[Ronan looks down, watching the water rise. He's unconcerned. Curious, if anything. If it were him, this could be the start of a nightmare. But Hange seems to be enjoying herself.]
[she does seem to be enjoying herself, very much. Hange laughs as the water rises, then her expression settles into a mouth-open smile. Somehow it’s the look of a dog having a great time hanging its head out the car window.]
Ronan, come on!
[the water is about twenty feet below them now. Hange drops into it feet-first.]
[Ronan dives. There's an odd, weightless grace to him, like a petal in the wind. When he hits the water, it doesn't make a sound. He's less giddy about all this, obviously, but he doesn't mind indulging her. He's mostly a passenger here, anyway.]
[Ticklish bubbles spray around them both at the plunge. The water pushes them both to the surface very quickly, though - not much time to lose their breath at all. Immediately they're swept up in the current, bumping against trees and spinning with the wave motion. There's a deep liveliness to this water, a rough-and-tumble sense of play. It's not being careful with them, but it's playful, not mean, like being jostled like a pack of dogs. They're swept out to sea in a few minutes, water spreading behind and before, the sky still depthless black.
Which is not right. Hange paints it blue with a thought, fills it with clouds with a thought. The clouds are more fun when they're stained yellow and pink. There should be a sun if it's so light out. With the thought there is a sun, high up in the sky and veiled behind cloud one moment, shining down on them the next. Hange kicks to keep her head above water, but it's not trying to hold them down, and shrieks happily again. This is fun.]
[It is fun. Ronan enjoys the ride, though he can never fully relax when he's in someone else's mind. The danger might be imagined, but it feels very easy to lose himself in another's thoughts, to be like most dreams and vanish from memory.]
Did you forget why we're here?
[Ronan's floating on his back, on the surface of the water, arms folded behind his head as if he's laying across cushions instead of waves.]
[In his physical body, he would squirm and grimace if she clung to him like this. But here in the dream, he's pliant, remaining in her arms simply because she wants him there.]
Yeah. But you have to focus on what you want or you won't be able to take it with you. And the more you're thinking about other shit, the more likely you'll take the wrong thing.
It'll function however you want it to function. It doesn't even have to look like a spaceship. Everything about it will be exactly what you want it to be, as long as you can hold onto the idea of it and not let the fear in.
[Ronan is standing. He wasn't, a second ago, but now he is, because she wanted him to. Whatever process led to this change in position went unnoticed by both of them.]
The thing you want is already here somewhere, and it wants you to find it, so you just have to look for it. Sometimes I have to dig for it. Sometimes I just trip over it. Sometimes I put my hand out and focus on the texture of it, and the more I touch it, the more solid it becomes. When you told me you wanted me to make this for you, you had something in your mind about what it would be. Find that again.
So it could appear all of a piece... without me having to do any work at all?
[That's so unfathomable. So unfathomable, in fact, that since this act of creation relies on the power of belief, Hange will definitely have to do some work.]
And this... your dreams, some of them, are people. Will this be a person?
[Hange frowns, looking frustrated. It's a safe, inwardly-directed frustration, exasperation with herself, the limitations of her vision. She has to see it clear somehow. That's a familiar feeling.]
Perhaps... let's go to the place where I worked.
[she raises her arms slowly. Hange has spent so much time in her lab the details are clear in her memory, though she hasn't been there for near a year. First the walls rise up around them. The roof grinds into place over their head. Bookshelves stretch out of the walls and there's a chorus of rustles, rustles like wings, as books bump and jostle into place like birds. A table rises in front of them and a microscope clicks down on its four little metal legs. Glassware shines in the dimness. There's a hand-cranked centrifuge tucked in a corner, an apparatus to create a vacuum using foot pedals. A map flutters on the wall. There's a table covered with empty, tea-stained teacups, a carafe of tea that once was hot drops down. The air dries and then becomes fragrant with the scent of old hay. There are no windows but the ceiling is high above them. The place is pretty clearly a repurposed barn. A sad-looking pitcher of flowers sits next to the teacups. Off to the side there's a tall pot with oozes down the side and a ladle sticking out of it. Soup, apparently. There's a wide space in front of the table, with nothing at all in it. That's new. Hange drops her hands to her sides and sighs, contentedly, eyes opening very wide and gleaming.]
[Ronan stands beside her, regarding the new space with a detached sort of wariness. He doesn't care for laboratories, even the sort that can be found in barns. His father's workshop was more of an art studio crossed with a library crossed with a museum, a place of reflection and creation. When Ronan thinks of science, it conjures the very opposite image: taking things apart.
