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[[so after a week of aimless wandering and several failed attempts to return to the Dreaming or remove the tattoo on his wrist, the Corinthian finally decides it's time to say hello. Twin black lenses peer thoughtfully down at the communicator, their owner nestled in the shade of some nondescript building.]

It is a curious thing, to be out of place. They have done their best to make us fit, but ill-fitting it must remain for those who had purpose before. Ties are not as easily cut as some lesser materials, and I find these unwanted attempts to bind... [he hums] ...mm, an irritant. I doubt that I'm the only one.

[a pause. The Corinthian glances briefly down at the tattoo on his wrist, glowing in the shadow. He frowns, then returns his attention.]

...I am also aware that there are none here I know, and I am cut off from contacting them. So instead I would have your names and a word on your world, if you would give them. Or not - as you will. But it seems the only thing to do with a communicator is to attempt to communicate; there is no point to hiding in a false world. I will even begin, to make it more comfortable. [he adds, humored:] That is a rare offer from me.

[the nightmare touches a hand to his chest genially.]

I am known as the Corinthian, nightmare of the Major Arcana in service to the Lord Shaper, Lord Dream of the Endless.

And it is good to meet you.

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How brave. Do you often find beauty in the strange and unpredictable?

Well... [ He pauses for a moment, to collect his thoughts on the subject. ] Yeah, I guess so. I just feel like, uh -- a lot of pain in life comes from not understanding it. Or not being understood. People hold onto these expectations of what they think things should be like, and... a lot of the time it just won't be exactly what you'd expect. The world doesn't follow the same logic that minds do.

[ Another pause, a bit more self-conscious this time; he shrugs slowly, fingers toying a little idly with his bangs. ]

... I don't know if it's really brave, though. Strangeness is just part of life.

And minds follow little logic as it is.

[one of the wonders of the Dreaming.]

But they do tend to cling to familiarity. Change is difficult - it grates. I find it fair then, to see bravery in one willing to embrace the strange and different. That is often where the danger hides.

[ Hm... ]

Yeah... well, that is true. [ He's still hesitant to accept it as applied to himself, though. ] Um, but also, sometimes the strange and different is what's familiar.

True.

[a beat.]

What do you dream of?

[ ... Ah. ]

Uh... mostly about the future. Sometimes insights about the present, if I'm really struggling. Do you dream?

If I sleep. But I do not often sleep.

[/nightmare privilege.]

What does the future look like, in your dreams?

Is that by choice, or...? I wouldn't sleep as much if I didn't have to, but-- I imagine it'd be different for you. Maybe better, maybe worse.

[ Pablo hesitates, though if anyone would take what he's about to say seriously, he hopes it would probably be someone who introduced themselves as a "nightmare" in service to... whatever it was he'd said. The Lord of Dreams? ]

It's... colorful. At least most of the time. Different colors usually mean different things, but the same colors also don't always mean the same things they did in other dreams. Um-- I mean, there's always a lot to interpret, I don't get to see anything in detail.

By choice.

[his dreams are too often broken fragments of the first Corinthian's memories, and his predecessor overshadows enough of his existence as it is.]

Prophetic dreams. [murmured with approval and interest.] That is a gift. Were they there for you in your first world?

[ He nods slowly and thoughtfully, both to the Corinthian's answer and then, albeit a bit hesitantly, to the question that follows. ]

... Yeah, but, um -- if I'm being honest, no one ever believes me when I mention it.

[he smiles. It's not particularly kind.]

Poor, cursed Cassandra.

Perhaps this world will be a kinder audience. There is no Apollo here to steal your voice in spite. Not when so many are blessed.

[ Pablo opens his mouth, then closes it again, giving some consideration to the reference. Finally, he says: ]

Yeah, maybe.

[ His voice is slightly quieter, though returns to normal volume as he continues. ]

I mean, you're right -- around here people probably wouldn't think it sounds all that crazy. Not that I really mind too much if people don't understand it, but... [ A pause. ] Uh, there is still a certain strength in belief, I think. You know?

Oh, there is all the strength in belief. Gods are born and killed in service to it. Belief can keep a dream alive long past its expiration.

[and that's where he comes in.]

...You'll fare well here, I think. Whether heeded as oracle or no. Eyes that can see further than others' always interest me, and yours are lovely, Pablo Arjona.

I look forward to speaking with you again.

[ Pablo nods slowly, swallows carefully, but then is silent for about thirty or forty seconds -- absorbing what was said, thinking, working through his understanding. It probably isn't appropriate to feel strangely moved by those words, but Pablo is all the same; a strange combination of fascinated and flustered. ]

Right -- it brings the abstract into reality. [ He nods again in that slow, deliberate way. ] ... Thank you. I do too, I'm actually-- I'm also interested in eyes. And everything they can mean... there's just, all kinds of power around them.

[ Pablo moves his hand on-screen to emphasize what he's saying, so that the eye tattoo he has is visible. ]

Um... so maybe we'd have a lot to talk about. You know, whenever.

[the grin on the Corinthian's face is wide and immediate - shameless. Yes, he likes that tattoo. He approves.]

Oh, yes. I think you're right. I think we'd find much to talk about. I look forward to that.

We'll need to keep an eye out, for an opportunity.

[that Corinthian, what a riot.]

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