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

CW arachnids so much, i'm sorry

[ceciiil]

Cecil dreams himself in a grand old bell tower, the likes of which he's never seen in person. It's a beautiful place, full of that quiescent restful energy that some churches and obelisks seem to radiate, with checkered floor that looks ancient.

While he takes stock of his surroundings he becomes aware of an insistent tugging at his hair, originating from a light weight on his shoulder. He carefully scoops the creature up and examines it. IT'S ADORABLE. Shiny black eyes, and equally shiny black carapace, and delicate long legs shading into red at the tips, all eight of them. He can tell it's a mature adult, its cute beefy pedipalps have settled into their adult black color, tucked up against its mandibles almost coquettishly. It waves its whiplike tail engagingly as it peers back at him. It's a vinegaroon!

"Well hi! What are you doing out of the desert? I haven't seen one of you guys in ages," and he couldn't sound more pleased, if also a bit wistful. "And why are you my soul? That's a little weird." He says it like the little arachnid ought to have known better. But he's not mad, how could he be? Not at this cutie.

"I don't know why. Just wanted a vacation I guess? I'm Mehitabel." the whip-scorpion answers in a cheerful and melodious voice, and Cecil is visibly startled, which feels kinda rude. Of course the soul-scorpion can talk, duh Cecil, what were you thinking.

"Well uh. Neat, I guess," and hey, it kind of is, though he questions the legality of external soul housing. "Let's see what's downstairs," Cecil suggests, and replaces the vinegaroon on his shoulder, where she grips his hair once more.

Cosmia don't eat Mr Palmer's daemon that would be rude

[mr_fring]

"Gustavo, look!"

Gus hasn't asked Cosmia to stop calling him Gustavo - it seems ridiuclous to argue with a creature that is intrinsically part of him, somehow - but it also isn't something he wants others to pick up. He likes the casual, unassuming aspect of his nickname.

And now might be a good time for her to switch over: she's spotted Cecil, coming down the stairs from the tower of this new building they've wandered into. Gus smiles fondly and approaches.

"Cecil," he says, glancing curiously to see if he has any animal additions, like all the others he's encountered so far. "We've got to stop meeting like this."

rude and vinegar-y! :s

[ceciiil]

Cecil beams, pleasantly surprised, and the action is mirrored by the creature on his shoulder, who spreads her pinchers wide in a courtly little scorpion-greeting.

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it," he can't resist saying, and the vinegaroon chirrs a laugh. "This is Mehitabel," he says, proffering for inspection the not-so-little arachnid, which has scurried down his arm. Cecil is as free with making soul introductions as he is with everything else.

[mr_fring]

"Ah..." says Gus slowly, eyeing Cecil's creature. "Is that a vinegaroon?"

"I am Cosmia," says Cosmia softly, peering at Cecil and Mehitabel with her peculiar eyes. "It's good to see you again, Cecil."

Gus glances at her. "What do you mean again?"

[ceciiil]

"Yes, she is. Guess I was feeling a little homesick," he laughs sheepishly. Is it rude to answer a question addressed to someone else's soul? Only he can't quite resist, poor Gus is probably a great businessman but he's a little at sea about some more down-to-earth matters. "Well, your soul wasn't a chameleon, the last time we met." He waves a friendly greeting to the lizard in question. She seems very well mannered and reserved, though perhaps that's just her cold-blooded nature.

Now that the stairs are over with, he conscientiously sets Mehitabel down gently so she can do whatever exploring she wants.

[mr_fring]

"My soul?" Gus repeats.

"What else did you suppose I was?" asks Cosmia.

"I don't know," Gus admits. "I suppose I wasn't thinking in such... specific terms." It makes sense, sort of, if he stops to think about it. But he very intentionally hasn't been doing that. It makes the world difficult to cope with.

He watches as Cecil sets Mehitabel down, wondering is Cosmia would like to explore as well. She acquieses silently, and he sets her down delicately beside Cecil's ... soul.

Odd.

Cosmia approaches Mehitabel curiously but cautiously, wanting to allow her to make the first move.

[ceciiil]

Cecil nods encouragingly to Gus' acknowledgement of his soul. Soul acknowledgement is so important. "Yeah, thinking in specific terms can get...unwieldy, pretty fast," Cecil cautions. Moreso with oppressive thought patrol and generally labyrinthine policies re: truth.

Mehitabel seems a little nearsighted, incongruously for her metaphysical status but perfectly in line with her seeming species, and gets fearlessly close to what would likely be a natural predator, were it a real animal. Of course, since intersoulular violence is inappropriate, nothing the least bit untoward occurs, and Mehitabel brushes the lizard curiously with her whiplike tail, which despite its strange, perhaps threatening appearance, is a harmless sensory organ. What a great metaphor for something that would be.

"But hey, now you know. Though, much like everything else, this is proooobably temporary, sad to say."

[mr_fring]

"Mm." Gus had assumed as much, and he's already made peace with the fact. He could certainly see some advantages to having an externalized soul, but not so many as there are clear disadvantages.

He feels a curious sensation with Mehitable brushes her tail against Cosmia, not unpleasant, casual even, like touching someone's hand. He hesitates, then crouches down to examine them closer. Cecil has a greater interest in these manifestations than he does, but he's happy to follow Cecil's line of interest.

"I wonder how these forms were decided," he murmurs.

[adventuressing]

There's a Charley in the little foyer that makes up the entrance of the bell tower; it's as small as it is mostly because a good half of the room is taken up with a slanting stone ceiling that must surely be the underside of a spiral staircase. The room's quiet, with the sort of cool stillness to the air particular to old churches, and Charley's sitting on a low stone bench that's set against one wall, as Horatio flits and dives about the space. She's been taking the opportunity presented by suddenly being able to talk to herself and have herself (of a sort) talk back to sort through some things.

'I don't see how it could ruin things,' Horatio's saying, 'I mean to say, it's not as if it's his future anymore. And we didn't engineer the situation, I don't see how he could be cross at us for it. Anyway, you saw how glad he was to see us.'

Charley sighs. 'I know, I know I should, it's just--'

'You never expected to be in a position to have to,' he fills in, and Charley gives him a dry look. There are perhaps some downsides to this whole, being able to talk to herself thing, and the fact that Horatio seems disinclined to let her ignore things she'd rather just ignore is definitely one of them.

'Look,' she starts again, and then pauses when she hears the echo of voices and footsteps coming down the staircase, sitting up a little straighter. Horatio wings over to the foot of the stairs, peering up with sharp eyes. As soon as he catches sight of Cecil, he flies back to Charley, fluffed up with embarrassment.

Charley, too, is a little flustered at the possibility that anyone else might have overheard their conversation, and she greets him with an awkward, apologetic little laugh.

'Oh! Hello. Sorry, I didn't realise anyone else was in here.'