[A century hadn’t seemed like so very long ago, prior to his entrapment. Indeed, when one measured time in terms of eons, Morpheus had arrogantly not thought anything of Hob’s protestations that life was worth living for the first few centuries of his existence. Of course he could find enough to entertain himself with, early on. Of course he’d rail in the glory. No, it was only when true suffering hit that Morpheus’s interest had been piqued in another manner.
Hope. It existed despite Hob’s wretched state. The defiance was so pure, a ghastly humor. Death, but a mug’s game. Arrogant, indeed.
But then, hadn’t Morpheus been called as much by others?
Hob’s pointing out that Morpheus cared had stung precisely because it was a truth Morpheus hadn’t wanted to face. One that had curdled inside of himself, at war with his duties and responsibilities, while imprisoned in Madoc’s chamber. Somehow he had managed to keep track of the passing of time. He had known precisely when he was meant to meet Hob.
There was the irony, there. Had Morpheus not been imprisoned, had he not had the experiences he’d had after, his pride might have kept him from attending, anyway.
Yet it was that precise imprisonment that had made him tardy.
Morpheus hadn’t really touched upon the specifics, but he knew that the effects of his entrapment and quest afterwards had left him changed. So many had noted it, while he was still sorting out what it meant. He did know though that he took to heart dearly his purpose. If he might serve them better… it was humbling, but he was willing to learn.
Which meant having breakfast with Hob, on a new schedule, at the new inn. It was a warm Saturday, unseasonably warm even for summer, but Morpheus was still dressed in his black pants, t-shirt, coat, and boots. He’d made it a point to arrive early, and a steaming cup of untouched coffee sat in front of him. He sat still, posture perfect, sensing the nodding off heads around him while he waited. When Hob arrived he didn’t stand but he gave a slight nod of his head. He slid the undrunk coffee across the table as a greeting.] I didn’t put anything in it, in case your tastes had changed. [After all, he was used to procuring a bottle of wine if not harder in their meetings.]
[As time passed, Hob could have gone anywhere. Traveled anywhere. His not-friend had stood him up at the inn but still, Hob did not die. What did it mean? Would he simply continue to exist forever until the end of the world? He wasn't sure, but one-hundred years didn't quite feel complete without the regular check-in, so he took measures to keep the old inn standing. After several hundred years, he had actually accrued a fortune enough for that and the new inn, which he insisted should be named after the old one.
He had grown wiser, too. It was better to make ones investments from the shadows so there were less questions about his enduring youth. For now, he lived a good life as a London school teacher. He didn't have to, but experiences kept life worth living. In a few more years, he'd have to move on and do something else before people began to question his agelessness.
Today, he arrived, on time, for breakfast with a friend. He had an instant smile for Morpheus the moment he spotted the endless one. When Hob took his seat across from him, he smiled at the offered coffee.]
Some things never change.
[Seeing Hob there, a waitress came over and asked,] What'll it be, love?
Another cup of coffee for my friend here, and... [He picked up the menu for a swift glance.] Two of the morning specials. Cheers.
[Hob was a curious person to Morpheus. Oh, his initial bluster and bragging over avoiding Death wasn't unheard of, but that he truly maintained that perspective over the years wasn't what Morpheus had expected. Perhaps he hadn't given people enough credit to have assumed they'd grow bores with what their lives offered.
Or, perhaps Hob simply was special in that regard.
Somehow, even at his lowest, Hob held onto an optimism and curiosity about where the world might take him. That life held so much for him, even if there were moments where it sunk downward. It was a tenacity of spirit. Hob was also one of the few beings that knew what life had been like over the centuries. Morpheus was surrounded by beings that lived far past human lifespans, but they didn't live in the waking world. Hob could provide a unique viewpoint, and it was one that Morpheus could now admit he enjoyed hearing.
It was easier to let Hob order the food when the waitress approached. Morpheus merely gave her a silent nod before she departed, his gaze turning to study the familiar face of his friend. Oh, the hair and clothes changed over the years but not that particular expression. Morpheus found himself offering a hint of a smile in return.]
Morning specials. Dare I ask? [His long, thin fingers ran down the menu to find the dish in question. Normally he found food in dreams rather than here in reality.] You know I haven't even had coffee in your world.
[Some people would've found it difficult to constantly have to change with the times, but Hob embraced every new adventure. Had he been a less adventurous man, the experiment would've been over a long time ago. His own manner of dress stood out far less than his companion's, opting for a comfortable pair of olive cargo pants and a white t-shirt, paired off with some sneakers. But yes, he still smiled the same way he smiled at everyone in the dark tavern in 1389.]
Eggs. Sausages. Buttered toast and a side of beans. Coffee is key, of course. If you want to understand people, you should try living like them a little. Not that I have any idea what it's like to live as you.
[The waitress is prompt with the coffee, and it won't be fifteen minutes before the food is served. Hob is content to drink his coffee in the meantime, always looking over the rim of the cup to gauge Morpheus' reaction. The waitress also left some milk and sugar, should either gentleman want it.]
I've had coffee in the Dreaming before, but it's different, I know. The dream version of food or drink is often idealized and very particular to an individual's taste. Sometimes, it is nothing that exists in the waking world at all. [People were a curious thing indeed with how their thoughts inspired ludicrous items, but amusingly, not many ever thought they tasted badly. It was fairly unanimous that even when people suffered in their sleep, food and drink were staples that tasted good. As though those basic human necessities were clung to as a candle in the dark nightmares.
There had been the hint of a question in Hob's words, or at least, Morpheus thought there might have been in the statement about how he hadn't any idea what it was like to live as Morpheus did. It was true enough that often when Hob had asked Morpheus personal questions the Endless being had brushed them aside. In the past it had been to keep a wall up between them, one where Morpheus was in control and Hob the curiosity for him to explore. Now that they were friends... well. It wasn't easy but Morpheus knew it also wasn't fair to leave it so one-sided.]
I can get hungry. [A simple truth to share, but one that held a vulnerability that he didn't often offer.] Much like you I don't die of it, and I can find food in dreams to satiate myself, but it does happen. [Much like Hob had starved for a century, so had Morpheus, he realized. A small swell of empathy rose in him in a way it couldn't have prior to his capture.
As the coffee was set in front of him, Morpheus lifted the mug and smelled it. A touch smokey but not unpleasantly so. He noticed that Hob was watching him. A little wryly he couldn't help but inquire from it.] Are my tastebuds being judged right now? [He took a small sip. It was hot, coffee was never scalding in dreams, but outside of that...] It isn't bad. Though I don't get the same effects from caffeine that you do.
[Hob lowered his cup a little when Morpheus spoke some of his life experiences. He's surprised, but also pleased to hear the details. He doesn't know how curious Morpheus truly is about him, especially after a few hundred years of getting the same 'I want to live' answer, but Hob had so many questions of his own about the endless one.
He laughed at the question and shook his head, setting his cup down to prepare for the arrival of the plate that's set in front of him.]
Not at all. I'm just interested in your reactions to human things.
[Morpheus was now the curiosity.]
I nice, big breakfast on the weekend is one of those simple pleasures.
[Morpheus folded his hands around the coffee mug for a moment, his gaze moving up from the steam to meet Hob’s eyes.] I suppose some curiosity on your end is only fair. I did after all use you for mine, at first. Which isn’t to say I don’t care about your life now. I do want to hear about it. [It was just not for the same reason. Morpheus had long since stopped expecting Hob to want death. Now he simply enjoyed the man’s company and found he had come to look forward to his tales and companionship.] So much can change on earth in just a hundred years’ time. It isn’t like that in other places.
[At the arrival of the food Morpheus methodologically picked up a fork and after a moment’s poking began to eat slowly. In truth he was a little hungry, and his interest took him to the beans first. They were a little sweet against all the savory.]
Simple I can understand. [Simple to him implied efficiency, or elegance. Something that didn’t need any trappings to get the job done well.] Pleasure… I don’t often take the time. [He had certainly never taken a weekend off.] What is it you do then on these weekends, after having a large breakfast? Don’t tell me you take a nap to digest it.
[Whenever he might, Hob liked to look at Morpheus. He watched the delicate upturn of his brow or the way he examined his food. The King of Dreams was far too elegant for the mortal world.]
I thought dreams were supposed to be a place for one's pleasures.
[Not all of them of course, but some of them. And yet, Morpheus took no pleasure in it, himself? That's a shame.]
A good nap does sound tempting, but I thought we might walk to the park. There's always some musicians playing and lots of people. You could observe and ask questions about anything you'd like.
[Morpheus could feel Hob's gaze upon him. Not in a cruel, dissecting way like Burgess. No, this was a softer inquisition, and Morpheus found that while it felt more intimate, he didn't mind it. That was a surprising revelation indeed, as such focus on him when he did not command it often made him feel uncomfortable. It was in fact too easy to feel comfortable in Hob's presence. Even after so long apart and a nasty fight, Hob's forgiveness had helped them slip back into one another's presence with ease. Though things weren't exactly the same, were they? He wasn't the same. Perhaps Hob wasn't entirely, either. Maybe both their alterations had left room for them to find even more common ground.
He was pausing a bit too long, too lost in his own musings. Musings about the man in question himself, who had asked another and Morpheus realized he'd taken a hair too long in answering.]
The dreams created are for the pleasure of the dreamers. [There is of course the follow up question of 'Why can't they be both?' that Morpheus honestly does not have an answer to offer. It is simply not how he is used to operating.] I suppose finding pleasure for its own sake, outside of fulfilling my purpose, to be... complicated. Is it not for you?
[He took another bite of the toast. Bread, eggs, sausage. Even the beans. Food that had been around for so many centuries now. Cooked differently but not fundamentally changed. A few crumbs fell onto his shirt, standing out against the black, and he brushed them aside.] A walk it is. I am behind on what music is played these days.
[The long pause didn't bother Hob. He didn't expect Morpheus to respond the way humans did, even in conversation. If he needed a little extra time to mull over things, that was fine with him.]
I find pleasure wherever I can manage to. For humans, well, normal humans, life is too short. One takes pleasure in things whenever one can.
[But he does have another question that pops up.]
Does the Master of Dreams, dream?
[Hob thinks it would be a little sad if Morpheus ruled over dreams but had none of his own. Only spending his time watching the dreams of others.]
I suppose that is true. Mortals have good reason to make the most of their time. I’m pleased that so much of yours is in pursuit of happiness. Although to be honest, there are many immortals I know who still revel in pleasure. I can think of only a few who shy away from activities outside their duties.
[Perhaps he was the odd person out, in that respect. The few times he had attempted to have a personal life outside of duties, things had spectacularly upended to where he was hesitant in trying again. Nada, then Calliope. Meeting with Hob under the pretense of learning more about humanity so to better serve them felt safer. It was true even, he did want to learn more. Yet admittedly, he was also enjoying Hob's company on top of it.]
[The next question was one he'd gotten before, though one he didn't always answer. In a soft voice he spoke.]
No. I do not dream. I do not sleep, as you do. When I grow weary, I merely rest. No actual slumber. [He'd sometimes wondered what it might be like to dream, but honestly, he was so used to being in control that the prospect of not knowing what might come when he closed his eyes was a little disconcerting.] I have experienced your dreams, though. The dreams of so many. I suppose I should not take it for granted.
[Morpheus looked down at his plate, still half-filled.] You were not joking about this being large. We might need to roll out of here.
[Hob also wondered why Morpheus did not do anything to give himself pleasure if other immortals had no issues with it, but his friend was a very serious man. He wasn't entirely surprised that Morpheus lead a strict life.]
One day, you'll have to tell me which of my dreams is your favorite.
[It's probably a dream Hob doesn't remember after waking, but perhaps Morpheus does. He looked down at his own plate, which was emptier than Dream's and laughed.]
That’s an interesting question to pose. You’ll have to give me time to think on which to choose. You’re quite the expressive dreamer when I have checked in. [He hoped it wasn’t seen as creepy or intrusive, that he kept abreast of the dreams of those who entered his kingdom for their nightly respite. After Morpheus had gotten away from Burgess, and had gained his strength back, he’d searched for Hob’s to at least reassure himself the man was alive and well enough.] Do you remember your dreams often? I know not everyone does, I’ve heard that complaint in the past.
[Morpheus gave a nod at Hob assuring him they needn’t finish it all. He ate a few more bites before the waitress came to clear the table, not wanting to let too much of it go to waste. His eyes fell on the check as he set down his knife and fork to be cleared. She had set it beside Hob to be paid, and indeed, Morpheus didn’t have actual money on him at the moment. Including his head at Hob, he thanked him sincerely.] Thank you for breakfast. It was quite good. Not what I expected. [Which was the point of this, wasn’t it?
He rose to his feet afterwards, bumping up accidentally against Hob on their way out in order to let others pass by. It was narrow between the tables and the space was filling up with people as the morning rush began to enter. Morpheus would much rather step in closer to Hob than nearer someone else he’d only met in his realm. Morpheus gave a nod at the waitress in farewell when she tossed them a cheery goodbye, and exited the Inn into the warm sunshine of London’s waning summer.] It’s hard to imagine sometimes this is the same city as all those centuries ago. Though perhaps not for you, who experienced all those changes ongoing as you did.
[Hob didn't feel as though it was intrusive, not entirely, but he did look momentarily awkward and blushed, which he tried to hide with his napkin as he dabbed his mouth. After all, a man couldn't control what or who he dreamed about, and Hob was a man, after all. Some dreams were not fit for publication.]
Sometimes. Sometimes I remember them, but it's like trying to remember what something looks like through a fog. Other times, it's less a memory or more of a feeling when I wake up. Fear. Loss. Pleasure.
[He knows some people are the type that remember their dreams even more vividly. Perhaps they're better connected to the other realm.
As Morpheus thanked him, Hob smiled.]
I'm glad you thought so. But that's just the start. We have other things to see and do.
[He moved to the door but was stopped by the sudden rush of people making their way noisily in. So as not to impede their walking, he stepped aside and with only a bit of space to work with, his arm went naturally around Morpheus' waist, hand on the man's hip to draw him closer and allow the others some more room. His shoulder turned outward, shielding his friend from all the jostling and bumping that came with people squeezing through the space between tables. For a second, he just enjoyed that closeness until he had to let go so they could proceed outdoors.]
Indeed. I helped pave this path, you know.
[Hob gestured at the pedestrian walkway that lead into the park and wound its way inside.]
[Morpheus didn't miss the redness that crept over Hob's face at his description of the man's dreams. He wanted to say that Hob had nothing to be embarrassed about, that Morpheus had certainly seen worse, but he thought that perhaps prolonging that particular discussion might only make things worse. Best to simply leave it be, and discuss Morpheus entering Hob's dreams at a later time if there was an issue.][At the door he felt Hob's rough, warm hand grasp at his waist and tug him closer. Morpheus couldn't help a look of faint, bemused fondness crossing his face at how Hob reacted to the crowd and how his shoulder turned in to bear the brunt of the people's passing. How Hob once again moved right into protecting Morpheus without a second thought, no matter the Dream King's powers. Those old soldier instincts truly never did go away. Or perhaps this was always a side to Hob, and that had led to him being a good soldier back in the day. It was... sweet was perhaps the word. It was also true that bumping into people was not a social interaction that Morpheus welcomed. Morpheus wordlessly placed a hand on Hob's arm, a silent acknowledgement of his efforts, before they parted. Touch starved for over a century, Morpheus found his thoughts lingering on the contact when only too soon it was gone.]
[At least there was a pleasant topic to fill the space and distract him from what had just transpired.] Did you help fund the repavement, or did you actually provide the manual labor for it? Neither would surprise me, honestly. After this many years, I know you have quite a few tricks and skills up your sleeve.
... I can't believe you built a new inn. [Hob earned a small, fond smile at that, along with some light teasing.] That was almost sentimental of you. Until I realized you wanted an excuse for large breakfasts.
[Hob tucked his hands into his pants pockets as they strolled together. There were others walking as well, so he kept his pace with Morpheus, close at his side. At times, his bare arm brushed against the sleeve of the other man's coat, and Hob mused at what others must've thought at seeing Morpheus dressed head to toe in black on such a sunny day.]
I put my own hands to some of these stones. Believe it or not, fighting is only a small part of soldiering. Much of the time, there's labor involved.
[It wasn't uncommon for an army to suddenly put down new roads or bridges as they went from one territory to another. The work better facilitated troops that might reinforce them later.]
Oh, that...
[Hob glanced over his shoulder at the inn behind them, knowing the standing remains of the White Horse was just a block down the street. He always held out hope that Morpheus would one day return.]
What if you were to come back someday? I couldn't have you meeting me for drinks in an abandoned building.
[Morpheus didn’t mind the closeness when Hob brushed up against him. Had it been most anyone else they would have earned a look and a step away, but Morpheus simply continued strolling onward, his own elbow occasionally bumping his friend back. It was pleasant company, and for one who had so recently been deprived of that, very welcome.]
I can believe that. Soldiers are often not situated in the heart of civilization, especially centuries ago. Creating structures to protect one against enemies and inclement weather, or paving roads, would be required. I have also heard that soldiers became quite efficient cooks out of necessity. [Not every company, especially in the old days, had a cook around to feed everyone. Nor did they have consistent rations.] You did a decent job. Nary a crack in the foundation so far.
[Hob’s words that the new inn was an optimistic hope that Morpheus would one day return touched him. He studied Hob for a moment, at a loss for words at how much that meant to him. Finally he found his voice, quiet and low.] It is a very fine place to meet, Hob. You did well. Perhaps… it was time, anyway. For part of the past to crumble and something new to be rebuilt in its place. Destruction is a natural part of the world, but so is what comes after.
[Hob thinks Morpheus might be surprised at the number of skills he's picked up over the years. He liked to keep busy and soak in all the wonders of the world. That's why he never saw fit to die. Staying busy helped a great deal after Dream didn't come to their usual meeting. There was a time he wondered if the spell was lifted and he would start to grow old or if he'd simply collapse all-together, but it never happened.]
Places and people. Eventually, change happens.
[And for an endless too, it would seem. His friend has changed so much over the years. He thinks Morpheus is finally starting to see that.
Hob's path gravitates in the direction of some music playing. Sure enough, there are some musicians doing a set. People are parked on complementary blankets in the grass, so Hob motions to one where they can sit partially in the shade.]
So, you want to understand humanity? Why now, after all this time?
The calamitous and the quiet, both types of alterations joined by their inevitability.
[It was true that Morpheus had thought himself above change. While mortals lived and died, and gods relied upon the strength of faith, he was simply tied to a biological function of so many beings that stretched out for eons. He had never really considered that having contact with so many dreamers might have an impact on him the way that he did on them. That he might alter, as the beings he served did, in a relationship of reciprocity. In a way seeing it as such was like they held power over him. It had taken his talk with Death after his imprisonment for him to see that perhaps him needing them like they needed him was not a dynamic to be downplayed but rather embraced.
How to put that into words was the question that floundered him as he followed Hob. He gestured for Hob to take the spot that was more in the shade, as the sun didn’t bother Morpheus in the same way it might humans. He settled down next to his friend then, one leg extended and the other with his knee drawn up. One elbow rested upon his knee. His free hand played with the blades of grass that poked upwards around the edge of the blanket. It felt warm and a touch dewey from the rain the previous evening. The air was mingled with the scent of nearby flowers, perspiration, and food carts selling items. He looked curiously at the musicians as they played a contemporary jazz piece of their own making. Chaos and improvisation blending into unexpected harmony.
It was a few long moments before he began to answer Hob.]
Knowing their stories isn’t the same thing as knowing them. I was… detained by a group of them. For a spell of time. [How he hated admitting that.] After I escaped, nothing felt quite the same. Not even my role as overseer of dreams. It was pointed out to me that perhaps my previous understanding of my role was limited, in such a way that wasn’t apparent before now.
[Hob took the offered spot in the shade and leaned back a little onto his hands. He could see there was a lot going on in his friend's head. Morpheus has been through a lot. When Dream speaks of his captivity, Hob frowns, a darkness in his eyes.]
Had I known, nothing would've kept me from you.
[Hob is absolutely serious about that, his eyes fixed on Dream when he speaks. No amount of guards would've stopped the immortal soldier from storming that castle, or mansion, whatever the case.]
So you were held captive by men, and now... your role feels different? How so?
I know. I know you would have. [The words were said softly, a look of fondness mingled with a touch of sadness evident on Morpheus’s face. Of course Hob would have come to his aid if he’d known, even with their fight the last memory between the men. Even with his own safety at risk.] I don’t regret though that you were unaware. Oh, not for my pride… well, not entirely. Nor because I doubt your mettle in being helpful. It was simply not a burden I wished to fall on your shoulders. I know you carry centuries enough of those.
… I remembered. When our time to meet came to pass. I could tell the passing of time. It inched, but I knew when we were to meet. For what that is worth. [He had never forgotten Hob, nor their arrangement.]
It’s difficult to explain fully. The difference. I’m still trying to sort it out myself.
[Morpheus let out a slow breath, unused to the focus on himself. It was fair though, fair questions. Hob wanted to know his motivations and why wouldn’t he?]
When I returned, I had lost a good deal. It took time to rebuild the Dreaming and myself. Afterwards I felt… incomplete? I have never felt that before. As though something was missing that I had never noticed. It was suggested to me by my sister - by Death - that perhaps reconnecting with the people I served might rekindle my purpose. That I might need those who dream as much as they need me. And I… want to be there for them the best I can. I take what I do very seriously, Hob. I would rather be humbled than… insufficient. They deserve better. I already left them in a lurch for century and change.
[It was comforting to know that during such a terribly lonely moment during Dream's life, he remembered the day they were supposed to meet and thought on it. Did he know that Hob was waiting there, at the inn, all day for him? As each hour passed and Morpheus didn't walk through the doors, he grew sadder and a little more hopeless. Even that heartbreak didn't end Hob, though. He continued on, the way he always does.]
I'm not afraid of burdens.
[He notes, and his hand moves to briefly touch upon Morpheus' hand, then slips away before Morpheus might react poorly to the touch. At least, Hob worries he might. He turns his attention back to the musicians, but then a word catches his ear.]
The people you serve?
[A slow smile. Did he really just make himself, one such as himself, sound subservient to another? And to say that he needs them?]
It is one thing to not be afraid, and another to have them heaped upon you. I don’t want to be the cause of your distress.
[The touch on his hand is warm. Morpheus can feel the callouses present upon the fingers from years of hard living before Hob had become immortal. His physical form was more durable now, though still capable of being captured or even dismembered. Morpheus’s gaze remains transfixed on Hob’s hand covering his own paler one, not pulling away from the contact. It was easier not to make eye contact right then, especially when he felt some regret when Hob removed his hand. Morpheus’s fingers curled up afterwards, the soft blanket pillowed against his palm. It is the incredulity in Hob’s tone that finally drew Morpheus’s eyes back upwards.
At seeing Hob’s merriment over Morpheus’s statement, he earned a wry look in response.]
Yes, go on, have your laugh. It hasn’t been an easy adjustment, I assure you. I’m trying, though. You know I do take my purpose and function seriously.
[Hob noticed the way Morpheus looked at their hands when they touched. How his fingers curled into the blanket or.. how they might have curled around his own hand if it were still there. It made his chest feel tight.
When he's told to have his laugh, he does. Chuckling softly and dropping back to lie on the blanket. Staring up at his friend, he notices how much softer Morpheus' features look in the sun. Hob's own face is peppered with the flecks of light that break through the leaves of the tree above them and shift when the wind blows.]
Tell me about it. What's it like?
[His purpose. His function. Hob is curious and wants to know more.]
