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applesaucedream2016-01-01 07:12 pm
applesaucemod) wrote in applesaucedream2016-01-01 07:12 pm
How dreary to be Somebody
Tonight the dreamers of Manhattan will not know where it is they find themselves, nor how they got there…nor where they came from. They will not remember that they have been taken from their homes by the whims of a capricious Rift, and they will remember neither the people they've lost nor those they've met.
Tonight, the dreamers of Manhattan will not remember who they are at all.
What remains is a sense of how the world should be, minus an understanding of whom one is within that world. Some will know the hospital in which they find themselves for what it is, though they will not remember how they know. The long halls are lined with patients' rooms, doctors' offices, and locked doors to supply rooms and labs. Here and there one finds a common room or cafeteria with furniture that might almost be comfortable if only everything weren't so sterile.
The staff are largely absent; the only people who might explain matters are the minders at each door to the outside, but they aren't inclined to provide explanations. If asked, they will only say that the dreamers are here for their own safety. Attempts to leave will be gently but firmly blocked. Insistence on leaving will be dangerous to the dreamers, though the minders will be more than ready to grab anyone who actually makes it through one of the doors before they can float away into the void that's waiting for them on the other side.
They're all here for their own safety and good, after all. Too bad no one will say why that is.
[Semi-standard dream rules apply: players and their characters are not required to be members of this community in order to participate in the party. Unlike usual, however, all characters will forget the events of the dream upon waking.]
Tonight, the dreamers of Manhattan will not remember who they are at all.
What remains is a sense of how the world should be, minus an understanding of whom one is within that world. Some will know the hospital in which they find themselves for what it is, though they will not remember how they know. The long halls are lined with patients' rooms, doctors' offices, and locked doors to supply rooms and labs. Here and there one finds a common room or cafeteria with furniture that might almost be comfortable if only everything weren't so sterile.
The staff are largely absent; the only people who might explain matters are the minders at each door to the outside, but they aren't inclined to provide explanations. If asked, they will only say that the dreamers are here for their own safety. Attempts to leave will be gently but firmly blocked. Insistence on leaving will be dangerous to the dreamers, though the minders will be more than ready to grab anyone who actually makes it through one of the doors before they can float away into the void that's waiting for them on the other side.
They're all here for their own safety and good, after all. Too bad no one will say why that is.
[Semi-standard dream rules apply: players and their characters are not required to be members of this community in order to participate in the party. Unlike usual, however, all characters will forget the events of the dream upon waking.]
no subject
He shrugs and turns around, illustrating his point about his current clothing situation while he walks back into the room. "Might be something to fit you too, if you wanna look!" he shouts back.
no subject
"I just might," she says, following him into the locker room. Her clothing situation isn't as tragic as his, but her gown is still thin and drafty. Plus, she's already tired of being barefoot.
The room is (predictably?) deserted aside from them, and she only hesitates for a second before she commences opening lockers and rummaging. Hey, if any officials get their noses out of joint over this, they have only themselves to blame. Someone really should have stopped them by now.
"Is no one on the night shift?" she asks, semi-rhetorically, as she holds out a pair of scrub bottoms and scrutinizes them. Less rhetorically, she adds, "Have you seen anyone else, yet?" to her compatriot.
no subject
He steps into the scrubs and pulls them up before he keeps looking through lockers. The smock is definitely a look, but it's also open in the back and he's cold.
When he gets to a combination lock, he tugs at it experimentally, checking to see if it's open. It's not. He gives it another tug, this time putting the force of his body behind it - and he pulls the lock clean through the locker's latch, shearing the metal in the process.
"Uh." He holds the lock in his hand a moment, clearly surprised. What's this supposed to mean? "Do you have superpowers? Looks like I've got bloody superpowers!" He huffs a laugh and turns back to her, his eyebrows raised. "Did you see that?"
no subject
She's checking another locker for something long-sleeved and/or a clean pair of socks when the guy drops the phrase 'third-rate hell dimension,' which earns him a startled sidelong glance. That seems... melodramatic. Not that she's been to any hell dimensions (or none that she remembers, ha), but she'd expect something more impressive than a criminally understaffed hospital - even in a 'third-rate' hell.
Before she can decide whether or not she wants to ask for clarification re: his hell dimensions rating system, she's distracted by the discovery of a cardigan. It, too, is a little too large for her, and she can't say she's a fan of the dull cream color, but at least it's another layer. She's just finished shrugging it on when the guy casually yanks a combination lock off one of the lockers, and she starts at the noise.
"Superpowers?" she repeats dubiously. If he's referring to her vision, she'd beg to differ. So far, it's only proven to be weird, not useful. She rolls up the cuffs of the cardigan and edges a little closer to him, peering at the broken lock in his hand. "I don't..."
... Oh. Okay. One of her scars is glowing. She stops in her tracks and stares down at her chest, brow furrowed. What the hell is this? It doesn't hurt, nor does it seem to be putting out any heat, though it does sort of hum against her fingertips when she cautiously pokes at it. "This... doesn't seem super," she mutters as she continues to prod at it experimentally.