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

[rae_of_sun]

Sunshine lifts her head when she hears a familiar voice, then pushes herself upright (or as upright as she can get with this massive tail to contend with). When she recognizes Aziraphale, her initial impulse is to feel a bit embarrassed about her current state. But that's stupid - he's seen her in far worse shape than this, and he's a frigging flying centaur thing, so it's not as if she has a monopoly on weird nomad shape changes.

"Hey," she calls back with wry smile. His wings are just as disheveled here as they were in the last dream. "And so it seems." She spares her tail an unimpressed look. The colors are actually kind of appropriate, considering her usual dress sense, but it's still a damn fish tail. Seeing it in such shallow water is sort of unnerving, too; she's never liked fishing, and even though she intellectually understands that it's her tail and that it feels just fine, it's hard not to associate the sight with unpleasant memories of landed, gasping trout.

She focuses on Aziraphale instead. That way she can still enjoy the sun without having to look at her tail. "How's the whole flying centaur thing treating you?"

[bibliophale]

"It's great!" he declares enthusiastically, then composes himself a bit. "I mean. It's a little bulky and bizarre, I suppose. This part is a bally mountain pony." He lifts one of his massive hooves to show her. "But it's incredible that I can fly like this. Dream magic, I suppose." He waves a vague hand. "Rather nicer than the last dream, isn't it?"

[rae_of_sun]

"Yeah, I can breathe underwater, now." It's more of a factual statement than anything she's particularly enthusiastic about; underwater exploration ranks pretty low as far as her interests go. But considering the whole mermaid thing, it's better than not being able to breathe underwater. And at least she can still breathe the air; that's a blessing.

She leans against one of her palms, distantly aware that holding this semi-upright position is going to get old soon. "It is," she agrees, but she can't help adding, "not that the bar was set that high."

[bibliophale]

"No," he agrees. Similarly, he's not sure what to do - he feels awkward, towering so high above her, even though he does that already on a regular day. Now it's compounded by her being so low to the ground and him having gained several inches. He wonders if he could - well -

His steps falter a little on the cumbersomely smooth stone as he lowers his bulk down, his wings fanning out to balance himself as he folds his horse legs under him. He imagines he must look fairly ridiculous, and now he feels even weirder about it, having lowered his torso so close to her. Ugh, being naked. If anyone's embarrassed here, it's him.

"Excuse me," he says awkwardly, "if I could just..."

He gives himself a nice button-up and an argyle sweater. Much better. "There we are." He tucks his wings back behind him and looks at her. He feels suddenly sheepish, realizing he's just done a lot of fumbling around without actually addressing her, leaving her to just watch.

"Er," he says, fishing (pun semi-intended) for more to say. "Are all the dreams that horrible, then, or is it usually more of a mix?" He and Crowley both have vague recollections of a boat-themed dream that wasn't so bad - in fact it was... very nice indeed. But that was maybe more their own personal experience.

[rae_of_sun]

Okay, this is definitely worth the price of admission. It's all Sunshine can do to keep from laughing as Aziraphale awkwardly lowers himself to her level (a level she might not even be able to keep up for that much longer, no less; what is he doing to do if she lies down again?). There's something undeniably gratifying about watching an angel be so clumsy, and the embarrassed manifestation of a damn sweater is the icing on the cake. Admittedly, he looks better like that - more himself - but it's also a bit ludicrous set next to his equine body and bedraggled wings. She has to briefly turn her head away and compose herself before facing him again.

She's toying with the idea of asking if he could summon her a proper shirt (though again, there's only so much a real shirt could do to offset the embarrassment of having a tail) when he asks about the dreams and distracts her. "A mix, I think," she says with a vague flap of her hand. "I don't always remember them. Which probably means they can't all be that traumatic." She rarely has a problem remembering her nightmares; it's the neutral or pleasant dreams that tend to escape her. What a shitty system.

[bibliophale]

"Ah," he says, nodding thoughtfully. "So more of a 'mysterious ways' kind of thing than a specific lessons thing. Very New Testament." There, a little angel joke. He's still trying out this whole idea of free will, not taking everything so seriously and whatnot. It's very difficult and he's not entirely sure it suits him.

