I know the burning question on your mind. What happens when Mable enters the dreamscape while the sun is out? Nothing really. Her body just breaks into pieces and she has to painstakingly reconstruct her identity. I know, it sounds so anticlimactic, but I assure you, words do not do it justice.
"FOCUSMABLEFOCUS!" the fragmented identity screams at itself, else it can't hear over the sound of silence blaring from all angles. "YOUCANDOTHISYOUNEEDTODOTHIS!" It focuses the best it is able as it draws the pieces it knows to be part of the whole, that are scattered to the four winds.
For those not in the know, which pretty much covers everybody, let me describe for you what essentially has happened. Picture, if you will, heh heh, a wall with a single shadow on it. Got it in your head? Dark shadow, wall of indeterminate color, really it can be whatever hue you want it to be, it doesn't change the outcome of the experiment. But I digress.
Now, take a concentrated beam of light and focus it dead center on the shadowed projection. See how it breaks up the outline? That is essentially what has happened and all the bits and pieces have flown off of their own volition and are acting now as independent pieces of their own whole.
Do you get why this is so bad yet? Not only must the subject focus all of their mental ability just to find these pieces and absorb them, but also, they must destroy the life that would otherwise blossom into its own entity. This is nothing short of murder and for those who haven't a taste for it, it can be extremely difficult to cope with.
So too is it for Mable, or is it May Bell? Right now she can't tell the difference. Time has no meaning, every instant is felt and experienced as though it were all alone in the entirety of existence and they stretch as far as the boundaries will allow. Each instance passing as slowly as the breath of the dead.
"MOMMY," a voice chirps as it is absorbed. "MOMMYDON'TDOTHIS!" Another voice calls out, but is snuffed like the first. "MOMMYTHISISN'TRIGHT!" She pulls another into her. "DON'TYOULOVEUSMOMMY?!" the question is put to her, but it fares no better. "PLEASEMOMMYYOU'REHURTINGUS!" the declaration is given as she consumes yet another.
So, have you had enough? Yeah, let's skip the more grizzly details.
Mable is at last herself, no longer the subject, she is whole once again. She's flat on her knees, crying her eyes out. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," is all she can think to say as she bows over and over again. "I swore it would never happen again. I'm so sorry." She can't be certain how long it takes her to cry her eyes out, but at last she wrings every drop from her body.
She is an absolute mess of swollen eyes and dripping snot as she rises to her feet. She's unsteady at first, but quickly recovers her strength and is able to remain upright without difficulty. She flexes her hands and calls upon the power to manifest the sparkling dust that allows her to formulate anything she chooses.
She opts for a pair of glowing claws to provide both light and protection and uses the illumination to identify her surroundings. She's in a formless void, the place where dreams start, a location full of potential, but has not yet been refined to allow for any real shape or presence to peek from beneath.
As such, the dream walker allows for the world to twist and shape itself of its own volition as she cuts through like a needle pointing in the direction from which the essence of the sleeper is coming from. All around her things shift and refocus till there stands before her a tall spiral staircase along the walls of a rounded tower.
It has the feel of being part of a medieval castle, just the kind of place to rescue a damsel in distress. Though no one could ever accuse Marie of being helpless, not unless they wanted to walk funny, that is. But what is a castle and a princess without a cadre of knights to protect the fortress?
No sooner is the thought contrived than a whole host of armed and armored sentries break onto the scene from every which direction. They charge at her fully with pikes pointed directly at her as they close the distance. The light gleams off the points of their weapons to indicate just how foolish it would be to allow even a single one to penetrate.
Mable manifests a suit of loosely linked plate armor which falls around her body like a blind dropping from the window. Thus, is her outer person protected, but her inner body is still very much covered with only a thin layer of fabric to offer any kind of protection, which is to say none at all. Further, her head is also quite exposed, excepting for the mask and she's not willing to gamble its survival against dream weapons.
She allows her foes to draw near before dancing between the blades, as it were. She passes inside their defenses and swipes with her claws which tear asunder their armor as though made of paper. However, there is no blood, just an oozing of black sludge that drips onto the floor and becomes an obstacle she has to watch out for, a minor inconvenience.
