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'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.