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

[sadie_doyle]

"You were!" Sadie confirms cheerfully before turning her attention to their visitor. The way his serpentine tail stirs up the plankton makes it hard to ignore the fact that the fellow has a serpentine tail, and she lets out a little gasp of astonishment.

"Why, Frank," she says with conspiratorial enthusiasm (but without any attempt to go unheard by the third party), "I believe this gentleman is in fact some sort of mergentleman."

[anguiform]

'Always,' Crowley says, in answer to Frank's obviously rhetorical question. And a full bottle too! These people are generous with their booze; Crowley likes them already. 'Mm, ta.' He flashes a smile out of one side of his mouth upon taking the bottle, and throws his head back for a good few swallows.

The comment on his tail gets a conspiratorial smirk of his own levelled at Mrs. Doyle, and (because he's feeling wicked, and it's a dream anyway), briefly flicks his suddenly serpentine tongue between his teeth in demonstration. 'Close, but no cigar. The prerequisite for merperson is part fish, yeah?'

[frank_doyle]

"Ooh, ooh I know this one!!" Frank points excitedly at their interesting new friend. "He's a... mersnake."

Hmm, was that it? He's not sure anymore. Oh well. Frank shrugs and turns his attention back to the rum, where it belongs. These little details will all get hashed out on their own time. He has DRINKING TO DO.

[sadie_doyle]

"Snakeman?" Sadie hazards, taking a pensive sip of her drink. "Ooh! Swamp thing!" She turns to address Crowley. "Are you some sort of swamp thing? Do you possess gills?" After all, these little details can't be expected to hash themselves out if they aren't plainly stated, first.

[anguiform]

Crowley downs another slug of rum while Frank and Sadie toss out options, and nearly chokes on it when Sadie asks him very sincerely, with very much the attitude of an earnest private detective, whether he possesses gills. The choke evens out into a laugh after a moment.

'Nnnnnope, no, and no. Not at the moment, anyway.' He could probably manifest gills if he wanted to, but being as he doesn't actually need to breathe in the first place, it feels like it'd be a wasted effort. 'Demon, actually.' Lifting one hand to the temple of his sunglasses, giving them a little wiggle to show off his golden, slit-pupilled eyes. 'Anthony J. Crowley at your service. Actually,' he corrects himself, 'probably not at your service; not that kind of demon, strictly freelance; summoning and demanding contracts and service is so 14th Century.'

[frank_doyle]

"Demon!" declares Frank, snapping his fingers as though only just recollecting something when in fact he was starting to gravitate toward some kind of selkie. "Of course. We know demons, don't we, my love." He grins at Sadie and gives her a little peck on the cheek and reaches out to clink her glass.

"Nice to meet you, Antonio!" he says, whipping his attention back to Crowley. "I'm Frank Doyle and this is my wife Sadie Doyle. We're the Park Avenue Doyles. Pleased to meet you." He reaches out to shake a hand but only succeeds in nearly spilling more rum. He rights himself frantically and drinks instead.

[sadie_doyle]

"Oh, several!" Sadie agrees, beaming as Frank pecks her cheek and clinks her glass. "Do you know a Chachacat, by any chance? He's a fire demon. Adores hot dogs. And cats." How many hot-dog-and-cat-loving fire demons can there be?

And she's charmed, Crowley, truly. But rather than offer her free hand for a polite shake, she's using it to steady her husband lest he spill. "These little boats make for terribly unstable drinking," she mourns, because they're otherwise quite charming. If only they had a yacht.

[anguiform]

'Crowley, please,' he says with a little grimace. Antonio really isn't him. A moment later, he turns his slightly oily smile back on. 'And that is why it's better to just drink straight from the bottle. No use trying to stand on ceremony at sea; should've seen all the nice white breeches the Navies of the world used to ruin with port, trying to dine like gentlemen.'

He spends a moment contemplating whether the name Chachacat rings a bell, before offering a laconic little shrug. 'Can't say that I do. But I don't spend much time Below these days. You're not Satanists, by any chance, are you?'

Not that everyone personally acquainted with a demon or two is necessarily a Satanist, but Crowley would like to know at what price this drink is coming. Satanists still irritate him on a fundamental level.

[frank_doyle]

"Decidedly not," says Frank with a little pout of contemplation. "We're... alcholicists." Sure. That sounds about right. He finishes off his glass and sets it aside, thinking Crowley might just be onto something here. "From the bottle, then," he declares, opening up another. "No clink, but it'll do its job!" He knocks some back, then offers it to Sadie.

[sadie_doyle]

"We don't particularly want to associate with the supernatural - with a few exceptions," she adds, thinking of the Hendersons. "It just sort of… happens," she concludes with a vague but elegant wave of her hand. There's only so much avoidance one can manage when the supernatural tends to knock on one's door.

She gives the bottle a dubious look. It just seems so gauche, drinking straight from the bottle when you don't have the excuse of being a tiny, anthropomorphic pony with no opposable thumbs (or other fingers). But the demon has a point, and desperate times call for desperate measures, so she endeavors to take a polite sip from the bottle.

[anguiform]

'Oh, good. Much more sensible choice, alcoholism.'

Satanists just get very... earnest. Sometimes they even start trying to worship him, which is worse than the summoning and I heretofore abjure and command thee-ing. Or, well, sometimes he has a bit of fun with it, because who wouldn't, but mostly it's just awkward.

'What d'you do?' he asks casually after a moment. 'Just out of curiosity. It's not everybody who manages to unintentionally stumble into the occult.'

Maybe he's encountered one of his fellow demons' projects; one of the unnecessarily long, far too involved affairs required to net just two souls.

[frank_doyle]

"I always thought so!" Frank agrees, smiling fondly at Sadie as she sips elegantly, even with so inelegant a method.

"Well, we..." Frank frowns thoughtfully at the question. "Er... well, we're the Park Avenue Doyles!" That's usually enough for people. "Toast of the upper crust? Headliners on the society pages? And..." He's forgeting something important. He gives it a good think as he sips from the bottle. "Oh yes!!" He snaps his fingers in sudden recollection. "We see ghosts!"

[sadie_doyle]

"Equally at home on… some avenue and some other… otherwordly... place," Sadie agrees with a little nod and a flap of her hand. Well, she's had quite a lot of rum, and it's getting difficult to recall the specifics. "I've been speaking to the dead since I was a child, and Frank is simply marvelous at exorcisms. Among other things," she adds with a coy smile in Frank's direction.