She is constantly in motion, dodging the pikes and slashing her opponents to ribbons as they keep pushing forward despite the obvious disadvantage. This would normally be an issue for anyone else, constantly dealing with the continuous bombardment, but this dream warrior is well versed in her craft to the point of honing it into an art.
Soon, there are none left standing in her way as their pieces are all that remain, scattered across the field of battle and dripping with the more child friendly remains. Realizing that the claws no longer are necessary, she decides to allow them to dissipate into the sparkling dust that then climbs out the nearest window.
Mable looks upward and traces the spiral as it climbs ever higher to dizzying heights. All she can do is take them one step at a time and rely on her strength to carry her further. It's a good thing she has no fear of heights, or this ordeal might prove an insurmountable task and she would be incapable of proceeding on.
Since such is not the case, she's well on her way when yet another oddity presents itself. She stops in her tracks and just allows herself to feel for a moment. There is some sort of rumbling occurring just beneath her feet and as she props a hand against the stairwell's frame she comes to understand that the entirety of it is shaking.
She can't understand why it is vibrating, but she knows the answer does not lie in standing still. As such, she continues on and makes it to the top of the stairs where she is greeted by the source of the disturbance and it takes her several moments of unobstructed viewing to even piece together what it is.
It is chaotic, to say the least, with shifting parts and twisting light cutting through the gaps. To Mable it has the outline of a black house cat that is about the size of an elephant, give or take a few pounds. And it has spines going up and down its back with claws large enough to take hold of her entire person.
Oddly enough it's sleeping and while it dozes it is also purring which is the reason for the shaking as well as the association to a house cat. Right next to its curled body is a simple door that matches the medieval aesthetic and instinctively she knows that what she is after lies behind the simple obstacle next to the not so simple threat.
Mable takes a step forward with great caution as she observes every twitch and spasm that the feline exhibits. She is quite astute to all motion which is why it is so perplexing that she didn't see the swipe that took her off her feet and finds herself cradled within the paws with claws just inches from her person.
The oversized cat is still very much asleep and in its slumber has hold of the prey it is unaware to have caught hold of. All the same, it snuggles our heroine as though she were a cuddle toy and there is nothing she can do against its gargantuan strength. Like it or not, and she certainly doesn't, she's in it for the long haul.
Problem is, the dream walker doesn't have all the time in the world to deal with this adversary. She'd recovered well enough from being segmented by the light and now it is dark again, but daylight will have her splitting all over again. What's more, she has no idea what lies ahead of her and is unaware of how much time it will take to overcome the challenges.
She casts her sight to the more vulnerable throat which is bereft of plate or spine. But in order to access that weaker point, she needs to twist and turn her body without being eviscerated by the long angled nails that she's certain are sharper than they look. Either way, she's not keen on testing the edge of these weapons poised to take her skin off.
So, with the dexterity she has accrued through her exercises on display, she is just able to manipulate her body without drawing so near to the spears on the end of the paws so as to be too close for comfort. And it is from this perch that she is able to stretch out her hand and take hold of the long throat to do with as she pleases.
Mable takes a breath and starts rubbing the long esophagus and this causes the ginormous cat to relax yet further, but not slacken on its grip. The desired effect not taking hold, she reworks her strategy and adds scratches to the rubbing. This creates a slight irritation that is dealt with by throwing away its prize and scratching at the irritation.
The former cat toy quickly recovers from the expulsion and gathers herself so as to land with exceeding grace and keep well away from her cuddly enemy. All the while, approaching the door and keeping the massive beast in sight as it scratches at an itch that just won't seem to go away.
She is able to make it to the portal that will lead her out of the looming danger and slip inside before securely shutting it behind her. Once inside she takes a moment to look around. She's in another round room, but this one seems to be fashioned for a princess, complete with large balcony and far larger than it need be, four poster bed.
The traveler of dreams makes her way to the long, pink curtains that allow just enough light to see a figure in repose. She pulls back the slight obstruction and notes that the body is completely covered by the blanket which has been pulled over their head. In this manner is the identity hidden completely.
