And the Boats Drift On [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

The water is calm, and the night sky is filled with stars. The only light is natural: a patchy, bioluminescent glow coming from the water below, and the bright swath of the Milky Way above. It's not much, but it's more than enough to see by.

The dreamers will find themselves sitting in their own little rowboats, each stocked with two oars, a length of rope, some cushions, and a little picnic basket full of snacks. There is no visible shoreline, but it won't take the dreamers long to realize theirs are not the only boats in this shallow sea. Anything stirring in the water, be it fish or paddle, causes phosphorescent plankton to glow a bright blue, so there isn't really anywhere to hide.

Feel free to paddle around and visit the other dreamers, perhaps tying your boats together and sharing your snacks in an impromptu picnic. Or you could go for a swim - the bioluminescence makes it difficult to see the bottom, but it's not too terribly deep, so the risk of drowning is all but nonexistent. This setting, unlike the last one, isn't actively out to kill you. Or you could simply lie back and look at the stars.



[ooc: Same drill as always, folks. All are welcome, regardless of whether or not your character is in the game. Characters may remember or forget dream shenanigans at the player's discretion.]

Comments

[anguiform]

Once he rows far enough, he'll run into Crowley in his own little boat. He's given up on the swimming for now, but his lower half is still that of a snake, draped over the edge of the boat, the green and bronze of his scales dull in the starlight, the luminescence of the water stirred by the lazy back and forth of his tail. Spike might catch a brief glimpse of his eyes, also glowing, until Crowley, hearing the approach of another boat, miracles a pair of sunglasses into existence. Call it habit.

He lifts his head idly, as if it takes him a great effort, and gives the approaching boat a little wave. 'Hi there.'

[erratic_hematic]

Once he gets close enough to actually see what's in the boat, he stops rowing. He doesn't want to get any closer to whatever it is, even if it is waving hello. It's like a bloody Naga, except he never saw one of them wearing sunglasses. "Fucking hell."

[anguiform]

Crowley snickers. 'If you like.' Elbowing himself into a more upright position, he eyes the occupant of the other boat; platinum blond hair, cheekbones to rival Crowley's own, expression of alarmed disbelief.

'I'm not going to bite,' he says, raising his voice just enough to carry over the distance between them. 'See! Regular old teeth.' To demonstrate, he bares them. Whatever his lower half might look like, his teeth are nothing more or less than a set of ordinary human teeth.

[erratic_hematic]

Spike isn't entirely convinced. His own more menacing side is well hidden. If he would bear his own teeth right now, he'd be as convincing as this guy is. Still, the whole 'giant snake tail' thing really isn't all that undercover. It makes Spike lean believing him. If he could transform his teeth, surely that tail would transform too.

He moves closer, but doesn't sidle up just yet. "Some people are more dangerous than they look."

[anguiform]

'Oh, yeah, sure,' Crowley agrees easily, 'but I'm off the clock right now.'

Which is to say, he could turn himself into a giant maggoty horror and consume you, or capsize your boat with a thought, or find some sharks or anglerfish or some shit swimming down below to bother into attacking you, but why would he? Unpleasant and unnecessary. Anyway, that'd take effort.

He cocks an eyebrow that might go unseen in the dim light. 'Whaddabout you? You more dangerous than you look?'

[erratic_hematic]

Being told he's off the clock isn't exactly reassuring. That only tells him that this guy is definitely more dangerous than he looks.

He misses seeing the raised eyebrow, but the tone carries the meaning well enough. "Most vampires are."

[anguiform]

'Ohhhh, interesting.'

Crowley levers himself up a little more to get a proper look at the guy. Now knowing that he's a vampire, he can see the resemblance-- though of course, he knows as well as anyone that supernatural beings frequently look nothing like supernatural beings. And it is interesting.

'Don't think I've ever met a vampire,' he muses. 'Least, not a proper vampire. I've known a few people who took advantage of the mythology, but none of them were human to begin with, so.' He pauses. 'Come to that, is that the kind of vampire we're talking about? Dracula, I vant to suck your blood, so on?'

[erratic_hematic]

Ugh. Dracula. Spike rolls his eyes and groans. "No. Not like Dracula. The pretentious prick died owing me five quid." Okay, he has to get closer to expand on his hatred a bit more. He rows forward until he can really see this guy.

He's still keeping a close eye on that tail.

"He was a real smug dick. Bloody cape. With his weird hypnosis tricks. Unlike him, I can get girls back to my place without swinging a watch in front of their faces."

[anguiform]

Ok, fair enough, Crowley gets that; there are a fair few of his comrades Down Below whom he would certainly rather not be associated with. A lot of them are fine, no mistake, but the ones who get noticed tend to be thoroughly slimy pieces of work, and usually terrible company.

Still, he snorts at Spike's indignation. 'Yeah, definitely started off as human,' he mutters, amused. That particular combination of Lust and Pride is classic human.

As far as his tail goes, it's doing nothing more than what it's been doing this whole time; languidly swishing back and forth in the water, stirring up the luminescent plankton. Crowley notices Spike's gaze lingering on it, and he gives a sharp little smile. 'You know, you really shouldn't be one to be unnerved by a little extra.'

[erratic_hematic]

Spike's gaze snaps back to the guy's face like he's been caught at something he shouldn't be doing, though the reality is more like embatrassment mixed with offense. This is the second guy tonight that has implied he's a lesser being of some sort, and he doesn't like it. "No offense, but when something looks like you, it's usually trying to kill me."

[anguiform]

'None taken.' Crowley waves away the remark with a louche nonchalance ordinarily restricted to responding to things like, No offence, but you have terrible taste in films, or No offence, but your flat is a tip, rather than accusations of murderous intent. 'I can assure you, I have no intention of killing anybody. Nasty habit; I try to leave that to others. 'Sides, this is a lovely-- if entirely improbable-- dream; I wouldn't want to spoil it.'

He realises that this is perhaps not the most reassuring motive for not wanting to kill people (though truly, he is genuinely repulsed by pointless brutality; not something he likes to go around advertising), but he's amused by how on-edge Spike is. He can't help it if it's fun to poke at his paranoia.

'You got a name, vampire?'

[erratic_hematic]

Spike sighs and settles his oars inside his boat. "Spike." He leans down and reopens the little basket in his boat that contains wine, blood, and fudge. "Want some wine? Otter blood?"

[anguiform]

'Otter blood?' Both Crowley's eyebrows go up this time, but his voice holds nothing more than mild curiosity. One of those vampires, then, who sticks to animals and blood-bags from hospitals, the ones one reads about in overwrought novels about the angst between the centuries-old vampire protagonist and the woman he loves. (That was one of Crowley's; he'd been very proud of that).

'Wine for me, thanks. Never really developed the taste for blood.'