[As Hob lay backward Morpheus instinctively shifted to face him better. It left him sitting cross-legged, his posture still fairly perfect, as he studied the play of light and shadow across Hob’s face. After a moment, Morpheus wordlessly shrugged off his coat. It required a bit of finagling as he was sitting on the end of it, but he managed to gather it in his hands. Beneath he wore his simple black shirt. He offered the jacket to Hob, gesturing at the man’s head in a silent indication that Hob could use the jacket as a pillow if he wanted. After all, there was only hard ground and a thin blanket otherwise, unless he used his arm as a pillow instead.]
It’s… difficult to put into words, I suppose. When the first specks of life began to dream, I began to exist. My role and rule has always been to provide for and to protect dreamers. Every night, and it is always night somewhere, on some world, beings bring themselves to me. All their hopes and fears, their trials and triumphs. It is my responsibility to provide for them what they need so they are ready when they wake to face what they must. To create, or destroy. To exist with clarity and purpose of their own.
[Hob is amused as he watches Dream shift about to remove his long coat while sitting on it. Normally, the man moved with such dignity. It was surprising to see and very cute at the same time. What surprises him even more is when the coat is offered to him to use as a pillow, of all things. It was Dream's coat, after all. It was too good for that, but Hob wasn't about to turn it down.]
Thank you.
[Hob lifts his head slightly so he can place the jacket underneath his head and neck, then rests against it. In the past, he had slept on far worse than a grassy meadow, but this made it so much better. Then he just listens as his friend explains his purpose, which was even bigger than Hob could have imagined.]
Wow. [That's a small word for taking in so much.] And you do this on your own? It sounds like a lot of responsibility for one person.
Mm. Yes and no. I do have staff who help with certain upkeep in the Dreaming. Their services are invaluable. Such as Matthew. [Morpheus gave a nod towards a nearby tree where the raven sat perched and keeping an eye out for trouble.] He is my eyes and ears in the waking world when I cannot be present. Though when I am here, he feels himself my protector. [There was a hint of fond amusement in that.
He looked back down at Hob then, a faint weariness in his gaze that cleared up quickly with resolve.]
It is a large responsibility, but one that I take to heart. I exist because of it, and I would not walk away willingly from it. You can see though that there is a connection that exists. Between the dreamers and myself. That is what I meant when I said that I need them, as they need me. My realm would have no purpose without them, and their dreams would not exist as such without me.
[Hob turns his head to look, not realizing that Morpheus meant the raven at first, but then his eyes spot the bird and how it watched them so diligently.]
I'm glad someone is looking out for you.
[He smiled and turned his eyes back to Dream, noticing the flicker of fatigue on his face. After a moment's hesitation, his hand touched the man's arm, bare now with the jacket being used as a pillow. Hob's fingers, although a little calloused at the tips, were gentle as they moved from below Dream's elbow down to his wrist. No doubt Matthew is going to dish about this with Lucienne later.]
Yes, I see that. And that's why you wanted to learn more about people.
Mm, yes. He's loyal. Stubbornly so. It would seem you two share that in common.
[Which wasn't a bad thing by any means. Morpheus does value steadfastness in others, even when it also means their stubbornness matches his own. He had also never really paused to consider his job as vast and difficult as it sounded when seeing Hob's reaction. Oh, he'd always taken it seriously. He held himself in such tight control because of all he had to balance to do it properly. Yet it had all been done with a simple 'shoulder to the wheel' mentality. Not anything particularly impressive, or worth someone caring for him over.
Hob seemed to disagree, and the tenderness with which he touched Morpheus's arm softened a hair of that rigidity inside the Dream Lord. A tenseness he was so used to holding that he'd forgotten even existed. Slowly, hesitantly, Morpheus moved one of his hands to rest on Hob's, fingers sliding between his.]
Yes. That is why.
[A beat. Then...]
No pulse.
[He said it quietly, moving Hob's fingers to see that there was, indeed, no pulse to be felt. That while Morpheus appeared in a human form to Hob, he very much was not one of them. He wanted Hob to know, as best he could, what he was getting into by them getting to know one another better.]
[Hob would not have been surprised if Dream recoiled from his hand. In 1889, the moment he upset his friend, he wanted to reach out to the man and make things right, but Dream was walking away from him before he could get the chance. It was nice to have that chance now. To offer a reassuring touch. The response he actually gets from his friend is more than he hoped for, and it puts a relieved smile on Hob's face as he felt Dream's long, graceful fingers move between his own.
His brow raised as Dream pointed out the lack of a beat in the wrist he was touching. He supposed it made sense. Dream was not human, after all.]
Bother me?
[He smiled, then collected Dream's hand and drew it toward him. The hand is placed against Hob's own chest, over his beating heart.]
That should've stopped beating a long time ago. I don't exactly count myself as normal anymore.
[There was something quite reassuring in the steady thump of Hob's heartbeat. It was strong and measured, steadfast much like the man himself. For a being who craved the unknown, who never tossed in the towel on what came next, Hob was surprisingly balanced in not overlooking his ties to the past. Including Morpheus.
It was a tender moment, one that Morpheus does not take for granted. His fingers smoothed over to rest over Hob's chest, content to leave it there for now and feel the steady rise and fall. He can't resist a bit of teasing however and his brow crinkles in pretend confusion.]
Hm, I know I have good senses, but I didn't expect to hear the poor old thing creaking.
[Giving Hob's chest a pat, his gaze held that glint of teasing in their usual coldness when he finally looked at the man.]
No, it is a very good heartbeat, Hob. And you're right. I don't suppose either of us qualify as humans any longer, at least, not like most of them. Which is likely a good thing.
[After all, the last time he'd gotten close to a mortal things had ended in disaster for so many.]
So tell me then, as one looking to know humanity better. What is it about them you see as likely to get overlooked?
[The teasing made Hob laugh, which vibrated through his chest where Dream's hand was resting. He always figured he'd start showing or feeling some signs of age at this point, but Death's spell was very effective at keeping him in the same form he was six centuries ago.
He liked the feel of Dream's hand on him, so Hob placed his hand over the other's and used his fingers to lazily trace over that hand. Following the curve from his wrist and up and down Dream's elegant fingers.]
Hmm.
[Not an easy question. He looks out over the park at the people, families and couples gathered. How they smiled and interacted with each other, or just got lost in the music.]
I think people have a lot of small, quiet moments that reveal who they are. When they think no one is looking. The mother touching her daughter's hair. Or that man, whispering into his partner's ear. They're not big, flashy displays. They're soft. Private.
[Much like the moment Hob was having with Dream under the tree.]
[The touch was nice. Light and not restraining. It was easy for Morpheus to remain still, his cool hand soaking in the warm of Hob and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. It made Morpheus relax a little, a very unexpected and novel sensation. It was only when Hob began to answer his question that Morpheus drew his gaze away from the hypnotic sight of Hob's exploring fingers. His head cocked inquisitively to the side as he took in what Hob shared, looking to the various sights that were pointed out. In the end, he gave a slow nod as he turned it over in his mind.]
I am used to people bringing such intimacy with them to the Dreaming. I should not be surprised as much value is placed upon such moments in the waking world.
[Hob smiled and chuckled again. He didn't think his words particularly insightful, but he answered the question honestly.]
I'm happy to help.
[It was nice to be of use to Dream after all these years apart. Though he knows Dream's interest in Hob's experiences ended centuries ago. They met simply for companionship after that.]
You talk like you don't know it. Intimacy, I mean.
[Maybe he had overstepped with those words, but Dream speaks about it as though he were merely an observer.]
[He stiffened a little at Hob's observation, walls initially going back up. He didn't bolt this time, though he did withdraw his hand and twine both of his together tightly in his lap. His gaze looked downward, a genuine struggle not to withdraw completely. It was only because it was Hob that he sat and worked through it as best he could. How many minutes had passed he didn't know but eventually he began to speak again. His voice was low and even and he didn't quite meet Hob's gaze just yet.]
I have experienced intimacy.
[None of those times ended well, so he didn't elaborate any further beyond the admittance. It was only then that he looked back to study Hob's face.]
With dreamers though, I do not have the luxury of getting lost in their desires or woes. I should be as much an observer as I can be, connected yet apart, so that I might provide what they need for their fulfillment without letting it all consume me in the process. You merely have your own subconscious to manage. I have that of every being's contained within me. I know intimacy, but I must also know detachment.
[When Morpheus removed his hand, Hob knew he had stuck his foot in his mouth again. He shouldn't have said something so personal. As Morpheus sat looking tense, Hob also got up from his reclined position to sit, afraid the man might try to get up and leave. He's relieved when he's not left alone in the park.
When Dream says he's experienced intimacy, it's not with the sort of fondness one might who had good memories of it, which makes Hob frown.
What the man says does make sense. Hob can only imagine how many of those dreams are something intimate with so many people dreaming all over the world. And he figures some intimate dreams are better than others.]
And.. your fulfillment? Don't you ever want something for yourself?
[He was probably pushing it, but Hob couldn't help but speak his thoughts.]
I have. Yes. I cannot say it has ever ended particularly well in the past.
[Which wasn’t unique to him, Morpheus knew that. Ever so many broken hearts existed in the galaxy. It had existed in the very man who sat here with Morpheus. Hob, too, had suffered loss. Perhaps it was not, or should not, be a surprise that humans were so resilient. Not that anyone, mortal or Endless truly got over the loss of their family. It had been centuries and Morpheus still couldn’t bring himself to grieve with Calliope over Orpheus.
Would he take it back, though? That was the heart of regret, wasn’t it? To wish that something had never transpired. As much as it hurt, if he was honest with himself, he would not take back his time with Nada, Calliope, or the few others whom he had opened his realm and world to beyond his duties.]
You have always been the risk taker, Hob. The man who defied Death on a drunken gamble.
[Perhaps there was something to learn from that so very human trait.]
Wanting for myself does not come easily. My duties have taken such precedence. But… I don’t find myself wanting to depart your presence.
[When Hob lost his own family, it ruined him for nearly a century. That sort of loss was the kind that many do not come back from. Others might have accepted death at that point, but Hob was more resilient than some others. Perhaps they picked someone too strong willed for Death's game, or more likely, Death knew exactly how Hob would handle eternal life and what his life would do to her brother.]
To be fair, I didn't know I was gambling at the time.
[It was also very human to simple stumble through life with a bit of luck. At Morpheus' words, Hob smiles.]
I like being with you, too.
[Maybe those aren't the exact words that came from Dream, but Hob reads between the lines.]
Perhaps not. Still. You did return to meet the extremely strange man who helped grant you eternal life on a whim. I doubt everyone would have returned to the inn, no matter how much they wanted answers.
[Morpheus had wondered that first time around whether Hob would have even shown up. Some might have found it all too terrifying and steered away no matter the potential cost. Others might have had so much hubris to assume they didn’t have to hold up their end of the bargain. Morpheus could admit that back then he probably hadn’t presented the most welcoming of presences. Not that he did these days either, though Hob managed to bring out more smiles in him than just about anyone else.
Such as now, when Hob read between his carefully chosen words.]
You are to be my translator, then? I suppose I can accept it. Within reason. [A small smile softened his words. A ball was kicked near them and he reached out to stop it, gently rolling it back to the children at play.] Let us see then where these new days lead us. I look forward to figuring it out together.
[OOC: Agreed, I'm good wrapping this one up here! I'll tag our other one tomorrow if not tonight. At some point in the future we should definitely also write out Dream showing Hob around the Dreaming.]
I see our goal is to eat as much as a bear, too. [He makes a note of the name and order, though.] I shall arrive shortly. Perhaps one of your dreams sometime might compare the food you eat now to those the Dreaming can create.
I can't help that I'm hungry, plus I want you to get the full experience and part of that is to eat so much bbq that you feel stuffed afterwards. And thank you, if you're picking up all the food I will get us some good craft beer to go with it.
Mhm. You're quite good at making those around you feel welcome.
Craft beer, quite decadent. If I somehow end up too stuffed to move from your chairs you've no one to blame but yourself, you know. [No, he doesn't really see that happening, but he can't resist the banter.]
Well you can't have crappy watery beer with bbq, it spoils the whole thing. And I promise if you become too stuffed to move off my couch I'll keep you company.
You should have seen the ale offerings in some of the 14th century taverns. Even as an immortal I was concerned for my well being. [He knew it was impressive for them at the time but that didn't mean he regretted not drinking it.]
At least your sofa is quite comfortable should the dilemma strike.
Indeed. My elder sister was ever inspired to have me partake of experiences from the waking world. That time I did not heed her advice.
Fall does have an air of anticipation about it that comes with the weather changes in many parts of the world. I can see the appeal, though if asked to choose, I suppose I would say winter.
I'm still just making a face over the idea of lumpy ale. XP
I think I love fall the most because you can wear cozy sweaters, drink hot cider and the smell of all the leaves changing is always so invigorating and beautiful to see. Winter is also nice, especially if you can spend most of it in front of a warm fire.
You're making me feel validated, you know. [It truly had looked and smelled abominable. Perhaps other places served better back then, but humanity overall has come a long way in that regard.] If this is to give your craft beer a chance... I'll allow it.
Change seen as invigoration and promise is... very human. I don't mean that disdainfully. It is a persevering characteristic to find that spark of hopeful coming spring as the days grow longer dark in winter. And of course such trials begin as early as in fall. [A hint of teasing there but also underlying endearment.] I hope you never find fear in the changing of leaves, Dawn. Only hope of what their colors might wrought.
I like rain freezing into snow. The blanketing not as a cover of ills but rather a transformative time of what might be found once it thaws.
I trust you won't lead my proverbial taste buds astray.
The dressing up for holidays like Halloween. There's a long tradition of festivities including that element, for various reasons. The idea that one can wear another's face safely, be a different person they've always aspired or feared to become for one night, to represent something larger than themselves even, is intriguing.
I haven't dressed up for Halloween in a long time but I've always enjoyed it as well, it's fun to see what people pick out to wear. What would you go out as for Halloween?
Honestly, I haven't the faintest idea what I'd dress up as. I think I just prefer seeing the stories others play out for themselves. What was your favorite costume you've done, if any?
There was once a child who dressed up in a superhero costume, thinking he was the Sandman in his dreams. The circumstances surrounding the dream were unfortunate, but the image itself was admittedly adorable.
Quite a luxurious and warm costume, then. Ears and a tail as well, or just the coat?
I actually had a moment where when I started getting back into vigilante work I debated changing my costume from white to black. But I kept it white to try and remind myself of hope.
[He simply can't wrap his head around Destruction who abdicated his duties, or Desire whom he sees as abusing them. The sense of obligation runs too deeply in him.]
Hope saw me out of Hell once. When I faced the Morningstar. There it was merely a concept. You bring it to others in person.
I honestly don't know what would happen to me. [Nor what happened to Destruction.] I do know that all who dream would suffer terribly. That much is apparent.
You're welcome. I would not have said it if I did not believe it.
I still think that you protecting everyone while they dream is heroic and protective. Also I'm sorry if my question upset you at all, I'm just always trying to figure out more about you.
No, you haven't. I suppose the circumstances surrounding how I know that dreamers would suffer in my absence is not a pleasant tale to share. I don't take lightly putting my burdens, past or present, on someone else. [Though he supposes getting to know someone includes their dark moments, and he has welcomed learning about hers.]
I admit some satisfaction in being able to draw that out. Although I'm not around to see it.
Tempting. I suppose I could multitask. It's never a bad habit to practice.
[He waits patiently and heads up when buzzed in, having gotten all the requested goods, not a single item more or less. His attention to detail would allow no other.]
I'm fairly certain it's dragon hide and a type of Fae weed, but I hadn't time to shower. Oh, you meant the food.
Yes. It does smell like many dreams foretold.
[He knew very well what she meant. He waits until she ushers him in before stepping inside smoothly. His step is slow but sure, methodical rather than hesitant. He moves to set the large bag filled with containers on her kitchen table before starting to unpack it neatly. He can't help but leap in when he sees something needs doing and try to make it orderly.]
[She says at his little joke as she gets down plates for them to use as well as grabbing napkins. She then goes into the fridge and brings out a bottle of craft beer for each of them.]
[He pauses, the pulled pork in hand, to examine his glass of beer. Not that he really doubted her, but he's curious what she found appealing in the one she chose. He set down the meat and lifted up the glass to sniff it, inhaling the aroma. He follows it with a small sip, letting the balance of bitter and sweet and spice roll over his tongue.]
I suppose your record of not betraying remains intact.
[It does taste quite good. He then gestures for her to help herself to the food first if she wishes. He can certainly wait, and while it's a trifle old fashioned, he would rather see her help herself first than dive in ahead of her.]
[He does eat and drink regularly, or regularly for him, but he opts more for wine when it happens. The drink hasn’t any effect on him but he enjoys the taste. He doesn’t dislike ale though when it’s brewed well, and this one clearly was. Once Dawn has helped herself he takes a place and puts upon it a small portion of the many items. Following her lead to sit on the sofa, he sets his drink and plate on the coffee table before sinking down onto the soft cushions. It’s much more casual than eating at the dinner table. He can’t even remember the last time he sat on a sofa in the Dreaming.
He picks up the biscuit first and takes a measured taste, followed by the chicken. It does indeed have a complex balance of savory, sweet, and smoky. It reminds him vaguely of Renaissance food during banquets that often mixed meats with fruit when cooking.]
You can taste the time someone has put into it. The drink and the food.
[Which, for Dream, is quite a high compliment.]
What made you think of having it? Or was it a craving whose origination is hard to discern?
[Dawn meanwhile digs into her food with none of the measured nibbles that Dream has, she is hungry and ever since he walked in with the food she's been almost drooling over it. The smell of it reminding her of her craving and when he compliments it she just smiles and happily takes another large bite.]
Mmmhmm.
[She agrees that you can taste the time that was put into the meal, the slow cooked pulled pork and the smoked chicken especially and she makes sure to swallow and dab her mouth with a napkin before answering his question.]
I made the mistake of watching the food network on TV and they had an episode all about bbq.
You’re the third person who’s brought up this Food Network to me.
[Death, Hob, and now Dawn. It amuses him the variety within that spectrum, from Endless to immortal to mortal. Apparently, this television network and its offerings was quite a uniting factor among beings.]
You’re all going to make me hungry when you collectively dream about it.
[A teasing joke, but in truth, if he didn’t hold himself in such a disciplined state the emotional toil of everyone’s subconsciousness would impact him. Sometimes it still did in small ways, which he cared about less than larger ones that would impact his ability to function.]
[She asks as she pops a piece of cornbread into her mouth.]
Well seeing how you were so nice to satisfy my craving in the flesh I'll try to dream about something different tonight so you are safe from having to eat it twice.
My sister Death and an old friend. Though they did not bring up barbeque in particular on the network. Their shows were baking and competition ones.
[At seeing her eating the biscuit he offers her the half that is left of his.]
I appreciate your restraint. Though redundancy in dreams doesn’t bother me. It is the subconscious mind working through something if it lingers. I’m able to hold myself apart from your experiences most of the time, or at least at enough of a distance. Sometimes though a dream will remind me of something, I suppose like your barbeque shows can inspire.
What did your mother enjoy baking? And that might have been the show Death mentioned. It sounds familiar, but I'm not positive. I'd get in trouble admitting that.
[He can remember every being who dreams but not the show his sister talked about. Sibling vibes are a universal constant. He leans back a little against the cushions, contemplating her question. His arm rests against a pillow, index finger gently rubbing against the edge's crease.]
In the beginning, oh yes. When dreams were new; when I was new. I felt everything. So much joy and grief people brought with them. It was... overwhelming, until I could properly sort it out. And honestly, dangerous for the dreamers until I did, too. I had to protect myself from being consumed, so I could protect them from it.
She mostly enjoyed baking cupcakes and simple cookies, small things we could have with our tea.
[Dawn sips at her beer as Dream explains what things were like for him in the beginning, it's such a strange thing to be hearing about and she takes a moment to really digest the idea of it. Being there when everything was new.]
Hrmn. Yeah I guess that would be overwhelming very quickly, having everyone's dreams and feelings just sort of thrown at you.
I had thought at first such sizes were a dream exaggeration, but indeed not. Though I suppose if people take some home for a second meal, it makes more sense to me. Either way it isn’t what has baffled me most about humanity.
[At the light tickling of her fingers against his hand, he turned it over, palms upwards, to twine fingers together with hers.]
A fair reminder. I suppose it is as easy for me to focus on what might be improved than on what is done well. Particularly when the stakes are as high as the ones in which we both deal. Thank you though, for the compliment.
Oh? [She raises an eyebrow at him.] What has baffled you most about humanity then? Wait, let me guess....our obsession with cat videos on the internet?
[His fingers are so elegant and when they twine through hers she smiles.]
That might be a close second. Or third, behind the large portions.
[He takes his time to consider the answer, because it is more layered than a casual offhand might imply.]
No, in seriousness the human connection with animal companions doesn't baffle me. Nor does the desire to read into animal behavior, ascribing to them human characteristics in joking form that barely mask a wanting for greater understanding.
I suppose what does sometimes perplex me... and it is not a characteristic ascribed solely to humanity... is self-sabotage. Maybe due to it not being limited to humanity. It is a complex concept, and perhaps worth a measure of mystery as that leaves it open to individual scrutiny rather than sweeping judgement.
[She makes a small noise when he mentions self-sabotage, nodding a little to herself.]
It's a very complex concept and there's a disturbing number of ways that someone can do it to themselves, mentally and physically. And I would be hard pressed to explain the reasons why people do it because there can be so many factors that go into it.
Indeed. There is no easy answer to understand or amend it. It is one I have puzzled over for a very long time. And have seen only too often. [And perhaps he isn't immune to it either, at times.]
Apologies. I didn't mean to add a heaviness to the evening.
I am also very perplexed by the socks that have individual toes on them.
[Given he knew he was the cause of the heaviness in conversation, there is a measure of satisfaction that he's able to redirect it. Hearing her laugh is a welcome sound that draws out a small smile of his own.]
They don't look especially comfortable, or appealing. I fail to see what regular socks lack that they provide. It is a human invention that does indeed baffle me.
The shoes are real? I thought them a subconscious manifestation...
[He's being entirely serious that time. His light tracing of the creases in the pillow cease on one hand, as his other hand begins to gently do the same. This time instead it's his index finger gently trailing over her knuckles and fingers as he loosens it from their hold, the small movement exploratory yet soothing to him.]
All right, I suppose it's your turn. What about the Endless baffles you? Or the topic can be broadened to bafflement in general, not merely my kind.
They are real and they are just as confusing as you think they are.
[The feeling of his index finger traveling over her knuckles and the fingers sends a tingle through her entire body and she's so focused on the feeling that at first she doesn't seem to realize he's asked her a question.]
Hrm? Oh! [Her cheeks go a light pink.] I don't know if I'd say that there's anything that baffles me about the Endless, especially since I'm still learning about all of you, but there's certainly a lot of things that intrigue me and make me curious.
[He might look a little pleased at having been able to distract her, a small smile curled on his face as he notes the reddened cheeks. Slowly he reaches out to brush her hair back from her face.]
A very diplomatic response. Me, I find my family constantly baffling, but I suppose that is common enough. I will accept that at least I am not dull to you.
[She says, a statement that is made even more true by the pulse of excitement that goes through her again when he reaches out to brush back her hair. His fingers grazing her cheekbones for just a moment, but even that's enough for her heart to start beating faster and her body to become hyper aware of his.]
[He doesn't technically have a heart that beats. When he draws breath and speaks, it is because this is a form that humanity understands and has reflected back at him. His body is solid but never born, existing because of the dreamers he serves. He is connected to them, to their hearts. He's felt his break, even though one has never resided within him. Metaphor made real.
Right now though there is no ache of loss in his chest, but rather a growing want. His hand lingered, sliding from her face to rest upon her back. Slow and measured, prepared to pull back if she seems discomfited. To see if he feels discomfort. There are so many snares on both ends that might snag. The simple touch doesn't make him forget that, but he craves it nonetheless. The connection.]
I suppose we find in others better company than we see in ourselves.
