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Aventurine feels like he's drowning in the endless depths of the pool before he even gets in the water.
The Dreampool seems to grin at him. Taunt him. Between softly moving waves, glistening in the artificial light of the hotel room, it smirks at him. Aventurine’s breath escapes him; he clenches his fist behind his back. Three chips rest in his palm. The prospect of entering an artificial dream — knowing what comes with it, the toll, the death bell, the punishment — is hard to digest. Aventurine swallows thickly, clenching the chips in his hand until the ridges and numbers are imprinted on his skin.
Maintain a calm mind .
Aventurine has been nothing but level-headed in his life. No matter what kind of dark, unwelcome thoughts bubble up in his mind, he is a champion at repressing them. He knows how to bargain. He knows how to handle being under pressure.
Please enter the dream lying on your back .
Of course, that’s only logical, as it is a simulation of sleep. Besides, he would enter a pool of water. Facing up is the only way to minimise the risk of drowning. He remembers a story that had been told to him in confidence about a daredevil entering the Dreamscape face-down; The Family has spent years trying to erase the effect of that story. They’re lucky it hasn’t gotten out at all.
Please do not ingest any hypnotics beforehand .
Aventurine can barely hold back a scoff. Only fools would do such a thing. The dreaming fluid already is one hell of a drug. It is, once again, only logical to not mix hallucinogens. Aventurine has done his research about it — how incredibly quickly it works, what effect it has on the human body… Fascinating, but Aventurine thinks he would have been better off not knowing.
Please do not enter the dream naked .
He can only scoff.
Please do not assume the identity of another individual .
Good ol’ privacy. Those Harmony-blessed Family Members know well to respect it — though Aventurine is sure that they know all and everything about those who enter the Dreamscape. But, for safety’s sake, Aventurine can understand it.
On behalf of the Oak, Alfalfa, Nightingale, Bloodhound, and Iris Families, we wish you happy dreams .
Aventurine lets out a bitter laugh. Happy dreams is an expression they so much like to throw around. How can dreams be so happy, if all people do in said dreams is escape? Hide? Aventurine supposes it’s none of his business, but he can’t help but wonder.
And yet, that prospect of happy dreams still entices him somehow. What would his own perfect dream look like? Would he finally feel happy, if he had everything he’s ever wanted? Or would that certainty only scare him, make him unhappy? He can’t figure it out. There must be an answer to this.
But if there is, Aventurine doesn’t know it.
Who would , by pure calculation, is Doctor Veritas Ratio. He who walks through the door of Aventurine’s hotel room with his chest forward, proud and tall. Aventurine lets his eyes slip over the Doctor’s frame, how his clothes grace his muscular body. He looks like a statue. He looks perfect .
“I assumed that at this hour, you would have entered the Dreamscape already,” says the Doctor. “Why do you hesitate?”
Aventurine turns to him, giving him an indecipherable smile. “Why, I was waiting for you, of course!”
The Doctor only raises an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I never took you for someone who gets nervous, dear gambler. Nevertheless, I took you for someone independent.”
“Independent? Always, esteemed doctor!” Aventurine says, arms spread. “How come you’re late?”
The Doctor glances away briefly. “I’m afraid I may have overslept.”
Aventurine raises his eyebrows. “Now that is an answer I didn’t expect.”
“Sleep is the rehearsal of death.”
“Truly a fascinating concept, Doctor, but we’re here to experience the Sweet Dream, so to say. Dreaming beforehand seems… counterproductive.”
The Doctor rolls his eyes, with one of them obscured by his violet hair. He says nothing for a little bit, only joins Aventurine in staring at the Dreampool.
Up close, Aventurine sees the mirage of fame and knowledge melt away. There, the Doctor is merely human, not hidden behind a plastered head, with features so unlike his own. Aventurine understands the wish behind telling stories about this man. Aeons, if Aventurine had been just a little more of a poet, he would have done so too.
“We should depart to the Realm of Dreams, dear gambler.” The Doctor approaches the Dreampool. He beckons Aventurine to follow him, to enter the Dream with him.
Aventurine would be lying if he said he’s completely ready for this. Hesitation is so out of character for him.
But he does.
He hesitates .
The Doctor looks at him with a curious expression on his face. If Aventurine had looked longer, he would have likely seen the concern there, too. Resting between the scarlet of his eyes, the planetary rings of gold around his pupil, there would be a gentle worry, a genuine display of distress about the pale-yellow-haired man in front of him.
But he doesn’t look twice.
Instead, Aventurine drags himself to the pool. He tries to ignore the amaranthine laughter that the fluid throws at him. He ignores the feeling of his clothes becoming soaked as well, as he goes into the water up to his knees, the clinging stickiness of his expensive clothes against his skin. He shuts his eyes.
“Are you ready?” the Doctor asks.
Aventurine hesitates. Again.
“I could tell you what it feels like, if you’re worried,” says the Doctor. “It’s like falling into water. Floating through a dream. All of your senses are dampened, yet heightened at the same time. It feels nearly blissful.”
Aventurine looks at him. “Am I going to die?”
A silence fills the room. Without knowing how they got so close together, Aventurine senses the buzz of the Doctor’s skin, his anticipation of the Sweet Dream.
“I hope not,” the Doctor says. “You are far too valuable.”
“And you can use me as you wish, Doctor.”
“Use you?” says the Doctor in surprise. “All you ever wanted in life was to be useful. With your lucky streak, with your blessed eyes, with your perfect hand of cards. I hope you refuse to die. I hope when it comes for you, you look it in the eye and you say, ‘Not today’. I have known you for a while now. And I know, with certainty, that the odds are in your favour. You bend them to your favour. This is what you are good at, dear gambler. I trust in your luck.”
Aventurine is stunned. Speechless. The Doctor stays quiet for a little while, before he leads both of them to kneel in the shallow fluid. His hands on his shoulders, a gentle pressure in an otherwise weightless space. Aventurine is being sucked into a vacuum. This, too, feels like drowning, but the Doctor won’t let him slip.
“I hope you won’t die, or get hurt,” the Doctor continues. His face is illuminated by the soft blue hue of the pool. He looks angelic. “Aeons, I don’t know what I would do if you did. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.”
Aventurine braces himself against the Doctor’s grip. He lets himself be led into the water, lying on his back with just the Doctor’s hands to keep him afloat. Those hands covered in notes of chalk and ink, of plaster and quill.
A smile covers Aventurine’s mouth. “You talk too much, Doctor. We can just keep it simple.”
Aventurine pulls the Doctor closer to him, his hand on the nape of his neck. Their mouths are mere inches apart.
“See you on the other side.”
The Doctor wants to look away. Aventurine keeps him from it, making him look him in the eye: “Say it, Doctor.”
“See you on the other side, dear gambler.”
Aventurine smiles. He no longer hesitates to drown.