applesaucemod: (Default)
The Big Applesauce Moderators ([personal profile] applesaucemod) wrote in [community profile] applesaucedream2014-08-30 04:33 pm

Enchantment Under the Sea

Tonight, the dreamers of Manhattan will find themselves transported to what is unmistakably a high school gymnasium. Granted, it's lavishly decorated in blues, greens, and violets. There are jellyfish made of tissue paper and streamers, painted cardboard fish are dangling from ceiling, and an abundance of transparent balloons serve as substitute bubbles. Tables and chairs are clustered around the periphery for those who'd like to sit, but the majority of the floor is open for dancing. Along one wall, folding tables hold snacks and bowls of punch. There's no DJ to be seen, but a sound system is playing a steady stream of classic dance songs.

It's impressive work for a nonexistent prom committee, all things considered.

But the setting is not the only thing that hearkens back to one's teenage years. The dreamers will find, regardless of age or species, that they're now saddled with the hormones of an average sixteen-year-old human being… and with the delightful mood fluctuations and bouts of irrationality that come with the package. (Dreamers who are already teenagers might be said to be getting a reprieve… but dealing with adults in such a state will be trying enough on its own. Someone has to chaperone, right?)

The good news for dreamers who aren't into dances is that there's an entire high school to explore, though the hallways will only be half-lit and many of the classrooms will be locked up. Even the parking lot and athletic fields are accessible, but dreamers may find themselves getting mysteriously turned around if they try to actually leave school property.


[ooc: you all know the drill. Any and all characters are welcome, regardless of whether or not they're in the game. Dreamers may remember or forget the events of the party at the player's discretion.]
heysoulsister: (dubious)

[personal profile] heysoulsister 2014-08-30 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Jodie leans against the wall, glass of punch in hand, and eyes the rest of the gymnasium dubiously.

She's never been to a school dance, though there was a time when she would have just about killed for the opportunity. But the closest thing she ever managed was that fucking disastrous birthday party. There was no question of her attending any large social functions after that, not with the way Aiden had behaved. She feels a twinge of resentment, then brushes it aside. It's not as if she'd wanted to go to any more big parties, either, so it's probably just as well that no one ever asked.

Aiden isn't overly thrilled to be here, either - it's only a matter of time before someone starts vying for Jodie's attention - but at least there's more ready entertainment for him. A ripple seems to run through a cluster of balloons on the floor, and he bats one of them into the air.
johnny_truant: (awe)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2014-08-30 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)
HEY there's someone he knows, thank christ. Not someone he particularly wants to fuck - he could imagine getting hammered enough to make out with her sloppily, but he doubts there is enough liquor in the world for her to get to that point, and plus, Aiden would ruin him. Anyway he considers Jodie a drinking buddy. A drinking buddy is anyone he can drink with, regardless of any makeouts that could theoretically happen, or not. Drinking buddies are good for at least two of his current goals.

"HEY GIRL," he yells, like a total douchebag (great, so that came along with it too), and directs a gratuitous pair of fingerguns to the swirly haze that is Aiden. "Please, please, please tell me you feel like you're gonna vomit emotions any minute, I do not want to be the only asshole here the rift decided to bequeath with a gift basket of hormones. Hey," (god, he's barely had anything to drink yet and he's already this far out, looks like low drinking tolerance came with the package) - he leans in and shouts over the pounding music, "You wanna go get high??"

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peeta_mellark: (Face)

[personal profile] peeta_mellark 2014-08-30 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Peeta, having never gone to a prom - or, in truth, even heard of one - is more than a little surprised and disoriented to find himself in the middle of the overly decorated gym. His first impression of the space makes him think unfavorably of Capitol parties, all color and flash with no substance. He aims a halfhearted kick at a nearby balloon and watches it sail a few feet away.

Spotting the snack table across the room, he decides to wander in that direction.
wildmage_daine: (glad to see you)

[personal profile] wildmage_daine 2014-08-31 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
Daine's pleasantly surprised to see someone she knows on her way out, and moreso once she realizes it's Peeta - both because he's a friend and because he's not an authority figure who'd frown at her escape attempt. Perhaps she can convince him to sneak out with her. She can't believe this is his sort of party, either.

