applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo gothic halloween party_zpshzlnzwra.jpg


This might not be the first time a given dreamer has found themselves at a fancy party in a large mansion, and dressed in something they wouldn't typically wear. If the architecture is more gothic than usual, well, that could just be a coincidence… but it's probably no coincidence that the dreamers are all wearing Halloween costumes that they decidedly did not pick themselves. 'Tis the season! They might look fancy, they might look slapdash; either way, it shouldn't be too difficult for the dreamers to figure out who - or what - they're supposed to be.

The evening's festivities are centered around a grand ballroom. Music is emanating from somewhere or other, and numerous chandeliers are aglow with warm candlelight. Tables line the perimeter, and they're piled with seasonal snacks and bowls of punch. If dancing isn't your thing, there's a whole mansion and extensive grounds to explore.

Those who venture forth will notice that the farther they wander from the party, the less friendly things seem. Tidy rooms with fires in the hearths will give way to dark, dusty corridors and neglected spaces. Manicured lawns grow into tangled hedges. As the music fades out of earshot, the house's settling groans and the hiss of the wind through the ivy will be impossible to ignore.

(It was just the house, wasn't it? Sure it was. It was probably your own footsteps that made that floorboard creak, too. And that rustle on the other side of the hedge was just a rabbit.)

All things considered, it might be more comfortable to just stay in the ballroom, where it's warm and cheerful and there are plenty of snacks. A note about the snacks, though: the dreamers will find that the more punch they consume, the more their own identities seem to fade away in favor of a persona more in line with their costumes. A dreamer dressed as a tiger might find themselves inclined to hide behind a curtain and pounce on passersby. A dreamer dressed as a mummy might adopt a stiff-legged gait and dole out a curse or two. A dreamer dressed as a robot might start speaking binary.

At least no one will actually turn into anything. That would just be embarrassing.

The good news is that eating any of the available food will counteract the punch's effects, so it's possible to have a fine time and still keep ahold of yourself. But what's the fun in that?


[ooc: the usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome, whether they've been apped to the game or not. Characters can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Any punch-drinking dreamers will take on the personality characteristics - and potentially the magical/supernatural capabilities - of whatever or whoever they're dressed as, though their physical appearance will remain the same.]
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo cropped-broadcast-room-panel_zpsapyqar5j.jpg


Here's an interesting scene: the dreamers of Manhattan are on a pirate ship. Or perhaps they're standing in a busy ER, wearing scrubs and holding a scalpel they may or may not know how to use. Or perhaps they've found themselves in the middle of a world cup championship game, or an old-fashioned highway robbery, or an interstellar dogfight, or a dramatic, 'unscripted' showdown between arguably attractive people they've never seen before in their lives.

Whatever the situation, rest assured: it probably won't last long.

Maybe the Rift is bored. That might explain why the dream keeps changing, as if someone were idly flicking through the channels and switching up the genre. The poor dreamers are just along for the ride, the only constant amidst a shifting array of scenery, clothing, and overall mood. Perhaps, if things are sufficiently interesting, the dream might settle a little to see how things play out. But given the Rift's definition of 'interesting,' that might not be a good thing for whoever is providing the entertainment.

[OOC: the usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome, regardless of whether they're in the game or not. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Dreamers' clothes may change to reflect whatever scene they're in, but their memories and personalities will remain intact... though the overall mood of the setting might influence their mood, as well. Feel free to throw NPCs into whatever scene you find yourself in, with bonus points added if said characters treat the dreamers as if they're established parts of the 'canon.']
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo formal gardens rp_zpsmcfczhgw.png


Dreamers of Manhattan, you've lucked out. Rather than finding yourselves in some kind of dystopian nightmare, you'll end up in a series of formal gardens on a lovely day, the air filled with birdsong and a cloud-scattered sky arching overhead. Some of the gardens look a bit wilder than others, in an artful sort of way, but it's clear that all of the gardens are well kept and frequently tended. Aside from each other, dreamers aren't likely to run into any creature larger than a rabbit. True, there are no actual exits - every doorway or arbor leads to another garden - but that's hardly a problem. It's beautiful, it's safe... what could go wrong?

