applesaucedream

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yeah, unless you count the tail." He does have one, which is weird, but he doesn't look like he's having nearly as much trouble as her. (Her? He's assuming, but it's not exactly easy to tell from down here.) She looks like a very large very frightening cat stuck up a tree. "Do you want to come down?"

"I haven't gotten the hang of mine, either. Or the wings." Or the body, though at least she can control that part.

His question earns him a weak chuckle. "I really, really would," she says dryly, shifting her grip on the branch and sending a few shards of bark tumbling to the ground. If someone could cooperate for a few minutes, she adds to Aiden. Just put the fucking wings away, already.

The tail lashes irritably, but a few moments later, Aiden folds his wings shut. "Okay," Jodie says. Then, "You, uh, might want to step back a little." She neither trusts Aiden not to lash out for no damn reason, nor entirely trusts herself to get out of the tree with any kind of grace. She's spent too much of her time fighting Aiden and not enough actually figuring her new body out.

She winds up scooting down the tree backwards. There's a lot of claw-scraping and bark-showering before Jodie finally makes a last awkward leap down onto the grass (Aiden spitefully keeps his wings folded rather than help her out with the last drop), and she immediately digs her claws into the earth to discourage Aiden from hoisting her into the air again. "I'm Jodie," she says, looking up at the goat-man.

He can't help it, he laughs. She does look like a cat trying to get out of a tree, but he's definitely not getting in the way of this particular kitty. He keeps his distance even after she makes her way to the ground, lest any of those scary looking limbs get a little too close. He doesn't really have much any protection here and he doesn't trust his defensive skills on goat legs.

"I'm Spike," he answers, "I don't usually have hooves. I assume you usually look a little more human."

Yeah, she's fully aware that she looks ridiculous. Not that Spike doesn't look pretty ridiculous with goat legs and little horns, but she definitely wins the prize for Most Disparate Animal Parts. Despite her general weariness - or perhaps because of it - she finds herself with a faint, self-deprecating smirk on her face. It's sort of nice, having a ready-made joke to share in with total strangers, even if she's the punchline. Her life before the CIA wasn't exactly bursting with inherent camaraderie, and her time with the CIA is something she tries not to think about.

"A lot more human," she corrects, cautiously pushing herself into a sitting position. "And taller." Though not by much. This is the first time she's managed to just sit up in this body, and it's sort of hard to judge height in a natural setting, but she'd guess that her head's only a foot or so lower than it normally would be.

She's pretty sure he's another rifty - they tend to be in these weird-ass dreams - but she still asks, "Did you come through the rift, too?"

"Yeah for..." He thinks on that for a moment. It'd been March when he came through. And what's he been up to? Definitely not getting back home. It seems like nobody from back home has managed to get through. Or they're not looking. "Shit, almost four months. How long have you been here?"

Jodie has to think about it for a moment. Facts as specific as the real-world date are a little difficult to recall; she has to haul it up like an artifact from the Titanic. "Almost two months," she finally says. For her, though, the lack of a return ticket - or any sign of anyone else from her universe - has been a relief. She almost feels safe, despite the standard caveats of As Long As No Major Organization Gets Wind Of Her and As Long As Aiden Doesn't Kill Or Maim Any Innocents. She's cautiously optimistic on both fronts. Even now, Aiden seems content to lay low, though she can feel the tail quiver a little whenever Spike looks like he might be considering taking a step forward.

"It's not that bad here, though. Well." She casts an unimpressed look down at herself. "It's not that bad in the waking world."

"What are you supposed to be?" He eyes the tail cautiously. Even though she seems nice, he's not going to risk getting much closer to that. She doesn't seem to have all that much control over what happening here.

"I think I'm a manticore." Actually, she knows she's a manticore - or they're a manticore. When she was a kid, before the DPA, she'd spent tense hours paging through her children's encyclopedias, looking up monsters, both hoping and fearing that she'd find a name for hers. No such luck on that front - the books hadn't covered entities (go figure) - but she'd learned plenty about other standard monsters. "That's the technical name for this mess, anyway."

Halfway

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