Tender Lumplings Everywhere, Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

The woods are dark and deep, but not particularly lovely. If anything, they feel dangerous, as if something terrible might come lurching out from behind any given tree and tear into the nearest warm body. What that terrible thing might be is anyone's guess. A cat with hands? Slenderman? Stegosaurus? Actual cannibal Shia LaBeouf? All of the above in a horrible mob? It's anyone's guess. But every dreamer will be absolutely convinced that there is something unspeakable out there, and that it's after them.

The dreamers have two things on their side. The first is that there is actually nothing dangerous lurking in these woods (with the possible exception of other dreamers). The pervasive terror the dreamers are feeling is just that: a rift-given feeling, nothing more and nothing less. That snapping twig or rustle in the undergrowth is almost certainly just a squirrel or something else equally harmless.

The second is that no dreamer is alone. They all will be reunited with - or introduced to - their dæmons, a source of comfort in this dark, intimidating wilderness. However frightened the dreamers might be, at least they have someone with them who definitely doesn't want them dead.

[OOC: as ever, any and all are welcome! You don't have to be in the game to join the fun. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. And the party only stops when you want it to; feel free to backtag forever.]

Comments

[bibliophale]

It's enough that Orisa has instigated this, and that she's just crawling up Crowley like it's nothing, like he's a conveniently placed tree. But when Crowley reaches out to touch her, stroking and giving her that tender little squeeze, Aziraphale feels his whole body jerk and seize up. Orisa murmurs with pleasure and crawls up and around, draping herself fully around Crowley's shoulders, leaving Aizraphale free to gasp and stagger back against the tree.

It isn't just the sensation, of course, although that's a great big part of it. It's that Crowley thinks she's lovely. And Orisa likes that, he can feel how pleased she is, as she loops delicately around Bayan's perch on Crowley's shoulder. Aziraphale wants to scold her, demand where she gets off being this, this much of a scoundrel when she's meant to be his soul. But all he can do is shudder and watch.

"He's all right," says Orisa, and butts her head lightly against Crowley's cheek, drawing a sharp breath from Aziraphale. "Just takes a little getting usssed to, doesn't it?" She turns her attention back to Bayan and nuzzles against her softly.

Well that feels - not better, necessarily, but more proper. Aziraphale's breathing normalizes briefly, though his eyes keep flicking nervously from souls to Crowley. He's never been this forward about anything. Even Crowley tends to be more subtle than Orisa is being. He's not entirely sure what to make of it.

"Don't be such a prude, Aziraphale," sighs Orisa. "I know what you're thinking, after all."

"Orisa!" he sputters finally, the name exploding indignantly out of him; just about the limit of what he can verbally express at the moment.