Dancing Fox In XII: Dance If You Want To

[Deathkeeper]

"Of course, we have established that Awake depends on who's talking. But yeah, I get it." he says, strolling through the hole in the tree.

[Recaiden]

"Very funny, Mist. Didn't you see how I said that with a lower-case letter?"
Through the tree, the dream probably changes, going a layer deeper into Mist's subconscious, where you get the dreams that you can't help but feel mean something.

"Keep an eye open for things that are out of place."

[Deathkeeper]

"No Cleo, I don't see your words. I don't remember that being how sound works." he grumbles.

The wood is left behind, leaving only the woods. Shapes move between the trees, and snow falls gently between some branches. Here and there, a knife sticks into the trunk of a tree.
"What's out of place in a dream?"

[Recaiden]

"Well, yeah, but it's reflected in the inflection and intonation. It's different when I say 'mist', 'Mist', 'MIST', and 'Miiist♥', right? Even if they're all just the word for your name."

Another shrug; she seems to do that a lot here.

"Lots of things, but one normally doesn't notice them, for they're dreams."

"Those are a bit unusual. The knives. But there's still lots of them. Is there one different one to find, maybe?"

Glimmering pairs of eyes watch the pair as they make their way.

[Deathkeeper]

Most of the knives are the same make, more or less. Iron or purified steel. A small Japanese kunai. A thin stiletto. A ritual athame. A curved dagger of Turkish make. A cinqueda. A parrying dagger. A bronze dirk at the base of one of the snowing trees.
Who knows if they hold the key?
"This place is kind of creepy." Familiar, though...

[Recaiden]

Cleo scurries over and picks up the bronze one.
"This one is good. Dreamt up some pure metal, that's never had a bit of iron in it."
She stops and looks at the gap it might have left in the woods. Is there a way through there?

"If it's creepy, its because you've seen or done or been creepy in the past, and it hasn't quite gotten out of your head."

[Deathkeeper]

"What's so special about that?" Mist asks. Can you even dream up metal?

As Cleo pulls out the blade, she might notice that it comes out far too easily for something stuck so far into back. It seems to cut through the wood very, very cleanly even if it doesn't seem razor sharp on its own.

On it is a few Japanese characters, the same as the ones Cleo might have noticed on Mist's flute if she's seen it.

[Recaiden]

"Didn't you notice? All the other ones were iron or steel? It's out-of-place."

Since it's so sharp, Cleo tries to use it to cut down that tree.
"Timber!"

"Here, you should take it, though."
Whatever happened with the tree, she'll hold it out to him, grip first.

[Deathkeeper]

The knives scours a brightly glowing slice in the tree. Mist looks at the knife and sighs, forcing himself to take his form with hands. He goes up to the tree and adds two more slices, creating a very enter-able glowing triangle.
"This work for you?" he asks her.

[Recaiden]

Cleo smirks and nods. "You probably didn't need to change shape. But I guess it is easier that way."

She slips through the triangular hole, paws grabbing the edges one after the other.
Deeper asleep. To the dreams that actually do mean something, that reach things outside oneself.

[Deathkeeper]

"But then I wouldn't have been able to keep bantering with you, and I'd miss that." he says as he follows Cleo.

Inside is...a party? Various animals mill about, all wearing hats and some with special-fitted clothes. Immediately upon their egress a young stag in a simple brown robe approaches them.
"Invitation, please?"

Puzzled, Mist, who is a fox again for some reason, drops the knife at the stag's hooves, since that's what got them there.
"Very well. Enjoy the party." it says before picking up the knife, flipping it up to hang in its antlers like a knife rack, and trotting away.
"Uhhh...?" says Mist, speechless.

[Recaiden]

"Is that what you're doing?"

It seems Cleo has been made into a cat, but still with her rayman limbs.
She's already run off to socialize with the other animals. Surely they can spare a little time to enjoy the party.

