@wingedthorne | plotted starter
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 describe Penacony is simply 'A Lot'.
A lot of sound, a lot of light, a lot of people. All manner of people, from pepeshi to intellitrons to a great many other things Bronya hasn't yet gotten used to seeing. And yet it feels... empty, for some reason.
No. Superficial is the better word.
Perhaps it's because she knows that the premise of the place is a dream. A dream built by the people who run it for the people inside it. A dream that feels like, she comes to decide after a few hours, a con job. Oh, it's all a very well put together one. Respectable, clean, with rules that make it all seem very legitimate. But there's almost too many rules about certain things, and not enough- in her opinion- about others.
That the precise nature of the Dreamscape is so guarded makes her more suspicious still.
Unfortunately, she's not exactly here to deal with the questionable ethics or premise of the Dreamscape. Not like that at least. Instead she's here to investigate things separate from the other Nameless, under the guise of another's invitation. This is how she comes across Sunday, and this is how her troubles begin to mount. Because she hears each careful word for what it is- practiced platitudes to ease the worries of the masses with gentle half-truths- and what it isn't- any concrete reassurance that there is no danger whatsoever in the Dreamscape.
Of course, it turns out to be quite the opposite, which leads her to where she is now-
Tucked outside a door, to an office, after a conversation she's sure she shouldn't have heard. She should leave, of course, but she's sure there's no way to escape unseen at the moment. Not with those birds around. And so rather than retreat, Bronya chooses to attack- metaphorically, at least. Knocking gently at the door, she waits patiently on the other side, carefully going over what she's about to say. When the door opens, she looks up, smiles, and asks:
"I know you're terribly busy, Mister Sunday but... I'd like a word, if I may?" Her fingers dip into the pouch at her hip, withdraw an elegantly-folded envelope from within. "I have some very good tea from the Alliance to share, if you'll indulge me."
