applesaucemod: (Default)
The Big Applesauce Moderators ([personal profile] applesaucemod) wrote in [community profile] applesaucedream2014-05-29 05:04 pm

And the Boats Drift On [Open to All]

 photo tumblr_mk4dl8Cqzk1qitc0qo1_500_zps9a9cfe5e.jpg


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.]
erratic_hematic: (eyebrows)

[personal profile] erratic_hematic 2014-06-13 08:15 am (UTC)(link)
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?"
Edited 2014-06-13 12:08 (UTC)
anguiform: (ok i'm thinking about it)

[personal profile] anguiform 2014-06-14 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
'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.'