The Big Applesauce Moderators (
applesaucemod) wrote in
applesaucedream2014-10-30 06:02 pm
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Entry tags:
- character: daine sarrasri,
- character: desire,
- character: gabriel,
- character: iman asadi,
- character: johnny truant,
- character: lucifer,
- character: peeta mellark,
- character: spike,
- character: sunshine,
- dropped: alianne,
- dropped: calliope,
- dropped: charley pollard,
- dropped: dana cardinal,
- dropped: daniel jackson,
- dropped: illyria,
- dropped: jane eyre,
- dropped: julian bashir,
- dropped: lucy saxon,
- dropped: seth,
- dropped: the doctor (12),
- dropped: the doctor (8),
- dropped: topher brink,
- dropped: zagreus,
- party post,
- retired: aziraphale,
- retired: bee,
- retired: crowley,
- retired: melanie,
- retired: peter vincent
Tender Lumplings Everywhere, Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare [Open to All]

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.]
no subject
The chimaera has progressed to sniffing at Johnny's shoulder, even though that bite is long since healed over, was purely a mental affliction anyway. Then, pawing insistently at Johnny's arm, as though in agreement with its counterpart regarding the rabbit's potential smothering. Or possibly it just wants her to be able to run.
no subject
"Fuck you," he whispers without a trace of the usual desperate vehemence, the syllabic edge twisting into a startled whimper when the chimaera paws at him, how can Zagreus stand it, such a casual brush of contact that should be intimate, if allowed at all.
"Please," he begs softly, curling up closer against the tree. He might be pushed to idiotic violence whenever Zagreus pulls this shit on him, but he remembers what a lion paw to the head felt like, and he desperately doesn't want anything to happen to Nova. He keeps still, apart from the trembling. "Please, just go away."
no subject
The chimaera scoffs, which with its physiognomy entails a forceful chuff of sound and hot air, stirring Johnny's hair. "You know that's not going to happen," the thing chides. "I doubt we know how."
"Besides," Zagreus adds all too cheerfully, "What if something eats you? Something that isn't Alecto, I mean." He's starting to wonder what it would be like, if the thing gave Johnny a good solid bite. Nothing sustained. Probably survivable, and anyway, it's a dream, what of it. In the name of curiosity, etc.
no subject
On the follow-through of the motion he loses his already precarious balance and falls to the earth at Zagreus' feet, and there's no point trying to escape because he knows he can't, and he doesn't want that thing to chase him.
no subject
Not that Johnny looks to be in any position to judge Zagreus on being in control of himself, in whatever iteration that self currently happens to be. It's somewhat mollifying, for Johnny to be in a useless heap; Zagreus was starting to feel a bit shown up by his own monster. Is that symbolising anything, or just annoying? Whatever. Something is digging into the back of his mind like a thorn, and he responds in kind, digging the toe of his shoe sharply into the hollow of Johnny's collarbone. Like the chimaera's pawing, peremptory but broadly repulsed. And...not a little hopeful. There has to be a spine in here somewhere. "Where's your earthquake now?"
no subject
He can feel her, practically vibrating with indignation. I'm not leaving you, idiot.
His focus moves quickly from his soul-rabbit to himself when Zagreus nudges him hard with his fucking foot. Johnny flinches and makes an involuntary grunt, sounding soft and pitiful and preylike. Hearing himself like that sends a sudden resurgence of his usual, stupid anger ripping through him, and he digs his fingers into the dirt, staring up at Zagreus with open, teeth-bared hatred.
"Won't work out here," he says coldly, because there's no point in refusing to answer. "It only works on houses."
He wants to fight back, against the obvious taunt, the indignity of being toed at, but he can't, quite. His arms won't work, or his legs, or all of him. He's pinioned by the point of Zagreus' shoe, paralyzed beneath it.
no subject
The chimaera is still trotting its irregular zigzags through the roots and litter, increasingly frustrated, unable to find its prey. Greek monsters are surprisingly unsuitable for real world pursuits like hunting, or maybe that isn't surprising in the slightest. Why else would they have given a female monster a mane, besides a lack of understanding of reality? Natural disasters are ferocious, not skilled. Metaphors ought to be heard and not seen. They had thought meat spontaneously generated flies, too. Zagreus unpins Johnny only to crouch nearby, arm rested on drawn up knee pleasantly, sympathetically. "That sounds a lot more useful than I would have given you credit for. Just in dreams, or in the waking world? Don't lie, I'll check."
no subject
"Both," he murmurs. He feels a twist in his gut; he's giving everything away open-handed this time, with none of the usual interrogation and torture song and dance. He's not even being held in place anymore, apart from the precarious distance of his rabbit. "Most of the time anyway. Dreams are a toss-up."
The words sound normal, organized like a conventional conversation, but there's a dogged, forced nonchalance to them, trepidation in his eyes and contempt in his lips. He's coiled like a spring or a prey animal, ready to run, though there's no point to that, really, and he probably won't try it. It's just for show. Habit. Old habits cling to life but they're getting easier to cage.
no subject
"Good. You'll need that. Any houses?" Because Zagreus knows specifics are important. The devil's in the details. Johnny isn't clever or mythically fickle enough to need such attention to detail, but the Rift, and its power-granting logic, is a different story altogether.
no subject
"So far," he says through his teeth, ignoring the dissonance of answering his questions like a good boy during this half-expressed act of physical repulsion. "Anything... constructed."