applesaucedream | 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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well," he looks down at the pair of animals, who have now taken to exploring in the short distance that the tether to their counterparts allow. "they're sort of...part of us, right? And mine's a dog. Why isn't yours a dog?"

From under the table, Fausta huffs out a doggy laugh. "Does she look like a dog?" When her head emerges again, she hops over Spike's feet and turns around to look at him. "Can we go outside now? It's boring in here."

Sunshine raises her eyebrows, considering. "Why is yours a dog instead of a bee?" Why hers isn't a dog is anyone's guess; she's not really a dog person, but it's not like she's a carthaginian bee person, either. She sees plenty of them buzzing around Yolande's garden, but that's about the extent of her personal experience with them.

"Maybe they're all different," she guesses as Fausta emerges from beneath the table, Modomnoc once again perched near the front of her snout. She thinks, fleetingly, of those tricks some dogs do where they balance a treat on their nose and catch it in their mouths… but Fausta's been nothing but sweet. She wouldn't hurt her bee, regardless of how close to her teeth he chose to hang out. Right? Right.

Sunshine stands and stretches, then pushes her chair back in. "I'm for going outside." More sun, for one thing.

Sighing, Spike follows, standing up and heading for the over-sized door. He looks back, making sure all the rest are close enough not to cause any damage.

The hallway out isn't very long and soon enough they're viewing a large lawn split up by stone pathways and dotted by trees. Spike instinctively pauses before the light starts, and leans against a column there, in the shade. Fausta takes a few more steps than that before turning back to him, brushing up against him, then looking up at him, wondering what's keeping him.

This is more like it. Sunshine doesn't hesitate, but steps out of the shade and turns her face up into the sunlight. Her bee launches himself off of Fausta's nose and follows. As she watches Modomnoc spiral through the air with his fuzz all aglow, the lingering tension from the dining hall drains out of her. Everything is better in the sunlight.

It takes her a moment to notice they've left Spike and Fausta behind. She turns back to the doorway, absently twisting her hair aside so the light can reach the back of her neck, and furrows her brow at them. "What, did your immunity run out?" she asks. Gods, what if it has? Does it apply to his dog, too? She takes an uncertain step back toward the doorway as Modomnoc alights on a large, stone planter between them - still in the sunlight, but within a yard or two of Fausta, just in case. "Need help?"

"No." He answers quickly, then pushes himself away from the doorway. There's a visible moment of hesitation before he steps out into the sun. He squints up into the sky, confirms that he's not sizzling, then walks out to her.

He asks incredulously, "What do you think you could do if it did run out?" Summon a wool blanket perhaps? In his experience, there's not much he can do to work around it.

Fausa trots around in the sun happily before returning to Spike, and shoves her head up under his hand - a comforting gesture for both of them. He scratches her idly behind the ears before she wanders off again in the direction of Modomnoc.

Sunshine tenses a little during that moment of hesitation, wondering if she's going to have to throw herself at Spike to stop him from going up in flames. Even Modomnoc crouches closer to the rough stonework, ready to launch himself toward Fausta (not that either of them really know how the whole sucker sunshade trick would work with sentient animals involved, but it does seem safe to assume that they'd have to be touching, too).

But nobody goes up in smoke, so hey. Now she just has an incredulous vampire to deal with instead of a flaming one. Could be worse.

"I'm a magic handler," she says with an awkward little shrug.

"With an affinity for vampires," Modomnoc adds.

"Counteraffinity," she clarifies, giving her bee a warning look before turning back to Spike. "But yeah, one of my, um… tricks… is keeping the sunlight from doing its… thing." 'Tricks' is really not the best word for it, especially in her universe. When she left, SOF wanted her because she was so good at skegging vampires. If they knew how good she was at saving them… she doesn't even want to think about it.

And that's to say nothing of what would happen if the vampire community (such that there is one) got wind of what she could do. Yeek. But Spike's something of a special case. It's not like he's going to be spilling her secrets to anyone back home, and he doesn't seem to have any real ties to local suckers, either. Still, she feels compelled to add, "Don't spread that one around."

"Counteraffinity," he repeats, eyebrows raised. That's definitely an interesting little factoid (and one he'll keep in mind if his new-found immunity ever decides to wear out on him).

"So, what, vampires don't go poof around you? Or do you have to do a chant or something?"

Well, he's already hinted at the sort of magic they have in his universe: the charming, fairy-tale, spellbook kind. She shouldn't be surprised that he thinks there could be chanting involved.

It also occurs to her, far too late, that there's really no way for her to explain how she knows about said skill without also indirectly admitting she's used it. And he knows, now, what most vampires from her universe are like. This could get uncomfortable.

More uncomfortable, that is, because there's plenty of inherent discomfort in admitting, "We'd have to be touching, but that's all. No chanting or… or wand waving." Or whatever else constitutes magic handling in Spikeville.

"How'd you find out about that," he says, more statement than really asking. He figures that it's probably something that she's always known about rather than a recent;y discovered ability.

Fausta edges further away over the lawn, so Spike tucks his hands into his jacket and follows, allowing her some exploration.

Well, at least she didn't have to wait for the conversation to turn in the very direction she would have preferred it didn't. Her bee leaves the planter and buzzes back over to land on her wrist. He clings there like an outlandish corsage for a few moments before trundling up her arm.

Maybe it's just as well that Spike asked. She hasn't stopped feeling as if she owes him some explanation for the whole messy business with the Giggler, despite the fact that he hasn't been pursuing one.

Modomnoc reaches her shoulder, and Sunshine crosses her arms, apprehensive despite the encouraging little thrum of wingbeats her bee gives her. "I was kidnapped," she finally says. "By a gang - vampires usually run in gangs, back home."

Far Side of the Aurora Borealis

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