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

[canofwords]

His little scolding is met with an unconcerned, almost bored shrug; of course she's familiar with the saying, but she has neither eyes nor hands, strictly speaking, so what's it to her? His objection is a clever one though, and she releases his jaw with a theatrical roll of her eyes. "If you're going to be oxymoronic about it."

Bored of sitting, she throws herself down the length of the board, fiery mop of hair cascading down the gunwale while her bare feet stir the ocean. Not that she can feel much of that, but at least she's also still blissfully oblivious of the uneven rocking her exuberant motions keep causing. "Nasty little things, oxymorons," she muses, "contrary, impossible, give me indigestion." Turning half a glance and a patronizing smile on him, she adds, "I suppose you'd quite fancy yourself one."

[antitimelord]

He knew it, she is a boat liability. Not that it took any kind of genius to predict that one. Not even any grasp of forethought; she is every kind of liability. At least there's the stability of self-congratulation, amidst all the sullen rocking.

"Oh, I'd never. I like to think I exist very straightforwardly. Besides, I think you've got the chronology of it wrong." That he should have to be the one to break it to her is just wrong.

[canofwords]

The irony of him trying to invoke chronology really is amusing and she snorts indelicately. "What chronology? The chicken and the egg are the same to me, I'm an unanchored causal intervention in most universes." With the wry quirk of an eyebrow, "Perhaps the concept is familiar to you."

But she's rather less interested in his etiology than a story she doesn't yet know. Sprawling a little more generously, she looks back up at the shimmering night sky and asks, "So what are you doing in this universe? I can't imagine the boat was your idea. Or did you downgrade your ship-seeking ambitions?"