Saving Lives a Mile High [open to all]

[applesaucemod]

Welcome to another ordinary day in Manhattan. This barely even qualifies as a dream at all, it's so like waking life. The dreamers will find that they're their own perfectly normal selves going about their perfectly normal business and thwarting perfectly normal crimes in their perfectly normal spandex outfits.




What's that? No, of course it's normal to wear spandex (or leather, for the more chic among you) and go around beating up muggers and thwarting your villainous counterparts, don't be silly. What else would you do with your afternoon, not use your superpowers to better the world? That's grossly irresponsible of you; don't you know that with great power comes great responsibility?

So get out there and make the world a better place -- and be sure not to let that disguise slip if you do make it in to work today. Wouldn't want anyone to learn your secret identity, after all.


[OOC: Characters will find themselves thrust into the role of superhero...or at least, super-powered human. Whether they'd use those powers for good or evil (or use them at all), they'll think they've always been this way (or maybe just since that time they fell in toxic waste and developed cancer telekinesis). Usual dream party rules apply: all players and characters welcome regardless of membership status. Characters will remember or forget the events of the dream at players' discretion.]

Comments

[andhiswife]

The squeak is a surprise, and the corners of her mouth tick upwards. That she could even elicit such a sound from Iman is a thrill: she is a famous hero, and Greta is no one, a baker, and yet here they are, making out in an alleyway like a pair of teenagers. Is this even real?

She doesn't care. Iman's fingers are in her hair, and her lips are soft, and she's being so gentle - reverent, almost, as if Greta is the lofty, unattainable one, and she can't believe her good fortune. Which doesn't make the least bit of sense, she's not--there's nothing intimidating about her, surely?

She's sliding one hand up Iman's back in what she hopes is an encouraging sort of way; the other is experimentally fondling the hijab when Iman suddenly stills. Oh, dear. Should she not have touched the scarf? Greta opens her eyes, expecting to see shock or reproach and not the expression Iman's currently wearing, which is... stunned, but not in a bad sort of way.

What's happened? What is she missing? Why have they stopped? Is... is that all?

"Iman?" she hazards, searching her gaze for some sort of explanation. "Is--are you..." she fumbles uncertainly, terrified all of a sudden that she's made some sort of mistake, got the wrong idea. Well, of course she did. She's only a baker, and Iman is a hero, and they might get a moment in an alleyway but nothing that will last; she doesn't get to keep this. Why would she?

She releases Iman's hijab, and wonders if she ought to extricate herself completely, but she can't bring herself to do that. Instead, she finds herself lifting her hand to Iman's face, brushing her fingertips against her cheek. "I--" she starts.

And then she wakes up.