She doesn't much want to bellow over the music, so she lays a hand on his arm to get his attention before leaning in to offer a cheerful, "Hullo!"

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johnny_truant: (not having it)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2014-08-30 10:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, hello. At first Johnny thinks this is gonna be just another high school stress dream, but he soon recognizes the familiar twinge of heightened self-awareness he usually associates with the shared dreams the rift likes to put them all through. If this is one of those, then there's going to be some sort of catch, or... 'plot development' or something. There always is.

Speaking of familiar twinges of self-awareness... wow, god, what is going on with him? He feels like he's on drugs. Everything is overstimulating - the pulse of music and the brush of people, either randos the dream created or strangers he doesn't know - it doesn't matter.

Everyone is hot.

Okay... no they aren't. A lot of them, the ones that don't seem real, aren't really there when you look at them - just a manufactured, vague crowd - are obviously teenagers. Those ones aren't hot. Because they're unattainable. And not in a sexy way.

No one is hot, actually. Johnny's horny.

And is he... is he wearing a tux?

"Jesus Christ," he mutters to himself, and sort of gravitates toward the snack table. There's a bowl of punch and several cups lined up. He picks one up and sips. Not spiked. Well, fuck, if this is a high school dance, he's gonna have a flask in his pocket, right? Duh.

Of course he does. He gives it a sniff. Cheap, throat-burning vodka. He empties it into the bowl.

There we go.

Johnny is so ready to get utterly obliterated and possibly high, throw up on the football field, and make out with anyone who will have him. Not necessarily in that order. He hasn't felt this way in years. He feels like... like a teenager.

"Oh, come on," he says out loud, and checks his face. He doesn't seem any younger - no, all his scars are there, the tattoos, everything. But he feels like he's going to explode. He has a lot of feelings. And he needs somewhere to put them. As fast as possible.
Edited 2014-08-30 23:01 (UTC)
adventuressing: (uhhh)

[personal profile] adventuressing 2014-08-31 05:11 am (UTC)(link)
Charley has absolutely none of the cultural context to recognise the theme of this dream, nor did she ever visit an American high school at any time in the early 21st century, but the feel of it is nonetheless terribly adolescent somehow. The handmade decorations, even the smell, which rather reminds her of the gymnasium at her old boarding school.

Come to that, Charley herself feels more than a little adolescent, which is very peculiar. She feels... impatient, ready to do anything; wanting to do something and careless enough that she might very well regardless of the wisdom of it. She furrows her brow, thoughtlessly brushing her hands over her skirt, which makes her frown properly, looking down at herself. Gosh, that is very... glittery fabric.

Feeling suddenly and unaccountably self-conscious, she retreats through a nearby, streamer-hung doorway to find a bathroom or a window or somewhere where she might examine her reflection. A bathroom presents itself first, possessed of chipped tiles, mint-green toilet cubicles, and its own, distinctly adolescent odour.

In the mirror, Charley finds herself decked out in a short, black and white halter dress liberally covered with spangles. The very thing a hip sixteen year old might wear to her prom in 2004, not that Charley knows that. And it's certainly a nice enough dress, but the feeling of self-consciousness persists, and Charley frowns and pokes at her stomach. Mouth twisting, she turns to the side and sucks her belly in as much as she can, before letting it out with a huff and a wrinkle of her nose. She feels... awkward, and unattractive, and then, as soon as she lets that thought realise, annoyed. That's not like her at all, and she's buggered if she's going to pay any attention to it.

It's with a particular, head-held-high insistence on her own quality, therefore, that she heads back into the auditorium, streamers fluttering behind her. She maintains this attitude until she sees Johnny, at which point she blushes hotly, and has to swallow down a stupid little hiccough of giddiness that blooms just under her sternum. Bloody hell, she can hardly keep up with her own mood.

She sidles up to him with a faintly prim expression, not entirely sure what else to do with her face. 'Hello.'

