applesaucedream | Far Side of the Aurora Borealis

Far Side of the Aurora Borealis

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.]

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"OH," says Frank, startled as well as scandalously delighted. He gives up the fight and surrenders to the floor, still holding onto Sadie's fox and stroking it gently, if a little more pointedly now. "Sadie, my dear. Why haven't we ever tried THIS before?"

Sadie grins, pleased by the response - if a little bereft now that Frank's down on the floor. Well, nothing to do but join him. They can just all lie on the floor in a great, fluffy pile! Sadie lifts Frank's arm so she can snuggle up to him properly, and her fox lets out a contented purr. And she can still reach Frank's pyrenees - perfect. She resumes carding her fingers through the dog's fur as her fox presses his nose against her forehead.

"I expect we were too busy drinking," she says, and for the first time in her life, she sounds as if that fact disappoints her a little.

"Mm yes," murmurs Frank, fairly distracted. Then, "Ooh! Sadie! You know what would make this even more perfect?" He rolls over to look at her, fox now cuddling nicely between them, and his dog - not wanting to be left out, of course - stretches out beside Sadie. "DRINKING!" she supplies.

As deliciously comfortable as she is here, cuddled between Frank and Frank's dog, she has to concede the point. "But where did you hide all the alcohol when you did the remodeling?" she asks, craning her neck a little to look around without getting up.

"Gooood question," admits Frank, looking around as well. "You know I'm not sure I did do this remodeling? If I had I certainly wouldn't have hidden away all the lovely booze."

"Unless it was for a SCAVENGER HUNT," suggests the dog.

"Ooh!" Sadie sits up at that, eyes widening. "That's my third favorite kind of hunt!"

Her fox twists back onto his front and gets to his feet, mouth open in a grin. "Let's look for clues!"

"And the liquor will taste all the sweeter once we have attained it!" Sadie declares, getting to her feet and holding out a hand for Frank.

Frank takes her hand and hauls himself up. "All right!" he says with a big grin. "Where shall we start?"

Something else has been bothering him and finally he remembers what it is. "Oh yes!" He wheels on his pyrenees and Sadie's fox and pats both their heads fondly. "What shall we call you, oh suddenly manifest ones?"

Even that quick, fond pat on her fox's head sends a little thrill through Sadie, and she drifts over and presses a kiss to Frank's cheek while the two not-animals consider the question.

"Ooh!" says the fox with familiar enthusiasm, "I want to be Gregorius! No, Ulric! Oh, no - Cyriacus! Wait, no, Godeberto! No, Louis! Oh, no, Maximillian! Or, no - Augustine!" He wheels in a little circle. "Oh, how am I to pick just one?"

Edited 2014-03-29 22:11 (UTC)

"Now, now," says the pyrenees gently, nudging the fox. "Give it a moment." She looks at Frank and Sadie, her tongue lolling as she pants cheerfully. "I'm Gertrude."

"So pleased to meet you in the furry flesh, Gertrude!" says Frank, reaching out to shake her paw while returning the kiss to Sadie's cheek. He looks at her fox. "And you too, er...?"

Sadie gives Gertrude a little scritch behind the ears as her fox continues to turn in slow, considering circles.

"Ohhh…" he says, then sighs. "If I had to pick one, I suppose it would be Augustine."

"Then Augustine it is," Sadie declares, and her fox plants his forepaws on her leg so she can more easily ruffle the soft fur between his ears. "This calls for a drink!" After a beat, she adds, "Which means we need to find the drinks!"

"I shall sniff it out!!" declares Gertrude and immediately begins dutifully snuffling around the room in ever broadening circles. Frank follows her closely, peering around as though the liquor might be hiding behind any object or sitting atop any surface in the room. Gertrude comes to a sudden halt at a door tucked away in the corner of the hall and begins to wag her tail.

"Aha!" Gertrude turns in an excited circle. "This way!"

"Why, it's a mysterious spiral staircase!" announces Frank upon inspection of the door and what lies beyond it. "It probably leads down to a cellar and that is surely the perfect place to store booze in an establishment like this! Well done, Trudy!" He gives her an encouraging scratch behind the ears and she wags emphatically.

"Brava, Gertie!" Sadie declares as the staircase is revealed. Augustine twines around the dog's legs and beneath her stomach, and it's only their collective fluffiness that keeps Gertrude from clearing the fox easily.

As they begin their descent, Sadie muses, "An entire cellar of booze! Frank, do you think there will just be barrels of it?" She's always wanted a nice barrel full of booze in their penthouse apartment, but it probably wouldn't have fit through the door, and it would have been cruel to ask the boy from the liquor store to manage something so large and heavy.

"There'd better be!" Frank nods decisively. "Or else, what's the point?"

