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

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot startles a little at the sound; usually he's the one issuing the amused noises, but all this tranquility's thrown him off his game. He clomps over to the edge of the trees and shoots a snide glance at the little faun thing guy with the, oh, unfortunate hair.

"You're one to talk, lamb chop," he says with a smirk.

There, sass levels are normalizing.

[erratic_hematic]

"Lamp chop was a lamb. It's right there in the name." Factual inaccuracy burn, guy. Now that the centaur is closer, he seems just unreasonably tall, so Spike stands up...which gets him about level with the guy's chest. Not a bad chest, but not exactly the result he was hoping for here as far as person to person communication goes.

He tips his head up, trying not to acknowledge just how short he feels at the moment. He's struck by the weirdness of the guy's jaw. From this angle, it's pretty clear that something's definitely wrong with it. Deformity, accident, something. "What happened to your face? Did you make that face so long that it stuck like that? Y'know, my mother always warned me but I didn't think it was true." He smirks and lifts up a hand and wiggles his fingers. "Do you have hairy palms too?"

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot frowns; it's nothing he hasn't heard a thousand times before, and at this point in his life, some jerk's cracks about his disfigurement barely register on an emotional level. It's almost a reflex, firing one back at him.

He arches an eyebrow. "Looks like your mother should have warned you not to play with bleach, because that is one hell of a tragic accident you got going on up there." He leans down and pokes the guy in his nest of peroxide horror. "I was born with my face, but this is practically a crime against humanity." All the more so because faun-guy would be pretty cute otherwise, little hooves notwithstanding.

[erratic_hematic]

"Oi." Spike backs up with a frown when the guy pokes him in the head. "This isn't a petting zoo." He lifts a hand self-consciously to his hair, trying to push it back a little while avoiding the horns. It's definitely curlier than normal and he probably looks like a poodle right now. "And my hair is perfect."