seeorseem | (no subject)

It's been a long time since Eames had to be the subject of a dream. He's been very good to avoid it, given that his subconscious often gives too much of him away without his intentions there (that is, after all, why they call it a subconscious), but in order to properly show Mystique the dreamspace, he's allowed her to be the architect. That said, the moment they hit the dream and the PASIV was working away, Eames had hit the ground running, rearranging his body and his voice and his core balance to become a lovely little blonde number that the hotel had seen fit to introduce to him.

He's honestly beginning to believe the Nexus is his crash course in the minutia of perfect forgery (though not perfect, never perfect. It always helps to have some flaws).

Now, though, he's sitting in a little chair with a drink as he waits for Mystique to find him in the dream, wondering if she'll be able to pick Eames out. If not, then he's more than patient and can wait until she comes around before engaging and seeing what fun someone who can shift in real life can have when there are no rules at all.

Threaded | Flat

Only the prospect of an experience a world away from any she had yet experience could have coaxed her into offering up her arm to a set of twin needles, no matter how small and unobtrusive the device Eames had offered up had been. Dabbling in tinctures and alcohols and tastes of drugs here and there on her travels had been one thing, a concept apart from more medical-based thoughts of needles and of willingly relinquishing her consciousness in the room with someone who was not a trusted lover or the brother she had left behind.

The doseage of the sedative had been something else entirely, although her metabolism while at rest still burned a touch faster than her human equivalent would have, Mystique was left calculating that as long as she did not shift bodily while unconscious, there should be no undue complication. Still, she had tensed as the needles had slid into place and had to take a purposefully calm breath in and out as she lay back on the couch provided.

The world that rose around her as she opened her eyes again was at once like and unlike any she had seen before. There were hints of Paris' Latin Quarter in the winding streets she built around herself. Hints of Berlin just along the wall on the Eastern, decrepit and iron-rust side of the city in the streets beneath her feet. Manila for the scent in the air. Rome for the people who moved around her in the hot summer sun as she stepped out from the corner of one street in search of Eames.

How a place could exist in his subconscious that she built, she did not quite understand. It seemed too much the realm of Charles to think on comfortably, but as she wound her way through the moving crowd for a cafe that stood at the end of the boulevard, Mystique was too fascinated to concern herself with the regrets the memory of him might hold. Instead she focused on the feel of the wall beneath her fingertips as she reached out to touch one in passing, the feel of the ground beneath her heels as she shifted into something a bit more...Sophia Loren in the wide brim of her sunhat and the sunglasses she wore perched on her nose. The shift was unlike anything in reality, too featherlight smooth but at once a touch more difficult than the instinctive step from one form to another as she knew it. She pressed further as she stepped up to the cafe, losing her jeans for a dress that swept about her knees, but did not trade her physical form for another. Not yet.

That she doesn't yet know which of those around her is Eames is a challenge that's all too appealing, her quick inspection of the people milling about seeing her discard one after another as simply feeling too otherwise occupied. She's looking for someone who is waiting she knows. Someone like- ah.

If she's smiling then, it's in a grain of triumph, sliding into the seat across from the sleek little blonde number and hooking her knees over one arm of the chair to lean back against the other. "Well, I can't fault your taste."