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.]

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~~If only he were wearing his collar, she'd know at first glance.~~

Andrew's eyes go wide as he recognizes her too late to pretend he's not here and let her wander along her way. Situated where he is, too, a getaway into the water is a little more involved than just ducking under the surface. This is borne out when he gives an experimental little thrash of the tail as he's thinking about the logistics of making his escape, causing the surface of the inlet to ripple.

"Lucy!" he squeaks, trying (and failing) to look pleasantly surprised. "Fancy seeing you here!"

Rassilon's knickers, will she be able to tell? No, no, that part of him is under water right now, but he'd kick himself for calling her over if he had any hind legs.

She's going to go ahead and make a bet it's Andrew. There's just something about that squeak that tells her it's the one she's frequently embarrassed and made uncomfortable. She's not particularly in the mood to do so right now, though. Lately she's been too gloomy to take pleasure in things like that. She might be spiteful against him if he earns it, but gleeful is unlikely.

"Hello, Andrew," she answers, figuring his answer to that will clear it up quickly enough. "What on Earth has the Dreaming made you into today?" She's guessing it's not a regular centaur, based on the fact he's in the water, and the splashing just there. She gracefully takes a seat by the water, carefully folding up her legs under her.

"Would you believe a seahorse?" asks Andrew, smiling at some private joke. He curls his tail to lift the end momentarily out of the water, then lets it drop again. Is it too late to claim he left the oven on and rush away? He's not exactly beached or anything, but it took some effort to get himself in here and anchored to the shore and he'll probably have to do a lot of flopping around to get back out into the loch. He looks Lucy over, then regrets it when he realizes she's as naked as he is. Very deliberately not looking at her front, he makes a vague gesture that encompasses the nonhuman parts of her body. "And you're...sort of a deer person? 's nice," he comments.

Lucy leans to look around him, and smiles a little at the comment. "Not the kind of seahorse I'm used to," she answers.

"Some sort of deer person seems to cover it," she answers, looking back at her hind. Really, he should be glad she's taken the effort of actually covering herself up with her hair, which is so thick in this dream it seems unlikely to blow aside, unless she goes galloping or something. Which she has no plans of doing. "I don't think I can complain, I've seen a few rather dubious looking shapes around. This is pretty managable." And strangely appealing, although considering there's no mirrors here, she hasn't gotten a proper look at herself. "Anyone you know end up as something gruesome?"

"I've hardly run into anyone," admits Andrew, not about to talk about Charley behind her back. It's not her fault she's a harpy, and really, she's positively lovely compared to the legends about them. "Comes of being stuck in the water, I supposed. You've, ah...run into some friends here, then?"

What he's really asking, Lucy, is whether you have friends.

"A few," she answers with a nod, not grasping the double meaning. Perhaps because she's just so tired all the time, even when asleep. "Two more centaur-like people. A faun. Nothing gruesome. Although I did see someone as an undead minotaur, but I don't know who it was." And she hasn't actually spoken with any of them yet, either because they were already engaged in conversation with someone else, or because she just didn't feel like it. Well, she's not about to approach Peter, is she? But hey, she totally has more friends than Andrew in here, so there.

It sort of answers his double question anyhow, even though she doesn't name names. He grimaces at the mention of someone being undead, and wishes for a moment he could sprout hind legs to go help the poor person (not that they probably can be helped).

She's being awfully civil, isn't she? Andrew doesn't trust her normal conversation act. "So much for benign transformations," he mutters, still stuck on that minotaur thing. If he's being uncharacteristically brief, it's because he's watching her like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Well, forgive her for not having the energy for being mean to him. Although honestly, the more time passes, the more she disassociates Andrew with the actions of the Doctor, and the more she disassociates the Doctor with her being locked up. She doesn't want to carry that anger and bitterness forever.

"I suppose even the most benign seeming transformation can be horrifying to some people," she answers. "Whereas some might actually enjoy the horrifying ones." Would the Master have minded being an undead minotaur? Who even knows.

Andrew, for his part, has never known what to make of a woman who basically amounted to a bizarro world version of one of the Doctor's companions. He used to think it was a shame the Master never took an interest in other species for their own sake, but it turns out they were likely better off when he didn't.

"It's all a matter of perspective, really," he says, tugging on an ear and idly picking up the thread of the conversation even while he's thinking about how to make his exit. "Some people might consider the human form itself horrifying -- just as an example, mind you, haven't met anyone like that here. Yet."

Halfway

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