[His words slip over her as easily as his hand does and her whole body feels alive at the feeling of his fingers moving from her face to rest on her back. It feels like a small electric pulse is passing over every single nerve and hair along the way and she unconsciously leans a little more towards him.]
Is that your way of telling me that you find your own company boring?
[She teases, her lips lifting up into a soft, coy smile.]
[In the distant past there were dangers in the Endless dallying with mortals. Times have changed, but how much? No harm but a broken heart had come from his time with Thessaly, who is human and long-lived only through making continuous backdoor deals with lesser beings. That is not a technicality the old laws of nature would let slip by at the dawn of time, but even nature is malleable to an extent.
Which did not mean there weren't other risks, of course. For both of them.]
I find my own company… narrow.
[He takes it slow, and measured, leaning in a moment after she does. His lips touch hers, and while he knew the world would not end from it, he doesn't expect the spark of a new creation to hit as it does on the other end of the spectrum. It has been so long since he's had a connection of this nature. It's fragile and he fears breaking it. There’s a hunger to it, but one held in check, leaving the kiss gentle and lingering. He tastes her in ways beyond senses.]
[There have been many good kisses in Dawn's life but they are all dwarfed by Dream's the second his lips touch hers. His kiss is gentle and lingering, his lips soft and inviting like a human's but there is so much more, an energy that courses from him and directly through her. It's like kissing the stars, the sky, the moon, the sun, all wrapped into one. It's like kissing one of the Endless.
She utters a small sigh, her lips pulling away just enough to hover against his for a moment.]
Dream....
[It's barely a whisper and she throws aside any of her previous worries or concerns about the connection that has been building between them and presses her lips against his firmly, her one hand moving up to plunge itself into his dark hair, pulling him closer.]
[He hears his name as a soft sigh. Dream. It isn't one, though. He is always but the moment is not; it is merely what dreams are made of. Wants and fears, joys and longings. Hunger for understanding and that which is just beyond reach. A quest for connection in the single string of time as it flows. This is all of that. A moment, nothing more but never less. It is everything.
He can taste what came before. Barbecue and smoke from ashes of aches. The walls of that past lower to let in a fullness that is both bitter and bright. It is humanity in an individual form, one he has grown to long to embrace. If he is the heat and flame of blue stars in a black night, she feels like pure fire razing against his sky. Warm and hot, a life burning bright as long as the wick lasts. He is drawn to it, to her. He presses closer together, hands wrapping around her body to explore, his body shifting to feel hers against his better. He moves to kiss at her throat as well, feeling the pulse point there beating.]
[Her pulse is beating hard and fast and no doubt he can feel it galloping beneath his lips as he kisses her throat and neck, but even with him shifting closer it still feels like too far away for her liking. She wants to feel as much of him as she can and to help satisfy her craving she swings one of her long legs over his lap, shifting her weight to sit on top of him, straddling him.
The hand in his hair digs in deeper, gently pulling his face up from her neck so she can kiss him again. Her mouth opens to him, her tongue sliding across to taste him briefly, like a bee tasting nectar.]
[OOC: I first wrote “with a danger’s grace” rather than dancer and debated leaving it because both fit Dawn, LOL.]
[With a dancer’s grace Dawn settles flush against him, limbs folding against his. His hands slide from her hips to her back, one hand snaking beneath her sweater to feel her warm skin against his fingertips. They trail patterns and paths to learn her a new way.
At the tug to his hair, a pleasant pressure, he lifts his head to meet her lips once more. There's a hunger to it, an exploration of the depths that one can offer. For all that he has eons to share, it is always new and personal. He might taste of memories never yet experienced, remind of times that fill a future. It is not dreams made flesh but dreams meet flesh. A joining that lasts a moment to some but right now feels endless.]
[ooc: Oh man you're right, both totally work for her. <3 ]
[Already she knows that she has to be careful because the hunger, the desire, she feels towards him is almost overwhelming. The way his fingertips trail across her skin, she wants to feel that across every single inch of her body just as she wants to do the same to his. Touch, smell, taste. Right now he is flooding all of her senses and it takes a huge amount of will power to gently pull back a little, breathless from their kiss, she rests her forehead against his.]
Is this.... [She starts to say, her voice barely above a whisper.] Is this okay? I mean, is it allowed?
[She knows that there are rules, both in her world and his, and while she wants him she also doesn't want to hurt him or put him in danger.]
[OOC: Small caveat, I’m bending comics canon a little here. In it one version of the story of what broke up Nada and Dream was that she was mortal and therefore the cosmos won’t let them be together (they strictly say though that this is just the story told among men, and the women have their own version). Later on he then has Thessaly as a lover, who while she’s lived for thousands of years is technically not immortal. She’s never been granted that gift, she keeps extending her life in exchange for favors from pretty much anyone including demons (I love her). For ease of exploring this line, I’m leaning towards it being that some will frown upon them being together/might want to cause them trouble, but it’s not an automatic “your city will be burned to the ground” situation that makes it entirely impossible. Lemme know if that works or doesn’t, because if you’re more comfortable with something else, I don’t mind going back and editing tags. … I am so sorry this got so long, I’ll stop now.]
[He pauses when she does, pulling back to study her intently. His eyes are inquisitive stars soaking in her words. He doesn’t take her concerns lightly as he brushes back her hair.]
You are not the first mortal I have been with. It can be… complicated. One relationship passed by with only a waning interest to break us apart. The other… [Well.] There were politics beyond her mortality that came into play, as she was ruler of her people, and it ended for the worse. Not all will approve of our union, and I have many enemies. As I know you do. I believe this, what we have done tonight, is safe between us. In a larger scope though… even being my friend brings danger. I apologize if that was not made clearer on my end sooner. It is not a danger I feel I cannot offer protection from, or I would never have spoken with you to start, but I would be lying if I said it did not exist.
[He gives her a small smile.]
Perhaps it would be best to take it slow and see how things fare on both ends. I know that is much to take in.
[ooc: I was always a little curious about that loop hole in the comics, because you're right, Thessaly wasn't technically immortal so how come poor Nada got in trouble for being with Dream and Thessaly didn't? I always kind of figured that it was partially because Nada was one of the first generations of people so things were still super fresh and strict and that by the time Dream met Thessaly the rules of the cosmos had relaxed a little. XD Either way though I'm totally cool with this bending comics canon and agree with it.]
[She appreciates that he doesn't take her concerns lightly but at the same time she has to smile at the fact that both of them come with associated danger.]
Complicated and a little bit dangerous, sounds like my usual type.
[She teases and lifts a hand to brush back a lock of his hair, her fingers already craving to be dug back into his nest of thick black hair. Her teasing smile drops away as she looks into his eyes and she nods.]
I agree that slow would be best. [There's a pause and she laughs softly, her cheeks going pink.] It might be hard for me to remember that at times but it would probably be best.
[OOC: Yeah, it’s something I usually head canon in a similar fashion but am always curious if they’ll ever address in actual canon, LOL. I just can’t imagine Dream ignoring protocols of that magnitude after Nada, but Thessaly’s whole thing is that she is a survivor which wouldn’t make as much sense if she was immortal. (And devourer of knowledge). TLDR glad what I rambled made sense and yeah, I love complications but not the promise of destruction. I leaned into the cosmos changing a bit over time so that works well with what we’re both thinking.]
Is that your type? I don’t know that I have one.
[He only had a few loves over his eons of existence. Each one was rather different. Perhaps it was more indicative that he preferred a sort depending on who and when he existed, as his time lingered longer than mortals.]
He leaned a little into her touch, but nodded in agreement.]
I trust you, to mind your time and bearing. As I trust myself. Difficult though it may be on both our ends. [Leaning in he kissed her lips, then reluctantly, pulled back to kiss her forehead.] It is nice merely being in your presence. It has… been awhile. Since I have touched another.
[ooc: Oh it totally made sense and I agree that some complication is cool but not if it's going to destroy everything, that wouldn't be fun. XD ]
I was mostly teasing, Dream. You're really unlike anyone I've ever met.
[Which makes him and whatever this is between them all the more special and something she wants to cherish and savor. Just like she savors the kiss he places on her lips, her hand sliding back into his hair where part of relishes the feeling. She loves his wild, fluffy hair and she's thrilled to finally be able to touch it.]
It's been a while for me too, as I'm sure you can tell.
[She says softly as she's pretty certain he can feel the eagerness in which her body wants to touch his, the fast beating of heart an even more obvious indication.]
[A soft noise of encouragement escapes his lips at the sensation of her fingers threading through his hair. It's hard to say whether it further disarrays his hair or not, given its untamed appearance in general. He clearly enjoys the ruffling, though; really, having her hands upon him in any capacity right now is something he craves. It's with some reluctance that he controls himself and takes it slow with drawn out kisses and gentle touches to explore her.]
I had some idea.
[A small, knowing smile crosses his face at that as he kisses her chest where her heart beats fast. There's something comforting in the fact that she understands his loneliness, even if he would never wish that upon her.]
[The soft noise he makes sends a pulse down her spine and to the area between her legs and she has to fight against the urge to just start rocking her hips against his, but he is doing her the courtesy of controlling his passion so she has to do the same.]
Have you known long? [She asks, her voice catching a little as he places a soft kiss above her wildly beating heart.]
That I....you know. [Was attracted to him, wanted him, liked him. There are so many ways to finish that sentence.]
[Hearing her breath catch in pleasure makes it hard for him not to indulge further in trying to illicit such sounds from her. It is a reciprocity that has long been absent in his life, this giving and receiving of pleasure from one he feels safe to show such things to. It is a dangerous line upon which they tread and he's careful to stay on the slow side, taking it one step at time to hopefully keep them on a secure path forward.]
I knew a measure of attraction was felt. However, your inner thoughts on it, how deep it goes, I have not dived into your subconscious to tell. If you had a particular dream about it, I did not intrude to witness. I would only do so if a dreamer is in danger, or something is off about it. Occasionally I visit old friends in their dreams. ... and sometimes to nick a bottle of wine or a meal.
[He didn't really bother the dreamers then and make himself known, or at least that is his excuse.]
[Upon mentioning 'particular dreams' her cheeks go red because she was curious if he ever caught sight of some of the dreams she's had about him lately. They haven't been X-rated, those type of thoughts and daydreams she tends to have while she's awake and pleasuring herself, but she has definitely had ones about kissing him. Holding him.]
That's good to know, if only to keep me from feeling extremely embarrassed.
[He can see the rosy glow that comes to her skin. His, of course, does not react quite the same. Paler, more ethereal, he does not naturally blush like humans do. He could manifest such an appearance when feeling embarrassed, but it seems less genuine. It is human and he is not that. It does suit her though, and he reaches out to cup her face, thumb gently stroking against her cheek.]
It pleases me though to hear I have occupied your thoughts. Though I do not sleep, you have occupied mine while I have been in the Dreaming.
[Another little pulse goes through her when he tells her that she has occupied his thoughts, not only is it encouraging but it's also flattering.]
And are all these thoughts that you're having about me...are they PG rated? [She asks coyly, her cheeks still pink but her eyes now carry a mischievous glint and she rocks her hips forward ever so slightly. Teasing him just a bit.]
Had I parents in the human sense, I would most certainly not have asked for their guidance on such thoughts.
[There's a smirk to mirror hers, and on instinct his pelvis arches under her when she rocks, a feeling of heated longing pooling through him. It's hard to hold back from doing more, but hopefully should they continue as they have been, it will be sweeter once they do. He doesn't want this to fail like all the others, and perhaps a slow foundation will better prepare them for any future bumps in the road. Leaning forward he gives her a gentle kiss, one of hunger and promise.]
[I'm thinking maybe we can wrap this one up? Seems a good stopping point! Plus I admit I was eyeing that dancing meme for them, LOL. If you were up for it I could get a starter for us this weekend.]
I'm sure having seen how I style myself, comfort is a value I hold dear. Besides, elegant seems to suit you. A dancer and fighter are key to who you are, and restrictive movement would not do you justice.
I like that we both value comfort. I also really like that you took into consideration my skills when choosing that piece. It's very thoughtful of you. ;)
Oh, of course you should choose. I can offer the Dreaming to create whatever you desire, but I can't imagine a more splendid sight than how you wish to be seen.
[Does he realize how sweet it is for him to say that?]
Thank you, I'll have to start dreaming up some ideas about what I want to wear.... Will you be wearing your usual attire? I would hate to show up over dressed.
[He does not. It only seems painfully obvious to him that he enjoys her company for who she is, rather than what he imagines her to be. While there is less to hide in knowing one's subconscious it also makes adornments to alter that truth feel awkward and ill-fitting.]
I will dress up as befits the occasion. [Formality matters to him where appropriate.] You're a far more pleasant reason to do so than stately or family affairs.
I have begun working on the ballroom. A few days should be sufficient to complete it.
A cloak of sorts, yes. I might be more tired than I thought as better descriptive words are not coming to mind. It is not a suit as known these days, no. Though I suppose I could wear one.
I can see that in her. Delirium wears dresses on occasion, though I would not describe them as fancy. Death certainly grumbles but obliges Destiny in his formal requests when she has to.
I have not seen my siblings since we began to spend time with one another. That is not unusual, for us. You are not one I have tried to hide, if that was a concern.
[Also his comment about it not being expected....that brings up an interesting question that she might have to ask him further on down the road. Which is: If things continue with them along the lines she thinks it will, do the Endless need to wear condoms?]
To get to know a person you helped bring into the world is quite an extraordinary feeling. Watching him develop his own mind I suppose, while finding mirrors to his mother and myself. He was born mortal, yet when having a child, existence feels timeless in a new manner even to an Endless.
He most certainly does. Apparently as my raven it is ill-fitting for me to make things private, as it’s his role to help me in all matters. What of you, have you anyone in your ear about us? I could lend you Matthew for a spell, if not.
His mother is something else. A muse, to be precise. My ex-wife. How we came to have a mortal child I do not know.
[Desire had sired Rose’s mortal mother, but then, Unity had been human herself.]
[She giggles to herself.] And has Matthew offered you any useful advice when it comes to women and courting? I don't know many people here in Paris but I have told my friend Donna that I am seeing someone new but she has kept her questions to a minimum for the time being.
It's very interesting that your son was mortal, then again maybe not as there are a lot of old tales that speak of immortal beings having human children.
I cannot say his advice has been revelatory, but in his defense, I have actually courted women far longer than he has. And it is not bad advice to advocate learning a woman's likes and dislikes, being invested in her well being, and showing her affection through various means such as time or surprises. I can prioritize work, so it is fair to remind me that people deserve equal consideration.
Your friend sounds respectful of boundaries.
Yes, that also came as a surprise. Truthfully, we did not know what to expect with his arrival. Not that any parent fully does, but they usually know that much.
Sounds like you could give him some pointers then. ;) Uh Dream...have you only ever courted women?
She is, that doesn't mean she isn't insanely curious about you and part of the reason she is able to be respectful of boundaries might be because we are communicating through phone and email. I suspect that if she were to come visit she would all but demand to meet you.
With his adoring audience on your windowsill? He seems to be doing well enough. No, I have courted those outside women. Some were not even human at all.
I trust you to know what you wish to share and not. Donna is the Amazon, yes?
His name is Orpheus.
[No, the tense isn't a typo. No, he doesn't want to elaborate on it. He adds to bypass the answer swiftly.]
Do you see yourself living in Paris for the foreseeable future?
She loves the new teacup bird feeder by the way. :) So, human and not, female and male?
Yes, Donna is the Amazon. When I finally tell her more details I'll be interested to see if she's already heard about you from some of their old books. It wouldn't surprise me.
[......Orpheus? As in....she pauses to let that information sink in. She's heard the legend but at the time thought it was just that and now knowing the story and that Dream was his father. Hrm. She will gracefully switch to the topic he presents.]
I think so yes, I first came here to get away from everything that happened in Gotham but now I'm feeling comfortable and quite happy. Why?
Have the squirrels been partaking of the birdseed as well? And yes, I suppose that summarizes it well.
The Amazons do have their own names and histories with the Endless, yes. Though I would not put words into their perception, she may speak on it should it ever arise. I have admired much of their philosophy, though.
No great reason, honestly. I suppose the discussion of family turned my thoughts to feeling rooted. Which can happen in people, places, or both. Paris is a fine choice to reside. When I have visited the city it has been rich.
Not really actually, I think they are too busy stealing bread from the café next door. Okay, just curious. :)
You have? How come?
It's beautiful here and I like that it's something familiar but has nothing to do with my life with Hank. Most of the memories I have in this apartment are of my mother, we used to come here for vacations when we were little. Just us girls.
I can hardly fault them if fresh bread is also an option.
Why have I admired some of their philosophies? There is a sense of duty and honor I find admirable.
It is quite lovely. The personal attachment I can see only making it better. Perhaps in our next cooking endeavor we shall attempt crepes in its honor.
You say this until Matthew comes to visit at that hour and adds his squawking.
I do have a very different understanding of her, though I have known grief and loss and understand that pain, too. Perhaps one day we might discuss our viewpoints. I do not belittle how you see her, though. She taught me that long ago, by not belittling such pain, either.
He most certainly would. Coffee and pancakes. Which actually sounds quite good right now. Don't tell him.
I think for some there is difficulty distinguishing between the causes that lead to death and her function as Death. I am not saying this is your difficulty with her, merely what I have seen in others. When a life is cut short or has a brutal end, that is outside of her control. She merely is present when they pass so they are not alone, and facilitates their transition to the afterlife. She does not cause their end, she does not pick and choose who and when. Still, death causes grief and anger. It is difficult to extricate those emotions from her function as the end result of natural or person-made causes.
I guess in a way that is comforting to know that my mother and Hank weren't alone after they died, that someone was there to explain things and comfort them. But if she isn't controlling who lives and who dies then what about when someone comes back? Donna died trying to save me but she came back a few months later, does your sister have any involvement with things like that or is that something in itself?
Those who evade death, or who return after it has transpired, are usually outside my sister’s function. There is the rare exception here and there with certain immortals, but she does not bend the laws of nature often or easily. Usually, such cases involve magic and circumstance she has not invoked or granted. Someone I knew… quite well… has evaded her through means I would never recommend, though she has always claimed the price worth it.
[Thessaly is even worse than Hob in that respect.]
Hrm. That makes sense, from what I understand my friend Rachel was partially responsible for helping bring Donna back. When those sorts of things happen does your sister get angry? I'd hate for her to be upset at Rachel, she's just a sixteen year old girl who doesn't understand the limits of her powers yet.
[Can you tell that Dawn is a little bit protective of her?]
I can't imagine Death getting upset at a child. Believe me, she can be quite an annoying pain when she wants to be, but she's also the most compassionate person I know. An adult purposely causing harm for selfish reasons might earn her displeasure, but a desperate bid out of love would likely earn her sympathy.
I'm pretty sure Rachel would resent being called a child but it's good to know your sister wouldn't be upset at her. She's a wonderful girl and I know for a fact she'd probably think you were "cool" if she were to ever meet you.
A demon father, you say? I can't imagine that having gone well. I understand though wanting your life settled before opening it up to others.
Flatterer. [His tone is warm though as he says it.] I should think my appreciation of you would be the highest selling point to her. A show of excellent taste.
It was very hard on her when she learned who her real father was and that her biological mother was using her but she got through it and in a way it helped her figure out who she is and what she stands for. It was less about being settled and more about having enough emotional capacity to deal with others, which I know sounds bad but it's the truth.
I'm just telling you the truth. [Her tone is just as warm.] And yes, that's also a high selling point. But the dark clothes and mysterious vibe doesn't hurt either when you're talking to a sixteen year old goth girl.
I'm sorry she had to endure such a trial, though that is indeed a silver lining. It's true that sometimes our struggles strip away parts of us, but in so doing reveal an unmovable essence at the core. And my apologies, when I said settled, I meant it in more than a physical way. Emotional stability, in a way of speaking. It's okay to make certain you're in a place to truly be a positive influence on those around you before drawing them near. I think so at least, though it's easier to say that to others than internalize.
Is that my vibe, mm? Mysterious. I do suppose not many dreams are blatantly stark.
She was certainly made stronger from it, which I guess is a necessary thing in my line of business. You don't need to apologize, I just thought that I should explain it a little more. Rachel is very dear to me but I was so distraught and messed up after Hank's death I didn't think I could be of any help to her until I had worked through my grief. And now that I have I guess I've been a bit scared to reach out and contact her again.
[She's giggling at you again, Dream.] You know very well that you can be mysterious.
Mostly it's the fear of not being receptive to contact. I left Gotham when things were pretty bad so part of me worries she'll think I was abandoning her as well.
I see. That is a fair concern, I admit. Though perhaps once you explain your reasonings, if she did feel slighted she will find some resolution to that? It is difficult though to make that first step not knowing if you will be granted that chance. If I can offer any support during that venture let me know.
[He is infinitely cooler. And taller. :D Dawn is definitely a better partner than Thess was, LOL. Like I adore her but what we know of that relationship it was a bit of a trash fire. He's better off with someone who isn't quite so much all about themselves first.]
[I can just imagine Raven eating popcorn and listing all the ways that Dream is cooler than Dick is: 'did you know he made a whole ballroom in his KINGDOM for her? And all you did was drag her to record stores and lie to her.....' Hahaha yeah Thess is awesome but that relationship was kind of on fire. XD ]
[Drag him, Rachel, LOL. He deserves it for the lying. That is a nice element so far with Dream and Dawn, them being honest. Even if it's just to say they're not up to talking about something yet.]
[The lying not to mention trying to dump Rachel on her and then taking off. Dick pulls so many dick moves in that show XD I think it's really sweet how respectful Dawn and Dream have been with one another. <3 ]
[Ooof, yeah. Nightwing is one of my favorite characters and I’m okay with him not being perfect (he certainly isn’t in the comics, either) but I do side eye some of the show’s choices, LOL. I still need to finish season 3, though.]
[I love imperfect characters it's just that in the show sometimes his decisions seem really random. Season 3 is...well half of it is good, the other half feels really thrown together. I suspect it was because of COVID and the sudden restrictions and staff getting sick and what not.]
[OOC: Yeah, a lot of shows had to wrap up as best they could due to COVID, which is understandable. I do wanna finish season 3. I just fell into the trap of life happening and then not getting around to going back to it, LOL.]
If I wanted to I likely could emulate the effects. [And then sober himself up anytime he wanted.] I'm not certain I see the appeal in losing control of my facilities, though. [He's a bit of a control freak.]
You know me well, I do enjoy a good book. Sometimes I walk in Fiddler's Green, too. I also tend to bury myself in other work but I'm told that isn't a good distraction, necessarily.
It is a rare thing, in my experience, for that to be enough for someone from me. Though you are, of course, unique in many ways. You're an intriguing man, Hob Gadling, and you always have been.
I don't quite know how to answer that, because each meeting was interesting to me. I would not have returned otherwise. I know I cut one of our meetings short once, and I am sorry for that. I genuinely do find your life interesting, Hob. The larger moments and the smaller ones. How you pass the time, what brought you up short. What changed and what hasn't.
Perhaps we all find difficulty in seeing the fascination with ourselves. Or well, many of us do.
Yes, I've an interest in you, personally. Although it is also true that I sought to understand humanity better. Though I don't think all humans would have made the choice to live as long as you have.
[Enjoy it too much, as he enjoys all things, one might say.]
I guess you and your sister chose poorly that day.
[Picking the one man at the inn, maybe in all of England, who would never regret the passing of years no matter what happened. One day, perhaps, he'll be ready, but he still does not anticipate that day coming for some time.]
She inquired about you, you know. When I saw her last. She asked how you were doing. I think she fancies taking some credit for our continued relationship.
I have not spoken to her since before our reunion at the new inn. I assure you that has everything to do with our family dynamics, not you. They are... complicated, to say the least.
