Halfway

[applesaucemod]

Tonight each dreamer of Manhattan will find out they're half the person they used to be.

No, really. Or at least, they're half the human[oid] they used to be. One way or another, each dreamer has been transformed into a hybrid creature from mythology. Fortunately, they find themselves at stunning fjord where those of the more aquatic persuasion can relax in the calm waters (unless, of course, the rift decides to beach them for fun) while others remain on dry ground (then again, who says a centaur can't swim?). There are trees in which bird-people can roost and warm rocks on which the cold-blooded can sun themselves, and the water of the fjord is cool, clear, and inviting. There's nothing man-made to be seen, no hint of civilization other than the dreamers themselves…and in this state, are they really so civilized?


[OOC: The usual dream party rules apply: all players and characters welcome, regardless of whether or not the character (or any character of yours) is in the game. Despite the wording, characters who did not start out looking human are welcome. Characters may remember or forget everything that happens in the Dreaming at players' discretion.]

Comments

[erratic_hematic]

"You're a real ass, yknow that?" Spike laughs at his own dumb joke and takes a few careful steps forward. These legs feel strange, but he's getting used to them fairly quickly.

"I remember you. You were in the dream at the weird zoo." He doesn't remember the man's name, but he does remember him being there.

[fucking_ebay]

He really can't help it -- Peter laughs. "What, did I get your goat?" he asks because it's the first thing that pops into his head. He hadn't recognized the other man (manimal?), but Spike soon jogs his memory. "Yeah," he says, thinking back and trying to remember details. "You were...there."

Make that failing to remember details.

[erratic_hematic]

Spike laughs at the joke in return and snorts at the guy's vague recollection. "I didn't have the horns then." Or the hooves. He did have clothes, which the dream doesn't seem fit to have given him tonight. He's not modest, but he is glad that the fur covers up the important bits.

"Name's Spike. I..." he squints up at Peter's face, but it doesn't jog his memory. Maybe because these legs are making him shorter than usual and Peter is taller than he was before. He's got him from the wrong angle. "don't remember your name." He shrugs. Not sorry.

[fucking_ebay]

"Peter," says Peter, who does remember Spike now...or at least that ridiculous name. "I didn't have the horse arse then." And so they're even. And yes, he's going to insist it's a horse's arse, thank you very much.

[erratic_hematic]

He may not have had a Spike's just gonna go back and sit down by his tree. Peter's welcome to join him if he can manage walking over. "So you a riftie?"

[fucking_ebay]

Peter walks like a new colt and it is hilarious humiliating. He's all stiff legs and lifting one of them at a time to jolt awkwardly forward; his problem is really that he's thinking way too hard about where each leg goes instead of just letting it happen. "Isn't everyone who ends up in these dreams?" he asks as he's still picking his way over.

[erratic_hematic]

Right, this was an excellent decision, because watching peter work his way over is totally hilarious. As he watches, he smiles and pulls his legs up so he can rest his arms against his knees.

"Suppose so. I haven't asked everyone. You been around long?"

[fucking_ebay]

Fuck you, Spike.

"Couple months," he replies vaguely. More like half a year, but fuck that. He gets close enough to stop and not look like an arse for holding the conversation at shouting distance, and finds that he now has an extreme height advantage. That's totally why he doesn't sit or lay down, too, not because he doesn't know how or anything. "I think the next part's where we try to suss out who's a rebel and who's staying with our benevolent dictators."