Well, that depends on the dreamer's honesty. No uncomfortable truths will drop unbidden from anyone's mouths like last time, but the dreamers will find that any time they attempt to lie or prevaricate, they'll be beset by a sneezing fit. A tiny lie by omission might only prompt that uncomfortable feeling of an impending sneeze; a larger, more significant (or more stubborn) fib will lead to a sneeze attack so crippling that the dreamer might just need to sit down for a minute.

You could try to pass it off as allergies, if you could get the words out without making everything worse. But while telling the truth is not compulsory, lying is punishable - and pretty well obscured - by sneezes.

[OOC: Usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome to participate regardless of whether they've been apped in the game or not. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion.]
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo zombie dream party_zpsbb0hfksu.jpg


The city has been abandoned.

Its infrastructure has been slowly deteriorating for quite some time, now. Traffic has long since ground to a permanent halt, taxis and trucks rusting by the curbs or abandoned mid-intersection. Most of the ground-floor windows have been shattered. Electricity is spotty, if it can be found at all. The eerie silence is broken only by the wind, the calls of crows, or the gentle collapse of some structure or other. And, of course, the occasional screams.

The city has been abandoned, but it is not empty.

What caused the various outbreaks hardly matters. Viral infection, fungal infection, some new or ancient bacterium suddenly released into the general populace - who knows? What does matter is that the city has become home to thousands if zombies, some slow, some fast, some mindless, some retaining a savage kind of intelligence. And they are all so, so hungry.

There are weapons to be found or improvised, and places to hide if you're lucky enough to come across someplace well-fortified and otherwise empty. Others have clearly had the same idea, leaving hastily constructed barricades in some places. You might even take those as a blessing, if the conspicuous absence of the original builders doesn't bother you. They're probably living on a nice farm somewhere.

One thing is certain: if you don't want to succumb to whatever plagues have ravaged this place, you will have to fight for your survival.

[OOC: usual dream party rules apply; all are welcome to participate, and characters can remember or forget at the players' discretion. Also, usual zombie rules apply: if you get bitten, you'll be turned into the sort of zombie that bit you. Whether your characters deal with comically dim shamblers or the terrifying sprinty variety is up to you.

Finally, let's just go ahead and say tw: violence and gore for the post as a whole, because it's gonna get messy, folks.]
deadeyedchild: did you know who it was (this wasn't supposed to happen)
[personal profile] deadeyedchild
He is awake.

He doesn't have a body, and he remembers dying - again - he remembers slipping out, Tim unable to keep him there in spite of his hardened insistence that he wasn't going to let it happen, he remembers all of that, but he can't account for himself now. All he knows is he's awake.

Jay clings to that awareness as hard as he can. He doesn't know where he is, if it's a where at all, if he's alive or if this is just the suspension of afterlife, but he's still conscious, he's still him. Formless and adrift in the void. No arms to reach, no hands to grasp, but he tries, tries to stretch out fingers and hold onto something, even if it's just the continued knowledge of self, of me, Jay, I am Jay Merrick, and no one is going to miss me.

Even as an abstraction he can't escape his bent toward bleak self-deprecation.

There's something pulling at him - or maybe he's the one pulling, hauling himself into a defined space, someone else's space, still abstract, but not formless. He knows this sensation. A dream. He's dreaming. Or someone else is dreaming. He's just a stowaway.

Easier to hold a shape in a dream, though, and it doesn't take long before the memory of a body fills in the gaps, and there he is again, eyes that see, senses more or less intact - looking down at his arms, his hands, his legs and feet. Hand over his face and through his hair. All here. One piece.

He looks up, focus drawn naturally to the dreamer.


[Jay is free-falling through the dreaming, and if you want, he can get scooped up into your dream! The 21st is the current IG date at the time of post, but feel free to date your entry later as that changes. Will add a closing date at some point, when I have that figured out.]
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo treehouse banner 02_zpsauguouyv.jpg

Don't worry, dreamers of Manhattan. There will be no humiliating episodes of sudden-onset-clumsiness tonight - at least, nothing more severe than what you might experience naturally. Your physical and mental faculties will be left perfectly intact. What a treat! And what luck, because if you do lose your footing, it's a long way down to the forest floor.

But hey, who wants to be on the boring old ground when there are so many wonderful treehouses to explore? There are dozens of them spread throughout the surrounding forest, connected by a series of bridges and catwalks (some, admittedly, a bit more stable than others). It's easy to forget - or fail to notice - that there really is no easy or conventional way down to the ground when you're surrounded by such splendor.