[Deathkeeper]

Mist hastily follows, cheerily looking about. There's an air to the place that just sort of enforces good spirits. It's a party for fuzzy animals. You're a fuzzy animal, why would you not be having fun?

A few stags mill about, carrying drinks and such on trays balanced on hooks attached to their antlers. It's not clear if they're servants or merely the ones hosting the party. There are a few deer wearing noble attire, so clearly they aren't all commoners.
Right now there are a few other cats walking around, plus a number of birds chatting among the branches. A hound, a stag, and a very large salamander, all wearing what appear to be priestly robes, are talking at one table. Many give a respectful nod or bow as the two approach. Or really, as Mist does, but who knows if that's picked up on.

There's also a wooden archway made of white branches off to the side that leads to another pavilion, but surely Cleo doesn't want to go so quickly, does she?

[Recaiden]

Well, that's why she had to be a cat. She wouldn't have been fuzzy otherwise.

The question is, does Mist want to go so soon?
As for Cleo, she greets the group in priestly robes.

That's a good idea, the hooks on the antlers for carrying things. She'll have to look into it.

"Is this part familiar, Mist?"

[Deathkeeper]

"Greetings, miss. You've arrived with the Prince, I see. We have so been waiting for him to visit more often. He's missed his father's phase of hosting and now the privilege has moved to the Duke. I'm sure it won't be an issue though, the old stag puts on an excellent time. He won't have missed out on too much in comparison." chatters the dog as Cleo greets the priests.
"Cleo, we shouldn't stay here too long. We can't have us run out of time, right? We can come back some other time, once we've gotten to the end." says Mist behind her, awkwardly giving a small return nod as the amphibian bows to him with a jovial smile.

[Recaiden]

Cleo nods to the one who announced that.
"So I have. I'll try to see that he comes by more often, but-"
She glances back at Mist with a put-upon look
"-we really should be going. Just passing through."

She heads towards the doorway to that other pavilion. Hopefully that's the way; at least it's out of the party.
"If we run out of time, well, yes, we wouldn't get anything done. Just wake up in the DFI again."

[Deathkeeper]

The priests give farewell bows as the pair leave. The air shimmers as Cleo enters the arch and into the next part of the dream...

...and into a pavilion, bright with heraldry. Three nobles sit in a semi-circle. A large great horned owl on a perch, a tabard draped over him. A sleek, handsome orange fox on a number of cushions and wearing a long purple robe and a small but obvious crown, and a massive stag in the center. Mist's dirk lays near the fox.

"Welcome, welcome! I must thank you for bringing my son here, Miss. I most woefully realized that I had perhaps overestimated his ability to get back here." says the fox genially. He waves her over with a paw. Mist opens his mouth, but his 'father' cuts him off.
"Please, introduce us. I was just talking about you two to the Duke and Lord Archibald here. We were thinking perhaps his skills were better suited towards his sort of thing. Think he'd do better as a stag?" says the fox, looking Mist over as he leans his head on a paw.
"No." says Mist resolutely. Leah's thing is for foxes! So he can't be anything else! "And you're not my father."
"Not yet. Was before. Semantics." says the fox, waving his free paw.

[Recaiden]

The last layer of dream before you start to get other places than dreams.

Cleo resumes her dragonly shape and gives a bow to the assembled nobles.

"The semantic differences, you know, are the important ones. Especially to those like your son. I think he's best as a fox."

[Deathkeeper]

"To-old you, you old fool! Can't expect a kit to act like a king before he's grown into his own tail." hoots the Owl Lord.
"A shame. I'm sure he'd have done well in my court. He seems to appreciate a fine point." rumbles the Stag Duke, with a small laugh.

"I suppose that's true. It doesn't really matter in the end." "He's not my father!" Mist protests.
"Oh do hush, boy. The adults are talking. Now, why exactly have you brought him here? We are happy to entertain a new guest but so rarely do they ever visit for simple pleasure." purrs the Fox King.

[Recaiden]

Cleo has to chuckle at that line.
"He could have been going to be one of your fathers, Mist."

