applesaucedream

Current Mood: animalistic
Current Music: July 5, 2013

Halfway

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.]

Threaded | Flat

You could call Sunshine's state a sort of voluntary semi-beaching. Sure, she's been outfitted with a brightly patterned tail - and whose carthaginian idea was that? - but she's managed to figure out how it works. Well, there's only so much you can do with a giant ichthyoidal appendage, and there was no real sense of urgency because she finds water as easy to breathe as air, now.

So, she's not exactly thrilled about the new arrangement, but this is probably a dream or something, right? And at least she has a standard bikini top (which obstinately matches her tail) instead of some shell-based nonsense.

Thing is, whoever gave her a tail and dumped her in this - what, fjord? Shiva wept - hasn't done anything to her affinity, and her idea of a day at the beach - or fjord or whatever - has always involved more sunbathing than splashing around. So, she's managed to swim to shore and haul her human half onto a nice, warm rock, and there she lies, her head pillowed on her arms and her tail undulating lazily to keep her from sliding back into the water.

If she focuses on the sunlight, she can almost forget she's a damn mermaid.

Spike lazily opens his eyes. For once, he's not startled by the sunlight, because it seems comfortable and warm on his face. He's leaning back against a tree feeling the cool breeze and slowly becoming aware of the mountains and the calm water and the fresh smell of the day.

It takes him slightly longer to realize that he's not wearing clothes and his legs are not his legs at all. He startles and stands on up on goat-like hooves. Everything below his waist is covered in thick curled hair and when he tries to push a hand back through the equally curly hair on his head he encounters small pointed horns.

"No. Come on." The dream seems to have seen fit to make him a faun.

Behold the glorious centaur! From the waist up is a svelte, bare-chested Peter squinting in the sunlight, his hair more bristly than usual and continuing down the back of his neck as a mane that reaches between his shoulder blades. From the waist down is…wait. That's not a horse body!

Not realizing what's become of him, Peter tries to amble down toward the shore and promptly gets his extra legs all tripped up together. Stumbling and scrambling on the hard ground, he finally regains equilibrium and stands panting for a moment before he can work up the courage to look down at himself. First he looks down at his front hooves, and then he twists around to look at his own hindquarters, swishing his tail just to be sure it's really attached. "Oh, for fuck's sake!" he concludes.

Well, this isn't how taking a shape is supposed to go. Daine was trying for osprey, which seemed like just the thing for this environment, but it's as if she got stuck partway through, or like certain portions of her body just didn't respond the way they ought to. It's fair strange, and if this wasn't a dream she might be worried about being stuck forever with her head all human and her chest not quite fully in bird shape (though mercifully covered with feathers), and the rest of her far too large for a typical osprey.

But it is a dream, and not being as well shaped for flight as a proper bird doesn't seem to be slowing her up any. She figures it's only wise to test her maneuverability, though - just to find out what her limits are. Which is why she's zooming through the air and letting out the occasional whoop of excitement.

"Fucking quit it, Aiden!"

Jodie crashes through a low shrub, the paws of her lion-like body clawing desperately at the ground and her face set in an expression of mingled determination and panic as the large bat wings on her back frantically scoop at the air. At her rear is a tail like a scorpion's that flails erratically. Neither the wings nor the tail are under Jodie's control, as she realized almost immediately. It took her a little while longer to realize Aiden was controlling them, though the entity's blind panic at finding himself suddenly confined to (parts of) a body was a pretty big fucking clue.

And now? He wants out. Which he demonstrates by flipping a shit and hauling Jodie half off the ground, as if he can divorce his wings and tail from Jodie's human-headed lion body if he just thrashes them hard enough. Jodie lets out a growl of frustration as her front half leaves the ground, leaving only her hind paws free to scrabble at the earth below. "You're not helping!" she snaps.

Edited 2014-08-02 03:12 (UTC)

Andrew finds himself to be a complicated sort of beast at present. From the front he's a centaur, but where the horse body ought to terminate in hind legs it instead flows into a long, frilled fish tail. The baby bulge has shifted to his more animalistic undercarriage, but in this form it's hard to say how exactly his odd body would be shaped if he weren't pregnant...and anyway, it's too awkward for him to twist into a position where he can really look at that part of himself and obsess over it. He'll just have to hope that he looks like a perfectly normal man-horse-fish.