It makes me reach for my helmet, internally if not literally. Though I think we all benefit from such a person in our lives, if we're fortunate to have them.
Very old, though it took me awhile to admit to friendship. Nearly too long. [Hob had been quite generous to forgive him, Dream knows that much, after his outburst and then missing the meeting after.] Humans can be quite... forgiving, can't they? [It's said with a humbleness he rarely displays.] I don't wonder why the heart plays such an image to your people.
You may. His name is Hob, though he goes by Robert these days to most. Keeping up with the times. [No, Dream doesn't call him that. Debatable on if he would, should Hob ask, but Hob never has.]
You'd like him. He's a good man. Capable of change, and is that not what the promise of dawn brings?
I have seen the depravity the ages have wrought. Sometimes lived it, even. ... I have also seen, and been reminded, that atrocities are not all that humans bring. A reminder not solely of your people, I assure you. The galaxy is vast and varied.
It's a very old variant on the name. It honestly never occurred to me to refer to him otherwise? I think when one turns that old, those who remember the past become valued. That is, of course, not a blanket term as I'm sure some prefer otherwise, but most fall under that in my experience.
That is a question, isn't it?
Hob never met my wife. She was before his time. I never met his wife, either. Due to my own folly. ... I have been batting this about in my head, back and forth. What to share, what to commit. Not out of embarrassment, but out of... what is being built? I don't know. I value you, what we have. It is less a matter of private and public and more a matter what of what you want, and what we want.
I hold dumb grudges. We all hold dumb grudges. I won't admit it around family if you won't.
[OOC: Sorry for the deletion, something weird happened on my end and it looked like I hadn't replied to the comment above.]
Perhaps in person would be best, though it isn't without merit to have such topics broached now to be finalized later. You are always very much welcome company, over the phone or otherwise. And if reassurance is needed, I am committed to what we have and where I hope we are going. I simply wasn't certain when was the right time to talk about it, and see where we both stood on the matter. Timing and pacing have not been my strong suits, in the past.
I appreciate the reassurance, especially right before you leave for work, and I agree that talking in person would be best since sometimes tone can be misunderstood through text.
[ Nope, she wants the Tea Lucienne has on him and besides, she's the oldest entity in his realm who, while also respectful of Death, is also not a blubbering mess (poor Merv). ]
There's a whole gamut of characters out there. Lots of fun people and not so fun ones.
[ The current soul she's accompanying with watches her wrinkle her nose in distaste before she sends a reply to Dream. ]
[ It's probably because of the fact that they're texting and not using their sigils to communicate, that her worry decides to make itself known. But also he said Destiny's been reaching out to him. ]
He merely sent a request to speak. There was no appointed time, because I assume whenever I find or make the time to do it will be on time. [Destiny can be such a headache like that with everything foretold, even if he did save Dream from a black hole once.]
If he's found another ship in his garden, this time it isn't my fault.
If he's only asked me, then I'm not certain what it is. I shall send Matthew to ask what it entails. If it is a family dinner... we'll see. [He's busy, and not terribly enthused at the prospect of a family gathering. It's an obligation though, and he finds it hard to resist obligations.]
You never heard about the ship? I suppose Destiny never spoke on it. He does keep his own counsel.
A ship from the Dreaming sailed into his garden once, while I was... detained... elsewhere. He was not anticipating it, and you know how he hates imaginary things within his realm. It annoyed him enough to summon me to fetch it back.
[ By the Night and all of Creation, why is her elder brother like This. Don't pull a Neil Gaiman "wait and see" schtick— ]
Huh. Guess we really just gotta wait for that Moment, huh.
[ He what. Destiny doesn't usually do rescues. ]
You were detained and he got you out, because there was a ship from your realm in his garden. When was this?
[ brb sending an angry voice mail to her older brother—j/k. But yeah, she asks, because why didn't Destiny told her about it? Yeah, she had to be on overtime, but also she had to guide an aspect of her little brother some time ago. And that was jarring. ]
I could wait and see if it's important enough for him to come to my realm, but I think it makes him even more uncomfortable than me being in his. All the what if's rather than there are's.
I don't know that I would quite put it as him getting me out. Yes, though. He summoned me. [Not all of him had left that darkness, he'd felt that quite keenly. From a practical standpoint though he'd managed to collect his ship and return to the Dreaming, and that was sufficient for him. That practicality, that adherence to tucking one's shoulder to the wheel and carrying on, that he does share in common with Destiny.] Oh, this was a very long time ago. What I hold dear in memory is knowing our elder brother can be surprised. It's good for him, I think. To keep such things in mind. [Far better to focus on that aspect of the situation than on the one he lost.]
[ Her fingers on the screen of her phone pause. She's good at a lot of things, she thinks. Passable at some others. Words, though. Words and poetry and songs and stories, that's Dream. When she was less of a frigid bitch and more like her current self, she always enjoyed walking to the Sunless Lands with the people her little brother has touched: all creatives, just like him, storytellers in a thousand different ways and mediums.
Sometimes, she kinda wished she was just as good at words as he is. ]
Saying it was a long time ago doesn't really mean a thing when it comes to us. I know I haven't really asked it yet, since I'm so used to finding you in the mortal realm whenever you're not like, entirely okay, and I just stare you down to get you to talk. But I'm asking it right now, hopefully, with this little mortal invention. What happened back then?
[Only Death, and sometimes Lucienne, can make him feel like he has to explain himself. As though he’s been caught, centuries late, for something he should not have let happen. Or perhaps he’s projecting his own feelings regarding the matter that had happened so long ago. Certainly he would have done things quite differently, in retrospect.]
My mishandling of a past vortex nearly ended all creation as we know it. I was investigating the matter to try and prevent a prevailing madness amongst the stars, when I found myself kicked into a black hole for my attempts. … I visited our parents, and Mother Night ensured I did not escape the black hole, until Destiny intervened. The dream ship that found its way to his garden, and those upon it, helped to ensure reality was not all lost. The dreamers dreamt of something more, something beyond such an ill fate, and they changed the galaxy for the better. [It’s a skewed retelling of the story that feels entirely true from his perspective. He gives himself no credit for saving the universe and 100% of the blame for all the trouble caused in the first place, and he clearly cares only about the damage done to others and not at all that an aspect of himself died in flames or that his parents couldn’t care less what happened to him. Or that, weakened as he had been, had been what let Burgess easily capture him.]
There. You asked.
[He knows it was a monumental screw up, and it's why he wanted to do so much better when Rose came around. Debatable if he did do better, but he had tried. At least he hadn't killed entire worlds this time?]
[ That explained the sudden intense workload from back then. And she remembers the previous vortex. She told him, after all, that he had authority and permission. And even the vortex herself had asked for death. She remembers this.
This also feels like she needs to be there with her instead of texting back.
In fact, she doesn't reply. Instead she finishes her work for the day, stands in her gallery, and cradles Dream's sigil: a shadow of the helm he made from the bones of old gods who dared to invade his realm. She remembers him asking for help at the time. She didn't come.
(She was a bitch, then. She isn't, now.) ]
Dream, I stand in my gallery, and hold your sigil. Can I come through, to your realm?
[ Normally, she can go in and out without all the bells and whistles and rules and laws. His palace staff both fear and respect her, but those closest to her brother have also shown their joy and gratitude to her (normally for pulling said brother out of his moods). ]
[There isn’t a reply, and that doesn’t bode well. Why this is all important to bring up now he can’t figure out, and he turns it over in his mind as he goes about his business. He can feel the pull of her calling to him much later, though how much time has passed since they spoke he isn’t certain. He’s been buried in work. It takes a few minutes for him to make it to the gallery, a half-finished dream with him. He studies her through the portrait, then nods.]
Very well. You may enter.
[He takes a step back, arms folded and eyebrow already raised inquisitively.]
[ And with his permission, she comes through. There's a dream that's currently in progress behind him and she smiles at it? them? And when she looks to her younger, taller brother, she gives him a hug.
Both arms around him. ]
You're an idiot. [ She chokes out. She might cry in a little bit, if she lets go.
She might have been busy then, but she loves her brother. In all his aspects and facets. She loves him even as, just a little bit before he had set an old wrong to rights, she took an aspect of him in another universe that died by the mad star. She told Destiny this, she knows. Maybe, for once, Destiny summoning Dream from the Darkness their mother put him through, was a kindness.
Lots of what-ifs and maybes run in her head. He'll tell her they don't matter now— heck, he might have said something similar before. One time it had been I didn't want to worry you. She always worries, for him, and each of her siblings. But none of them made her worry as much as Dream did... does. Delirium feared her, in her own way, which was fair. And the twins didn't have a lot of things they needed a big sister for. Destruction left. Destiny keeps to himself until he has read that he requires their presence.
So, she was the closest to Dream. ]
You're a silly idiot.
Sorry for the delay, it's been a long week. Emotions are <3.
[Dream knows certain things he can expect from Death, but that doesn't mean she's incapable of surprising him. He doesn't anticipate the hug and is momentarily startled by it. Slowly after the initial shock wears off he slid his arms around her to hug her back. He can hear the emotion in her tone in the few words she says.]
What do I owe the pleasure of being called that this time? [Or perhaps a better question is...] Seeing me like that must have been difficult for you. [When she'd taken an aspect of him to the Sunless Lands.]
[ She sounds muffled, her face right at his chest. Sucks to be the oldest sister and shorter than her two younger brothers. ]
You're, [ sniffs ] an idiot. [ +1 sniffs ] I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.
[ She's not quite openly crying but she holds him a little tighter and a little bit longer. It's a little embarrassing but at least they're in his gallery and not... well, at least no one from his staff will see. ]
It is the least I deserved for my folly. The other lives lost due to my actions tell me that much. ... that I hurt you tells me as much.
[It pains him to see her like this. Not that she's displaying emotion, although she's much better at that than he is. It's rather knowing that he's the cause of it that makes him ache where a heart might have been. If anyone else had made Death cry, would he not be out for their blood, too? He doesn't consider himself an exception. He holds her tighter, more tightly than he would most, for a long moment.
There's a moment's pause, then he offers quietly.]
Would you care to sit? I've been standing quite awhile myself.
I'm hurt because you, you— [ her third sniffle. Then she looks up at his him. Her mascara's ruined, and she can feel it going down her cheeks, mixed with her tears. ] You're so you.
[ +4 sniffs. She lets him go, taking a bright blue handkerchief from her jacket pocket and wiping her face with it. She wheezes out a small, quiet giggle when the handkerchief is mostly stained black. ] I ruined my makeup.
[ She folds the handkerchief and puts it back into a pocket in her jacket. ]
Yeah, sitting... would be nice. I've been on my feet the whole day.
[Reaching down with his fingers, Dream gently tries to help brush away the mascara. It only ends up smudged on his fingers and more so on her face. A touch sheepishly he says] I suppose you can tell I never helped anyone with their makeup.
It's been awhile since I've seen you without any makeup, anyway.
[There is nothing in his gallery save for small pyres of fire and the sigils along the walls. Dream waves his hand and the dream he is working on disappears, and is replaced with a modern sofa long enough for them to sit comfortably upon. There are pillows tucked into the corners. All in black, of course. He gestures for Death to sit and he sits beside her, his posture still.]
I know I made a mistake with that vortex. I perhaps course corrected too much with Rose, though thankfully, that did not end as poorly.
[ the laugh that bubbles out from her is fond and fleeting. ]
Nah, you'd probably smudge it on the first try. [ The image of her little brother sitting down with her trying to do her makeup is silly and a touch sad. ]
... Mm, sometimes I go out with makeup on and sometimes I don't. [ she flops on the conjured sofa and reaches down to take off her boots. ] That's what Unity told me. I'm glad it happened rather peacefully.
[ boots off, she brings up her legs to the sofa and hugs them. ]
Still. You aren't catching a break, aren't you, little brother?
Yes, Unity. She didn't care for me very much, I can only imagine the colorful depiction she painted for you of what transpired.
[After a beat, Dream reaches down and slides off his shoes and socks. Barefoot is often how he goes about his castle, anyway. It's habit to look more put together for outsiders, but Death isn't really an outsider, is she? He folds one long leg under him and turns so he can face her better, tucking one pillow onto his lap. Fingers lightly play with the pillow's seam, a perfectly straight line with nary a hole in sight.]
When do we ever take a break, sister? It is always all or nothing.
There's a play called La Morte in Vacanza by Alberto Casella. Death Takes a Holiday. Can you imagine?
That hurt, didn't it? It's fine. You know it's not bad.
[ She settles more into the couch, no longer hugging her legs. ]
So, I don't know if I ever told you this. I probably haven't. Anyway, every century, I'm human.
[ And she hears how that sounds and she snorts, waves a hand as if waving something away. ] Mortal. Once every century, I'm mortal for a day. I was in New York, went out for a walk, and heard a guy yell from a dump site because a fridge fell on him. That was Sexton.
[It might be a skewed definition of fine in his mind, but he stubbornly adheres to thinking he always fits it no matter what. He still exists after all, surely that is the same thing.]
I had some awareness of a different aspect of yourself turning up now and then in parts it should not have been, but not the details as to why. [Now it made some sense, if she came to collect herself once a century.]
Is this part of your quest to understand the beings that you come to collect?
You say that. [ Like, an unhealthy amount. She pokes his knee again, a little bit rougher, to make—heh—a point. ] It's alright to say you're not okay, did you know?
[ The humans even made a show around the very idea. She was charmed by it. ]
Well, yeah. And, remember a long time ago, even before this world, somebody really told me I was a bitch? She dared me to see what it was like, be mortal for a day, and picking myself up after all that.
[ It was revelatory, and well, it helped. And it continues to do so. She reckons she'll do this until it's Closing Time for the universe. She's fair (maybe 99% of the time, and the other 1% was for the brief times she couldn't even comprehend the certain viciousness and cruelty that a great many sentient beings carried within them until she comes to them at the end of their lives) after all. ]
Got into a spot of trouble, though. Mad Hettie pulled Sexton and I through, though.
The last time I said I wasn't, you threw a loaf of bread at me. [Ever the younger sibling, at this second poke he frowns a little and rubs his knee where she's touched it.]
Is that why you've turned a blind eye to Mad Hettie? Because she helped you out?
[There's a moment's pause then, before he cautiously asks another question.]
There are those outside Mad Hettie and Hob who have evaded your realm, through your permission and otherwise. What makes you decide which ones to leave be and which ones to gather regardless?
Because you're an idiot. [ Fondly. Very fondly. In fact, she pats the knee she poked with as much gentleness as she musters. ] Because sometimes you can be so stubborn and proud that you shut us away. I know everyone else are bad at showing or saying they care about you, about each of us, but we do.
[ Not their parents though. She's made her peace with that, that their parents are just too distant and too eldritch and inhuman to even remotely care about anyone else but themselves and each other. So, all seven siblings have each other, in various ways. Destiny is sometimes too much like their Father, exactly his function and purpose, and second to Dream in enacting his responsibilities. But Destiny cares, in his own ways. Destruction cares, and she understands why he left. He cares too much and then he packed his gallery, his sigil, and any of his things. The twins care, in their own little ways (even if Desire can be rather callous and cruel; Despair, awful and depressing). And Delirium cares, but Delirium is herself, and sometimes she's there, sometimes she's not.
Anyway! ]
Oh, no. Mad Hettie... I suppose, she asked. As a favor. [ she shrugs. The old lady in the 18th century telling her that Death ain't some bonny young lass, dressed entirely in black. ] Hob Gadling, you already know about that. Um, who else. You remember Madame Xanadu? Or well, that's what she goes by nowadays. She read her cards. The final one she pulled was really funny. Figured she could go on for a little bit longer, but I said, "You're not going to be as young as you used to look." [ Another shrug. ] She seemed to be fine with that, and you know us, we got all the time.
[ But has she answered his question... ]
You know, I think it's because I'm a little too nice. Maybe.
Long's good! Forgive the short back, I've been super sick
I would not risk my family's welfare to clean up my own mistakes. [Hypocritical, yes, because he's willing to help them in turn to a point if they ask. Still, he can't help but not want them to go through what he has, nor be put in danger for the mistakes he's made since.]
You are very nice. Nicer than I am, at least. [A small beat.] No. Those individuals aren't who I meant, but no matter.
omg noo please take lots of rest and get well soon! ;w;
[ She rolls her eyes but also she knew he'd say that. ]
I can't speak for everyone but I know I would get you help. [ She knows Mad Hettie and dear ol' Henrietta knows people. ] And I could have, if you had called me. [ She reckons Destiny could have made the smallest of changes, like a drop of water hitting the binding circle. Small, insignificant changes to the eyes of many, but big enough for a chance. ]
But, it's happened. [ She sort of deflates onto the pillows behind her. ] A lot of things have happened and everyone's made their choices.
[ She swats a stray lock of hair getting into her eye. ] You're nice, too, though you'll disagree with that. [ She lifts her head from the pillows. ] Who do you mean? Have you ran into Charles Rowland?
Everyone has, yes. I suppose we shall see where those choices take us.
No, I have not run into Charles outside of his dreams. [Ghosts don't sleep per say, but just like the damned in hell the dream in their own way of something better. Ghosts of that nature aren't Dream's concern, outside of servicing those dreams. The only ghost of late that caused problems for him was Hector Hall, given what happened with Lyta in the Dreaming.]
I knew someone. A witch. She's lived for centuries on time borrowed through magic and backdoor deals.
it's been constantly raining for me but i have been well! <3
[ You get a bit of a side-eye from her, little brother. Something inside her feels like he has been planning something for the longest time. Oh well. ]
Oh, that's a... well, I wouldn't call it a relief. But at least Charles and Edwin are still playing detectives.
[ A witch. Borrowed time and backdoor deals. She knows this person. ]
The Thessalian. Yeah, I've heard of her. [ And some of her good humor slips. Death doesn't like how the witch does things. Sure, she's smart and resourceful and while not entirely manipulative (Wanda didn't know her long but she had been decent, and she did help with Barbie's situation), she has done so much throughout her entire life that does not vibe with her.
And because the damned Ladies seem to let do whatever. ] No, she never asked me, at least, not politely. More like demanded and I said no, so she found someone else.
[ In retrospect, Mad Hettie had been much nicer. A wee bit informal, considering her background, but was still nice. ]
They have not gone quietly into that good night, no. Their stories carry on, and hopefully, some healing in the process for what they have endured.
[Dream's reserved expression grimaces a little in discomfort at seeing Death's demeanor change at the mention of Thessaly. Not that he's surprised. Thessaly's methods of extending her life involved dark magic and deals with dangerous beings. Her cold practicality and survival instincts superseded the boundaries that most people would put in place. They definitely were outside the boundaries of nature that Death followed. He understood Death's reaction.
That didn't mean it wasn't a bit awkward. Thessaly was also an ex-girlfriend of his.]
Yes. Well. [There was a beat of silence.] It sounds like you simply avoid her, then?
[ Not that she has any but the Thessalian is the Thessalian, the last of her kind. Wanda told her of one facet, a modern one. Doesn't mean the Thessalian is off the hook, though. She's murdered her way through immortality and she's ferried those poor, sorry souls.
And they had nothing good to say about the Thessalian. ]
Not quite. I'm there every time she does another animal sacrifice, y'know. Or kills a man then uses her magic to bring said man's shade to what's left of the man's face, nailed to a wall. [ She remembers this because Wanda had a lot of stories but That had been fucking wild, girl. Thessaly just ripped George's face off! ] I'm unavoidable. Sooner or later, she'll have her own happy ever after, or whatever passes for one, for someone like her.
[ Why is he asking this though— Wait. ]
You didn't... make a deal with her or anything, have you?
[The words are even but firm, they're certain as if he knows. Which, of course, he does know. He's talked to her about it, as much as he and Thessaly ever dived into personal topics. He feels he knows her enough though to know that is true. She might not have been pleased that Death didn't give her immortality, but Thessaly chose sparingly whom she placed under the hate column. She isn't one to let her emotions run away from what serves her best.]
A deal? [That earns the faintest quirk upright on the side of his mouth.] No, sister. I don't make deals of that nature. I've already Hob for that, thanks to you, let's keep in mind.
She and I were... acquaintances, for a time. I suppose I was curious whether you were trying to make that reunion sooner rather than later.
[ He dated the Thessalian. He DATES the THESSALIAN. She's literally not his type. Like, not at all. And Death's known a good number of his past loves.
She hits him with the pillow in his hand. ]
Were you mad? Her? She's not even your type though she kind of passes in the looks department...
[ The Thessalian was definitely pretty in a mousy witch kind of way. But she was also the last of their sort of witches. Death doesn't really have a problem with a lot of witches until they start being rude, and her first impression of the Thessalian was exactly that. ]
I can't believe you dated her!
[ half-heartedly smacking Dream's legs with the pillow in her hand. It doesn't hurt and there's really not a lot of force in it, but it's the thought that counts. ]
[He probably should have anticipated the pillow attack, yet he didn't. The first time at least startles him, the soft fabric hitting him square in the face. He at least makes a half-hearted attempt at blocking her second strike.]
It isn't as if she's a demon. She's quite intelligent, you know. Driven. Passionate about knowledge and learning. [There's a part of him that had rather liked sharing what knowledge he could with her. Although, admittedly, he does know that she enjoyed the knowledge gain as much as, if not more, than his actual company. Still. He didn't think her entirely heartless, even if they had drifted apart once the ember of initial romance cooled.]
[ And she gets one final swat at him. She takes another pillow and hugs it, but she's facing him now. ]
I just told you that she and I do not, as what kids these days say, vibe. The people and beings she's killed have told me as much. She was rude the first time she demanded immortality. And maybe I don't like how she was kinda mean to Wanda. Or that she called the moon down and caused an awful storm in New York.
[ Bad magic, she remembers Maisie telling her. Bad stuff, missy. She sighs. Dream, what are you? Stuck in the Regency era? ]
That's not the point. I just hope you had the presence of mind that absolutely no one sleeping when you two were together saw anything they shouldn't have.
[ Remember more than 10,000 years ago and you and Nada did the horizontal tango and made it everyone's business? ]
I didn't know she was rude to you. Thess can be... direct. I found it refreshing, for a time. She's also helped people from time to time, you know.
[His hands drop the pillow he's pulling back to himself to cover his face in mortification at her last words. Thanks ever so much for reminding him of that, dear sister. He was much younger and had less control back then!]
How did you even know about - nevermind. I most assuredly am not having that conversation. [If he somehow gave his sister sex dreams he's going to kill himself now and walk himself to the Sunless Lands. Or oh gods, did someone die having sex dreams and talk to her about it?]
Thess... aly and I are over, anyway. It doesn't matter.
[ By Creation, he calls her Thess. What the heck. She's gonna find Matthew, Eve, hell, maybe she'll crash one of Abel's or Cain's tea parties (they were a duo act, after all) and bother them because.
What is her brother's taste in women. Well, technically, he's had some decent ones. Killala, she didn't really care for much, but she had been a different person. Nada was lovely, and her brother a giant idiot for sending her to Hell. But at least he's doing right by her. Now Calliope. They had been cute together. She liked the muse a lot, and their work was not the same but at least similar. (And they got married. He chose her! And they had Orpheus, and well, the boy was loved. She loved his nephew.) Titania, if she recalls the rumor mill in the Dreaming, was typical faerie: flighty and mercurial, even more so that she was a monarch herself. ]
I know she helped people. [ For that nastiness with the Cuckoo and George, she had been kind to Wanda. ]
How do you think anybody knew the first time. [ she tells him, flatly. ] You were loud. So I'm asking if you remembered not to project your dalliances to the whole sleeping masses. [ Or else she's going to source of the Dreaming's rumor mill, his staff. And they'll tell her everything (probably). ]
...Was it you or was it her?