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wildmage_daine: (wtf)

[personal profile] wildmage_daine 2014-08-30 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, this is… different. Daine wrinkles her nose as she looks around the gymnasium. It's enough like a royal function for her to recognize the elements of a dance: music, decorations, refreshments, seating. She's even in a dress, a simple, lavender affair. But it's far louder and more rough around the edges than dances as she knows them, and after a cursory glance around to make sure no one's paying her any particular attention, she starts to edge purposefully for the nearest exit.
bagropa: (you and me we ain't the worrying kind)

[personal profile] bagropa 2014-09-01 10:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Praise Nah Nohtek, a familiar face among the crowd. "Being designated Daine!" Croach calls out over the music, moving away from the wall, where he had apparently been acting in the manner of Earthen flora. He intercepts her by the doorway, walking strangely, clearly unaccustomed to the various layers and cut of the suit he has been made to wear. "Your clothing is... aesthetically pleasing," he compliments with a tremendous amount of awkwardness.

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rae_of_sun: (badass)

[personal profile] rae_of_sun 2014-08-30 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Okay, so it's not the dress, the one Bo's gang had stuffed her into before delivering her to Con like a solstice present. Not quite. This one is strapless, for one, and replete with ostentatious lace the other one had lacked. But it's still near kali goddamn enough for Sunshine to be furious to find herself wearing it. Did she pick this? There's no way she picked this, and the injustice of it all is almost enough to make her scream.

Her frustration about the dress isn't the only reason for her to avoid the gym as if magnetically repulsed (don't even get her started on the tragic lighting situation), but it's good enough to be getting on with, and no one tries to stop her as she wanders the darkened hallways. Hell, there has to be some normal clothes that would fit her somewhere in this place, right? Nurse's office, maybe. She'd even take a damn smock if she could find the art department.
johnny_truant: (sweetiepie)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2014-08-30 11:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Johnny feels over-caffeinated, even though he's only abused substances of the downer variety tonight. He flits from person to person, looking for someone he knows well enough to get somewhere, or - holy fuck, who is that, besides agonizingly hot? He has the vague sense he's seen her somewhere before, but that is all too easy to brush aside as he slips out of the gym, following her into the hallway. Wait, this is creepy, right? Totally creepy. He should say something.

"Uh, hey!" he says. What a fuckin charmer. He grins, like that will help. "Hi."

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erratic_hematic: (standing)

[personal profile] erratic_hematic 2014-08-31 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
Ugh. He's spent enough time in his life hanging around high schools. He definitely doesn't need to start doing it in his dreams. He's even kitted out for the occasion, in some sort of pinstripe suit. He raises his hands to loosen and remove the tie and undo a couple buttons on the shirt. That's a little better.

He's definitely not feeling the mood lighting, nor is he all that enticed by the punch, so he wanders out into the halls of the school instead. He's feeling...he's not sure, but it's definitely not normal. Thankfully he's got a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his pocket. That should help to pass the time.
bluesuit_handy: (.blank | distant)

[personal profile] bluesuit_handy 2014-08-31 08:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Andrew's feeling a little better now, and he's cleaned up well enough that it's not obvious he was crying earlier. It is obvious that he's pregnant, though (or at least fat -- can he still pretend that he's only fat?); if anything he feels like his belly is bigger in this dream than in the waking world, more obvious and awkward and unattractive.

Not in the mood to dance or chat over the snack table, he slips out into the hall to find a drinking fountain. Having located one, he's busy getting a drink when someone else comes by.
bluesuit_handy: (.sad | hurt)

[personal profile] bluesuit_handy 2014-08-31 03:16 am (UTC)(link)
Andrew can currently be found crying in a bathroom stall. It may or may not be the 'correct' bathroom; he didn't pay much mind to the signage when he was looking for somewhere to hide. Life has been stressful lately, and not in the fun, running-from-megalomaniacs way, but in the unhappy, his-body-is-betraying-him way. In the waking world he has it together, but being in this dream triggered an unhappy Donna memory about being the fat girl no one would dance with, and that was enough to break the dam holding back the flood of insecurity about his changing body and impending motherhood. It's stupid to cry, but knowing that really isn't helping him to cut it out.
apidae: (nothing is simple)

[personal profile] apidae 2014-08-31 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
Bee doesn't like this dream. She doesn't like it at all. She has a lot of feelings she hasn't had to deal with in a while, and she feels stupid for having them, and the gymnasium crowded with people doesn't feel safe. She has to get somewhere safe and private. She never went through this whole terrible high school thing, but people go to bathrooms if they need to be alone, right? Bee feels like crying and she doesn't even know why. So into the bathroom she ducks.

