Dreamhoppers Roleplay

Name: Ishmael Maier
Age: 17
Appearance: Olive skin, light brown eyes, and straight, dark hair that reaches to their jawline. 5' 10". Tries to dress as comfortably as possible, with the solution usually being an old, faded t-shirt and worn-out jeans. Never takes off an old Star of David necklace that used to belong to their grandmother.
Other: Born in Israel to Jewish parents, Ishmael grew up in what can be called the religious capital of the world, Jerusalem. There weren't really many restrictions put on Ishmael as a child as to where they could go or how long they could stay out, which usually resulted into narrowly escaping the law by bribing a bar owner at sometime around 11pm. Of course, tamer shenanigans went on as well, oftentimes involving friends and gullible tourists. Of course, much to the dismay of their impatient parents, Ishmael is a bit of a smart-mouth, which doesn't exactly put them on good terms with teachers, or many other adults for that matter. Surprisingly, they don't particularly like to flaunt this trait or use it to impress others. Rather, Ishmael's main motive is to simply humor themselves when things get boring. Often overly-protective, especially with close friends and younger sister. Quick-witted and clever, but some would consider them obnoxious. Good at problem-solving. They first began noticing their ability to dreamhop a few years ago when they would hear a friend or parent's dream and realize that they had had the same exact dream. So far, the ability remains a secret.
Non-binary/demiboy. Pronouns: they/them, he/him.

Name: Sita Kapur
Age: 16
Appearance: Sita is relatively small of stature, standing at 5'3", but has a more stocky build than most girls her age, with the wide hips and shoulders typical of a woman in her twenties. Despite her disproportionate measurements, she has the round face and wide eyes of a child. Her hair is thick and dark, and comes to her waist when worn down, although most of the time she has it tied back for convenience. Her eyes are almond shaped, and a similar shade of very dark brown.
Other: She has a warm, motherly personality and finds it difficult to hold grudges. At the same time, however, she can easily become jealous and resentful of others. Sita comes from an Indian family, and is a descendant of the Khatri caste through her paternal grandparents (when the old Varna system was still in place). As a result of this, most of the members of her family work in India's military as high ranking officials, although a few are businessmen and women too. Sita's mother moved away from India after a disagreement with her parents over her choice of husband, who was from a Vaishya family, and Sita has consequently never met her grandparents. Like her parents, Sita is Hindu, although she knows very little about the history or practices of her religion since neither her mother or father are particularly devout.

Elle sat rigidly on the edge of her bed, throwing a glance back at the pillow. Yep, it was still there. It wasn't that she was angry, simply distraught and confused- if that sheds any light at all. She bunched the edge of the sheet up in her hands, clenching and unclenching them. She twitched, sucked in a sharp breath, and whipped around, diving across the bed and tearing the letter out of the envelope once again. Scouring it intensely, Elle looked for any sign that this might just be a practical joke. Marilyn thought it would be funny to freak out her roommate and see how long she could go without sleeping. That's it. Right? Nope. This letter was legit. There was even a stalk of lavender buried in the envelope. Where would Marilyn have found that?

Ishmael slammed the door behind them, kicking off their shoes carelessly upon entering the small apartment. They sat down on the couch, poring over the letter once more. Well, they'd been right about it being American, but now it was saying they had to go to some rinky-dink town in Montana. Ishmael didn't even know where Montana was, let alone the town or how to get there. The end of the letter stated that transportation had already been arranged. So obviously this was a no-way-out done deal. Great. Upon further inspection of the envelope, Ishmael found a folded-up printout of an online boarding pass to JFK airport and another to Helena Regional Airport. This was going to take a lot of explaining...

The clock ticked in the background as Sita sat, alone in her room. All else was silent. She ran a finger over the heavy leather cover of her journal, nudging it open and viewing the yellowish slip of paper she'd received in the post. Her gaze flitted to her bedside table, where she'd placed the accompanying boarding passes earlier, tucked under a golden figure of Ganesha. How do I even begin to tell mother and father about this? Her eyes returned to the journal, and she carefully opened the slip of paper to skim the letter for the fifth time that day. It explained a lot, she thought, and it came as a huge relief to her that she wasn't alone. Honestly, she'd thought she was going mad at one point, but the dreams were too vivid, and when people started recounting them to her, just hours after she'd seen them... well, it ruled out the possibility of her being sectioned at least.

The next sequence of events was a bit of a blur. Scribbling a note for Marilyn, pushing her trunk into the freight elevator, and plodding down the staircase from the 3rd floor of her school for what may have been the last time. Elle had tucked the lavender behind her ear, and the constant scent of it in her face was like a sort of soundtrack. Into the unknown... which apparently takes the form of a red Honda. The car would soon be on route to JFK. Though it would fit right in in the city, Elle figured that the dented, used thing would be less suspicious than a black limo in Upstate New York. This whole situation made a strange sort of sense... except it didn't. Why Montana? What's going to happen when I'm there? Hopefully I won't be alone.

Ishmael stared out the plane window at the slowly-approaching ground below. All they'd seen for the past couple hours was farmland and the length of the flight from New York did a good job of reminding them how unnecessarily large America actually was. It was crazy. The flight attendant finally called out that they would be 'beginning their descent into Helena', and sometime within the next twenty minutes, the plane had touched down and Ishmael was left stranded in the painfully small airport with only their painfully small suitcase for company. You'd think these guys would be decent enough to have someone waiting here for me. I bet this is some kind of prank and now I'm stuck here. Fabulous.

It was a little while before Ishmael noticed the boy sitting not far away, but as soon as they did, they regarded him with suspicion. He didn't look very American, especially since practically everyone else around here was white. It was a promising sign, at least. The letter had said there would be others. After a moment of consideration, Ishmael moved over the few seats that separated the two. "Hey. What's your name, Guy?" They knew it was a bit direct, but now wasn't the time for small talk about how mediocre the weather was or how the local sports team lost yet again.

"Ishmael Maier," they answered, shaking Santiago's hand firmly. "Coming to you straight from Jerusalem itself." Ishmael took a moment to study the boy. He seemed nice enough, but reserved, like he didn't particularly want to talk. "And let me guess... South American? Maybe... Chile?"