman, mutely. Occasionally, he nods where some sort of response seems appropriate, but speech is beyond him. Something horrible has just occurred to him. Something that makes the bottom drop out of his stomach. For a while, he's unable to even put it into words, but as he follows Iman up the stairs, he finally manages to subdue his panic enough to speak up.

"Er, darling?" he says. "Only ... only one person at a time is ... is ... displaced, yes?" His voice is pleading. He hopes like hell Iman is going to say no, that people come in twos or threes or even in groups, because if they dont--

But he can hardly bear to think about that.

"Um..." Iman turns to him, midway through opening her apartment door. She chews her lip, stepping inside and again holding it open for him. There's an obvious desperation to the question, though she can't guess at why - some people have things they're glad to escape, others have separation anxiety. A lot of people have both. The fact that she's not sure how to answer only makes it more tricky.

"Not always," she says carefully. "There are some people from the same universes. But it's very randomized. And I don't know how common that is."

She moves her groceries to the kitchenette counter and turns to face him.

"The most practical thing you can do is to prepare yourself for the possibility that you'll be alone here," she says, as delicately as you can say something like that. "That sounds awful, but..." She trails off, keeping her eyes on him.

Jay ducks into the apartment, eyes locked on Iman's lips. He's starting to tremble a little, with the anxiety of waiting for her answer.

When she replies, his face falls. His ears -- all one and a third of them -- sag down, mobile as a cat's. He hugs himself, eyes cast down.

"So, ah ..." he begins, his voice hoarse. "I'm here ... I'm here alone?"

Oh jeez. Iman winces at his little crumple, the way his ears move - like a cat or something, that's distantly fascinating - and his sad little question.

"You might be," she says quietly. She slips the perishables into her fridge and leaves the rest on the counter for now, stepping back over to him. She reaches out hesitantly, not sure if he's gonna want to be touched or not.

"I'm sorry," she says, with an unusual amount of sincerity. "Really. This is shit for almost everyone. But that means you're not alone. You're just... lost." Finally she rests a hand gingerly on his shoulder, trying to meet his eyes. "Let's get you somewhere where you can take your mind off it for a bit, okay?"

Jay bites his lip, but nods. There's no escaping Iman's gaze, so he meets it, steadily, though there's a twitch of discomfort.

"Okay," he says, in a small and flat voice. "Ahh. Okay." It occurs to him he should thank her, but it occurs to him too late and then the moment is gone. He casts his eyes down again.

Iman doesn't mind the lack of expressed gratitude. He's sort of got other things on his mind right now.

She drops her gaze opens the door again, leading him out. "We'll get you sorted," she says as reassuringly as she can, locking her apartment and heading back down with him. "Right after we treat you to some good old-fashioned medication." This with a winning smile.

when visions in the final end must shatter like the glass [open to multiple]

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