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

[mr_fring]

Gus relaxes at once. It seems he'd judged mistakenly - though he's never quite met anyone so immediately devoted to the idea, with such lack of wariness or irony. It seems almost in danger of wandering toward the radical or fascistic, but Gus isn't exactly out to judge. Someone so dedicated might be useful, after all.

"We are in agreement there," he says, smiling for the first time since meeting Rashad, though not with any real warmth. He has always been something of a double agent for organizations like ROMAC, using them to blanket his true work; but he has no such work here. In some ways he realizes he is truly becoming what he's always pretended to be. Fittingly enough.

"I work for ROMAC; I'm actually in the recruiting department." If he had a card (and this weren't a dream), he'd give it over now. "I would be happy to place you within the organization - provide you with a place to stay, some necessaries, and a stipend. I could process you myself. If you remember this when you wake up, our offices are located in the Citigroup tower on Lexington and 53rd. Ask for Gustavo Fring."

There. Pitch given. He finds he's reached the water's edge, and stops, gazing down at it.

[omnomnom_feels]

If Rashad had feelings he'd be glad he encountered someone in ROMAC like this; he had been unsure how to go about attracting their attention without attracting that of the rebels instead...or of local law enforcement. He doesn't expect that anyone might be able to connect him with the death of the first man he encountered in this world, but he is not eager to make himself too widely known.

"I will ask for you," he says with a smile of his own. His, too, fails to convey real warmth. Despite his apparent openness, he does still have reservations. He is familiar enough with demons and mortals and angels to know that entropy may disguise itself as order. "But what of the rumors that ROMAC is keeping prisoners?"

[mr_fring]

Gus drags his gaze from the water to Rashad, briefly. "I would not call them prisoners," he answers, "and that isn't so much my department." Technically true, though he has been working toward the inner sanctum gradually enough and he's learned the vague details. He was educated on the disaster some months ago, the failure to keep an overly powerful being contained, the violent fallout of that. And he's heard of more recent failures, as well - two subsequent break-ins, followed by an utterly undetected escape. Heads are rolling over that. There may be an opening for him soon enough.

"It would be more accurate to say we sometimes have the need of containing dangerous persons - people or entities who might cause harm to us." This is the explanation Gus has been given by higher ups, and it suits his purposes every bit as well as it suits theirs. "The rift has brought forth many powerful and dangerous people. Part of imposing order is keeping these people under control, is it not?"

He looks back at the water, feeling only the mildest twinge of contempt. Rashad is a fool if he thinks his apparently sacred 'order' can be accomplished without the proverbial breaking of eggs. Order is not clean. It is brutal, built on fear, death and silence. It is what shattered Gus' world and built him up anew. It is Maximino's blood in the water.

He hates the water.

"You said it yourself, order is not the natural way," murmurs Gus. "We work to right chaos, and sometimes, there are those who must be dealt with."

[omnomnom_feels]

Rashad does not like the complications mortals bring to the basic tenets of the universe. What is the world, though, but one great complication? His tail twitches back and forth like it has a life of its own as he listens and considers. He is no stranger to violence in the service of order, nor to facing violence from the other side. The difficulty arises in finding the correct balance, in pursuing the action that will ultimately make one little part of the universe slot neatly into place.

He does not know Johnny's friends. He hardly knows Johnny. He does not know whether they are 'dangerous people.' And so it does not suit him to reveal that he has any connection to them, not even for the sake of inquiring as to why they were held captive. He will see for himself whether this ROMAC truly serves order, or if they merely wear it as a mask. That Gus did not deny the keeping of captives leads him to think perhaps Johnny was wrong about the organization; he had expected boldfaced lies denying it had happened at all.

He nods, pretending Gus is telling him something new and something that he can believe wholeheartedly. "There is no telling who -- or what the rift might bring through," he agrees. "Someone must take charge. I only asked because I must know the reasons for it."

[mr_fring]

"I understand." Gus is not entirely swayed by Rashad's overtly pragmatic manner. There's something going on there, beneath the surface, and he's not sure what to make of it yet. But it's only a dream. That knowledge helps him relax, once he's over the strangeness of it.

"Well, I have nothing to hide," he says, crouching down. He dips his hand into the water, which feels strange on his new, hard skin - colder, sharper. He must be cold blooded now. Natural for him to avoid water, then, stay where it's dry. His new form is fitting, in that way. He wonders whether it was his own subconscious that chose this body, or the rift.

"We can talk about this more thoroughly when we're awake and in our proper bodies," he says with good humor. There are, of course, things Rashad will not be privy to. Newcomers don't get to know everything simply because they ask the right questions. Gus has always known that. "I'll be keeping an eye out for you."

[omnomnom_feels]

"And I you," replies Rashad. "It will be a relief to have somewhere to rest my head." It won't, but that seems correct. He watches the not-beastman dabble in the water and wonders how it can be that this waking world does not have such beings. The cue to make his graceful exit from the conversation whooshes by over his head and he just stands there, as satisfied to remain next to Gus as he would be to go anywhere else.