Chuckling to himself at that thought, he zips through the water with surprising ease, breaching the surface now and then only to duck back under when he doesn't see anyone about, long tail arching and sliding under the surface behind him. He can breathe as easily underwater as above, a boon he's not going to question. Should he spot someone on one of his brief bobs above the waterline he'll stop to say hello; it wouldn't be any fun if this turned out to be a solo dream.

Edited 2014-08-02 18:27 (UTC)

That the rift has pointedly made his sphinx body a wingless one does not upset Rashad, though the form in general seems undignified and awkward despite his flowing black mane and sleek fur. He sits quietly at the water's edge, tail curled around his legs as he contemplates the situation. The strangeness of the situation and the distant buzz of other minds have called up memories of another dream, and he is trying to decide for certain if this is simply a repeat occurrence.

When he hears movement nearby he turns to look, face assuming an expression of interest.

Boing. Boing. Boingboingboingboing!

Though Aglet is of course disconcerted at finding himself the owner of two springy legs and a long tail, he has also just discovered just how fast he can move with them if he just pitches himself forward and keeps hopping. He looks a little something like a faun, if a faun was half jumping rodent instead of half goat. It's a good thing he can move so fast, too, because he's having a lot of trouble finding someplace safe and covered. He bounds toward a tree with gnarled roots near the water's edge, hoping for a knot under which he can hide while he catches his breath and figures out what to do next.

Edited 2014-08-02 04:46 (UTC)

Cosima is not even thinking about the logic of this; it's a dream! Who cares? Accordingly, she is swimming great loops down into the depths of the fjord, feeling the tickling rush of bubbles against her face, before she bursts out in a joyous leap. The cool air is amazing, and she laughs when she has the air to do so, ridiculous and delirious, before she smashes back into the fjord in an explosion of spume and spray. It's almost like being stoned, except everything's sharper, like it's been outlined in stark winter air.

She swims until she's exhausted, whereupon she propels herself towards the nearest shore, hauling herself up onto the beach to lie, panting, grinning like an idiot, in the sun. It's only once she's beached herself that she becomes aware that her upper half-- the human half-- isn't actually wearing anything, no more than her dolphin tail is. This occupies her thoughts for a scant moment, before she shrugs it off. It's her dream, after all. And she does have great tits. She's not gonna waste energy being embarrassed.

Lucy is also here as a centaur, though her animal half is more resembling a deer than a horse in build and hooves. The tail, however, is long and tufted at the end, and her fur is a delicate white.

She's thankfully already sitting when she appears in the dream, so she can't fall over from the confusion of multiple legs. It still takes her a few moments to suss out what's going on, though, but at least movement seems to come pretty naturally. She can't say she's overly fond of these kind of dreams, but hopefully this will be the worst that happens.

As she gets to her feet, she realises she's also quite topless. Not as huge of a deal as being half deer, but still a bit awkward should she meet someone she knows. Thankfully, her hair seems to be much longer and thicker than she's used to, so she pulls some of it over her shoulders, covering her chest decently enough to protect the modesty she still has. That covered, she wanders off to explore.

Well. This is peculiar.

Charley should, perhaps, be unsurprised that this particular shared dream has chosen to endow her with the wings and talons of a bird-- to turn her, in fact, into what might best be described as a harpy. In that other dream, after all, it had decided that her soul ought to take the shape of a tiny falcon, so perhaps there's something inherently avian about her. Rather odd, Charley privately thinks, as she's always felt quite solid and determined; physically, at least, no-one would ever describe Charlotte Pollard as birdlike.

She can't deny, however, that the sensation of flying is absolutely smashing, and by the time she soars down to perch in one of the scant trees lining the shoreline, she's pink-cheeked and grinning.

When Topher appears, he's underwater. Given he's one of the few who actually entered this dream voluntarily and is fully aware it is a dream, this doesn't particularly worry him however. The fact he is currently a cecaelia, aka half-octopus, that's a bit more disconcerting and strange. He's also shirtless, which he's not used to, but that's much less of a problem for him in here than in the waking world, where there's sensory issues involved, so he lets that be. The scar on his side is also quite on display now, but that doesn't occur to him.

He tests the limits of the dream for a moments, trying to switch shape -- he finds it easy enough, actually, except he only seems to be able to switch into other hybrids. Well, then. Half-octopus will do for now. Still, he changes his face and hair so he won't be instantly recognisable until he wants to be. Of course, certain telepathic friends (and enemies) will still easily see through this. That all done, he heads towards the surface and the short to have a look around.

Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce.

The Doctor is thrilled about this dream. When he appeared, he found himself as a centaur-like creature, only with the body of an alpaca, or possibly a llama, but in that case a very soft-furred one. Either way, it turns out the body is very good at jumping. So that's what he's doing, brown fluffy fur and hair blowing in the wind, and a wide grin. Onlookers also get the benefit of seeing him shirtless, which is always a bonus for them, and doesn't bother him in the slightest. Especially when he can...

Bounce, bounce, bounce!

Seth must be some sort of troll, or something, what the hell? Judging by the - what is this, like, a lion tail? A cow tail? Something long and tufted at the end. And the ridiculous long ears. Or maybe he's some strange kind of tailed forest elf. Who knows?

That's not the weird part, though. He's not so much part animal as he is part nature. There's stuff... growing on him. Just moss and grass and little plants growing from him as if were hair (and does indeed also weave into his hair). It even feels a bit like hair, as he doesn't feel the plants themselves, but if he tugs out a blade of grass, it's a bit like he's pulling out hair, just a bit less painful.

He's also naked, but interestingly the plants are giving him a decent amount of privacy. He's still recognisably a person underneath it all, his skin most visible on his face and upper body, but he could probably easily hide amongst the foliage. That seems a bit boring, though, he'd much rather look out for what everyone else has been turned into.

"Eeep!"

This little shriek echoes across the grassy bank of the fjord, startling some birds out of a nearby tree. Bee is a centaur now, not just a centaur but a zebra-bodied centaur, and that's fine, dreams are a perfect place for this kind of thing, and if she had to pick a favorite animal that wasn't bees, zebras would surely be near the top of the list. She's standing fairly solidly, feeling much taller and more top-heavy than usual, but she'll adapt to that in time. No, what's caused her distress enough to accidentally mark her presence here is her nakedness. She crosses her arms tightly over her breasts at once, looking around frantically (a bit dizzying, up so high) to see if anyone's caught a glimpse. Oh dear oh dear. She has to find something to wear, or at least something she can fashion into a sort of garment. Keeping one arm firmly in place, she reaches out with the other to steady herself on a tree as she tests out her new legs, warming her sleeping brain up to this new kind of movement. Usually when she dreams she has a terrible time trying to walk, her legs never seem to work right - but these dreams are so different, she feels so much more alert in them, and it's not too difficult to work out the new setup. Quickly wrapping both arms back around herself, she trundles off towards a nearby wooded area, her jaw set in determination. She's going to find some big leaves or something, so she can enjoy this dream properly.

Dana's dreaming about water again, but this time she feels entirely comfortable, at home, even. It's a welcome change, and she relishes the opportunity to swim through the cool water. Her slender, intricately-pattered body undulates and propels her through the fjord with an elegant gliding motion. She thinks nothing of it to be half snake, particularly when she dives down to inspect the rocky bottom of the inlet and feels little scales closing her nostrils to keep her from drowning. Well isn't that convenient! She can also hold her breath for a pretty long time, it seems, and when she next surfaces for a gulp of air she has a handful of interesting shells to examine. Dana would probably be content to spend the entirely to the dream exploring, but exploring is almost always better with company, and she goes off in search of other dreamers to say hello to.

Eliot feels fucking majestic as a centaur. Okay, so, maybe some judgmental people would say he looks weird and gangly and bony and veiny, with his slim torso merging into a slim horse's neck, but. Still. His coat is gleaming chocolately gold, he moves with deerlike grace through the woods, and he is tastefully accessorized with this fancy beaded belt thing around his waist. He makes a goddamn beautiful stallion, and haters may direct themselves to the left.

So maybe this Dreaming gig isn't so bad after all. If only there was a decent drink to be found in this pristine natural paradise, he'd be set.

OOC: someone please come laugh at this lanky horsebutt goofus, he is far too smug.

When Gabriel arrives, he's a little more birdlike than usual. His massive wings are visible, but the entire rest of his body is also covered in mottled brown and golden feathers. His hair has been entirely replaced. Only his hands and face remain, but even there, the surface is interrupted by small feathers pushing out of the skin at his knuckles, his cheeks, his eyebrows. His feet are longer, ending in dangerous looking talons.

