Enchantment Under the Sea

[applesaucemod]

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.]

Comments

[johnny_truant]

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.

[adventuressing]

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.'

[johnny_truant]

Johnny swivels his head sharply, startled by the approach - a girl wants to talk to him?

But it's not just any girl - it's Charley. Oh, beautiful Charley, looking more beautiful than ever in that ridiculous little dress, god - Johnny finds himself staring rather openly at her neckline, but that's okay, right? since they've already had sex?? He snaps his attention up to her face anyway, since it seems the polite thing to do, and swallows a bit audibly.

"Hi," he says, and despite his best efforts, he grins stupidly, drunkenly - god, she is so hot right now, he wants to fuck her, or be fucked, anything. "You look nice."

[adventuressing]

Charley just barely restrains herself from pressing a forearm over her breasts when Johnny stares unabashedly for a good few seconds. She has no idea how she feels about this, which is annoying. Or rather, she feels like she both wants to bask in the attention, maybe even encourage it further, and simultaneously wants to run away and never be looked at ever again. Which is stupid, given that they've already seen each other naked, they've had sex, for goodness' sake, which is also something her body apparently can't decide how it feels about. And Johnny is presumably also affected by whatever this dream is doing, so she can hardly blame him for acting like a bit of an idiot.

For lack of anything better to do with her hands, she fiddles with the fabric of her skirt, giving it a little swish. Her expression settles into a small smile, somewhere between awkward and flattered and appreciative.

'I quite like you in the suit, I have to say,' she says loftily, reaching out to fiddle with his lapel. 'Though I'd have got you a nicer one, if I was the one dressing you.'

She refuses to blush at that particular image, and lifts her chin a little higher. 'I suppose you're finding this whole... affair as peculiar as I am?' Charley's not entirely sure how to describe her own mental state at the moment, so she's hoping Johnny knows what she means.

[johnny_truant]

Johnny does blush over that, dips his chin and laughs awkwardly. "That, yeah, that would've been better," he says, and immediately regrets it. That wasn't suave at all. He brushes his hair back over his ear, in an even worse attempt to be somehow 'cool'. Gross.

"It is very fucking peculiar," he agrees. "I clocked it as being like... we're in a teenage environment, feeling teenage feelings? Which... sort of, you know." He waves a hand in a very vague, unhelpful motion, intended to mean explains all this. His eyes are wandering again stop that Johnny, but oh, fuckfuckfuuuuck it's too late, and these trousers were already tight and now they're suddenly a lot tighter, fuck, god, he forgot how hard this was to avoid back in the day. He self-consciously curls inward, tugging the end of his blazer down to cover his shame, quite ineffectually. "I, I'm sorry, uh," he blurts, oh god, this is the worst. He's blushing furiously now. Can he please just drop into a hole in the floor. Wait, no. That's something he could actually make happen by accident. He settles for just standing there feeling unbearably awkward.