Fates Supports/Dwyer Mitama
Dwyer: Well, that's that. Walked a half-dozen feet. Time for nap.
Mitama: Sleep interrupted. / The slumbering volcano. / Ready to explode.
Dwyer: Oh, sorry to trip over you, Mitama. Were you sleeping there?
Mitama: I have napping rights to this spot. Move along—or else.
Dwyer: You don't have any such rights. This is a public space. And please, spare me your haiku temper tantrums.
Mitama: The lava bubbles. / The volcano will explode. / The fool doesn't run.
Dwyer: I refuse to be baited into a haiku battle. I just want to take a nap here!
Mitama: Lava splatters him. / The volcano blows its top. / Still the fool stays put.
Dwyer: Oh, fine. I'll leave if only to stop the pain of your dreadful poetry.
Dwyer: I just want to sleep. I thought you of all people would understand that.
Mitama: I was sleeping until you came along.
Dwyer: I said I was sorry. I'll just go sleep right over there.
Mitama: The volcano fumes. / It demands a sacrifice. / That pillow you hold.
Dwyer: You must be joking. This is my favorite nap-time pillow!
Mitama: Give it to me, Dwyer, or I swear that you'll never wake from that nap.
Dwyer: Ha. A direct threat? Have your powers of poetic persuasion failed you? Fine, here. My pillow.
Mitama: You may pass. Vanish from my sight. Take your nap elsewhere.
Dwyer: You have crossed a line today, Mitama. One that cannot be uncrossed.
Dwyer: Hello? Injured people? You here? Huh. I'm either too late or in the wrong place.
Mitama: What you are doing here, Dwyer?
Dwyer: I could ask you the same.
Mitama: I heard there were people here who needed healing. Though I was walking in dream, sleeping peacefully, I couldn't say no to healing.
Dwyer: Well, you're too late. I got here first. You can leave.
Mitama: You came for this? You have a reputation for giving less a damn than I.
Dwyer: I was ordered to come. I can't turn down a direct command.
Mitama: You can in the future. I will tend to the wounded while you can slack.
Dwyer: No, you can sleep while I work. Like now. Go away.
Mitama: Two healers enter / Both of us seeking patients / I lose my patience.
Dwyer: That wasn't half-bad.
Mitama: I may have arrived last, Dwyer, but I am best suited for healing the injured. Now, exactly where are these poor, wounded souls?
Dwyer: Oh, there's one. We're practically standing on him. So much for bedside manner.
Mitama: Hmm, yes. Right there. Now leave this all to me, Dwyer.
Dwyer: Aren't two healers better than one?
Mitama: Not when one is you.
Dwyer: Oh, fine. Get to healing, or else our patient will slip away.
Mitama: Stand off—and watch how it's done.
Dwyer: You're not half-bad at this either.
Mitama: I'm half-good times two.
Dwyer: Was that math poetry? Well, I'll just find more wounded to tend to. Oh, look. There's another body.
Mitama: Your turn.
Dwyer: All right, Mitama. Thanks. You're not half-bad.
Mitama: Yes, you've said that thrice. You'd make a terrible poet.
Dwyer: Let's get everyone here healed up so we can get back to our naps.
Mitama: Now that is poetry to my ears.
Dwyer: Huh, it's Mitama. She really can sleep just about anywhere. Hey, Mitama. You asleep?
Dwyer: That's a pretty comfy-looking pile of hay you found to sleep on. Mind if I rake half of it over there? Out of snoring distance, of course.
Mitama: Sleep interrupted / The slumbering volcano / Ready to explode.
Dwyer: Yes, yes. Volcano haiku. Didn't you unleash that one on me before? Anyway, you were awake.
Mitama: No I wasn't. You woke me.
Mitama: The volcano fumes / It demands a sacrifice / Five hundred croissants. I will expect them to be freshly baked and hot from the oven, Dwyer. Why did you wake me?
Dwyer: More people need healing.
Mitama: Oh. Why didn't you just say so? Let's make haste.
(fade to black)
Dwyer: Well, we've healed them all up, Mitama. I think? Yes.
Mitama: Then I'll be off, back to my lovely hay pile of sweet dreams.
Dwyer: Er, Mitama? I brought this for you. Here, it's yours.
Mitama: A blanket?
Dwyer: A quilt. I sewed it. And stitched all the haiku I've heard you say on it too.
Mitama: You did what?
Dwyer: I can't quite match your calligraphy, not with a needle and thread.
Mitama: Patchwork of poems / Scraps of the best intentions / Sewn with love and care.
Dwyer: I did my best.
Dwyer: I thought a haiku quilt might make your dreams all the more sweet. Besides, I knew if I woke you, you'd demand a sacrifice. Easier than baking you five hundred croissants, anyway.
Mitama: Sacrifice accepted. I mean...thank you. This quilt grants you permission to wake me up at any and all times in the future.
Dwyer: I'll keep that in mind.
Mitama: Yes, do.
Dwyer: Mitama? You can't sleep here. Vermin abound.
Mitama: Zzzzz...the heat...zzzzz...the sizzle... Dwyer, Dwyer, Dwyer...
Dwyer: Wake up, Mitama.
Mitama: *snork* Whuh? Why are you here?
Dwyer: You summoned me.
Mitama: But...I didn't!
Dwyer: I just heard you: "Dwyer, Dwyer, Dwyer..."
Mitama: The volcano wakes / But why won't my lava gush? / This time it's a blush. Well, what else did I say?
Dwyer: You muttered something about heat and sizzling—then my name, over and over.
Mitama: I was dreaming that you were standing at the edge of a volcano.
Mitama: Being sacrificed.
Dwyer: To you, the volcano. I'm comfortable with that. Anyway, moving on... I'm not sure you should be sleeping any old place around here.
Mitama: Why not?
Dwyer: I saw a rat scurry over your foot as you slept, Mitama.
Mitama: It did? That must be lucky.
Dwyer: No, it's disgusting. And what if it hadn't been a rat—maybe a bear?
Mitama: But I must sleep when the urge to nap moves me.
Dwyer: Well, I have a bunk bed. Don't worry. It's all on the up and up. That is, it's all very decent. You could choose the up—or down—bunk.
Mitama: That's nice, Dwyer.
Dwyer: Anyway, I'm just saying don't sleep in disgusting places with vermin.
Mitama: I'll sleep where I like.
Dwyer: You really must think of your safety.
Mitama: Some have called you a vermin.
Dwyer: Oh. Have they really?
Mitama: Besides, if we bunk together and you fall asleep, what good does that do? A rat could scurry there as well as here.
Dwyer: I won't fall asleep then.
Mitama: My snore is soothing.
Dwyer: I'll pinch my leg to stay awake.
Mitama: You'd pinch yourself all night long, week after week, month after month?
Dwyer: To keep you from rats? Yes.
Mitama: That's dedication. Or perhaps it's... devotion?
Dwyer: Tomato, tomato.
Mitama: What? You said it the same way twice. To-MAY-toe, to-MAH-toe. That's how you say that, Dwyer.
Dwyer: Oh, all right. You want a confession of my affections? Fine. My heart has been seared by standing too near the volcano that is you, Mitama.
Mitama: Now you're speaking my language, Dwyer. And, by the way...? I love you too.