ETA: Sorry, talking about his sex life makes him grumpy, LOL
[They might not be mortals, but sometimes the trials that humans fail to overcome mirror that of immortals. He had been happily married to Calliope, once upon a time. Then their child had been gruesomely dismembered. The relationship could not survive that, however strong it had been. It isn't a time he cares to bring to memory, nor that of Nada. Particularly an intimate moment. His eyes narrow and his tone is just as flat.]
I have had several relationships since Nada, and I thank you to realize that has never been an issue with any of them. There is no reason to bring it up now as a risk. [None of them have ever had that happen since 10,000 years ago. None of them have ever been Nada. No love will ever be what hers was. He's accepted that, and that just because he cannot recapture what had once been, he has tried to find happiness in other ways. It just... doesn't work out.]
Was what me or her? The breakup? I fail to see why that matters.
Alright. [ she raises both her hands in surrender, a small smile on her face. ] Just trying to look out for you, little brother.
[ She'll never get the Thessaly side of the breakup but she could probably get her brother's. ] It matters. I think I returned a few books one time and Lucienne told me the cleaning staff had just finished ensuring the courtyards were dry.
[ Considering you flooded one dreamscape when you met your ex-wife again... yeah. It matters. ]
That was... different. [There may have been an overcast misting when Thessaly left, but that breakup could not come close to the painful trauma that happened between himself and Calliope.]
There was nothing left, by the time she left. Embers remained of what fire had once been. That is true on both sides. No relationship is ever the same, sister. I know you withhold yourself from romance, but it is the truth. The start, the middle, the end... they are never interchangeable. They are also not regrettable on my end, for all the regrets I hold from them.
Have you truly never experienced it yourself? A romance.
[ She really should hang with his staff more often. They see things the family never does.
They see her brother. ]
No. I mean, aside from the Rules, there wasn't really an idea of it in me. [ She reckons it has everything to do with her entire self. Death has been impartial and it is true. She does not care for romantic entaglements for herself. She doesn't feel the same all-consuming want and need and love that Dream constantly seeks out. ]
Hazel did tell me she loved me. I told her I knew and she said I love everyone, which is true. Or, well, 99% of the time. [ Obvious with her... it's not disregard for the Thessalian, but it's something. Not like some people she could name, and she did like them once. And well.
Some of them spat in her face, metaphorically and literally. ]
It's not a big deal to me, though. So don't worry about it too much.
[He gives her a wry look at the mention of loving almost everybody but doesn’t start the talk on Thessaly again.]
You deserve love, sister. I’m glad that some like Hazel give it to you.
Perhaps it is less worry and more… wonder. [Neither of his elder siblings seem to have much use for romance personally. He supposes he can somewhat understand why in their cases, but it begs the question why himself and his younger siblings felt such compulsions. Were they simply more disciplined to avoid romantic entanglements? Or had they truly never felt that spark, that want for connection, as he had with his past great loves?
It isn’t a talk he’s comfortable having with anyone, let alone a family member, but the curiosity exists, nonetheless.]
It’s true that one needn’t have romance to be fulfilled. I’ve seen that much. I wonder why any of the Endless are drawn to it at all, I suppose. [Although really, only he’s ever been married and had long term live together romances, near as he can tell.]
I got you, don't I? And Destiny, Desire, Despair, Delirium, and the Prodigal.
[ she moves closer until she's within hugging distance, and leans her head on his bony shoulder. ]
And Hazel, yeah. I got you lot, I think I'm happy with that.
[ Aside from Dream, she knows the only one who would actually go out and date would be... well, Desire's obvious. But Desire doesn't date, in the way mortals think. The other one is Destruction, but that's more of a question of "has he, or has he not?". She remembers him being just as much as his function and purpose.
(And then he left.) ]
You know, I think it's because we're constants in mortal lives. Well, not just mortal, but y'know. Plenty of folx out there, living and dreaming, and we're just there, unseen. That's just a thought though, nothing as confirming as fact.
The Prodigal would have to be here, for that to be true.
[Abandoning one's realm is unfathomable to Dream, and while he still loves his brother, he just can't bring himself to forgive that gross misconduct until he returns and takes measures to set things right.]
Yes, though. You have the rest of us. Only the stars know whether that is for the best, in some cases.
[Family is complicated.]
Mm. Perhaps. I wonder sometimes why none but I have felt certain ways, but I'm sure that we all have areas we believe make us stand out from the rest.
I guess. [ She doesn't mind. In fact, she understands why he even left. And just because he's abandoned his realm doesn't mean she hasn't seen him. Though, half the time, she has work, and she swears Destiny must have done something for the two of them to cross paths a few times. ] I'm okay with it, though, him being not here. That is, I get it, because I felt the same way. I did leave once, but I came back.
[ And it had taken a young person to remind her that she had to go back, that nothing was dying and remained ridiculously stagnant. The Death card in the Major Arcana never really means literal death.
It was all about change. ]
I may or may not have a theory about that, but y'know. Theory. Not to mention, you'll probably disagree with me. But yeah, I definitely agree on that.
[OOC: I should be back on a normal schedule, i.e. not just available on weekends, after this upcoming week. Thanks for your patience!]
[He gives her a look that says he doesn't get it, and that he refuses to do so. The judgement only softens slightly when he hears that she once abandoned her realm as well, though the resentment is replaced with confusion. Oh, he gets being tired and unfulfilled, in wanting something new or other. Yet he cannot imagine actually acting on that feeling. He's always been too grounded in duty and obligation to let himself walk away. Perhaps that's part of why he resents what the Prodigal did, because he somehow could cut those ties without hanging himself in them instead.]
It's good you came back. The galaxy without Death would be even worse off than when it was without me. I told them as much.
It definitely was bad, when I left. [ Nothing changed. And it affected every single thing, from ideas to living, sentient beings, to those on the bridge of death—constantly rotting and decaying but never finding the end. She grabs a random pillow and hugs it like she first did, but tighter. ] I think it's because I'm me. The Prodigal... well. He did care a lot, but I think, he cared too much, then left.
[ Destiny's obviously seen it coming, the departure. Death... well, she didn't, but she understood. In a way, for Destruction, it stopped being about responsibility and more about conscience. ]
You care a lot, too. But it's different for you. [ She told him once that the living... well, every single sentient and breathing being in the universe, rather... were never theirs to manipulate and control. It's still true.
She gives him a small smile at the hope of Destruction returning. ] Maybe. Hope springs eternal, after all.
I still think that excuse doesn't justify his actions.
[He doubted he would change his position on that matter though, so it seemed a moot point. He knew what it was like to care and what it was like to hurt, and he still didn't think any pain was worth abdicating his responsibilities to the wind rather than at least a suitable replacement. He tried not to think on the Prodigal too much though, because he doubted that the Prodigal was thinking much on what he left behind.
He gave a bit of a sideways look when Death declared it different for him.]
Is that so? And why am I so very unique once more?
[ She lets out a snort, but smiles up at him. ] Because you're duty-bound. He was too, for a while, then it was too much. Mortals say there's a limit to these sort of things, and I listen, y'know, because it's only polite, but there really comes a time when it's just too painful for the heart, for anyone, really.
[ All she has is speculations and theories and thoughts. None are confirmed, none are factual, or rooted in facts. She feels like a conversation about responsibility might be too early.
It doesn't feel muddled to me. We are not mortal. Our existence came into being to serve a function, it is tied to our duties in ways that mortals cannot imagine. Not even the gods can. There are ways to handle pain rather than running from it. Especially when doing so causes pain for others.
[He will never simply abandon his realm, no matter the personal cost.]
I doubt we shall agree on this point though, and it matters little with respect to the Prodigal who made his choice.
Tangentially speaking on the matter, I do have work I must attend.
Yeah, you busybody. [ She's one as well, of course, but she's got a... she supposes it's a healthier way of handling everything, but it works in her favor. She sits back up straight and stretches her arms. ] I got some callers on the line myself.
[ She can just blink and put on her boots again like they've been there the entire time but she leans down, puts them on one by one, and ties the strings as comfortably as she can. When she's done, she stands up and stares down at him still seated. ]
Don't be a stranger, little brother. Call me whenever, okay?
[ incoming kiss on the cheek and hair ruffle from big sis. ]
I enjoy you being happy, and being the cause of it.
It would be wise for you to at least know Lucienne, in case of emergencies. Matthew is often with me, so if I am unavailable, she is the easiest to then reach.
It wouldn't be the first time for Donna if that happened. She once had a villain who specifically kept getting into trouble just so she would rough him up a little.
No, sadly this time of year is always extremely busy for vigilante work. I don't know why but for some reason criminals go wild around Christmas and the New Year. What about you?
There must be uses for coal that those of good moral fiber cannot fathom.
I never really give much thought to end of year ruminations, unless I'm around those who celebrate such things. My role doesn't much change, outside of a particular people's dreams revolving around whatever cultural importance is happening going on the uptick.
I do not. Most who staff the castle were never humans who embraced that tradition. Though if Matthew wishes to celebrate a holiday that is known to him, I will allow it.
I can't think of anything I need that I don't already have at my disposal. Time with you would be most wanted. Though I suppose you could try talking me into seeing a musical now in production, composed by a musician whose dreams I've been quite satisfied in helping craft. With so much to get done I've been reluctant to leave the Dreaming.
What of you, any wishes for your upcoming holiday?
I'd love to go see a show with you, which musical production is it?
Oh I'm pretty easy when it comes to gifts, I prefer to do things rather than get actual items. So basically I'm just wishing to spend lots of time cuddled up in your arms.
Don’t inquire whom I would save between a book and a humanoid loved one.
Gift-giving is a longstanding tradition for a reason, and I accept the challenge with pleasure. Or… replacement-providing, though that sounds less noble.
Stand in front of you of course, and create a giant bookend in front of me.
You have a point there, though that sort of lacking restraint I’d likely not comment on to any but you. Though your neighbors and those in the Dreaming might.
Oooh good answer. Okay, what if....a bunch of book/bat creatures were attacking me?
Thankfully my building has very thick walls so I don't think my neighbors hear much, as for those in the Dreaming...well....if my cries of passion were heard by them then I'd almost be impressed with us.
Like a book with wings who when opened bare teeth? Actually, something like that does exist.
I would step in to assist so you did not fight alone. I know how capable you are, but I will always help if I can. … for a long time I took assistance as an insult. It’s a difficult perspective to shed. Until I had it shoved my face that I can’t abide to let those I love suffer. And that I am, apparently, an idiot for attempting to do it myself.
Lucienne’s words, in not so many words. A roundabout way of saying, whatever you face, you don’t have to do so alone.
I made the walls very think for us, so I suspect any whispers are just rumors.
Oh yes. A nightmare if you will, one that drains the ideas out of the dreamer to fill up its pages with horrors. A manifestation of the fear of being sucked dry in life, usually, and having nothing to leave behind. I’ve seen some get quite creative in combating it, and hope it helped them upon waking to face that unsettlement.
I know, and I am grateful for it. Even if I ever get grumpy in the moment over it.
… he is more astute than often gets credit for being. It’s true that the Dreaming does reflect my mood. I don’t directly cause it intentionally, but it… senses my disposition. I suppose you do make me feel… warmer, than I might otherwise.
With time, usually yes to varying degrees. If I plan on remaking them then a shard of themselves is kept in my keeping, to build from as a foundation. It doesn't happen often, though.
There is something to them, isn’t there? Not bragging, I didn’t invent the themes, but a fish flying captures many yearnings and trappings all at once. They are my youngest sister’s favorite too, by the way. She has named each one and won’t tell me a single one of them.
If you found a joke then you went hunting, and I know better than to disturb such efforts. [Admits nothing, nope.]
If you could create a dream or nightmare, what would you be inspired to make?
Why won't she tell you? Just to bug you or because she forgot them?
Hrm that's a good question, I think if I could create a dream I would want it to be something gentle and soothing. Something that brings comfort to people when they encounter it.
I've previously admitted to my love of dark brooding types so when I tease you about being goth it's never because I don't like it. Quite the opposite. I love being all wrapped up inside your dark cloak.
Perhaps then what is needed, on both of our ends, is not to merely find that which is comfortable in our pasts but what might stand out this time from longings parted.
I am glad to wrap you in my cloak, and I am glad find someone as strong willed as steadfast. I value that you are also not quick this go around with your heart, that you are keen to listen and stern on being heard.
It would be my privilege and pleasure. Where would you prefer it to take place? The Dreaming, your flat, or somewhere else?
[This is new in his relationships. Not him sharing control, he's learned to do that more with Thessaly, but there it never came as easily and honestly as it does with Dawn. If he is to wrap her in dreams, he wants it on terms that will be pleasant for her, not a nightmare, and he won't just presume where that would be.]
(OOC: Wrappity wrap? Also I am so sorry I am rubbish at longer threads right now. I love them still, and more importantly, hope all is well on your end. <3 ]
[ooc: wrappity wrap. :) And no worries about hitting longer threads, you know I'm chill. <3 And I'm doing better, I buggered up my neck and shoulder for about a week there but it's better now.]
[OOC: You are, I heart you for it! I am so sorry to hear about your neck/shoulder though, that can impact sleep and waking life so much so I'm glad you're doing better! I hope you can get in lots of rest and recoup time. <3]
[OOC: <3 <3 <3, random funny aside story because it’s been a few years and I’m really fine now, but I fell down the stairs a while ago. I absolutely refused to see a doctor about it because I am that stubborn and 2 weeks later finally went in to hear I’d fractured it. It was very slight but I kept hearing about it and was all, “I FELL 2 STEPS it wasn’t like a Daredevil hallway scene let me live.”
Stupid little moments can definitely cause issues is what I’m getting at though so even sleeping funny is valid and ugh. Regardless of what caused it, I’m glad you’re feeling better and hope there aren’t any future flare ups. ]
[ooc: Oh my god! Even if it was very slight fall down the stairs it's still falling down stairs!! Oh man, that's one of my fears because I can be such a klutz. ]
[OOC: It was really, really not bad, just a hairline fracture. I was honestly more insulted because it happened, LOL. I just mean that even little things we shrug off can be painful! Take care of yourself and all that.]
You just told me you're capable of talking to my dog and you expect me not to have A MILLION QUESTIONS? Also, if he sees you as a dog, what breed are you? Are you a mutt? I can kinda see you as a pretty serious Pomeranian.
You have kitty goodies in your castle? Honestly, Morph, sometimes you're super nice.
He’s happy, if that was your first question. Though I can’t betray all his confidences. As to how I appear, it’s more of a wolf figure than a particular domestic breed. I won’t even inquire about the Pomeranian. Did you know they are descended from large sled dogs though?
[Black fur though of course. He’s got an image to maintain.]
I can procure them easily enough. Cats are often more tolerable than people, it’s only fair they get treated well for it.
That's fine. I mean, I had the feeling he was a happy guy, give all that tail wagging, you know? But it's always cool to hear it from a realiable source too. And you know what? A wolf is OBVIOULSY so in brand with you! That makes so much sense! Two questions: 1) have you ever been petted? 2) How did you know that about Pomeranians?
[And Kate now knows what she wants to ask him to do for her birthday.]
Should have known you were a cat person. You know, since you're kind of becoming this cat's uncle now and getting him his first toys, could you ask him if he already has a name? I mean, I feel like it would be even more traumatic for him moving in and getting a new name all in one go.
[OOC: Thanks, I now want to come up with a reason for Dream to have to shapeshift into a wolf while on some mission with her. If pets happen they are never spoken of again.]
A more relevant answer is, I wouldn’t recommend petting me.
I know the history of my dreamers, how subconscious minds have shifted due to real life shapes throughout time.
I can inquire when I arrive what his name is, and if he wishes to go by it. You might want to reconsider giving me a family moniker, though. [Family tends to be something he doesn’t gel often with.] You’re planning on keeping him, then? Perhaps you have an animal sanctuary in your future.
[ooc: I'm glad we're on the same page, because I so need her to interact with a wolf Morpheus. Maybe a mission somewhere cold? Cabin in the woods, there's wolves outside and his fur would keep her warm? OH HAI, SHE WAS PETTING YOU WITHOUT EVEN THINKING. No, never talking about it. Matthew is so not watching and loving every second of it.]
In human or wolf form?
So, you follow people in their awake time to? I mean, I guess that's what happened with us? For a moment I imagined you like a proud dad following people a little creepily, you know? In the distance. You already have the dark, shadowy costume. Totally need to wear some shades. Do you have a birthday? That would make a nice gift.
Oh, you don't wanna be an uncle? Guess that not a proud dad of woken up people either then. And And I don't know, I'm putting up some posters but I'm sort of considering it as a possibility. He's pretty sweet too, even cuddlier than Lucky.
[OOC: Love it, maybe after some frost magic monster they’ve dealt with they hole up to wait out the storm? She helped him with nightmares in the past so he’d repay the favor. I can get us a starter this weekend. <3 I never knew I needed this friendship crossover but I’m not complaining about it, LOL. Matthew has all the gossip, LBR.]
... all forms seem the most comprehensive answer as you’d only do it should I show up in sloth form, otherwise.
Was I lurking? [Perhaps he was, he’s a little awkward at getting to know people in the waking world. It’s a newer strategy on his end.] I was… I thought knowing people during their waking states would be informative. In a way I had previously overlooked.
I don’t know a birthday. I existed before recorded history. … though I did not always exist. I came into being when the first creature in the universe dreamed.
So no party hats.
For what it is worth, I think any creature that needs a new start would benefit from your care.
Right now I'm reminding myself that I must serve all my dreamers in equal measure.
It's overselling to say I had a feeling they might. Rather it was more a guess they could based upon Lucky's demeanor. I'm glad to hear of it, though. Even if you might need to upgrade your pantry lock with them together.
... yes, quite. Humans are unique unto themselves, and I won't pretend that aspect is discountedOh .
Oh yes, I can. It doesn't offer sustenance in the same way, but I enjoy it and even base some dream meals that do fuel me upon it. I'm very partial to a well-made omelet and wine.
[It’s true that Dream feels distinctly less at ease in his siblings’ realms, although not all discomfort is created equal. The one that itches his proverbial skin the most is his eldest brother’s realm, Destiny’s, perhaps because the polar opposites of their natures. The rigid inevitability of Destiny’s garden constricts Dream’s fluid nature of endless possibility.
Oddly, the ultimate finality - death - does not feel as restraining. Perhaps because it is only an end in one sense, but mostly, it’s because Death is the sibling with which Dream feels the most attachment. He values her judgment, even if he gets cranky over needing it at times.]
’It’s cool, never kick a good pun in the teeth is what I always say.’ [Matthew’s cheerful demeanor fills the dreary space with cheer to match Death’s.]
I’m sorry to take you away from your duties in the waking world, then. .[Dream figures she was there for work, if she was in the realm closest to him, unless she meant the Soft Places in-between - which would open up new questions.] It is good to see you, though. [He finally turns to face her at that.] See? I can be hospitable, too.
[ A good enough reason for her to skip work, lbr. And besides, she 's very good at waiting for the right time to accompany the dead on their journeys. ]
You say hospitable, I say— [ she looks up at the ceiling. ] Maybe pull back the goth atmosphere a little bit. And that's coming from me.
[ Does it get a snort out of Matthew? It definitely does. But! ] What's up? And I know you asked me not to ask questions, but your text sounded serious.
[ Especially when he told her that not he didn't think it was safe with Lucienne and his library—an extension of his castle, ergo an extension of his realm and basically him at the same time. ]
Family does not always seem to be reason enough these days.
[Though it has always been reason enough for Death to be there for her little brother.
He gives Matthew a little look at the snort, but there’s no bite behind the silent bark. Raising a hand, he gives a little ‘come here’ gesture with his fingers. Matthew knows what it means and flaps over to land on Dream’s shoulder so Dream can pick up the book he’d been sitting on on the throne.]
There has been a dispute over ownership of the book, or more precisely, what ownership of it means to two different groups. There has already been an attempt to abscond with it. Until I can sort the matter, I’d rather it not be kept on the premises.
[And he didn't think anyone, even these groups, would risk crossing Death for it.]
[ And that's why she thinks it might help all of them to have a therapy session—
Well, they can disagree on that but she knows her siblings can come through, given enough time reason, motivation, and a scolding or two. But she's here. She looks at the book in his hands. It looks ancient. ]
Yeah, I can take care of it. Hopefully no one tries to crash my place. Some demons tried when the Lightbringer gave up Hell.
[ Has she told you this story yet? It also ended up into becoming a fun bonding experience with her Despair and Delirium. ]
[Who needs therapy when one can stand in the rain for hours or have breakup breakfasts that include wine with eggs. He’s doing great in life. Though with his recent issues with Lucifer and other godly beings, he’s had less time to stew on love life complications.
Especially when he hears that someone has tried to infiltrate his sister’s realm. Protectiveness flairs, and the stars in his eyes glow ominously against their pitch black backdrop. His voice is low, measured, and certainly not above malice. ]
[ Technically, they crashed into her house because that's where all the damned went. ]
Dream, no. [ In fact, she'll take the book he asked her to keep from him. ] They trashed the house party Del set up with the damned but it's over and done with.
[ Though she had to do all the cleaning. At least her goldfish and hat collection were fine.
[Talking with Calliope is always like settling one foot in the past. The ground might be soft and familiar, but there are ugly roots of circumstance that risk snagging them now. The talk between them is heartfelt, he owes her that much, but difficult and exhausting for them both. It's not so much the fact that he's moved on, they both have really, but that it's with her sister is a bit awkward, and there's the even larger elephant of Orpheus that forever lies between them.
He doesn't feel bad about where they leave things, but he knows that with regards to patching up the fractures over Orpheus will be a long time coming. Perhaps never fully, really. It's also likely best he avoid turning up to any family gatherings as Polyhymnia's date for at least a little while, to give Calliope time to absorb the news. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass her. He doesn't imagine Polyhymnia wants that, either.
He's flopped on his throne afterwards, eyes closed as he calls Polyhymnia. His voice is rough and worn, but still with that slow, melodious nature it always has.]
I spoke with her. She was... surprised, but not malicious. I didn't imagine she would be.
No. She is not unkind by nature. Time and experience have also given us all much chance to change of late, too. To temper what might otherwise have boiled over. I include myself in that observation, too.
I thought you should know, though. That she and I spoke.
[Dream can be found where he's promised himself to be. Fiddler's Green is in fall bloom, the ground a little cold and hard to the touch, the leaves brilliant colors only dampened by an overcast sky. The Dreaming responds to its master's moods. There isn't the downpour of grief, no lightening bolts of rage. Just a quiet, contemplative and steady drizzle of misty rain. Dream himself is sitting on the ground, cross legged, feet bare. He doesn't seem to mind or care that he's getting wet. He's in just a t-shirt and jeans, staring ahead though not really looking at anything. It's only when she arrives that his gaze focuses on her. Slowly he gets to his feet, enjoying the feeling of steady earth beneath them.
One tree limb bends to Stella, offering itself to shake in greeting. The leaves quiver and the remaining flowers release sweet scents, insects buzzing and fish in the water rippling their greeting. It seems Fiddler's Green and its inhabitants love when she visits.]
[When she arrives she is initially a hint concerned by the weather, but it's not strong enough to be tied to an especially negative emotion.
She does love the greeting that she receives, shaking the offered branch and waving at the fish. It is lovely to always feel so welcomed by the Dreaming.]
[He gives a small nod, watching as the greeting she warmly receives slowly dies down to give them some privacy. Or as much as the Dreaming ever gives the matters that involve its lord.]
Seeing her, it always reminds me of... him.
[Orpheus. Dream can't even bring himself to say his son's name. Stella is one of the few who even knows about him still around. He gives a little shake of his head.]
It's no matter. I'm merely tired. It was a talk we needed to have, about you and I, and I'm glad that it is done. We can move forward now without feeling that weight.
[He reaches out to brush back her hair from her face.]
It did. Feelings can never run smoothly, it would seem. At least not in our cases. Though I can't regret them from existing.
