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

[heysoulsister]

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?"

[erratic_hematic]

"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?"

[heysoulsister]

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."

[erratic_hematic]

"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.

[heysoulsister]

"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."