The houses' styles range from charming and rustic to modern and sleek, with many falling somewhere in between. There are viewing platforms for bird-watching or simply taking in the scenery (trees, mostly, though if you venture high enough, you'll be treated the sight of the forest canopy stretched across a valley far below). But the insides of the treehouses are comfortably furnished to varying degrees as well, so there's no need to immerse yourself in nature if you'd really rather not. Some are complete houses in their own right, with all the amenities of a Manhattan apartment and then some.

Go for a climb, or kick back and relax. The only enemies you'll find here are other dreamers... and, potentially, gravity.
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
Has this ever happened to you?

All you're trying to do is have an uneventful night's sleep, but you find yourself in a sprawling labyrinth of interconnected rooms, each one a transplant from a bland, suburban home. You search and search for an exit, but just can't seem to find one! And even if you could - where did you park your car?

Oh, no! You're trapped in another dream event!

No matter what you do, everything just seems to turn out wrong. Open a cabinet - tupperware avalanche! Attempt to pour yourself a drink - disaster! No bowl of cheetos is safe from your sudden, embarrassing clumsiness! It's as if you can't do any simple task without it going horribly awry! What a mess!

That's right, dreamers: you're stuck in the desaturated Before Times of every terrible infomercial you've ever seen, and life is a sisyphean struggle.

 photo anigif_enhanced-buzz-31658-1352416027-1_zps41t0zihg.gif


[OOC: Standard dream party rules apply: all are welcome regardless of their membership in the game, and characters can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Backtag forever.]
bluesuit_handy: (.misc | sneaky)
[personal profile] bluesuit_handy
Andrew is terribly, terribly alone.

He's also terribly, terribly naked. An enormous horizontal scar lines the bottom of his belly, bigger than it can possibly be in his real, waking life, but it doesn't occur to him to wonder why he's up and about or why it's not hurting him at the moment. Also unexplained is why he finds himself outside the ROMAC base, away from James and the rooms that have become their home, away from the medical wing from which he's only recently been discharged and where his tiny, premature children remain.

He's trying to find his way back there now, dreading being sucked back into that microcosm of white hallways and too-vigilant officials and dreading the possibility that he may not be able to get back in and get back to his family. He's in entirely the wrong place, wandering labyrinthine pathways darkened by overhanging trees that never seem to lead him out of the dusk-darkening park and back to the skyscrapers he can occasionally glimpse above the treeline. He moves furtively from one scrap of cover to another, pale skin standing out in the dim light.

A sound sends Andrew scurrying off the path and diving behind a handy boulder just a moment too late not to be seen. A moment later the top of his head pokes back up from the impromptu hiding spot, and Andrew stares at the newcomer with an air of mixed embarrassment at being seen this way and affront at the intrusion. "Ah," he says, knowing he's been spotted. "Hello."
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo dream party visual_zpsua3sjlqf.jpg



Hello, dreamers of Manhattan. The Rift knows that things have been kind of rough, lately. The last dream didn't go as well as it had hoped. Consider this an apology of sorts, and a hearkening back to the good times you've shared.

It's a grand old (and potentially familiar) cabin house that the dreamers will find themselves wandering. The furniture is plentiful and comfortable, the floors are strewn with cushions and blankets, and there are cheerful fires burning in the grates. It seems a little odd that the house still manages to be on the chilly side despite looking so warm, yet it is.

Oh, well. You'll just have to find another dreamer or two and spoon up and fall asleep like little baby cats get cozy. It shouldn't be difficult; most of the dreamers (excepting those with strong telepathic defenses or deeply ingrained cuddle-averse personalities) will find themselves feeling friendlier than usual, along with an almost overwhelming desire to snuggle up to someone. How convenient that the house seems designed for that very purpose!

And if some of the cushions are Hello Kitty themed, well, that's just coincidence.


[OOC: Standard dream party rules apply. Characters will be affected by the dream-whammy to whatever degree makes the most sense for them, and will remember or forget the events of the dream at the player's discretion. Backtag into infinity.]
peacefulexplorer: (Flashback | Abydos | Ascended)
[personal profile] peacefulexplorer
He knows it is a dream when he opens his eyes and breathes the air, hot and dry and granular, and closes his eyes again to the blazing familiarity of the suns that shower him with photons in duplicate. He knows the spread of alien sand in its spectrum of oranges and yellows and golds, the watery white cast of the cloudless sky, the trails of dust that hiss over his clothes and his hands and his face and the unkempt fringe of his hair that is long like it was years ago, in every rush of arid wind.