Someone's beaten her to it, actually, and she wants to run away in embarrassment, but she can't quite turn away from someone in such audible distress. That sounds like a man's voice. Did she come into the wrong bathroom? Well it doesn't matter now.

She knocks timidly on the door. "Hello?" she say softly. "Are you okay in there?"

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watchesthebeans: (subdued | downcast)

[personal profile] watchesthebeans 2014-08-31 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
Aglet has absolutely no idea what this place is. While he's suitably impressed by the finely crafted decorations, he really can't get behind the idea of a room this big and open. Normally he'd solve this problem by hiding under a chair or amongst the snacks, but tonight he has a major problem:

He's the size of a bean. A human bean, that is, not a food bean -- though which would be worse he's not sure. Intellectually he knows that this means no one's going to step on him and there's no reason to be afraid or to want to hide, but viscerally he can't shake the feeling that something's going to swoop out of the air and get him. For that reason he has crept under one of the snack tables and is just barely visible behind the low-hanging plastic tablecloth. His clothing is another puzzle to him; quite unexpectedly he finds himself wearing an impossibly neatly sewn brown suit and a pair of uncomfortable, bean-style leather shoes. The shoes he kicked off almost immediately, which is why they're just sort of laying on the floor a short way from the snacks.
jennifer_strange: (mild alarm)

[personal profile] jennifer_strange 2014-08-31 03:58 am (UTC)(link)
Jennifer isn't sure about this whole dance situation, but she has far fewer reservations about freely available snacks. She's sidling along the table with a glass of punch in hand - it tastes a bit odd, and she's trying to pin down the flavor - when she suddenly finds herself treading on a pair of wayward shoes. She stumbles, regains her balance by hastily putting a hand down on the table, then looks down to see what she's stepped on. Shoes?

"Who'd leave their shoes?" she mutters to herself, her voice barely audible beneath the music. She nudges them beneath the table with her foot, then blinks as she feels resistance. Is someone under there?

She crouches, lifting the edge of the tablecloth, then blinks in astonishment at who she sees. "Aglet?" she says, face splitting into a grin. A moment later, though, her expression shifts to something more concerned. "Are you all right? Did you shrink someone?"

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omnomnom_feels: (happy | dweeb)

[personal profile] omnomnom_feels 2014-08-31 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
Emotions. Everywhere. Frustration, elation, lust -- and that's despair coming from that bathroom, how pungent. This place is a powder keg of feelings, or maybe Rashad is a powder keg and the emotions are a shower of sparks, he's not sure, because as soon as he arrives there is the impulse to feed. Rashad has never been very good at denying himself, but tonight the ability to regulate impulses at all seems to have gone out the window altogether. The first emotionally charged person he encounters he feeds from, no hesitation.


[OOC: If your character has the feels, Rashad's going to help himself. If your character does not especially have the feels we can say he just fed on someone else and I'll give him an emotion to express. :p]
johnny_truant: (smolder)

I hereby give you permission to eat everything Johnny has to offer

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2014-08-31 04:55 am (UTC)(link)
"Heyyyy!" Johnny slides up to Rashad and all but drapes himself over the guy. "You! How you been doing, man?" He's riding the drunkenness and the high, and the ongoing lust he feels toward pretty much everyone in the room, and can't stop himself from planting a bit stupid platonic kiss on Rashad's temple. "Have you tried the punch? I made it better."

OM NOM NOM

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oh dear

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anguiform: (cool motherfucker)

[personal profile] anguiform 2014-08-31 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
Crowley feels... weird. He's wearing a cheap rental suit, for a start, which is weird enough on its own, and almost without thinking about it, he mentally upgrades it into something that you certainly couldn't find in a shopping centre for fifty quid. Or-- he readjusts his assessment-- fifty dollars, as between the decor and the accents of the people around him, this is clearly meant to be an American high school. The kind of school dance that John Hughes made all those films about.

But that isn't the weird thing; this is plainly one of those shared Rift dreams, and they all have some kind of bizarre theme that they adhere to. He feels... on edge, somehow, almost like he's high, but without any of the obviously reality-altering side effects. There's an itch under his skin, and he suddenly really wants a fag.