Mable is forced to climb onto the oversized platform and crawl her way to the top of the covering while she fights against the many curls to the bedsheet. An arduous task given the distance, she then takes hold of the edge and with a triumphant flair, pulls away the massive blanket, to the best of her ability, and finds… She simply cannot believe it.
"Simon?! Can you hear me Simon?!" Our heroine asks as she shakes the slumbering man who lies in place of Marie while pulling the mask from her face.
He doesn't stir.
The dream warrior tries a little harder, but he just snoozes still. She's at a loss when a curious thing happens.
"Are you serious Mable?" Marie's voice chides her. "This is as fairytale as it gets."
This confuses the bed explorer until it all clicks in her head. "You've gotta be kidding me," she declares aloud for no one in particular as she gazes upon her 'prize'. "Well, when in Rome…" She shrugs before leaning down and giving the sleeping man a kiss on the lips.
Simon opens his eyes and returns the gesture.
Mable is at a complete loss for words, but does not pull away. In this manner do they remain locked.
"I love you Mable," he breathes as he retreats slightly his lips long enough to speak.
Mable freezes completely. It is the first time either of them have uttered those three, powerful words. The only action she is capable of is to sit back on her heels and stare blankly.
Simon sits up as well. "What's wrong?" he queries and reaches out a hand to hers.
The life returns to Mable's eyes. "I love you too," she gushes and throws herself into his arms as a warm feeling permeates her person as she realizes she means those words spoken.
The sleeper returns the embrace with a further squeeze. "Oh, how I wish this were more than just a dream," he breathes into her ear and rubs her back.
These are the words that draw Mable out of her love coma. "Listen to me Simon," Mable starts in as she draws him to arm's length and looks deep in his eyes. "I need you to know that you are asleep right now."
"I know," he replies and leans forward again to taste her lips. "Ain't it great."
Mable feels herself drawn into the promise of such a wonderful expression of emotion. "Wait, Simon," she draws a halt to the magnetism and physically keeps him at a distance. "You need to understand that this is all just a dream that you will wake up from and everything will be alright."
"Are you so sure?" a voice from the past asks of her and it sends a chill right down her spine.
"Who was…" Simon starts to ask till he sees her face has gone as white as her mask.
"Master," Mable breathes and with the breath seems to go her entire self as she feels so weak she collapses into her paramour.
"Aw now, isn't that sweet," the voice carries on. "It seems you are enjoying my little diversion. Should I leave the two of you alone? Oh wait, this isn't that kind of story."
"Mable. Mable listen to me," the dreaming man pleads with her as he holds her tight and speaks directly into her ear.
"I don't, I can't," the dream warrior stumbles all over herself as she tries to find the courage just to stand up.
What can't be seen is the fight forming inside her mind. Once again she is little more than a girl being pressed against an unyielding rock while the manifestation of all her nightmares closes in upon her.
"Mable, don't do this to me," Simon pleads with her as he gently pushes her to a sitting position. "I don't know what I'm doing and you're scaring the hell out of me." He looks into her eyes, but they are devoid of all life.
"She can't hear you," Master speaks now directly to the other participant.
"Yes she can!" Simon fires back without even knowing what it is he's insisting and gives a shake to the woman who will not respond. "I know she can."
The little girl can't hear him, nor can she see him. She isn't even able to move. She is as good as dead. Only one thing saved her last time, and she is no more.
"Please forgive me Mable," Simon asks of the nearly catatonic woman as he reels back and slaps her across the face.
A bright light explodes and consumes the entirety of the dark world that the little girl is unable to escape from. The woman closes her eyes and opens them once again. All she can do is cry as she surrenders herself to the man she cares about.
Simon takes her in his arms. "It's okay," he speaks softly to her and pats her back. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"Tick tock little May Bell," Master chides. "It's only a few more hours till daybreak."
The dream walker goes stiff and snaps her head toward the open balcony. "My name is Mable!" she shouts aloud with tear stained face.
"There she is," Master acknowledges the fire he set in her. "There's the warrior who would do battle with me. Tell you what, I'll leave you be and you can take however much time you like. Me and Marie, that is Marie and I will just sit here and wait for you."
There is nothing but the howling of the wind.