[Given his history, falling for his ex wife's sister is about on track for Morpheus. No doubt Desire would have a field day with it should they become aware.]
This is true. The Dreaming would not bring you such an ailment. And I rather like the feeling of rain.
[After a moment he relaxes into her touch, wrapping his arms around her in turn. One hand rises to bury itself in her hair. His head bends down to rest against her neck, breathing in deep as though he can drawn in comfort from her.]
I can see you doing that. What did you enjoy about them, back then?
I did not take in pleasures of the flesh like that for a very long time. I still fail to remember to do so most often. Though you and others have reminded me of them.
[He makes a small gesture towards his bare feet.]
I am making up for lost time, although granted doing so in my realm.
Death did try precisely that, I'll have you know. I did not partake.
[Big sisters, amirite? Though Dream does love her dearly. His hair is indeed wet and dripping, though oddly, it does not lose its wild shape no matter how sodden.]
I find Fiddler's Green to be quite peaceful, though. Even if it grows weary of me sometimes.
[Tree branches shake vehemently as if to say, 'NO. Us? What? Never' in a way that's a little too emphatic to not actually be true. Dream gives a knowingly wry look around, he knows he can be a lot for even his subjects sometimes.]
She is absolutely incorrigible, as only family can be.
[He gives a fond look around the space that is both an extension of him as well as home to so many outside of just him. It's an intricate organism of sorts all its own, yet one that vibrates to the very center of his being.]
It is my purpose, and sanctuary. I shall never let it fall into disarray again.
[The rain is slowly dissipating, leaving a brilliant black sky in its wake. Midnight creatures flock and fly above every so often against a moon that shifts in phases.]
She is by far my most agreeable sibling. Though I feel somewhat protective over others of my younger siblings. Some of them.
[He offers her his arm so they can stroll, heading vaguely in the direction back to his castle.]
I have allowed Matthew to decorate the entrance area of the castle for Halloween. He and some of the other castle staff have taken to it with... let us call it gusto.
I don't know most of them well enough to say. I never took the time to get to know your family as well as I likely should have.
Matthew is largely spearheading the decorating, but I have crafted what he's asked for in order to complete it. I think his death is still new enough that he misses his human traditions. It is a little thing to give him his holidays.
... though I found spiders and cobwebs on my throne. I did have a talk to him about that.
[He slides an arm around her waist as they walk. The scenery around them vibrates with energy, albeit that of a buzzing darkness given the night. It's fall in full bloom, with the ground hardened beneath their feet leaves rustling and falling, and the cottages along the roadside up to the castle are decorated. One even looks like the gingerbread house and gives off similar scents. A little fanged squirrel with red eyes scurries up to them, it's friends' red eyes glowing out of a nearby tree. Dream stops to lean down and pet the little nightmare, who scurries up his shirt to sit on his shoulder.]
You don't think the stone is more regal? I always did like the designs on it.
[Some people find dozens of glowing eyes and little fangs terrifying, but Dream agrees with her. He's very fond of the nightmare squirrels. His face carves up in a small smile as the little critter buries his face in her hair.]
I suppose I have never truly prioritized comfort, save for when guests are staying over and require quarters.
Oh, I do have quarters. I only make use of them when I need to rest, or desire even more privacy than the other rooms provide. I'd be glad to show them to you, the bed is quite comfortable. Though the color scheme is what you'd predict it to be.
[Black, white, and grayscale. He's got A Theme and he embraces it.]
Mm. Let's leave it as not having been the most pleasant of breakups. I had intended on taking a pause on romance to focus on my realm. I had managed that well enough until a certain muse wandered back into my existence.
[The breakup with Thessaly hadn't been his worst by far, but it also hadn't been fun and Dream had been in his Focus on Myself having some straightening out to do phase, but romance never did work that way. It tended to sneak up on him even when he wasn't looking for it. And he can't say he's sorry now that happened.
He's also not going to think on how many women from Ancient Greece he apparently will end up dating.]
Perhaps we could have some refreshments there, then. Though we'll first have to get past Matthew's decorations.
[Having reached the castle entrance the squirrel scurries off him and chitters its goodbye. The gate guardians dip their heads in bows. Dream lays a hand on their heads before entering a truly garish depiction of a spooky Halloween theme. Fake cobwebs, spiders, skeletons, dream ghosts, eerie music, candles that flair blood colors, skulls full with wine... no expense has been spared in the main hall.]
I do have a bit of help in the dreams department for sure.
[She finds an especially ominous looking spider that is fluffy and has massive fangs. She even makes a skeleton wave at him. Stella quite likes Halloween and all of the decorations really fit with the overall look of the castle.]
You aren't even using that very comfortable throne!
[She points at him sitting there using the skeleton arm.]
I stand by my assumptions that it's more show than comfort.
Right, you, an eternal being that is just too tired to manage the stairs.
[She can tell he is trying to not look too entertained by her silliness. She has a certain joyful jaunt in the way she makes her way over to his spot on the stairs, offering both hands to help him up.]
Oh, I can require rest, though it's not sleep as you know it.
[It takes a concerted effort or emotionally trying situation but he can become exhausted and weakened, he can even pass out, but when he rests he doesn't enter slumber and the Dreaming, given he's literally the embodiment of it already.
As he shares the little tidbit about himself he wraps his arms around her to hold her near him, gently kissing at her neck.]
Would you rather be sitting on the throne you've complained about?
[He rises, lifting her up in his arms as he does so, to carry her towards the left wing of his castle. The room is large and ornate, with blackwood and ivory furniture and silk drapery. Nightflowers bloom near the window, crawling up and around the crevices, the only real color. He has candles on the bedside table, and a tapestry over his bed that holds moving galaxies in monochromatic colors. On the bedside table as well are, of course, some books.
He sets her down on his bed, featherlight cushions that smell of sand and time, settling himself next to her.]
[He gives a small shake of his head. His free hand that isn't propping him up on his side moves to rest on her stomach. He feels the slight rise and fall as she breathes, and how warm she is through her shirt.]
No, I don't. Not nearly as often as the rest of the castle changes. I don't spend much time here, admittedly. It is not as lived in as your bedroom is. Which I enjoy as well.
I do seem to sleep for a bit longer than I used to. Not sure why.
[She has started going to bed a bit earlier so she can spend more time with him in his realm. Her attention turns to him and she tugs him close to kiss him. Since the first kiss they shared, she has no hesitation in stealing little kisses.]
Hum. It's a mystery. There's a house here built just for that, you know. Or there was.
[Constantine somehow won it in a card game, the little menace. Dream is distracted from that though by the kisses. He tips her chin up so that he can meet her lips, hand then moving to brush through her hair and just enjoying the taste of her.]
[She caresses his cheek and runs her fingers through his hair. She is always amused that his hair always returns to it's chaotic state, no matter how much she plays with it.
There is no rush, time passes different in the Dreaming so she can linger in these languid kisses.]
I don't, no. I tend to be rather singular in my attentions, until such time that a relationship comes to an end. What of you, have you gotten the wandering eye?
It depends. If I'm seeing someone in a casual, inspirational sense, my eyes are more likely to wander. But that's partially do to centuries with fickle artists.
Many of the Endless have indeed sworn off romance. Though there have been one or two exceptions in their histories. You're right about Desire, though. I don't think they're built for lasting love.
I suppose that is part of my nature, to seek layers as much as it is to unveil them. My purpose and goal are constantly being achieved and also never ending.
I have enjoyed many earth poets who seek to capture life's experiences. It is perhaps easy for me though to wax on about a journey when my goal is ever-ongoing. Which is to say, I value your perspective on it, from a human angle. I think it is easy though for many to forget or not trust a path that's easy or enjoyable, because it has been the opposite too often.
I suppose for me, I do not see much of a distinction between goal and purpose. I wish to fulfill my purpose to the best of my abilities, that is my goal. A duty born and borne.
This is true. Rather than focus on creation, they seek to prevent other destructions. I agree that it needn't be the sole way to build character or satisfaction.
Of course. There comes a time when any person wishes that they could choose not to dream. Sleep is a respite, but there are times when even it is haunted by one's demons.
There are always those who are dreaming, Sister. Respite is not mine to indulge.
Though if I must give an answer... my dreamers. My staff. My friends. ... my family. All can make me feel refreshed for the duties to which I am devoted. How do you find respite, outside of sleep?
[ She had met a Lucifer who decided to simply pack up his things and leave; unbeknownst to her, this was the same Lucifer from Morpheus' world.
If anyone would grow tired of anything, she suspected it would be an immortal. Even one of the Endless. They dealt with the same bullshit day in and day out. ]
Do you not find yourself tired sometimes?
Brief moments to myself. I'm always thinking of the Clergy and of my son. If for but a brief moment I can just breathe, I am grateful for it.
I know weariness. I also know that bearing it is no excuse to abandon one's duties.
Though you are correct in making the most of small moments. To find worth in the while. It is not an endeavor I always embrace, though humanity does well enough in reminding me.
There is, yes. Destiny came into being first, followed by Death. I came after the both of them. Once the first creature in the galaxy dreamed, so was I then there for them.
Life however began and ended long before that first happened. And my sister was there for them. As she will be until the last living thing ceases to exist.
That makes sense, even by the teachings of our Clergy. One's destiny comes first, even before one is conceived, and upon conception, one is immediately destined for death. Such is the way of things.
I think it is not her they fear, but the unknown. The idea of change. The idea that what good they have now will be lost. The question, "What if what lies beyond death is worse? Or what if there's nothing?" Additionally, the knowledge that some deaths come with excruciating pain. There is also losing their loved ones.
I indeed do not fear death. Why would I, when I know where I will go next?
I would agree with you, although she understandably often becomes the focal point for such fears. Whereas in dreams people can enjoy entertaining what if's, in control of which they try in the waking world, what comes beyond death is often a mystery many find out of their hands.
I don't like it when I'm not in control, yes. But thankfully there is one entity that I would accede control to, and that is my boss. And thankfully yet again, he's in charge of where I go in the afterlife.
Someone told me that I was "psychopathically" devoted to my job. I consider that a compliment.
Oh, there have been many jokes at my expense for that. 'Keeping it in the family' has also been heard, though only Constantine dared make that one.
A moment.
[With a swirl of sand he appears in her living room, in the requested black toga and feet bare. He holds his arms to the side, looking at her with an expression that asks 'well?']
[The wry look on his face says he knows he's joking with that one. If anything, Dream is known for being stiff and uptight, bound by his duties and traditions to where he doesn't bend easily. He's trying to be more flexible these days though and make up for his past actions. His efforts seem to be paying off, not only in his friendships but in a newfound relationship with Stella.]
We have. Who know it would only take a thousand years or so. Are you ready to depart for the Dreaming or shall we stay here longer?
[With a nod and some sand, Morpheus transports them to the Dreaming's throne room. The large, winding staircase the leads up to the throne has red ribbons and white ornaments along the sides. There's a tree, with blinking, multi-colored lights that blink in time to Christmas music smack in the center. On one side is a blown up snowman, on the other side is Rudolph. The windows are frosted and show candies and presents.
Then, on the throne seat itself, is a wrapped garland of chili pepper lights and a Santa hat dangling off one corner.
None of the decorations match each other. Dream looks ruefully around the space.]
[He gives her an amused look as he watches her. At least Matthew isn't around to join in right now. He begins to trail up the stairs after her, nearly appearing like he's floating with his efforts.]
That would certainly likely be one title, yes. Although I have many. People do seem to enjoy tacking on honorifics to describe my duties and role.
[Dream, Lord L'Zoril, Lord Morpheus, Prince of Stories, Lord of the Dreaming, King of Dreams, Oneiros, Kai'ckul, Murphy, Lord Shaper, King of All Night's Dreaming, Onehiroi, the 8th Circle... the list goes on.]
I cannot say I do, for I am all of them. I suppose it is more the case that I enjoy hearing my name spoken more by some than others, than what name they're using in particular.
[It started as Death's idea. She'd visited her brother's realm to find him obsessing over his latest dream projects, worried about problems he refused to share, his tone terse and clipped and moody. It took some convincing, from her and Stella, that a change of scenery and perspective might not only be good for him, but good for his realm and duties. Duty is Dream's magic word, and the two women coupled with Lucienne and Matthew finally got Dream to cave.
The women might suspect that a part of Dream is also curious to embody that which he hasn't in all his millennia. That even he can be curious, and want to stretch boundaries, and know what another life might be like.
Matthew is with them, and they perform the ritual at Stella's apartment. He still has his pouch of sand, he can still ensure his dreamers' safety and connect to the Dreaming. Death is but a call away to end the experience short if she has to. These failsafe measures make him feel better. Sitting on Stella's sofa, his posture perfect and hands folded on his knees, he holds a breath he doesn't even need to take as Death does it.
Then, suddenly...
He very much does have to breathe.
Morpheus lets out the air from his lungs in a surprised gasp, leaning forward. His clothes feel like they're on him rather than a manifested part of him. The air around him is pleasantly warm, rather than a state which would need much greater extremities for him to really notice. His eyes widen in surprise as he looks at Stella, fingers of skin reaching up to touch his own face.]
Did it work? [Matthew looks questioningly between Stella and Death.] Should we peck him to check? That's what people do when someone's in shock, right? Pinch them? ... maybe you should do it, Stel.
[Stella trusts Death to know what she's doing. And even if something went terrible wrong while Morpheus is in human form, he would simply die and return to the Dreaming.
Still she is a little nervous, but once he gasps she knows he's human. He needs to breathe.
Instead of a pinch, she reaches out to graze her fingertips along his jawline.]
Matthew... [Morpheus blows out a breath, a little impatient but clearly trying to hide it as best he can for his familiar's sake.] I'm fine. [He looks over at Stella, feeling the warmth of her fingers on his face. He gives her a nod, too.] I'm well. Everything just feels more... real in a way.
Think my work here is done, then. [Death gives him a smile, and Stella she leans over to kiss her cheek goodbye.] Have fun. Call me if you run into any trouble. Don't do most of the things I would do. [With a wink she vanishes unless Stella stops her.]
I absolutely trust you. [Death gives Stella a smile. She's known the woman a long time, though they've gotten closer since she started dating Morpheus. Death likes her, too. Anyone who is kind and nice and good to others, especially her brother, Death approves of. With a snap she leaves them be, as Morpheus replies to Stella's remark on sensations.]
I'm used to sensing humanity's emotions through their experiences. This is... quite different.
[Though not necessarily bad.
He gets to his feet, his body feeling a little more weighted in the space it takes up. On a curious whim he tries to change his form into a cat, but can't manage it.
He sits again, seeing what that's like.]
These pants are rather tight.
[They never really feel tight when he merely imagines them.]
[She nods. The experience of being human must be quite different for him. She's never fully understood the nuances of what it's like to be one of the Endless, but she can help him with being human.]
The way your clothes sit looks different.
[Though she laughs about his pants.]
Your pants are always impressively tight, but I guess they don't normally feel that way.
[It's true. Normally his clothes perfectly fall and fit him, as if a stylist spent hours making him look like rumpled chic. The only times he ever looks truly disordered is when he's extremely frazzled, which is rare. Now though because his clothing doesn't respond to his command his shirt rides up a little in the back to let a peak of skin through, there's the risk of a wrinkle in the front, and he does tug a little on his pantleg in the hopeless endeavor to stretch it out a bit.]
No, normally my clothing is nothing more than thought. A part of my anthropomorphized representation. It feels like a part of me, rather than something I wear.
... what is it that humans do, then? Not about the pants, I meant... what should we do this afternoon?
I do not have a job. I am the embodiment of purpose.
[Yeah, not even being human can take the pompous out of him entirely. He means it sincerely, though. He's taking her words and advice very seriously.]
... I am not against feeding birds, however. I suppose I shall have to eat, as well.
[He says that in a musing way. Morpheus is capable of getting hungry as one of the Endless. His diet though is dream energy that he simply often transforms into plates of food in the Dreaming because it's more enjoyable that way. Sans eating he can't be killed but he can starve. Now, though, in a human body, the need to eat is more immediate and the consequences more dire without it.
There's a look of concentration as he tries to ascertain the current state of his stomach.]
I do not think I require eating right this moment.
Trying your food as a human is an experience I welcome. It has improved a good deal over the centuries even as I've known it.
[Which has mostly been through Hob, and now Matthew and Stella. He gives her hand a squeeze, the experience warmer with him having a human body temperature.
Rising to his feet, he gives her a nod. He lets go of her hand only long enough to hold her jacket open for her. His own is still on him. It used to be mostly for show, but now he'll actually need it.]
Yes. I'd like to see the city how you might see it. Though try not to steer me into oncoming traffic to see what happens.
[She slips into her coat and then takes one of his hands again.]
You feel really nice at human temperature.
[She snorts a little laugh]
I'd try to avoid putting you through pain, and then your sister would be summoned right back to come take you home. Embarrassing if I can't keep you alive one day.
I shall trust your taste. You have not steered me wrong, unlike certain diner food has on the recommendation of others.
[Hearing her mention the warmth, he gives her hand a squeeze.]
Perhaps when I change back, I can use hand warmers before touching you.
[A thought which makes him wonder what it'll be like to kiss her. He's tempted to do so now, but Morpheus is a romantic. A part of him wants to wait and kiss and bed her later, with candles and wine and flowers.]
Not only that, but Matthew would never stop cawing about it. He really didn't like leaving me in the waking world, he never does but especially now. He's probably following us at a distance to ensure we don't need help.
[When ready he steps out onto the streets with her. He inhales a little in surprise.]
I look forward to exploring that concept later this evening.
[Dream's eyes are no longer quite the same inhuman midnight sky they usually are in human form, but he's still looking at her with intent and want. It's only the realization he doesn't have his funds on hand that makes him look rueful instead, though he gives an agreeable nod as she says she'll pay. For the best, as while Dream does know an immortal on earth, Pharamond, who could help him with financial and transportation issues, he'd rather not open that can of worms.]
No, I suppose I do not. I'll have to, what's the expression, muddle through somehow?
What do you enjoy viewing on your walks? Are we heading anywhere in particular?
[Her shiver has nothing to do with the cold. His eyes might be the most noticeable change, they are still dark. But more like the deep sea than the whole galaxy.]
That's what I'm here for. To make sure you are fed and cared for.
I usually go to the park, there is one with a really pretty fountain.
I had not considered that. As it relates to humanity in general, yes. To us, though... you make a fair point.
[He gives a nod at the rest, them slipping into a corner store when they come across it. He's both baffled and enamored by it. He wanders the aisles, stares too long at the items. The other patrons give him peculiar looks as they often have to walk around him.
He's clearly never been in a store before in his existence.
When someone offers him a free sample he stares at them, then looks at Stella, then looks back.]
I will require two of your goods, under the condition I am not required to make purchase of more.
[The vendor gives him a confused look but offers two small samples of some cheese spread on a cracker along with tiny cups of wine.]
When I first started visiting, there were no free samples.
[He is certainly old enough to give 'back in my day' grumbles. He examines the small plastic cup, taking a sip of the wine followed by the bite of cracker and cheese.]
It is a pleasant combination. Your wares do your sales pitch justice.
[The last part is said to the vendor, who gives a confused nod and smile to them. He then turns back to Stella.]
Shall we get a bottle for later, or do you have beverages you wish me to try at your apartment? Otherwise, shall we get some bread and seed for the birds?
[He shows up shortly afterwards in a swirl of sand that disappears before it touches the ground. He has his pouch with him, ready to take them back to the Dreaming. He reaches out to her to hold her close to him for the trip, dark eyes looking her over.]
[It doesn't matter how many times she sees him arrive it's always impressive and once the sand has settled she steps into his arms, hugging him tightly.]
[He holds her close, arm folding easily around her as he sweeps them back to his realm. His scent is nothing at surface smell, but that nothingness melts into gentle memories past of comfort and familiarity. It shifts and changes for each person, what the lord of Dreaming smells like.
He takes them to his immense chambers where his throne room lies, wherein a crib has been set for the little creature. It's nestled and warm, with Matthew perched on the lip of the crib to keep watch until they return.]
[Dawn closes her eyes as he swirls them back to his realm, focusing on the feeling of his arms around her rather than the mild disorientation it always causes.
Once in his chambers she opens her eyes and smiles, noticing the crib.]
[Once he's certain she's steady on her feet from the travel, Dream releases her from his arms so she can approach the crib if she wants. He steps over towards it himself, though he doesn't need to look inside to know the answer.]
Yes. It is resting. I am giving it a pleasant dream to soothe it after its trials.
I did. A human translation would amount to the word Nest. His kind are known by their role in their society, and he was one who built homes for his society. There are many who are called Nest, and they serve the same goal. It does not matter who is being referred to, as they all willingly share the workload.
[Dream lays a gentle hand on the edge of the crib, a look both alien and ancient on his face as he looks downward, but not one without compassion.]
He worries not about himself but for his kind, that they are not caught similarly. Intergalactic poachers are a threat, as they have little defenses. They are exotic pets at best, science experiments at worst.
[She echoes and leans her head against his shoulder, watching the creature as it sleeps peacefully.]
I never would have thought there was such thing as intergalactic poachers but I guess it kind of makes sense, earth can't be the only place with assholes like that....
[OOC: Totally spitballing the details so please lemme know if anything doesn't work! I'm laidback about tweaking things.]
Indeed not, though it seems you have come across a hub of theirs where this little one was saved. Perhaps further answers might arise when we shut them down. I need only a moment with one to see into their mind with my sand.
[He's in a dramatic mood, so his outfit when he appears isn't jeans and a t-shirt but rather something more like this.
He does, however, hold two bottles of wine in his hands. Blends that never existed beyond an ancient dreamer's wishes. A red for her, a white for him.]
[He is one who often considers what is suitable, even if he's come to find that a very blurred line. He sets the bottles on the coffee table. They're chilled already and with a delicate raise of his hand the corks rise up and open.]
[He pours the red for her. It's a blend of smoky sweetness, deep berry and oak with elements of chocolate and a hint of spice. The white wine he has is more crisp and fruity, with a floral note to it.]
I have stood on business today. My nature in so doing is fluid. As dreams of old meet needs of new, so too must sharp angles give way to flexible corners.
[She shifts closer and rests her head on his shoulder.]
You do not need to be fine, I am here to listen to you, the same as you are for me.
[She can only vaugely understand what it is like to be one of the Endless, to be so entwined with your purpose that it becomes you as it does for them. But what she does understand is how to listen, and to cuddle up with him to offer him the comfort of a warm touch.]
[He sits on her sofa, drawing in air he doesn't need. Taking in the physical comfort he graces himself to enjoy. It's a luxury not all have, and he can't escape that now.]
My siblings wish my ruin.
I worry I play into their game. And that it might hurt others in so doing.
That is kind of you to offer, but I don't wish to bring your family into my troubles. I would not forgive myself if retribution rained on another for my sake.
[OH. Oh... Dream merely touches her forehead, then gestures at the sofa. In front of her are a slew of every single gown she might possibly imagine right then as wanting. What he never has to struggle with in imagination he makes up for in bowing to what your mind can conjure.]
Dreams can be a place of respite, yes. Though not always. It depends on what the subconscious mind needs, what it is trying to process to better face the waking world.
I thought you were still inspiring, only through particular career paths?
In any case, while you served an important purpose as a Muse, you were not the only one, and you did not have an entire kingdom and fundamental function of the universe to bear upon your back. It does not diminish the joy you gave to artists, but it also did not cause the death and disarray my captivity did when you left Mount Olympus.
It is curious to me how he has abandoned his realm in such a manner, then. When I was detained, things did not simply function on their own. Perhaps because destruction is not my domain, I do no notice how reckless it has become without his guidance. Or perhaps he is the sole one who had such a luxury to leave matters in their own hands.
I know well the persistence your kind can voice when objecting.
[There is merely a head tilt, a look, at the following teasing. It does indeed mimic that of his sibling Desire, though Dream refuses to speak on it when he's playing host.