He knows it is a dream because for the first time since Manhattan, Daniel dreams of Abydos.

The sand dunes are infinite in context; finite here, in the parts of his mind that haven’t been compartmentalized by quiet avoidance of unavoidable memories, an impulse shadowed by the inescapable nature of his old grief. Abydos exists as he best remembers it, appearing uniform but merging, seamless, from one sheen of melancholic gold-bronze to another.

Everything is bright here. The suns rebound their radiant energy off the sand’s receptive topology in vast, sweeping arcs. Even here, in the shaded slope of the pyramid’s entrance, Daniel can feel the thickness of the atmosphere in xeric acuity. He breathes it in with lungs that only exist for as long as this place does, which is objectively not very long at all. Dreams here are distorted, but their dissipation upon waking is axiom.

He doesn’t want to look behind him at the pyramid’s interior, nor does he want to see the smooth silvered arch of the ‘gate he knows lies within, imposing and inert with its chevrons that are dead, unlit. He doesn’t want to think of the doorway they thought they closed that he knows will open again with disastrous results before it swallows him back to Earth in a flare of vortical bright-blue, a dragging backwards slide away from everything. Away from home. His personal definition of the concept shouldn’t be so transient and dead, but here it is, in flat defiance of the typicalities.

Quiet footsteps solidify the ache of familiarity. He doesn't turn around. He doesn't. He knows who he'll see.

His eyes slide closed, and the pharyngeal constriction of grief is almost too much to bear.
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
Somewhere in the cosmos, there is something bright, and young, and playful. Somewhere, this being watches over their little flock and does their best to make those people safe and happy. Somewhere, that godling and their flock celebrate the winter holidays in the happiest of dreams.

And somewhere closer at hand, a sleeping giant stirs.

The bright tapestry of dream threads gathered by Zephyr is suddenly yanked hard enough to pull it from its temporary mooring. Something entirely unlike the little godling reels in the dreamers so neatly gathered and packaged up for it, bringing its own toys back to their proper place and taking all the others it can with them. Unsatisfied, it reaches out again and again, dragging in dreamers from all across the multiverse. It will snare them, all of them, and then it will possess them completely.

Perhaps it's fitting that when the stolen dreamers arrive in this new shared mindscape, they'll find they've been designated the Rift's Christmas gifts to itself. Each might awaken inside a dark box, or cocooned in…is that tissue paper? When they claw their way out they'll be greeted by the sight of an enormous evergreen tree laden with twinkling lights and kitschy knickknacks looming overhead. Beyond the shadow of the tree the rest of the world -- that is, the living room -- is just as large. Or is it that the dreamers have just become very small? Giant packages wrapped in bright paper form an obstacle course, but the wooden floor of the room is wide open between the tree and the hearth where an enormous plate of cookies and glass of milk await a cataclysmic Santa Claus.

All in all, things are fairly normal as far as the rift's dream gatherings go…at least on the surface. The more telepathically sensitive among the dreamers may notice an undercurrent of something darker, more urgent, and more possessive than normal. The rift isn't just sampling the wares of other worlds tonight; this time it means to play for keeps.


[OOC: This is the second part of our crossover with [community profile] wethelost! Part one can be found here. Usual dream party rules apply: all players and characters are welcome regardless of whether they are currently in the game, and characters may remember or forget the events of the dream party at the discretion of their players.

For reference, characters of average human height are roughly four inches tall according to the scale of their current surroundings. There is an entire giant house beyond the living room; characters will find a kitchen and dining room on the same floor, a staircase outside the door of the living room that leads up to a second floor with two bedrooms and a bathroom, and another staircase off the kitchen that goes to an unfinished basement. Feel free to add details as needed!

This event takes place on evening of August 8th/morning of August 9th in Applesauce time, and December 31 in WtL time.]
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
The sleeping rifties might have a difficult time realizing they're dreaming this evening, in part because tonight's dreams are atypically vivid, even compared to the rift's usual efforts. Perhaps that is because it's drawing so heavily from the memories of the dreamers, themselves, and using that information to recreate their home worlds in stunning detail. And that is the real reason the dreamers might not be eager to accept the unreality of the situation: the situation is one that many of them have been hoping for for months or even years. In their dreams tonight, the rifties are going home.