His feathers ruffle as a group then settle back down as he settles into the altered body. He's not uncomfortable in this new form, but he's not too excited about landing in a group dream either. Instead of searching anyone out, he materializes a chair by the water and takes a seat.

He feels heavy. Heavier than usual. He can't see like he's used to, his eyes so much bigger and farther apart, deep set, dark. He feels like he's going blind. He can barely lift his head. What's wrong with him?

He looks at his hands - looking down is easiest - and moves one slowly up his arm, feeling his skin and the swirl of his scars. He's naked - well, shirtless. He's wearing pants, or is he? What - what the -

Fuck! He tries to jump up, but his new legs don't obey him, kicking frantically, tail swinging, hard hooves digging into the dirt. They aren't his legs at all, they're a horse's, or a...

...or a bull's.

Oh, no. No, no, no. He raises his hands to his head and feels the hard contours of it, the long snout, the empty, sunken eyes that he shouldn't be able to see from, the horns. It's not even a proper head, it's a fucking skull.

~~Fuck you!~~ he screams across the cruelly beautiful landscape. What do you want from me? Is it not enough? Is all the fucked up shit I've been through not enough?

It takes him a moment to realize that neither the Rift nor anyone who might be around has heard him. He has no voice; no mouth to speak through. He's trapped in this horrendous fucking undead ~~minotaur~~ body, and he can't even talk back.

He curls up as best he can, pulling his rough, thick-haired legs up to his chest and hugging them, tucking his monstrous head over his knees. He just wants to wake up. Maybe no one will see him like this. Maybe he'll just be here, alone, being the ~~minotaur~~, and then he'll wake up.

((OOC: here's Johnny!))

Aziraphale draws a nice lungful of clean, dreamed-up fjord air. Lovely place for a canter! Which is fortuitous, since he seems to be decorated with a lovely new body, his regrettably naked torso growing from a good solid horse body - a Fell pony, if he is not mistaken, thick black-haired hooves standing firmly against the hard ground of the mountainside. And it's not just that, he realizes with a stretch - his wings are manifested, still the scruffy tawny mess they always are, but spanning broader and stronger than usual. Some sort of pegasus-centaur hybrid? How perfectly fanciful.

He makes a cursory effort to walk down the slant of the ground and is met with success - delightful, how much easier it is to move like this than if he'd been in his regular form. His wings extend outward, catching the air, and he gives a thoughtful flap. Could he fly like this? Shouldn't be possible - the amount of physics that has to be sidestepped just to get his regular form to fly is nothing compared to this body. But it's a dream, after all.

He adjusts his glasses, looking at the crystal water of the fjord with grave determination. He breaks into a trot, picking up a bit of speed, and then launches himself. He gasps a little, afraid that he's about to go tumbling like a multi-limbed fool, but no - he takes off magnificently, soaring through the air. His wings have never held up this much girth before, but they're doing fine, either with the odd logic of the new body or just with pure Rift-given dream magic. This is so strange, so completely enjoyable, that he can't help but laugh. He practices steering the unfamiliar bulk of his new body, skimming down over the water. What ridiculous fun. He hopes, distantly, that Crowley isn't here to see him like this.

The TARDIS doesn't join the dream until she feels the Doctor's joy, shortly followed by Gabriel's fury, making it necessary to investigate. The form she finds herself in when she manifests is rather more fanciful than she'd have chosen herself - most of her appears in the graceful unicorn body that she seems to end up in with some frequency, all dainty limbs and snow-white fur, though rather unusually connected to her humanoid torso and head.

She takes a few steps forward to work out these strange proportions, which is when she notices that the ground she touches changes rapidly, grass and flowers sprouting and blooming and withering unnaturally fast around her hooves in a steady cycle of growth and decay. Frowning down at this temporal oddity, she also realizes that her hair has grown considerably, now a long dark mane covering much of her naked torso, with bright sparks of light set into every curl that glow and pulse as fiercely as tiny stars and give her hair a silver gleam.

What an utterly strange form. At least the altered flow of time emanating from her doesn't bother her as much as it normally would, since it's very nearly meaningless in a dream. So she decides to go with it for now and sets off along the shore to look for Gabriel or the Doctor, or whoever else she might find. Now and then she reaches out a hand to brush over a bush or a low tree, finding that the greenery reacts much the same to her touch as the ground beneath her hooves, leaving a trail of life and death in her wake.

((whenever I said I wasn't gonna tag this party, sorry I lied. symbolism stolen from here, of course.))

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