Which is also odd. Cigarette smoking is something he took up for a variety of reasons, but he's fairly sure he's not physiologically capable of becoming addicted to them, and he's never actually craved a cigarette. Well, regardless. He fishes one out from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and lights up with a click of his fingers. He's probably not supposed to be smoking in here, but fuck 'em, right?

It's as he's slouching against the wall smoking that he notices the other weird thing. Because he's not just idly perusing the dancing crowd, he's... perving; his gaze focussing as if automatically on tits and legs and necks, tight trousers showcasing bulges and bums, the grip of hands on hips. Crowley sucks harder on his cigarette, shifting awkwardly. That's-- he has sex, obviously, but he doesn't lust like that, indiscriminately and unprompted, entirely independent of any Effort. That's human.

But... that's what it is. He's horny. He has never in his six-thousand some years of existence been horny. What the fuck.
bibliophale: (demure | thoughtful | heh)

[personal profile] bibliophale 2014-08-31 04:52 am (UTC)(link)
Aziraphale feels much the same, really, standing awkwardly in his terrible, hideous, bright orange suit. Desperate for something - all manner of sinful nonsense, actually. He treats himself to the punch bowl, which has already been spiked by some gracious soul, and he scans the room nervously, attentively, for - someone. Oh, dear, everyone is very attractive. What is this? What's going on? This isn't - this isn't his way, he doesn't feel things things except when Crowley prompts him, and even then -

Oh, speak of the literal devil, there's Crowley, looking unaccountably attractive smoking and leaning against the wall. Aziraphale darts over, feeling a bit sheepish. Like a - well, like a lovesick human.

"Er," he says, blushing warmly. "Er, hi."

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fucking_ebay: (thoughtful | cold daylight)

[personal profile] fucking_ebay 2014-08-31 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
Peter's not exactly the sort of guy to get bashful over boners, but right now it's hard difficult to think of much else. If he were in his old stage outfit he would at least have the benefit of trousers tight enough to keep everything contained, but the cheap suit in which he finds himself hides little, and even Peter finds himself a little uncomfortable with his inability to conceal the problem that keeps coming up whenever he spots a short dress or plunging neckline. Besides, it's just awkward to walk around this way even if the situation is irritatingly familiar from some long-buried memory, so he soon slips out of the gymnasium and down an unlit hall in search of somewhere private to take care of himself so he can go back to being a human being capable of real thoughts.
preuxchevalier: (gobsmacked)

[personal profile] preuxchevalier 2014-08-31 09:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Well... he's human at the moment, at least. That's the first thought Bertie has when he's aware that he's in... what in the world? A classroom? It's a rather sleek-looking sort of affair. He's in a tux and seated in one of the desks at the back. The lighting is poor. Where is he? It certainly doesn't look like the school house in Equestria. How had he even gotten here? Where is everybody? Have they just left him?

The rather sudden swing to concerns about being abandoned in a strange schoolhouse is alarming on several levels. Bertie rises and heads toward the classroom door, intent on finding anybody else. He pauses before heading out, though, another strange thought that he's feeling a bit greasy about the face comes to him and he rubs a sleeve across his forehead. He doesn't like this one wit.

A discombobulated Englishman comes charging full speed out of the classroom and finds himself immediately running into another man. "What?" He squints in the dimness. "Wh-who's that? Hallo?"

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slumberingwood: (Cadge)

[personal profile] slumberingwood 2014-08-31 05:36 am (UTC)(link)
Watch out, folks, there's a dragon on the loose in the hallway. She (and she will be very offended if anyone is somehow unable to discern that she is a she) is over twenty feet long from her nose to the tufted tip of her tail, and she wears...well, accessories. The necklace and so forth appear to be just for show, but one bulging pocket of her leather satchel contains an enormous pearl, carefully buttoned into place but really too large for the bag it's in.

She stops short when she encounters her first human, her elongated face contorting into a frankly disturbed expression. "What are you meant to be?" she asks bluntly.
bemyangel: (talking)

[personal profile] bemyangel 2014-09-01 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Annabel hadn't been expecting to see anything particularly interesting in this place, not when this place bears way too much in common with the classes she'd had to take before she'd been allowed to take the interesting ones. Which is perhaps why Annabel stops for a moment, only not staring because she's taking the time to try to brush dirt off of her dress before the question gets asked.