He simply leads the Cat King through the main hall and into a more private drawing room where refreshments are set. The castle this time is done in medieval Spanish style, and the tapas and wine on the table reflect this Spanish theme, if not all of the medieval period. Dream settles into a seat at the end of a long table. In the space are bookshelves and cabinets, pictures on the walls filled with artists that never put brush to paint. Doors off to each side lead to spaces he would not let guests venture.
Steepling his fingers, he gives a nod towards the wine bottle. In the glass, as requested, is indeed some catnip.]
Your daydreams in particular have been busy of late.
[In the background, Dream can hear a small symphony of cats meowing in agreement from time to time. It's subtle fey magic radiating off of the Cat King. His eyes are a startlingly and perhaps eerily familiar shade of gold. However, there are also flecks of green in those cat's eyes if one looks deep enough. He's probably some distant relation to Desire. This man lives and breathes sexual fluidity. His movements are slinky, there's a certain spring to his step! Especially once he spots the wine bottle.
His grin is feral as he takes a seat closeby and immediately sniffs the uncorked wine bottle]
Huh? Oh, guess so. There's been a bit of trouble in Port Townsend. London Ghostie tripped and fell into a hornet's nest by pissing off the local witch.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@ 100more
Hope. It existed despite Hob’s wretched state. The defiance was so pure, a ghastly humor. Death, but a mug’s game. Arrogant, indeed.
But then, hadn’t Morpheus been called as much by others?
Hob’s pointing out that Morpheus cared had stung precisely because it was a truth Morpheus hadn’t wanted to face. One that had curdled inside of himself, at war with his duties and responsibilities, while imprisoned in Madoc’s chamber. Somehow he had managed to keep track of the passing of time. He had known precisely when he was meant to meet Hob.
There was the irony, there. Had Morpheus not been imprisoned, had he not had the experiences he’d had after, his pride might have kept him from attending, anyway.
Yet it was that precise imprisonment that had made him tardy.
Morpheus hadn’t really touched upon the specifics, but he knew that the effects of his entrapment and quest afterwards had left him changed. So many had noted it, while he was still sorting out what it meant. He did know though that he took to heart dearly his purpose. If he might serve them better… it was humbling, but he was willing to learn.
Which meant having breakfast with Hob, on a new schedule, at the new inn. It was a warm Saturday, unseasonably warm even for summer, but Morpheus was still dressed in his black pants, t-shirt, coat, and boots. He’d made it a point to arrive early, and a steaming cup of untouched coffee sat in front of him. He sat still, posture perfect, sensing the nodding off heads around him while he waited. When Hob arrived he didn’t stand but he gave a slight nod of his head. He slid the undrunk coffee across the table as a greeting.] I didn’t put anything in it, in case your tastes had changed. [After all, he was used to procuring a bottle of wine if not harder in their meetings.]
Re: @ 100more
He had grown wiser, too. It was better to make ones investments from the shadows so there were less questions about his enduring youth. For now, he lived a good life as a London school teacher. He didn't have to, but experiences kept life worth living. In a few more years, he'd have to move on and do something else before people began to question his agelessness.
Today, he arrived, on time, for breakfast with a friend. He had an instant smile for Morpheus the moment he spotted the endless one. When Hob took his seat across from him, he smiled at the offered coffee.]
Some things never change.
[Seeing Hob there, a waitress came over and asked,] What'll it be, love?
Another cup of coffee for my friend here, and... [He picked up the menu for a swift glance.] Two of the morning specials. Cheers.
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Or, perhaps Hob simply was special in that regard.
Somehow, even at his lowest, Hob held onto an optimism and curiosity about where the world might take him. That life held so much for him, even if there were moments where it sunk downward. It was a tenacity of spirit. Hob was also one of the few beings that knew what life had been like over the centuries. Morpheus was surrounded by beings that lived far past human lifespans, but they didn't live in the waking world. Hob could provide a unique viewpoint, and it was one that Morpheus could now admit he enjoyed hearing.
It was easier to let Hob order the food when the waitress approached. Morpheus merely gave her a silent nod before she departed, his gaze turning to study the familiar face of his friend. Oh, the hair and clothes changed over the years but not that particular expression. Morpheus found himself offering a hint of a smile in return.]
Morning specials. Dare I ask? [His long, thin fingers ran down the menu to find the dish in question. Normally he found food in dreams rather than here in reality.] You know I haven't even had coffee in your world.
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Eggs. Sausages. Buttered toast and a side of beans. Coffee is key, of course. If you want to understand people, you should try living like them a little. Not that I have any idea what it's like to live as you.
[The waitress is prompt with the coffee, and it won't be fifteen minutes before the food is served. Hob is content to drink his coffee in the meantime, always looking over the rim of the cup to gauge Morpheus' reaction. The waitress also left some milk and sugar, should either gentleman want it.]
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There had been the hint of a question in Hob's words, or at least, Morpheus thought there might have been in the statement about how he hadn't any idea what it was like to live as Morpheus did. It was true enough that often when Hob had asked Morpheus personal questions the Endless being had brushed them aside. In the past it had been to keep a wall up between them, one where Morpheus was in control and Hob the curiosity for him to explore. Now that they were friends... well. It wasn't easy but Morpheus knew it also wasn't fair to leave it so one-sided.]
I can get hungry. [A simple truth to share, but one that held a vulnerability that he didn't often offer.] Much like you I don't die of it, and I can find food in dreams to satiate myself, but it does happen. [Much like Hob had starved for a century, so had Morpheus, he realized. A small swell of empathy rose in him in a way it couldn't have prior to his capture.
As the coffee was set in front of him, Morpheus lifted the mug and smelled it. A touch smokey but not unpleasantly so. He noticed that Hob was watching him. A little wryly he couldn't help but inquire from it.] Are my tastebuds being judged right now? [He took a small sip. It was hot, coffee was never scalding in dreams, but outside of that...] It isn't bad. Though I don't get the same effects from caffeine that you do.
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He laughed at the question and shook his head, setting his cup down to prepare for the arrival of the plate that's set in front of him.]
Not at all. I'm just interested in your reactions to human things.
[Morpheus was now the curiosity.]
I nice, big breakfast on the weekend is one of those simple pleasures.
[He picked up his fork and began to eat.]
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[At the arrival of the food Morpheus methodologically picked up a fork and after a moment’s poking began to eat slowly. In truth he was a little hungry, and his interest took him to the beans first. They were a little sweet against all the savory.]
Simple I can understand. [Simple to him implied efficiency, or elegance. Something that didn’t need any trappings to get the job done well.] Pleasure… I don’t often take the time. [He had certainly never taken a weekend off.] What is it you do then on these weekends, after having a large breakfast? Don’t tell me you take a nap to digest it.
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I thought dreams were supposed to be a place for one's pleasures.
[Not all of them of course, but some of them. And yet, Morpheus took no pleasure in it, himself? That's a shame.]
A good nap does sound tempting, but I thought we might walk to the park. There's always some musicians playing and lots of people. You could observe and ask questions about anything you'd like.
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Though things weren't exactly the same, were they? He wasn't the same. Perhaps Hob wasn't entirely, either. Maybe both their alterations had left room for them to find even more common ground.
He was pausing a bit too long, too lost in his own musings. Musings about the man in question himself, who had asked another and Morpheus realized he'd taken a hair too long in answering.]
The dreams created are for the pleasure of the dreamers. [There is of course the follow up question of 'Why can't they be both?' that Morpheus honestly does not have an answer to offer. It is simply not how he is used to operating.] I suppose finding pleasure for its own sake, outside of fulfilling my purpose, to be... complicated. Is it not for you?
[He took another bite of the toast. Bread, eggs, sausage. Even the beans. Food that had been around for so many centuries now. Cooked differently but not fundamentally changed. A few crumbs fell onto his shirt, standing out against the black, and he brushed them aside.] A walk it is. I am behind on what music is played these days.
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I find pleasure wherever I can manage to. For humans, well, normal humans, life is too short. One takes pleasure in things whenever one can.
[But he does have another question that pops up.]
Does the Master of Dreams, dream?
[Hob thinks it would be a little sad if Morpheus ruled over dreams but had none of his own. Only spending his time watching the dreams of others.]
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[Perhaps he was the odd person out, in that respect. The few times he had attempted to have a personal life outside of duties, things had spectacularly upended to where he was hesitant in trying again. Nada, then Calliope. Meeting with Hob under the pretense of learning more about humanity so to better serve them felt safer. It was true even, he did want to learn more. Yet admittedly, he was also enjoying Hob's company on top of it.]
[The next question was one he'd gotten before, though one he didn't always answer. In a soft voice he spoke.]
No. I do not dream. I do not sleep, as you do. When I grow weary, I merely rest. No actual slumber. [He'd sometimes wondered what it might be like to dream, but honestly, he was so used to being in control that the prospect of not knowing what might come when he closed his eyes was a little disconcerting.] I have experienced your dreams, though. The dreams of so many. I suppose I should not take it for granted.
[Morpheus looked down at his plate, still half-filled.] You were not joking about this being large. We might need to roll out of here.
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One day, you'll have to tell me which of my dreams is your favorite.
[It's probably a dream Hob doesn't remember after waking, but perhaps Morpheus does. He looked down at his own plate, which was emptier than Dream's and laughed.]
We don't have to finish.
[He waved the waitress over to pay the bill.]
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[Morpheus gave a nod at Hob assuring him they needn’t finish it all. He ate a few more bites before the waitress came to clear the table, not wanting to let too much of it go to waste. His eyes fell on the check as he set down his knife and fork to be cleared. She had set it beside Hob to be paid, and indeed, Morpheus didn’t have actual money on him at the moment. Including his head at Hob, he thanked him sincerely.] Thank you for breakfast. It was quite good. Not what I expected. [Which was the point of this, wasn’t it?
He rose to his feet afterwards, bumping up accidentally against Hob on their way out in order to let others pass by. It was narrow between the tables and the space was filling up with people as the morning rush began to enter. Morpheus would much rather step in closer to Hob than nearer someone else he’d only met in his realm. Morpheus gave a nod at the waitress in farewell when she tossed them a cheery goodbye, and exited the Inn into the warm sunshine of London’s waning summer.] It’s hard to imagine sometimes this is the same city as all those centuries ago. Though perhaps not for you, who experienced all those changes ongoing as you did.
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Sometimes. Sometimes I remember them, but it's like trying to remember what something looks like through a fog. Other times, it's less a memory or more of a feeling when I wake up. Fear. Loss. Pleasure.
[He knows some people are the type that remember their dreams even more vividly. Perhaps they're better connected to the other realm.
As Morpheus thanked him, Hob smiled.]
I'm glad you thought so. But that's just the start. We have other things to see and do.
[He moved to the door but was stopped by the sudden rush of people making their way noisily in. So as not to impede their walking, he stepped aside and with only a bit of space to work with, his arm went naturally around Morpheus' waist, hand on the man's hip to draw him closer and allow the others some more room. His shoulder turned outward, shielding his friend from all the jostling and bumping that came with people squeezing through the space between tables. For a second, he just enjoyed that closeness until he had to let go so they could proceed outdoors.]
Indeed. I helped pave this path, you know.
[Hob gestured at the pedestrian walkway that lead into the park and wound its way inside.]
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[At least there was a pleasant topic to fill the space and distract him from what had just transpired.] Did you help fund the repavement, or did you actually provide the manual labor for it? Neither would surprise me, honestly. After this many years, I know you have quite a few tricks and skills up your sleeve.
... I can't believe you built a new inn. [Hob earned a small, fond smile at that, along with some light teasing.] That was almost sentimental of you. Until I realized you wanted an excuse for large breakfasts.
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I put my own hands to some of these stones. Believe it or not, fighting is only a small part of soldiering. Much of the time, there's labor involved.
[It wasn't uncommon for an army to suddenly put down new roads or bridges as they went from one territory to another. The work better facilitated troops that might reinforce them later.]
Oh, that...
[Hob glanced over his shoulder at the inn behind them, knowing the standing remains of the White Horse was just a block down the street. He always held out hope that Morpheus would one day return.]
What if you were to come back someday? I couldn't have you meeting me for drinks in an abandoned building.
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I can believe that. Soldiers are often not situated in the heart of civilization, especially centuries ago. Creating structures to protect one against enemies and inclement weather, or paving roads, would be required. I have also heard that soldiers became quite efficient cooks out of necessity. [Not every company, especially in the old days, had a cook around to feed everyone. Nor did they have consistent rations.] You did a decent job. Nary a crack in the foundation so far.
[Hob’s words that the new inn was an optimistic hope that Morpheus would one day return touched him. He studied Hob for a moment, at a loss for words at how much that meant to him. Finally he found his voice, quiet and low.] It is a very fine place to meet, Hob. You did well. Perhaps… it was time, anyway. For part of the past to crumble and something new to be rebuilt in its place. Destruction is a natural part of the world, but so is what comes after.
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Places and people. Eventually, change happens.
[And for an endless too, it would seem. His friend has changed so much over the years. He thinks Morpheus is finally starting to see that.
Hob's path gravitates in the direction of some music playing. Sure enough, there are some musicians doing a set. People are parked on complementary blankets in the grass, so Hob motions to one where they can sit partially in the shade.]
So, you want to understand humanity? Why now, after all this time?
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[It was true that Morpheus had thought himself above change. While mortals lived and died, and gods relied upon the strength of faith, he was simply tied to a biological function of so many beings that stretched out for eons. He had never really considered that having contact with so many dreamers might have an impact on him the way that he did on them. That he might alter, as the beings he served did, in a relationship of reciprocity. In a way seeing it as such was like they held power over him. It had taken his talk with Death after his imprisonment for him to see that perhaps him needing them like they needed him was not a dynamic to be downplayed but rather embraced.
How to put that into words was the question that floundered him as he followed Hob. He gestured for Hob to take the spot that was more in the shade, as the sun didn’t bother Morpheus in the same way it might humans. He settled down next to his friend then, one leg extended and the other with his knee drawn up. One elbow rested upon his knee. His free hand played with the blades of grass that poked upwards around the edge of the blanket. It felt warm and a touch dewey from the rain the previous evening. The air was mingled with the scent of nearby flowers, perspiration, and food carts selling items. He looked curiously at the musicians as they played a contemporary jazz piece of their own making. Chaos and improvisation blending into unexpected harmony.
It was a few long moments before he began to answer Hob.]
Knowing their stories isn’t the same thing as knowing them. I was… detained by a group of them. For a spell of time. [How he hated admitting that.] After I escaped, nothing felt quite the same. Not even my role as overseer of dreams. It was pointed out to me that perhaps my previous understanding of my role was limited, in such a way that wasn’t apparent before now.
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Had I known, nothing would've kept me from you.
[Hob is absolutely serious about that, his eyes fixed on Dream when he speaks. No amount of guards would've stopped the immortal soldier from storming that castle, or mansion, whatever the case.]
So you were held captive by men, and now... your role feels different? How so?
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… I remembered. When our time to meet came to pass. I could tell the passing of time. It inched, but I knew when we were to meet. For what that is worth. [He had never forgotten Hob, nor their arrangement.]
It’s difficult to explain fully. The difference. I’m still trying to sort it out myself.
[Morpheus let out a slow breath, unused to the focus on himself. It was fair though, fair questions. Hob wanted to know his motivations and why wouldn’t he?]
When I returned, I had lost a good deal. It took time to rebuild the Dreaming and myself. Afterwards I felt… incomplete? I have never felt that before. As though something was missing that I had never noticed. It was suggested to me by my sister - by Death - that perhaps reconnecting with the people I served might rekindle my purpose. That I might need those who dream as much as they need me. And I… want to be there for them the best I can. I take what I do very seriously, Hob. I would rather be humbled than… insufficient. They deserve better. I already left them in a lurch for century and change.
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I'm not afraid of burdens.
[He notes, and his hand moves to briefly touch upon Morpheus' hand, then slips away before Morpheus might react poorly to the touch. At least, Hob worries he might. He turns his attention back to the musicians, but then a word catches his ear.]
The people you serve?
[A slow smile. Did he really just make himself, one such as himself, sound subservient to another? And to say that he needs them?]
Incredible.
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[The touch on his hand is warm. Morpheus can feel the callouses present upon the fingers from years of hard living before Hob had become immortal. His physical form was more durable now, though still capable of being captured or even dismembered. Morpheus’s gaze remains transfixed on Hob’s hand covering his own paler one, not pulling away from the contact. It was easier not to make eye contact right then, especially when he felt some regret when Hob removed his hand. Morpheus’s fingers curled up afterwards, the soft blanket pillowed against his palm. It is the incredulity in Hob’s tone that finally drew Morpheus’s eyes back upwards.
At seeing Hob’s merriment over Morpheus’s statement, he earned a wry look in response.]
Yes, go on, have your laugh. It hasn’t been an easy adjustment, I assure you. I’m trying, though. You know I do take my purpose and function seriously.
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When he's told to have his laugh, he does. Chuckling softly and dropping back to lie on the blanket. Staring up at his friend, he notices how much softer Morpheus' features look in the sun. Hob's own face is peppered with the flecks of light that break through the leaves of the tree above them and shift when the wind blows.]
Tell me about it. What's it like?
[His purpose. His function. Hob is curious and wants to know more.]
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It’s… difficult to put into words, I suppose. When the first specks of life began to dream, I began to exist. My role and rule has always been to provide for and to protect dreamers. Every night, and it is always night somewhere, on some world, beings bring themselves to me. All their hopes and fears, their trials and triumphs. It is my responsibility to provide for them what they need so they are ready when they wake to face what they must. To create, or destroy. To exist with clarity and purpose of their own.
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Thank you.
[Hob lifts his head slightly so he can place the jacket underneath his head and neck, then rests against it. In the past, he had slept on far worse than a grassy meadow, but this made it so much better. Then he just listens as his friend explains his purpose, which was even bigger than Hob could have imagined.]
Wow. [That's a small word for taking in so much.] And you do this on your own? It sounds like a lot of responsibility for one person.
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He looked back down at Hob then, a faint weariness in his gaze that cleared up quickly with resolve.]
It is a large responsibility, but one that I take to heart. I exist because of it, and I would not walk away willingly from it. You can see though that there is a connection that exists. Between the dreamers and myself. That is what I meant when I said that I need them, as they need me. My realm would have no purpose without them, and their dreams would not exist as such without me.
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I'm glad someone is looking out for you.
[He smiled and turned his eyes back to Dream, noticing the flicker of fatigue on his face. After a moment's hesitation, his hand touched the man's arm, bare now with the jacket being used as a pillow. Hob's fingers, although a little calloused at the tips, were gentle as they moved from below Dream's elbow down to his wrist. No doubt Matthew is going to dish about this with Lucienne later.]
Yes, I see that. And that's why you wanted to learn more about people.
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[Which wasn't a bad thing by any means. Morpheus does value steadfastness in others, even when it also means their stubbornness matches his own. He had also never really paused to consider his job as vast and difficult as it sounded when seeing Hob's reaction. Oh, he'd always taken it seriously. He held himself in such tight control because of all he had to balance to do it properly. Yet it had all been done with a simple 'shoulder to the wheel' mentality. Not anything particularly impressive, or worth someone caring for him over.
Hob seemed to disagree, and the tenderness with which he touched Morpheus's arm softened a hair of that rigidity inside the Dream Lord. A tenseness he was so used to holding that he'd forgotten even existed. Slowly, hesitantly, Morpheus moved one of his hands to rest on Hob's, fingers sliding between his.]
Yes. That is why.
[A beat. Then...]
No pulse.
[He said it quietly, moving Hob's fingers to see that there was, indeed, no pulse to be felt. That while Morpheus appeared in a human form to Hob, he very much was not one of them. He wanted Hob to know, as best he could, what he was getting into by them getting to know one another better.]
Our differences don't bother you?
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His brow raised as Dream pointed out the lack of a beat in the wrist he was touching. He supposed it made sense. Dream was not human, after all.]
Bother me?
[He smiled, then collected Dream's hand and drew it toward him. The hand is placed against Hob's own chest, over his beating heart.]
That should've stopped beating a long time ago. I don't exactly count myself as normal anymore.
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It was a tender moment, one that Morpheus does not take for granted. His fingers smoothed over to rest over Hob's chest, content to leave it there for now and feel the steady rise and fall. He can't resist a bit of teasing however and his brow crinkles in pretend confusion.]
Hm, I know I have good senses, but I didn't expect to hear the poor old thing creaking.
[Giving Hob's chest a pat, his gaze held that glint of teasing in their usual coldness when he finally looked at the man.]
No, it is a very good heartbeat, Hob. And you're right. I don't suppose either of us qualify as humans any longer, at least, not like most of them. Which is likely a good thing.
[After all, the last time he'd gotten close to a mortal things had ended in disaster for so many.]
So tell me then, as one looking to know humanity better. What is it about them you see as likely to get overlooked?
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He liked the feel of Dream's hand on him, so Hob placed his hand over the other's and used his fingers to lazily trace over that hand. Following the curve from his wrist and up and down Dream's elegant fingers.]
Hmm.
[Not an easy question. He looks out over the park at the people, families and couples gathered. How they smiled and interacted with each other, or just got lost in the music.]
I think people have a lot of small, quiet moments that reveal who they are. When they think no one is looking. The mother touching her daughter's hair. Or that man, whispering into his partner's ear. They're not big, flashy displays. They're soft. Private.
[Much like the moment Hob was having with Dream under the tree.]
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I am used to people bringing such intimacy with them to the Dreaming. I should not be surprised as much value is placed upon such moments in the waking world.
Such as this one.
Thank you, by the way. For what you have shared.
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I'm happy to help.
[It was nice to be of use to Dream after all these years apart. Though he knows Dream's interest in Hob's experiences ended centuries ago. They met simply for companionship after that.]
You talk like you don't know it. Intimacy, I mean.
[Maybe he had overstepped with those words, but Dream speaks about it as though he were merely an observer.]
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I have experienced intimacy.
[None of those times ended well, so he didn't elaborate any further beyond the admittance. It was only then that he looked back to study Hob's face.]
With dreamers though, I do not have the luxury of getting lost in their desires or woes. I should be as much an observer as I can be, connected yet apart, so that I might provide what they need for their fulfillment without letting it all consume me in the process. You merely have your own subconscious to manage. I have that of every being's contained within me. I know intimacy, but I must also know detachment.
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When Dream says he's experienced intimacy, it's not with the sort of fondness one might who had good memories of it, which makes Hob frown.
What the man says does make sense. Hob can only imagine how many of those dreams are something intimate with so many people dreaming all over the world. And he figures some intimate dreams are better than others.]
And.. your fulfillment? Don't you ever want something for yourself?
[He was probably pushing it, but Hob couldn't help but speak his thoughts.]
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[Which wasn’t unique to him, Morpheus knew that. Ever so many broken hearts existed in the galaxy. It had existed in the very man who sat here with Morpheus. Hob, too, had suffered loss. Perhaps it was not, or should not, be a surprise that humans were so resilient. Not that anyone, mortal or Endless truly got over the loss of their family. It had been centuries and Morpheus still couldn’t bring himself to grieve with Calliope over Orpheus.
Would he take it back, though? That was the heart of regret, wasn’t it? To wish that something had never transpired. As much as it hurt, if he was honest with himself, he would not take back his time with Nada, Calliope, or the few others whom he had opened his realm and world to beyond his duties.]
You have always been the risk taker, Hob. The man who defied Death on a drunken gamble.
[Perhaps there was something to learn from that so very human trait.]
Wanting for myself does not come easily. My duties have taken such precedence. But… I don’t find myself wanting to depart your presence.
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To be fair, I didn't know I was gambling at the time.
[It was also very human to simple stumble through life with a bit of luck. At Morpheus' words, Hob smiles.]
I like being with you, too.
