malia lands, mercifully, seated. she's not entirely sure what the formula towards dreamland-ing totally is, but some entrances were better than others. the harsh meet of face to concrete or the gentle opening of eyes in someone's perfect day. today was gentler, the soft creak of swings, the white noise of background chatter and the distant laugh of children. A PARK, then. how sweet.
malia realizes she's turned into the park bench she'd landed on, a companion seated across from her clearly giving the illusion of being in conversation. their mouth is open, eyes intent on malia and she has the distinct feeling that they're only on the cusp of the scene. that just beyond, out and across the street would be nothing. like stepping off the peak of a waterfall, the way out was clear.
AND YET . . . it wasn't always, but malia tended to enjoy the dream's she was sent to. maybe not initially, and certainly not in nightmares, but if there was a pattern, then she'd found it. everybody talked more freely in their dreams. said things their lips couldn't form awake, and malia liked to think she provided something, even small or forgettable, to help for just a moment.
it's the familiarity with the dreamworld (and the knowledge they aren't real) that allows her to stand with confidence. heading in, rather than out, she follows the path. hard, cracked pavement twisting and bending around the wide expansive grass, the small playground, the couples using the fair weather for a picnic. malia can shift things in dreams, even those not her own, minimally, depending on the person, and she uses it often to walk without interruption. the gentle push, like a gust of wind to carry those walking the opposite direction slightly out of the way so that they don't bump, and she does so almost absentmindedly. easily, without thought. honed in more on the way the sun, even fake, felt warming her skin and the peaceful, happiness of the moment when she's suddenly, abruptly bumped into. a moment that hasn't happened since she was 11 and still trying to figure out how to use her powers advantageously. she's shocked, to say the least, mouth dropping open into a little 'o' and brows furrowed. " sorry! " she says, almost instinctively at the man across from her now. @overeve , HIS DREAM, then, if his decidedly unforgettable presence was any indicator, but even being his dream, malia should have still had some, if not a significant sway in the tempo of it. interesting. " got a bit lost in thought, it seems. " is all her scrambled mind could come up with.