Perhaps they arrive in the same moment that they left. Perhaps months have passed at home, or they might even find themselves arriving before their departure point. But those are small details when compared to the overwhelming realization that they're back where they belong.

They're not alone. Many dreamers will find the rift has given them a companion for the return trip. Well, an uncomplicated return home is probably more than anyone could have hoped for, anyway. And for the unwitting visitor, perhaps another universal displacement will be easier to bear with the addition of a local guide.

[ooc: usual dream party rules apply; all are welcome, and dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Also at the players' discretion: when their character arrives in their 'home universe,' and how many (if any) locals they'd want to run into.]
peacefulexplorer: (Flashback | Floppy | geek)
[personal profile] peacefulexplorer
Loose change can only take one so far in terms of public transport and it's well past noon and Daniel hasn't even eaten today, so he elects to walk even if it is, as his luck would have it, raining very heavily. The present downpour is a great deal more copious than is fair considering the streak of abysmal events that have led him along to this unremarkable moment in his life.

In an effort to avoid the downpour he ducks into the closest establishment he can find, a cramped-looking café or deli sort of place that probably doesn't appreciate him dripping all over the faded blue tile floors and maneuvering awkwardly around the tables so he can get to the farthest, most out-of-the-way corner booth he can find. Shaking wet hair from his eyes, he shoves his two bags beneath it with less care than is really warranted. Both bags are already battered and falling apart at the corners enough, and they hold every possession Daniel has left in the world.

The sole barista at the counter doesn't look happy to (a) be maintaining an almost empty establishment on a spectacularly rainy late afternoon or (b) have to deal with the colony of puddles steadily collecting beneath Daniel's table as he hunches his shoulders and tries to count out his change to see if he has enough to avoid being thrown out for loitering. It's not looking optimistic. He wilts a little at the realization and shoots a nervous glance at the barista who has ceased her mechanical wiping of the countertop to level a simmering glower at him, fingers drumming, silently daring Daniel to think of a reason for why he should be the least bit welcome here. At the present moment, he's coming up empty. He swallows hard and returns to recounting his change in the blind hope that he's miscalculated.

Five minutes and seven recounts later, Daniel deposits the change onto the booth table with a shower of wet clinks and stares at the little pile of coins miserably. Ladies and gentlemen, we present to the board Dr. Daniel Jackson, thirty-one and already the archaeological hack of the decade, homeless and in debt and probably about to get thrown back out into the rain very soon on account of him being unable to afford even a cup of coffee to alleviate the pounding headache drilling itself into the center of his forehead.
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo spookydream_zps6b871cec.jpeg


The woods are dark and deep, but not particularly lovely. If anything, they feel dangerous, as if something terrible might come lurching out from behind any given tree and tear into the nearest warm body. What that terrible thing might be is anyone's guess. A cat with hands? Slenderman? Stegosaurus? Actual cannibal Shia LaBeouf? All of the above in a horrible mob? It's anyone's guess. But every dreamer will be absolutely convinced that there is something unspeakable out there, and that it's after them.

The dreamers have two things on their side. The first is that there is actually nothing dangerous lurking in these woods (with the possible exception of other dreamers). The pervasive terror the dreamers are feeling is just that: a rift-given feeling, nothing more and nothing less. That snapping twig or rustle in the undergrowth is almost certainly just a squirrel or something else equally harmless.

The second is that no dreamer is alone. They all will be reunited with - or introduced to - their dæmons, a source of comfort in this dark, intimidating wilderness. However frightened the dreamers might be, at least they have someone with them who definitely doesn't want them dead.

[OOC: as ever, any and all are welcome! You don't have to be in the game to join the fun. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. And the party only stops when you want it to; feel free to backtag forever.]
fucking_ebay: (frightened | hit in the head)
[personal profile] fucking_ebay
When he comes to himself, Peter cannot see. He gasps into awareness, his own breath rasping loudly in his ears, and it takes him several moments of straining to understand that he is not blinded but blindfolded. His wrists are heavy when he reaches up to tear away the cloth tied over his eyes, and when one stops partway to his face, halted by tension, he realizes that he has been chained. Hurriedly, almost panicking, he yanks off the blindfold with the hand that can reach to find himself blinking in the dim light of a stone room.