"Onward!" cries Gertrude, and embarks excitedly down the stairs. Frank is quick to follow, holding a hand out for Sadie behind him.

Sadie takes the offered hand with a smile as Augustine says, "The real question is whether we ought to just park ourselves down there, or bring the booze back up with us." Glancing between Sadie, Gertrude, and Frank, he adds, "I think we could just about manage a barrel between us, so long as we found a ramp or an elevator or something."

"Capital idea!" says Frank. "We'll do that! Perhaps we could have a liquor picnic out on the lawn! A place like this has to have a lawn. It's been far too long since we had a liquor picnic, my loves!"

"A liquor picnic sounds lovely," Sadie agrees. "Ooh! And we'll need some glasses. Once we've obtained our barrel, we shall have to locate a kitchen!"

"First things first," Augustine says as the winding staircase ends in an arched doorway. And beyond that… "Barrels!" the fox declares triumphantly.

"Well done everyone!" says Frank, stepping into the lush cellar.

"Let's see, now, what have we here..." He stoops to inspect the first set of barrels. A little drop hangs from the spigot of one, and he catches it delicately on his finger and pops it in his mouth.

He reels back with a horrified gasp, and Gertrude immediately begins growling at the treacherous barrels. "WINE!" he cries.

"Not again!" Sadie edges away from the wine barrel as if she expects it to start spewing its revolting contents into her eyes like some sort of pudgy, wooden cobra. Her legs soon collide with Augustine, who has crouched behind her, fur bristling and muzzle wrinkled in a snarl of distaste. "Oh, Frank, what if that's all there is?" she cries, still haunted by that horrible incident with Bacchus.

"Fret not, Sadie, my love!" Frank cries, reaching out to steady her. "These cellars are massive! There's got to be more options. Trudy?"

"On it!" woofs Gertrude, immediately turning to explore the dark passages further.

"Hmm," says Frank, peering about at the dusty stone walls. "We could do with a torch."

She takes a deep, steadying breath, then nods. Frank's right, of course. If this was their cellar, it would be mercifully wine-free, but there's no accounting for the shamefully horrid tastes of others.

Still, though. Wine. Disgusting.

Augustine had moved away once Sadie had regained her equilibrium, and now he pipes up, "I think I've found a lantern." His pale fur stands out in the shadows on the other side of the doorway, and beside him, Sadie can just make out a little table with what appears to be an charmingly quaint oil lamp sitting on top of it.

"Well spotted, Augustine!" Sadie crosses to the little table and manages to light the lamp with only a minimal amount of fumbling. Hmm. It appears her previous buzz is beginning to wear off a little. Still, it's with a little smile of triumph that she offers the lamp to Frank. "Here we are, darling."

"Well done!" Frank takes the lantern with a satisfied cluck of the tongue and follows Gertrude into the looming shadows. She's stopped alongside a different rack of barrels and is sniffing them all studiously.

"Well, dear Gertrude?" asks Frank cautiously, afraid of another disappointment.

Gertrude hesitates for a breathless instant, then turns, gives them a big dog smile, and says, "GIN!"

"GIN!" echoes Sadie, her face splitting into a grin. Augustine dances up to Gertrude, tail waving like a fluffy banner, and darts up to lick her chin.

"Well," Sadie continues, "shall we try and roll one of these barrels out of here?"

"Let's!" agrees Frank, and steps over to the pile, trying to determine how to extricate one barrel without causing a gin avalanche.

"Hmmm," he says.

"We're not sure how to extricate one barrel without causing a gin avalanche," Gertrude confesses to Sadie and Augustine.

Sadie pauses for a moment, lost in the mental images conjured by the words 'gin avalanche.'

"That sounds like the best kind of avalanche," Augustine says, sounding a little wistful.

"Yes," Sadie agrees. "It's the barrels that complicate things." She eyes the pile, then says, "Do you suppose we ought to go for the top one?"

"Hmmmm," says Frank again, eyeing the top barrel.

"Frank Linda Ronstadt Regan Doyle, don't even think about it," says Gertrude out loud, apparently in response to some internal debate. "I am not that strong."

"No, of course not, Trudy, you're right," admits Frank. "I don't suppose rolling it down would be a very good idea." He gives it a good think for a moment more, scanning the room with truly distressing sobriety, then snaps his fingers. "I know what let's do!! Trudy, be a dear and bring us one of those empty barrels, would you?"

Gertrude rushes to the task, rolling an empty barrel over with ease. Frank pries off the lid and places it beneath the top barrel. "I call this Frank Doyle's Theory of the Transitive Power of Gin!" he declares, and opens the spigot.

Beautiful, clear gin rushes from one barrel into the other. Frank watches delightedly, and Gertrude can't help but lap at the stream just a little.

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