"Annabel McAlistair," she says, offering her hand out before she thinks better of it and puts it back along her side. "I'm a scientist."

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essentiallyharmless: (Neat as a word)

[personal profile] essentiallyharmless 2014-08-31 07:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Lucy never had the prom experience. Part of it was that it just wasn't really that much of a thing in the UK back in the mid-90s, but mostly it was because she went to an all-girls boarding school. Sometimes there were galas or smaller dance parties, but nothing like this. Nothing with boys. (Not that Lucy needed boys to have fun.) Still, it's difficult not to recognise the setting, though it's not actually one she's particularly keen to experience.

She doesn't mind the outfit, though. But when she spots Peter across the dance floor, heading in another direction, a whole lot of strong emotions well up inside her, her guts twisting, and that is something she can be without. She needs alcohol. Please let someone have spiked the punch or smuggled something in. Getting herself a drink and tasting it lets her know that yes, someone did spike the drink, thank goodness for that. Now all she needs is a hot girl to make out with and it will actually start to resemble her school experience.
powerdealer: (10 | Angry | Brooding)

[personal profile] powerdealer 2014-08-31 08:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Seth is not a big fan of this setting. Dances weren't really his thing. Parties and clubs, sure, but this is a bit too formal, a bit too innocent. He's perfectly comfortable in a suit though, but the tie is a bit much, so he reaches up and loosens it. Also he's vaguely aware he doesn't have a date, which doesn't seem like him for a thing like this. But whatever. He's just gonna stand back here and be grouchy until something more interesting comes along.
johnny_truant: (seductive)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2014-08-31 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Johnny's pretty interesting. Drunk, high, horny and showing no signs of slowing down yet. He slides up to Seth and hugs him from behind.

"Heyyy," he says, or rather slurs. "I brought you punch. Which I personally improved." He steps back and offers the cup with a grin, quite pleased with himself.

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bemyangel: (upset)

[personal profile] bemyangel 2014-09-01 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Annabel's parents had had very strong words to say about her socialization. Friends were a distraction, they were a waste of time that would keep her from being a success. They hadn't been wrong. And with thoughts and desires surging through her reminiscent of her worst school years -- days before she'd felt comfortable arguing with her teachers when they were so clearly wrong, days when she hadn't yet learned to throw all of her feeling and worries and desires into her work -- there seems little to do when she discovers that she can't leave.

So Annabel is resentfully settled against the wall, belligerent that her attempts to explore the school had resulted in finding more of interest in the janitor's closet than the science labs.

It's probably safe to say she's ruined her dress with dust and wrinkles, if nothing else, by this point.
Edited 2014-09-01 21:06 (UTC)
thatwasvisual: (sunglasses at night)

[personal profile] thatwasvisual 2014-09-01 09:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Eve honestly can't understand why everyone isn't enjoying this party. She finds herself filled with an ancient, burning vitality she'd almost forgotten. It's far more intoxicating than the punch, which she hasn't bothered tasting (for obvious reasons).

It's Annabel's dress that first catches her eye, more because of the adventure it's clearly been through than the pattern. Here, Eve thinks, is someone far too interesting - and young - to be sulking against a wall all night.

She's not trying to sneak up on the woman, but the noise and the crowd mask her approach. One moment, Annabel is alone; the next, there's an ostensibly human woman with white-blonde dreads and an enormous pair of sunglasses leaning against the wall beside her.

"You," Eve says decisively, "should be dancing."

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bibliophale: (oh noooooo)

[closed]

[personal profile] bibliophale 2014-09-01 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[continued from here]

Aziraphale rematerializes in the school library, destitute and pathetic, and immediately curls up into the first alcove he can find, hugging his knees to his chest. Even now that there's no one looking at him, he feels even more embarrassed, having acted like that - Daine will never respect him again, and neither Spike nor Crowley are likely to let him hear the end of this. He's never been so sensitive, though. What is wrong with him?

Probably some aspect of the dream. The Rift toying with them, like it does. More and more it seems to be a cruel, frivolous and even malicious entity.