On either side of him is a man in a similar predicament, one of Peter's wrists connected to one of the wrists of each by a chain about two feet long. Each man's other wrist is chained in turn to a bolt in the crumbling walls of either side of the cell, and each is similarly blindfolded -- or was. Peter recognizes both of them as he turns his head back and forth to stare at each in disbelief -- first Seth on his right and then on his left --

"Oh, come on!"
powerdealer: (73)
[personal profile] powerdealer
Seth is having a familiar dream. He's sitting in an underground interrogation room, cuffed hands resting on the cold metal table. Head bowed, eyes fixed on the table. Waiting. He's alone, but who knows who's on the other side of a one-way mirror next to him.

Elsewhere, as Daniel enters the dream, Seth casts him as someone being shown around the rebel base, perhaps as some sort of inspector, or someone who's just gotten their security clearance upped. The man showing him around is some sort of doctor, or a supervisor, probably both.

"Our next prisoner, J-19, has been working with us for three and a half months now. Doing good work, mostly compliant these days, though he can get a bit unruly sometimes," the man says, leading the way down one of the many underground corridors.


[Warning: ...I don't even know what all to warn for. Imprisonment, abuse, torture, temporary paralysis, NPC death, guns, a lot of emotions, sensory overload, suicide mentions... It's heavy.]
all_the_gifts: (concerned)
[personal profile] all_the_gifts
Melanie stares at the door to her cell. There is something different about it today. She's having a little trouble placing it, but she knows there's something off. It's concerning. She has been so clear about what ROMAC needs to do to keep everyone else safe from her, and the suspicion that they're messing up somehow makes her very, very nervous.

It's the locks, she realizes after a few moments of intense scrutiny. That is what's wrong. There are supposed to be five, but she only counts four. That can't be right. Melanie approaches the door with a little frown on her face, her fingertips hovering a few inches from the metal, wary of the shock she'll get if she actually touches it. Her hand flits from lock to lock like a hummingbird. Now there are six. How are there six? She counts again, baffled to find that the number has halved itself to three.

She tries to count again, but this time, there are none.

Now she does reach out to touch the door, she can't help it - she can't believe it. They can't have taken the locks away. They're important. Hasn't she made it clear how incredibly important it is that they keep her in here?

The door does not shock her. Instead, it swings open beneath her hand, smooth and silent.

Melanie presses her lips together, her mouth a thin, disapproving line. She doesn't like the thought of leaving her room, but someone has to be told about this so they can get it fixed. Keeping her movements slow and even, as if she's trying to sneak past a group of hungries, Melanie carefully steps out into the hall to look for help.
applesaucemod: (Default)
[personal profile] applesaucemod
 photo encampmentunderthesea_zps98ceddce.jpg


Since the dreamers of Manhattan had such a lovely time at the last vaguely-nautical-themed party, the Rift has decided to step things up a notch. Tonight, the dreamers will find themselves in what appears to be a city very much like the one they inhabit in the waking world, full of towering skyscrapers, neon signs, and heavy traffic. But there is one rather crucial difference: this city is located deep underwater, and the aforementioned traffic is mostly whales and fish, with the occasional submersible thrown into the mix.

The walls and windows are heavily reinforced to withstand the pressure of the water outside, and the people who dwell in these buildings seem to be doing rather well for themselves, for the most part. Buildings are connected by enclosed walkways, so barring any horrible accidents, the dreamers should have no problem getting around without getting too wet.

Much like the city they inhabit in the waking world, some areas are more obviously affluent than others, and the dreamers are as likely to stumble upon an upscale club as an underwater pub. But while the chances of a full structural breakdown are slim, there are definitely some areas that are on the leaky side, and a general sense of claustrophobia pervades the city wherever you might find yourself.

Explore. Or, if you're feeling particularly ambitious, attempt to escape. Either way, take care - it's hard to say what might be lurking in the darkness just beyond the city lights.



[ooc: Y'all know the drill. All characters are welcome, whether they are in the game or not. Characters can remember or forget the events of the dreaming at the player's discretion. And the party never stops - backtag into infinity!]

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The Big Applesauce Dreaming

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