"Well," he says, placing his hands on his hips and looking out over the fjord. "Outdoors is nice. Better for you, too, isn't it? And I suppose if it takes a turn for the nasty you have a fairly decent exit strategy." He looks over himself. "Or... I suppose I could smite something in this body, though it would be a little over the top, don't you think?" And really, he doesn't want to get into a habit of smiting things, wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea. That he's some kind of swashbuckling hero type or something. Yes, certainly wouldn't want her to get that idea.

[rae_of_sun]

"'Smite something,'" Sunshine repeats with a smile. She hadn't been in a position to fully appreciate Aziraphale taking out that nightmare version of Bo, but she remembers that sword pretty well. She tries to imagine this horse-ified version of Aziraphale whipping it out in a blaze of righteous glory, and her smile widens. "I would love to see that." She looks out across the fjord at the steep mountainside beyond and says, "If things go south, smiting should be Plan A."

[bibliophale]

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," he says distractedly, missing her impressed undertone. "I rather like it when nothing eventful happens at all." He cocks his head at her. "Don't you? Or does that bore you? I ask because... well, Crowley, you know, my friend... the one you don't like. He's under the impression that we've got free will now. Cut off from our universe and all. And to be honest I'm not sure what to do with it. I don't know if I even have the authority to call it smiting anymore. As opposed to just..." He flounders for an acceptable synonym, and shrugs haplessly. "Tussling?"

[rae_of_sun]

She'd raise her hands in a 'whoa, now,' gesture (or, well, maybe not whoa given the preexisting equine theme), but they're both occupied with holding her upright. "No, uneventful is better than the... alternative."

She's not sure she wants to discuss Crowley just yet - okay, so he didn't seem as bad as some other nastier types she's encountered, but his shadows are goddamn off-putting, and she's far more accustomed to dealing with people whose demonic influences top off at around - maybe - five percent. She's never even met a full-blooded 100% legit demon before.

But the whole free will thing is kind of surprising. Her Biblical knowledge is pretty sparse, but presumably fallen angels are free agents, right? So it's not unheard of for an angel to suddenly find themselves at loose ends. She snorts at 'tussling' - an even less likely verb to associate with him than 'smiting' - but her expression is more curious than amused.

"Well, if your boss isn't here, who's authorized to tell you you can't call it smiting?" She just likes that word better.

[bibliophale]

Aziraphale chuckles - that is an interesting way to think about it, and perfectly valid, he supposes. "Fair enough," he says. "It just seems... well. Indulgent." But then, what has he been for the last several thousand years, if not indulgent? Helping Crowley stop Armageddon was nothing but indulgence. He frowns, thumbing thoughtfully at his chin.

"But I suppose the Rift is the new Authority," he muses. An idea he'd mentioned to Crowley as well, though with admittedly little to back it up. "I mean, I've never dreamed before, really. I don't go in for it. But I can't seem to help myself. And the way I met you almost seemed like it was supposed to happen."

If Aziraphale really thought about it, or rather if Crowley were here to point it out, there's actually nothing to imply that his first meeting of Sunshine was anything but rote coincidence. But Aziraphale has always had a hard time with the idea that there isn't something overseeing his every move.

"I just wish I knew what it wanted from me," he sighs.

[rae_of_sun]

She pulls a face at the thought of the rift being Aziraphale's new god. Yeesh. Granted, it's probably the most powerful force in this particular universe, but that doesn't mean anyone should be making burnt offerings to the damn thing - or wondering what it wants, for that matter. She's pretty sure all it wants is to make people miserable.

As for how she met Aziraphale… she's pretty certain it was pure coincidence. But the thought of it being somehow ordained is kind of charming, and she doesn't really want to argue with him about it. Calling him out is one thing, but bursting his bubble seems unnecessarily mean-spirited.

Well, except for the part where he thinks the rift is in charge. "Maybe it doesn't want anything." Sunshine lifts a hand for as long as it takes to scrape her hair out of her face. "It could just be a weird natural phenomenon, like a tornado or something." This isn't normally the side she takes - not so much because she thinks the rift has a plan, but because it's so easy to think of it as somehow sentient. But that doesn't mean it's true.

[bibliophale]

"Hm... I suppose." Aziraphale doesn't want to admit it, but the idea of not having any Authority is deeply disconcerting to him. Still, the reverse is clearly disconcerting to her. He claps his hands together in an abrupt bout of cheeriness. "Well, I suppose we'll all find out at some point, or maybe not. What's to be done now, then?" He glances around at the water. "Not in the mood for a swim? You have a lovely tail for it."