He rests his head on his arms, crossed over his knees, sighs, and waits glumly to be allowed to wake up.
Edited 2014-09-01 23:23 (UTC)
anguiform: (idgi)

[personal profile] anguiform 2014-09-02 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
It takes Crowley about half an hour before he eventually goes to seek Aziraphale out, partially because he's retroactively kiiiind of embarrassed at his own behaviour, confused at his continuing, low-level randiness, and also marginally terrified at what Aziraphale will do when he does find him. He occupies the time by drinking a few cups of the (terrible) punch that some thoughtful soul has spiked with (equally terrible) booze, and then finding a corner to lurk and smoke in.

When he's attained a little bit of a buzz from nicotine and liquor, he finally goes to find the angel. He pokes his head into a few classrooms, something that turns out to be a broom cupboard (and thank God Aziraphale isn't weeping in the broom cupboard, he doesn't know what he'd do about that), and eventually comes to the school library. Of all the places Aziraphale could be in a school, this seems the most likely, and Crowley ventures in, peeking a bit awkwardly through the stacks.

'Angel?' he calls. 'You there?'

And indeed there he is, curled up in a nook and looking thoroughly pathetic. Crowley experiences an uncomfortable squirming feeling somewhere in the vicinity of his diaphragm, and immediately ceases to have any idea what to say. 'Uh, hi.'

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eliotwaugh: (melancholy)

[personal profile] eliotwaugh 2014-09-01 11:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Prom is Eliot's natural enemy.

This might, empirically, be the worst night of his life. He feels out of place in his own skin, threatened by everyone around him, and he's tried to quell the tide of anxiety with cup after cup of spiked punch. It was not strong enough.

Most tragic of all, his sense of style seems to have vanished along with his self-confidence, and he's trapped in a hideous purple velvet horror that smells like a thift shop. A mature, sane Eliot in control over his fashion choices would have opted for something either totally Oscar Wilde or more modern and Tom Ford, but no, no, this suit has fallen drastically short of either. He is not fit to be seen.

Which is why he's currently hiding behind the gym's bleachers, partaking in liquid courage. Unfortunately, since he has reverted to hapless adolescence, said courage comes in the form of peach schnapps.
johnny_truant: (careful consideration)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2014-09-01 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)
There he is.

Johnny's been hoping to run into Eliot since he got here - this dream is a thousand times more conducive to pleasant, flirty interaction than the last one they shared - and he can't stop himself from grinning the moment he spots Eliot behind the bleachers. He'd been thinking about shuffling back there to work on getting high again, or maybe have a nap - can you nap in dreams? he keeps meaning to find out - but this is better.

But as soon as he creeps closer he can tell Eliot's in a bad way. He wants to laugh at the hideousness of the suit, but that doesn't seem appropriate. Shit. Eliot probably had a terrible time at prom. At first Johnny's not sure he should maintain his approach, but then he softens and comes over. Eliot took care of him in the last dream, he can return the favor, even as drunk and stupid as he is.

"Hey," he says. "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

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erratic_hematic: (smokin)

[personal profile] erratic_hematic 2014-09-02 01:31 am (UTC)(link)
Spike pushes his way out of the gym, looking rather worse for wear. His lip is split and a cut above his eyebrow is steadily bleeding. He's wiped some of it away, but mostly has succeeded in smearing it down and across his cheek.

He heads down the hall on the lookout for a bathroom to decently clean his face off, pulling his pack of cigarettes and lighter from his pocket as he goes.
rae_of_sun: (alarmed)

[personal profile] rae_of_sun 2014-09-02 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
Sunshine's feeling a good deal better about this dream now that she's no longer in that unfortunate frigging ballgown. Granted, the substitute they wound up finding is its own brand of ridiculous, a brightly-patterned conglomeration of fabric that makes her look like she stumbled out of a Klimt painting, but the bar was set pretty damn low to begin with. And she likes bright colors, so there.

Of course, her mood can't help but take a downturn when she finds Spike covered in blood. It might please him to know that her immediate reaction isn't worry that he's fallen off the wagon (though to be fair, it's not entirely concentrated around his mouth), but she's still concerned.

"Hey," she says, brow furrowing as she approaches him. "What the hell happened to you?"

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