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

[antitimelord]

Zagreus nods sagely; he's played that game, good answer, almost believable, didn't even require a box. "Glad we could clear that up." Though he's unsure if that was a response to his question or just a generalised reaction to the dream. Could be both, easily enough; he certainly looks like death lukewarm. There's probably things growing in that hair. Untoward things. Secrets. "I am Zagreus. Who does that make you?"

[spookyaction]

Presumptuous ass. Adam curls his lip in distaste. Certainly not something he'd ever dream up. Maybe there's something else at work here. Whatever. He slumps backward and leans against the stern, his legs curled over the nearest thwart. Can't be tasked to sit properly.

"It doesn't make me anything," he says, two steps and some tonal laziness to the left of being an outright sneer. "I was Adam before you and I'll be Adam when I've long forgotten your face."

Hold on, now. "Zagreus," he repeats slowly. "Orphic Zagreus? Surely not." This guy? I mean really.

[antitimelord]

Is there really someone as displeased by boats and reality (or dream-reality, anyway) as he is? Or did some other circumstance up and die in this rat's breakfast cereal? What did Zagreus do to deserve this, besides be what is, for him, actually on the polite side of interaction.

"Not...no. That's a terrible game of telephone from being what I am. But I don't think anyone's gotten that close before without help, so you've that in your favour. And it's a nice myth, anyway, as human myths go. Wouldn't make a bad aetiology at all." Zagreus uncoils from his boat-distaste huddle, soothed by his own patter and the pleasant novelty of someone making a guess at his identity. Even a sourpuss like this one gets points for that. "Not a fan of dream visitations, I take it? Or is it boats?"

[spookyaction]

Adam squints at him for a while. Lots to deal with here, none with which he's wild about dealing. Not that Zagreus, no surprise there, but somehow he's... affiliated? And what's that crack about human myths?

"Not human either, I take it," he murmurs, pitching forward, bored with just sitting. He flips open the picnic basket because why not, and much to his immense surprise discovers - blood. A beautiful glass decanter of it, nice and thick and red. He lifts out the stopper and takes a whiff, breathing out slowly. Oh. That is lovely.

Rolled into a cloth napkin, there's a precious little cognac glass. Adam lifts it delicately, Zagreus entirely forgotten for the moment. Just a dream, of course, but one unlike any he's had before, everything so vivid and real - won't hurt to try. Holding his hands preternaturally steady, he pours himself a little taste, lifts it to his lips, and drinks it in slowly, fondly.

It hits exactly like it ought to, slow and warm and pulsing through him. Clean, perfect O negative. He rolls his head back, staring at the stars as they spin imperceptibly, oh how magnificent. If only, he thinks with a distant pang, Eve were here to enjoy it with him.

Instead he's left coming back to sea with "Zagreus." Oh well. At least he'll be fed.

"That," he says eventually, licking his teeth, "is some pure shit."

[antitimelord]

Zagreus looks a little like he's on the wrong side of the window from a warm fireplace and a cozy rug. And he is, cosmically speaking. It must be nice to enjoy something so unconflictedly; Zagreus tsks a little. He certainly wouldn't know, himself, but he tilts his head clinically, surprisingly patient with the little ritual, as though studying this might give him some insight.

"Vampire, then? Or some other sort of connoisseur?" Go on, be a little more engaged, just for curiosity's sake. Has Adam answered a single question so far, besides offering up his name in a little hissyfit? Rubbish vampire. Where are the soliloquys and melodrama? The hygiene? Maybe that was a wrong guess.

[spookyaction]

Adam nods and points loosely, still holding the decanter. "Got it in one," he says. "Well, the first one." He still feels drunk. Being so blithely open about it with some offbrand-demigod of a stranger. But why not? He peers at Zagreus, scrutinizing. "And what are you supposed to be, if not that Zagreus?" He can't imagine the name doesn't have some sort of meaning. Apple Martin and North West aside, he can't picture even the most self-absorbed celebrity zombie casually naming a child Zagreus. So this is something else.

[antitimelord]

Nope, not a wrong guess after all. Just goes to show you can't believe everything you read, or absorb through narrative logic, or think you understand intuitively about monsters, etc. Zagreus supposes there's a little of the ratty Nosferatu in him anyway, if he squints.

It's all fun and games until someone asks Zagreus what or why he is. Then it's a precipitous drop in interest. No one ever understands. "That Zagreus," he echoes contemptuously. "I'm a more ubiquitous myth. More madness, less wine, I should think." Perhaps unfortunately. Come to think, there's probably wine in the basket, but Zagreus has remained stubborn about the basket's contents thus far, for reasons he isn't quite ready to articulate. "But even a broken mirror is right twice a day." Wait, that's not it; he's always mixing up sayings in dreams.

[spookyaction]

"What," mutters Adam, mimicking his contempt and squinting at the mixed metaphor. He waves a hand; doesn't care enough. "Have it your way. And have it somewhere else, while you're at it." He slouches back onto the floor of the boat, still toying with the little glass, staring unimpressed at the firmament. "I dream alone, when I can."