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]

Well that sounds goddamned bleak, Johnny being stuck like that until he wakes up. It's obvious how traumatized he is by the situation, and the least Eliot can do is stick it out with him.

He sighs as he watches Johnny write the question. He doesn't want to answer it, or rather he doesn't feel like he can in any way that doesn't sound completely stupid.

"Yeah..." Eliot begins, rubbing a hand over his hair. "It's...complicated, I guess." No it's not, it's not complicated at all. "I didn't know I'd come through, I was drunk and cutting through the park and then...and then I ended up meeting you."

Wow, that was lame. He can't just leave it at that. Eliot stares down at the word.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you, after that night. It's...I've been in a weird place, trying to figure shit out and I don't know, I guess I thought that maybe you were just some guy and I couldn't talk to you about the Rift but..." he laughs a little, joyless and close to hysterical. "I guess we're in sort of the same boat, right?"

[johnny_truant]

Johnny doesn't think it sounds stupid at all. It's fucking awful, not even noticing until - what? Johnny supposes he probably couldn't get into his house afterward. It makes sense now why Eliot didn't contact him again. Johnny feels sorry for him, and when Eliot starts apologizing he waves a hand and writes: IT'S OKAY

He rubs it out after a moment and replaces it with, SORRY.

He wants to say a lot more than he feels capable of writing there in the dirt. How he's missed Eliot, and now that they know this about each other maybe they can see each other again. And how much it means that Eliot isn't running away from him right now. Isn't even cringing. Just sitting with him. Company. He so desperately needs it.

He shifts a little awkwardly and presses his shoulder and hip along Eliot, resting against the odd transition from horse body to narrow torso. He does his best to keep his head tilted forward, out of the way. Then, a little shy, hoping it's okay, he reaches out and takes Eliot's hand. He can't see very well from this angle, can't get a good look at Eliot's expression, waiting for body language to do the talking.

[eliotwaugh]

Eliot's a little surprised when Johnny goes in for a hug, but he doesn't pull away. Johnny needs this, and on some level Eliot knows they both do. So he wraps one arm around Johnny's shoulders. It's an awkward bony arrangement, even without Johnny's horns to deal with, but he can manage just sitting like this for a while.

"I'm glad I ran into you here," Eliot sighs. He smiles crookedly when Johnny takes his hand, and gives Johnny's fingers a reassuring squeeze in return. "I can stay as long as you want, it's not like I have pressing dream business."

[johnny_truant]

Johnny feels a tiny tremor run through him when Eliot puts an arm around him, and he ducks his head down even more, curling up awkwardly, at his overwhelmingly kind words. He doesn't want to write anymore dirt messages, it's so clumsy and awkward and he wouldn't know what to say anyway. He just rests for a while, comforted by Eliot's closeness and warmth, and his willingness to sit there and hold him.

He ends up leaning forward to reach the dirt once more, because it feels wrong not to say anything. THANK YOU, he writes, before pulling back and curling his arm up against Eliot's chest.