Far Side of the Aurora Borealis

[applesaucemod]

Congratulations, dreamers of Manhattan - you get to go to Oxford! It's probably not the Oxford with which any of the dreamers are familiar, though. This one is a bit… different.



The dreamers will find themselves in Jordan College, the oldest and grandest of all the colleges in this version of Oxford, a rambling structure that includes dining halls, libraries, classrooms, chapels, courtyards, a botanical garden, and an extensive network of cellars and tunnels beneath the ground. There are plenty of places to explore!

Sharp-eyed dreamers might notice some subtle architectural quirks. Doors look larger than they'd need to be for solely human use, and every staircase has a little ramp built in - not large enough for a wheelchair, but large enough for, say, a small, scampering animal.

And speaking of - the dreamers are a bit different here, too. Upon arrival, they will realize that they now possess dæmons: physical manifestations of their souls. Be gentle with them; they're undoubtedly confused by being suddenly made manifest. They come with all the side effects and complications inherent with dæmons. They can't travel more than a few yards from their person without it being painful for both parties… and it probably won't take the dreamers long to realize they shouldn't be touching one another's dæmons, what with the shared sensations and all. Still, it's a rare opportunity for the dreamers to chat with their own souls - and the souls of others.

What could possibly go wrong?



[Mod note: you know the drill. All players and characters are welcome, regardless of whether they're current members or not. Characters will remember or forget any and all dream events at players' discretion.]

Comments

[adventuressing]

Charley's never been to Oxford, but she knows enough to recognise the sort of place she's in. Dreaming spires and verdant lawns and all that-- and, yes, she nearly laughs, the little signs entreating people not to walk on the grass. And because, well, she can't not, she immediately takes off across the greensward in front of her. The grass is damp and dewy, and she can feel the wet tickle around her ankles. She's fairly sure she's dreaming, but it's an enjoyable sort of dream, so far.

An unexpected addition to the dream is the tiny bird that suddenly dive-bombs her. She shrieks, but, she finds, entirely out of surprise. There's no fear in her at all, even as she ends up on her rump in the wet grass with the little bird perched smugly on her stomach. It's perhaps the size of a jay, but closer inspection proves it to be a falcon of some sort, with the round head and hooked beak of a bird of prey. It's-- no, not it, he's a matte slate grey on top, almost blue in places, with a rufous breast and underbelly that looks soft as a dream to touch. And Charley does touch, feeling somehow that she has every right to do so.

Touching him proves to be a queer experience; she can feel the soft fluff of his feathers under her knuckles, but it's also oddly as if she were touching her own arm. The bird cocks his head down at her.

'Aren't you going to say hello?'

Charley blinks up at him, stunned for a moment, and then bursts out in delighted laughter. 'Hello! Do I know you? I feel as if I do, though I can't imagine how.'

'It is rather odd, isn't it?' agrees the bird, shifting on his tiny, sharp talons. 'I suppose some introductions are in order, though it does seem a trifle redundant. I'm Horatio.'

'Horatio.' Charley repeats the name with a slowly growing grin, and pets over his breast again with the back of a knuckle. The filmy third lid flickers over his eyes for a moment in pleasure, and then he hops up into the air (his claws prick through her shirt), wings spreading to take the breeze. He does a loop, apparently for the sheer pleasure of it, and then swoops back down to land on Charley's shoulder, nuzzling the crown of his head into her cheek.

'Come on, then! Are we going to explore or what?'