But if this is where Hange prefers to work, so be it. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the table.]
I've drawn so many plans in here... studied so much... made prototypes... maybe that will help.
[Hange hops up to sit on the table, and then shuffles around so she's sitting cross-legged, elbows resting on her knees, fingers entwined, hands clasped in front of her face. She hunches forward and sits and thinks, and thinks. The light in the lab is buttery and golden somehow, even though there's no sun. Something shifts in the air in front of them like an oblong ghost and is gone in an instant.]
[Ronan shrugs and pushes off, crossing to the tea set. He's not particularly thirsty, on account of being an incorporeal idea floating around in her head, but since she invited him, he pours a cup for himself and a cup for Hange.
He returns to the table with both, setting one in front of her.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Ronan, come on!
[the water is about twenty feet below them now. Hange drops into it feet-first.]
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Which is not right. Hange paints it blue with a thought, fills it with clouds with a thought. The clouds are more fun when they're stained yellow and pink. There should be a sun if it's so light out. With the thought there is a sun, high up in the sky and veiled behind cloud one moment, shining down on them the next. Hange kicks to keep her head above water, but it's not trying to hold them down, and shrieks happily again. This is fun.]
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Did you forget why we're here?
[Ronan's floating on his back, on the surface of the water, arms folded behind his head as if he's laying across cushions instead of waves.]
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[Yes, she did. An errant current spins Hange closer; she bumps against Ronan and then clings to him, so they can talk.]
Aren't you enjoying yourself?
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Yeah. But you have to focus on what you want or you won't be able to take it with you. And the more you're thinking about other shit, the more likely you'll take the wrong thing.
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What were we looking for again?
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[Hange was the one who requested it. Don't ask him.]
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[The current lets up. They drift aimlessly, the sun beating down on both their heads.]
An isolated area in which to conduct... experiments... a space ship...
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[Definitely not his area of expertise.]
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[Hange frowns. The water bobs them up and down. This poses a problem...]
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[Because that's how nightmares happen.]
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Hmm. This is a very big idea, isn't it? And what about you? Are you afraid?
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[Though it would be pretty unpleasant if this devolved into a nightmare. He's experiencing every sensation and emotion she feels, after all.]
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[She sounds pretty definitive about this. The water drains enough that Hange's feet (she's floating vertically) touch the ground.]
You should stand. This is almost gone.
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This will probably be easy for you, then.
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[Hange releases him and moves back a bit, rubbing her hands together. She's been doing this, but now she's overthinking it and getting all antsy.]
It seems like such a large thing to think of... trees and oceans are easy in comparison...
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[That's so unfathomable. So unfathomable, in fact, that since this act of creation relies on the power of belief, Hange will definitely have to do some work.]
And this... your dreams, some of them, are people. Will this be a person?
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I don't know.
[That's up to her. It's her dream.]
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[Hange frowns, looking frustrated. It's a safe, inwardly-directed frustration, exasperation with herself, the limitations of her vision. She has to see it clear somehow. That's a familiar feeling.]
Perhaps... let's go to the place where I worked.
[she raises her arms slowly. Hange has spent so much time in her lab the details are clear in her memory, though she hasn't been there for near a year. First the walls rise up around them. The roof grinds into place over their head. Bookshelves stretch out of the walls and there's a chorus of rustles, rustles like wings, as books bump and jostle into place like birds. A table rises in front of them and a microscope clicks down on its four little metal legs. Glassware shines in the dimness. There's a hand-cranked centrifuge tucked in a corner, an apparatus to create a vacuum using foot pedals. A map flutters on the wall. There's a table covered with empty, tea-stained teacups, a carafe of tea that once was hot drops down. The air dries and then becomes fragrant with the scent of old hay. There are no windows but the ceiling is high above them. The place is pretty clearly a repurposed barn. A sad-looking pitcher of flowers sits next to the teacups. Off to the side there's a tall pot with oozes down the side and a ladle sticking out of it. Soup, apparently. There's a wide space in front of the table, with nothing at all in it. That's new. Hange drops her hands to her sides and sighs, contentedly, eyes opening very wide and gleaming.]
It's been so long!
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But if this is where Hange prefers to work, so be it. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the table.]
Are you building it here?
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[Hange hops up to sit on the table, and then shuffles around so she's sitting cross-legged, elbows resting on her knees, fingers entwined, hands clasped in front of her face. She hunches forward and sits and thinks, and thinks. The light in the lab is buttery and golden somehow, even though there's no sun. Something shifts in the air in front of them like an oblong ghost and is gone in an instant.]
Have some tea, if you want.
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He returns to the table with both, setting one in front of her.]
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