She closes her eyes briefly as she gives the Fox King a smile.
"He wanted to learn enough about the fae to understand. I think that fine point there might have something to do with it also."

[Deathkeeper]

"Mm? Ah, well, this is the Royal Dirk. I certainly couldn't just give it away. Not to some fox who apparently isn't my son." says the Fox King, enjoying every second of this.
Mist rolls his eyes. "Just explain what the knife does."
"A dirk is a dagger, Mist. Please mind your blades. And the dirk is for cutting and stabbing things, obviously. That is what daggers are for. It is also one of the symbols of your power that I have been saving for you, since I had to make sure you grew into that coat a bit."

Mist narrows his eyes angrily. "You misled me with that coat."
"Yes, I did!" declares the fox. "And now you're far better off for it and actually handsome to boot. Wouldn't you agree, Miss?"

[Recaiden]

"It's part of one's shipboard armament. Didn't take you for a naval officer, Mist."

Cleo shakes her head.
"Well, I didn't know him before, but he's done well enough. Handsome, though? I wouldn't go for him even if I hadn't been asked not to."
She looks back to Mist curiously. "You remember this fox?"

[Deathkeeper]

"He gave me my fur coat for...what was it? Right. I saved his life. And then sent me on my way, didn't warn me about a snowstorm, and left me to walk into the Nexus. It was still cold with that coat, by the way." Mist says, remembering some details.

"Yes, hunters are so troublesome. Can't even take a stroll on a nice Sunday. And that is because you are a dragon, Miss, no offense. And also a cat. Among other things. It is perfectly understandable. Though I'm sure you've seen how he was before and can admit it was for the best." he tuts.

[Recaiden]

"Did he know about the snowstorm?"
Cleo tsks.
"I have to admit, that hardly sounds like a fair trade. I think you owe him at least his own dirk besides. Oh, well he may be a better fox than he is a human now, but that's hardly good evidence."

[Deathkeeper]

"It was his domain. He would have known." Mist growls.

"Oh, the dirk is his. I put his name on it and everything. He can have it whenever he wants it. I merely saved it until he could hold it properly.
And was it not a fair trade? He saved my body, so I gave him a better one, and some status to boot. It seems quite fair to me." the fox assures her.

[Recaiden]

Cleo leans back, lifting a pair of claws defensively.
"I wouldn't have known."

Another shake of her head.
"You presumably wanted your body, but I'm not sure he wanted the one he ended up with."

[Deathkeeper]

"I didn't make him a fox on the spot. I gave him the coat, told him it was very important, and he put it on of his own free will. It really isn't my concern if he didn't exactly grasp what it was that I had handed him. And besides, he could be his old self whenever he wanted. And I believe that is what he did for some time."

"How do you even know that?" Mist asks. The Fox merely gives him a smirk and a shushing gesture.

[Recaiden]

"And we can all tell you're a politician, yes."

Cleo rolls all her eyes.
"How do I know things I know, Mist? We get to see these things. Go on, take your dirk."
"I still hold, you know, that is wasn't a fair trade. But you can't be too pointedly blamed."
"Why, I have to ask, did you want him back here?"

[Deathkeeper]

"If in the end, he was truly unhappy, I would make amends. Of that, I do assure you." says the Fox.
"And I wanted him here because he'd never get his dagger if he didn't. Or anything else that would make him proper. Surely that's why you brought him here? To understand, and to be a bit more proper in the process?"

"Something like that." Mist mutters as he takes the dirk, which appears in a sheathe on his side, properly strapped and equipped. Can't have him holding it in his mouth when he needs to ask important questions.

[Recaiden]

"I suspect we would quibble over what it is to be 'truly unhappy'."

Cleo gives the Fox King a shrug and a smile that mean 'yes, that's why'.
"If he gets more proper, that might be entertaining. Maybe I brought him here just because I owe him a favor."
And maybe not.
"When is it next your turn to host again? We should be getting on our way soon, out into the world's dreamlands, in search of the way to propriety."