[Maybe those aren't the exact words that came from Dream, but Hob reads between the lines.]
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[Morpheus had wondered that first time around whether Hob would have even shown up. Some might have found it all too terrifying and steered away no matter the potential cost. Others might have had so much hubris to assume they didn’t have to hold up their end of the bargain. Morpheus could admit that back then he probably hadn’t presented the most welcoming of presences. Not that he did these days either, though Hob managed to bring out more smiles in him than just about anyone else.
Such as now, when Hob read between his carefully chosen words.]
You are to be my translator, then? I suppose I can accept it. Within reason. [A small smile softened his words. A ball was kicked near them and he reached out to stop it, gently rolling it back to the children at play.] Let us see then where these new days lead us. I look forward to figuring it out together.
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@ dawn_is_breaking
I put little past your charms.
I see our goal is to eat as much as a bear, too. [He makes a note of the name and order, though.] I shall arrive shortly. Perhaps one of your dreams sometime might compare the food you eat now to those the Dreaming can create.
thank you for moving <3
I can't help that I'm hungry, plus I want you to get the full experience and part of that is to eat so much bbq that you feel stuffed afterwards. And thank you, if you're picking up all the food I will get us some good craft beer to go with it.
You're welcome!
Craft beer, quite decadent. If I somehow end up too stuffed to move from your chairs you've no one to blame but yourself, you know. [No, he doesn't really see that happening, but he can't resist the banter.]
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Well you can't have crappy watery beer with bbq, it spoils the whole thing. And I promise if you become too stuffed to move off my couch I'll keep you company.
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At least your sofa is quite comfortable should the dilemma strike.
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Of course it is, you know how much I like comfortable and cozy things.
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Summer is your true enemy isn't it, keeping sweaters to air conditioned areas only?
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I wouldn't call it my enemy, I enjoy parts of summer but I am definitely a much bigger fan of fall.
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Fall does have an air of anticipation about it that comes with the weather changes in many parts of the world. I can see the appeal, though if asked to choose, I suppose I would say winter.
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I think I love fall the most because you can wear cozy sweaters, drink hot cider and the smell of all the leaves changing is always so invigorating and beautiful to see.
Winter is also nice, especially if you can spend most of it in front of a warm fire.
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Change seen as invigoration and promise is... very human. I don't mean that disdainfully. It is a persevering characteristic to find that spark of hopeful coming spring as the days grow longer dark in winter. And of course such trials begin as early as in fall. [A hint of teasing there but also underlying endearment.] I hope you never find fear in the changing of leaves, Dawn. Only hope of what their colors might wrought.
I like rain freezing into snow. The blanketing not as a cover of ills but rather a transformative time of what might be found once it thaws.
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Are there any human customs about the changing seasons you find endearing? And thank you, Dream. I appreciate you saying that.
Snow is so beautiful, I love how quiet it makes everything.
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The dressing up for holidays like Halloween. There's a long tradition of festivities including that element, for various reasons. The idea that one can wear another's face safely, be a different person they've always aspired or feared to become for one night, to represent something larger than themselves even, is intriguing.
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I haven't dressed up for Halloween in a long time but I've always enjoyed it as well, it's fun to see what people pick out to wear.
What would you go out as for Halloween?
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When I was little my favorite costume was a cat because my mother let me wear her fur coat.
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Quite a luxurious and warm costume, then. Ears and a tail as well, or just the coat?
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Very much so, it was a white fur coat of course. And yes, she made me a tail and ears to go with it.
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Imagine the scandal if it was black instead.
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Such a scandal! Although an all black outfit with my pale hair would still look good.
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My mind went to Odile rather than a cat, I must admit. Perhaps you might switch up your color scheme one day.
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I actually had a moment where when I started getting back into vigilante work I debated changing my costume from white to black. But I kept it white to try and remind myself of hope.
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Hope is a most powerful ally, in the day or the dark.
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[She shivers a little when she reads that.]
I like that.
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[He simply can't wrap his head around Destruction who abdicated his duties, or Desire whom he sees as abusing them. The sense of obligation runs too deeply in him.]
Hope saw me out of Hell once. When I faced the Morningstar. There it was merely a concept. You bring it to others in person.
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Oh. Wow.
Dream I.....thank you.
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You're welcome. I would not have said it if I did not believe it.
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You're making me blush.
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I admit some satisfaction in being able to draw that out. Although I'm not around to see it.
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Maybe you'll get lucky and it will still be there when you arrive with bbq. ;)
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Nearly there. I'm attracting looks, I assume from the scent.
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Quite possibly. It could also be from your over all image.
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[aka you're good looking, dummy.]
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The food seems like it would be much more appealing.
... though any compliment from you I take to heart, so you have my thanks. I'm glad my presence isn't off-putting to you.
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You're plenty appealing, Dream. Trust me.
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Well, I certainly know better than to argue with you. Especially before you've eaten.
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Smart man.
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Is it my turn to wax on about your striking features?
Or did you wish to divert your attention and ring me up as I'm here with the food?
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I'll buzz you up right now.
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[He waits patiently and heads up when buzzed in, having gotten all the requested goods, not a single item more or less. His attention to detail would allow no other.]
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When he knocks she opens the front door for him and ushers him inside.]
Oh my goodness that smells so good.
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Yes. It does smell like many dreams foretold.
[He knew very well what she meant. He waits until she ushers him in before stepping inside smoothly. His step is slow but sure, methodical rather than hesitant. He moves to set the large bag filled with containers on her kitchen table before starting to unpack it neatly. He can't help but leap in when he sees something needs doing and try to make it orderly.]
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[She says at his little joke as she gets down plates for them to use as well as grabbing napkins. She then goes into the fridge and brings out a bottle of craft beer for each of them.]
Non lumpy beer, as promised.
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[He pauses, the pulled pork in hand, to examine his glass of beer. Not that he really doubted her, but he's curious what she found appealing in the one she chose. He set down the meat and lifted up the glass to sniff it, inhaling the aroma. He follows it with a small sip, letting the balance of bitter and sweet and spice roll over his tongue.]
I suppose your record of not betraying remains intact.
[It does taste quite good. He then gestures for her to help herself to the food first if she wishes. He can certainly wait, and while it's a trifle old fashioned, he would rather see her help herself first than dive in ahead of her.]
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I'll take that to mean you like it?
[She quips at him with a grin as she begins to load up her plate with a bit of everything.]
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[He does eat and drink regularly, or regularly for him, but he opts more for wine when it happens. The drink hasn’t any effect on him but he enjoys the taste. He doesn’t dislike ale though when it’s brewed well, and this one clearly was. Once Dawn has helped herself he takes a place and puts upon it a small portion of the many items. Following her lead to sit on the sofa, he sets his drink and plate on the coffee table before sinking down onto the soft cushions. It’s much more casual than eating at the dinner table. He can’t even remember the last time he sat on a sofa in the Dreaming.
He picks up the biscuit first and takes a measured taste, followed by the chicken. It does indeed have a complex balance of savory, sweet, and smoky. It reminds him vaguely of Renaissance food during banquets that often mixed meats with fruit when cooking.]
You can taste the time someone has put into it. The drink and the food.
[Which, for Dream, is quite a high compliment.]
What made you think of having it? Or was it a craving whose origination is hard to discern?
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Mmmhmm.
[She agrees that you can taste the time that was put into the meal, the slow cooked pulled pork and the smoked chicken especially and she makes sure to swallow and dab her mouth with a napkin before answering his question.]
I made the mistake of watching the food network on TV and they had an episode all about bbq.
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[Death, Hob, and now Dawn. It amuses him the variety within that spectrum, from Endless to immortal to mortal. Apparently, this television network and its offerings was quite a uniting factor among beings.]
You’re all going to make me hungry when you collectively dream about it.
[A teasing joke, but in truth, if he didn’t hold himself in such a disciplined state the emotional toil of everyone’s subconsciousness would impact him. Sometimes it still did in small ways, which he cared about less than larger ones that would impact his ability to function.]
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[She asks as she pops a piece of cornbread into her mouth.]
Well seeing how you were so nice to satisfy my craving in the flesh I'll try to dream about something different tonight so you are safe from having to eat it twice.
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[At seeing her eating the biscuit he offers her the half that is left of his.]
I appreciate your restraint. Though redundancy in dreams doesn’t bother me. It is the subconscious mind working through something if it lingers. I’m able to hold myself apart from your experiences most of the time, or at least at enough of a distance. Sometimes though a dream will remind me of something, I suppose like your barbeque shows can inspire.
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Oh I love baking competition shows, especially the Great British Bake Off. It reminds me of my mother.
[She takes the other half of his biscuit and pops it into her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully while he explains.]
Have you ever experienced a dream from someone that pulled you in? That you couldn't hold yourself apart from?
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[He can remember every being who dreams but not the show his sister talked about. Sibling vibes are a universal constant. He leans back a little against the cushions, contemplating her question. His arm rests against a pillow, index finger gently rubbing against the edge's crease.]
In the beginning, oh yes. When dreams were new; when I was new. I felt everything. So much joy and grief people brought with them. It was... overwhelming, until I could properly sort it out. And honestly, dangerous for the dreamers until I did, too. I had to protect myself from being consumed, so I could protect them from it.
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[Dawn sips at her beer as Dream explains what things were like for him in the beginning, it's such a strange thing to be hearing about and she takes a moment to really digest the idea of it. Being there when everything was new.]
Hrmn. Yeah I guess that would be overwhelming very quickly, having everyone's dreams and feelings just sort of thrown at you.
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and particularly in America the items looked enormous.
[At least compared to the past.]
It was a bit, yes. I won't pretend I served my function perfectly, then or now. Though I hope overall I've done a better job at it.
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[She brushes the back of his hand with her fingers.]
No one is perfect Dream, not even the Endless. You do your job very well, and I think you're allowed to be a bit proud of that.
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[At the light tickling of her fingers against his hand, he turned it over, palms upwards, to twine fingers together with hers.]
A fair reminder. I suppose it is as easy for me to focus on what might be improved than on what is done well. Particularly when the stakes are as high as the ones in which we both deal. Thank you though, for the compliment.
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[His fingers are so elegant and when they twine through hers she smiles.]
You're very welcome.
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[He takes his time to consider the answer, because it is more layered than a casual offhand might imply.]
No, in seriousness the human connection with animal companions doesn't baffle me. Nor does the desire to read into animal behavior, ascribing to them human characteristics in joking form that barely mask a wanting for greater understanding.
I suppose what does sometimes perplex me... and it is not a characteristic ascribed solely to humanity... is self-sabotage. Maybe due to it not being limited to humanity. It is a complex concept, and perhaps worth a measure of mystery as that leaves it open to individual scrutiny rather than sweeping judgement.
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It's a very complex concept and there's a disturbing number of ways that someone can do it to themselves, mentally and physically. And I would be hard pressed to explain the reasons why people do it because there can be so many factors that go into it.
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Apologies. I didn't mean to add a heaviness to the evening.
I am also very perplexed by the socks that have individual toes on them.
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[She starts to say, her tone kind but then he mentions toe socks and she suddenly bursts out giggling. Lifting a hand up to cover her mouth.]
Sorry! What? Really?
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They don't look especially comfortable, or appealing. I fail to see what regular socks lack that they provide. It is a human invention that does indeed baffle me.
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If you think those are weird you must be extra baffled at the shoes that are like that as well.
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[He's being entirely serious that time. His light tracing of the creases in the pillow cease on one hand, as his other hand begins to gently do the same. This time instead it's his index finger gently trailing over her knuckles and fingers as he loosens it from their hold, the small movement exploratory yet soothing to him.]
All right, I suppose it's your turn. What about the Endless baffles you? Or the topic can be broadened to bafflement in general, not merely my kind.
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[The feeling of his index finger traveling over her knuckles and the fingers sends a tingle through her entire body and she's so focused on the feeling that at first she doesn't seem to realize he's asked her a question.]
Hrm? Oh! [Her cheeks go a light pink.] I don't know if I'd say that there's anything that baffles me about the Endless, especially since I'm still learning about all of you, but there's certainly a lot of things that intrigue me and make me curious.
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A very diplomatic response. Me, I find my family constantly baffling, but I suppose that is common enough. I will accept that at least I am not dull to you.
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[She says, a statement that is made even more true by the pulse of excitement that goes through her again when he reaches out to brush back her hair. His fingers grazing her cheekbones for just a moment, but even that's enough for her heart to start beating faster and her body to become hyper aware of his.]
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Right now though there is no ache of loss in his chest, but rather a growing want. His hand lingered, sliding from her face to rest upon her back. Slow and measured, prepared to pull back if she seems discomfited. To see if he feels discomfort. There are so many snares on both ends that might snag. The simple touch doesn't make him forget that, but he craves it nonetheless. The connection.]
I suppose we find in others better company than we see in ourselves.
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Is that your way of telling me that you find your own company boring?
[She teases, her lips lifting up into a soft, coy smile.]
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Which did not mean there weren't other risks, of course. For both of them.]
I find my own company… narrow.
[He takes it slow, and measured, leaning in a moment after she does. His lips touch hers, and while he knew the world would not end from it, he doesn't expect the spark of a new creation to hit as it does on the other end of the spectrum. It has been so long since he's had a connection of this nature. It's fragile and he fears breaking it. There’s a hunger to it, but one held in check, leaving the kiss gentle and lingering. He tastes her in ways beyond senses.]
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It's like kissing the stars, the sky, the moon, the sun, all wrapped into one.
It's like kissing one of the Endless.
She utters a small sigh, her lips pulling away just enough to hover against his for a moment.]
Dream....
[It's barely a whisper and she throws aside any of her previous worries or concerns about the connection that has been building between them and presses her lips against his firmly, her one hand moving up to plunge itself into his dark hair, pulling him closer.]
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He can taste what came before. Barbecue and smoke from ashes of aches. The walls of that past lower to let in a fullness that is both bitter and bright. It is humanity in an individual form, one he has grown to long to embrace. If he is the heat and flame of blue stars in a black night, she feels like pure fire razing against his sky. Warm and hot, a life burning bright as long as the wick lasts. He is drawn to it, to her. He presses closer together, hands wrapping around her body to explore, his body shifting to feel hers against his better. He moves to kiss at her throat as well, feeling the pulse point there beating.]
ooc: damn you're a good writer <3
The hand in his hair digs in deeper, gently pulling his face up from her neck so she can kiss him again. Her mouth opens to him, her tongue sliding across to taste him briefly, like a bee tasting nectar.]
You, too! <3 This is delightful.
[With a dancer’s grace Dawn settles flush against him, limbs folding against his. His hands slide from her hips to her back, one hand snaking beneath her sweater to feel her warm skin against his fingertips. They trail patterns and paths to learn her a new way.
At the tug to his hair, a pleasant pressure, he lifts his head to meet her lips once more. There's a hunger to it, an exploration of the depths that one can offer. For all that he has eons to share, it is always new and personal. He might taste of memories never yet experienced, remind of times that fill a future. It is not dreams made flesh but dreams meet flesh. A joining that lasts a moment to some but right now feels endless.]
aww shucks :)
[Already she knows that she has to be careful because the hunger, the desire, she feels towards him is almost overwhelming. The way his fingertips trail across her skin, she wants to feel that across every single inch of her body just as she wants to do the same to his.
Touch, smell, taste.
Right now he is flooding all of her senses and it takes a huge amount of will power to gently pull back a little, breathless from their kiss, she rests her forehead against his.]
Is this.... [She starts to say, her voice barely above a whisper.] Is this okay? I mean, is it allowed?
[She knows that there are rules, both in her world and his, and while she wants him she also doesn't want to hurt him or put him in danger.]
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[He pauses when she does, pulling back to study her intently. His eyes are inquisitive stars soaking in her words. He doesn’t take her concerns lightly as he brushes back her hair.]
You are not the first mortal I have been with. It can be… complicated. One relationship passed by with only a waning interest to break us apart. The other… [Well.] There were politics beyond her mortality that came into play, as she was ruler of her people, and it ended for the worse. Not all will approve of our union, and I have many enemies. As I know you do. I believe this, what we have done tonight, is safe between us. In a larger scope though… even being my friend brings danger. I apologize if that was not made clearer on my end sooner. It is not a danger I feel I cannot offer protection from, or I would never have spoken with you to start, but I would be lying if I said it did not exist.
[He gives her a small smile.]
Perhaps it would be best to take it slow and see how things fare on both ends. I know that is much to take in.
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Either way though I'm totally cool with this bending comics canon and agree with it.]
[She appreciates that he doesn't take her concerns lightly but at the same time she has to smile at the fact that both of them come with associated danger.]
Complicated and a little bit dangerous, sounds like my usual type.
[She teases and lifts a hand to brush back a lock of his hair, her fingers already craving to be dug back into his nest of thick black hair. Her teasing smile drops away as she looks into his eyes and she nods.]
I agree that slow would be best. [There's a pause and she laughs softly, her cheeks going pink.] It might be hard for me to remember that at times but it would probably be best.
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Is that your type? I don’t know that I have one.
[He only had a few loves over his eons of existence. Each one was rather different. Perhaps it was more indicative that he preferred a sort depending on who and when he existed, as his time lingered longer than mortals.]
He leaned a little into her touch, but nodded in agreement.]
I trust you, to mind your time and bearing. As I trust myself. Difficult though it may be on both our ends. [Leaning in he kissed her lips, then reluctantly, pulled back to kiss her forehead.] It is nice merely being in your presence. It has… been awhile. Since I have touched another.
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I was mostly teasing, Dream. You're really unlike anyone I've ever met.
[Which makes him and whatever this is between them all the more special and something she wants to cherish and savor. Just like she savors the kiss he places on her lips, her hand sliding back into his hair where part of relishes the feeling. She loves his wild, fluffy hair and she's thrilled to finally be able to touch it.]
It's been a while for me too, as I'm sure you can tell.
[She says softly as she's pretty certain he can feel the eagerness in which her body wants to touch his, the fast beating of heart an even more obvious indication.]
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I had some idea.
[A small, knowing smile crosses his face at that as he kisses her chest where her heart beats fast. There's something comforting in the fact that she understands his loneliness, even if he would never wish that upon her.]
We both have time to make up for together.
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Have you known long? [She asks, her voice catching a little as he places a soft kiss above her wildly beating heart.]
That I....you know. [Was attracted to him, wanted him, liked him. There are so many ways to finish that sentence.]
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I knew a measure of attraction was felt. However, your inner thoughts on it, how deep it goes, I have not dived into your subconscious to tell. If you had a particular dream about it, I did not intrude to witness. I would only do so if a dreamer is in danger, or something is off about it. Occasionally I visit old friends in their dreams. ... and sometimes to nick a bottle of wine or a meal.
[He didn't really bother the dreamers then and make himself known, or at least that is his excuse.]
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That's good to know, if only to keep me from feeling extremely embarrassed.
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It pleases me though to hear I have occupied your thoughts. Though I do not sleep, you have occupied mine while I have been in the Dreaming.
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And are all these thoughts that you're having about me...are they PG rated? [She asks coyly, her cheeks still pink but her eyes now carry a mischievous glint and she rocks her hips forward ever so slightly. Teasing him just a bit.]
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[There's a smirk to mirror hers, and on instinct his pelvis arches under her when she rocks, a feeling of heated longing pooling through him. It's hard to hold back from doing more, but hopefully should they continue as they have been, it will be sweeter once they do. He doesn't want this to fail like all the others, and perhaps a slow foundation will better prepare them for any future bumps in the road. Leaning forward he gives her a gentle kiss, one of hunger and promise.]
You're very special to me.
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@drpalmer
Chocolate, quite decadent. I often lean savory over sweet, but a well made dessert can be tempting.
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Is sober Christine so very different, then?
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Not really. Drunk I am more openly affectionate.
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I don't mind it, from you.
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And that is very flattering coming from you.
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What of you, do you enjoy much company or prefer a selective amount?
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@dawn_is_breaking
Mhm. I'll just say no kittens were involved this time.
thank you for moving <3
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It's very thoughtful of you. ;)
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I appreciate and enjoy many of your attributes too.
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Perhaps neither of us does well with compliments, as far as receiving goes.
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Speaking of outfits though, when we eventually go dancing do you want me to pick my own gown or would you like to do that for me?
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Thank you, I'll have to start dreaming up some ideas about what I want to wear....
Will you be wearing your usual attire? I would hate to show up over dressed.
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I will dress up as befits the occasion. [Formality matters to him where appropriate.] You're a far more pleasant reason to do so than stately or family affairs.
I have begun working on the ballroom. A few days should be sufficient to complete it.
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I am so excited to see what you've created. :)
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Can you imagine telling your little sister to dress up for eating chocolate at the dinner table?
I hope it does not disappoint, then.
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I can't imagine telling my little sister to dress up at all, she's a tomboy and hates wearing dresses.
I'm sure it will be beautiful.
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I can see that in her. Delirium wears dresses on occasion, though I would not describe them as fancy. Death certainly grumbles but obliges Destiny in his formal requests when she has to.
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It's a little strange to think that Death is so casual, considering how media and art has portrayed her.
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She does tend to prefer black attire, so that much is often true. Though she does not appear dour from it, and has no need to hold a scythe.
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So both of you just wear all black all the time?
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;)
[she's just teasing you, Dream.]
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I should have known you would side with her. Older siblings united.
Did your sister ever show such similarities, inspired or otherwise?
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Sorry, it was bound to happen at some point.
I guess a little, we've both been pretty active our whole lives although she did rugby instead of ballet.
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The only time I've ever played a sport in my existence was with my son when he was a child.
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You had a son?
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Yes. Though he was born many centuries ago. The games were ones common in ancient Greece at the time, rather than your modern ones.
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Oh wow. Do you mind me asking about him or is it a sensitive topic?
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I would rather not discuss the tragedy that befell him. That he existed though, and his goodness, I am proud to share.
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Of course. Did you enjoy being a father?
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It was not expected, but yes. Very much so.
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What was your favorite part about it?
[Also his comment about it not being expected....that brings up an interesting question that she might have to ask him further on down the road. Which is: If things continue with them along the lines she thinks it will, do the Endless need to wear condoms?]
LOL at her question, but it's a fair one!
To get to know a person you helped bring into the world is quite an extraordinary feeling. Watching him develop his own mind I suppose, while finding mirrors to his mother and myself. He was born mortal, yet when having a child, existence feels timeless in a new manner even to an Endless.
[Apparently.]
hehehe ;)
That's so beautiful. Was his mother mortal or something else?
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His mother is something else. A muse, to be precise. My ex-wife. How we came to have a mortal child I do not know.
[Desire had sired Rose’s mortal mother, but then, Unity had been human herself.]
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It's very interesting that your son was mortal, then again maybe not as there are a lot of old tales that speak of immortal beings having human children.
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Your friend sounds respectful of boundaries.
Yes, that also came as a surprise. Truthfully, we did not know what to expect with his arrival. Not that any parent fully does, but they usually know that much.
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She is, that doesn't mean she isn't insanely curious about you and part of the reason she is able to be respectful of boundaries might be because we are communicating through phone and email. I suspect that if she were to come visit she would all but demand to meet you.
May I ask what his name was?
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I trust you to know what you wish to share and not. Donna is the Amazon, yes?
His name is Orpheus.
[No, the tense isn't a typo. No, he doesn't want to elaborate on it. He adds to bypass the answer swiftly.]
Do you see yourself living in Paris for the foreseeable future?
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Yes, Donna is the Amazon. When I finally tell her more details I'll be interested to see if she's already heard about you from some of their old books. It wouldn't surprise me.
[......Orpheus? As in....she pauses to let that information sink in. She's heard the legend but at the time thought it was just that and now knowing the story and that Dream was his father. Hrm. She will gracefully switch to the topic he presents.]
I think so yes, I first came here to get away from everything that happened in Gotham but now I'm feeling comfortable and quite happy. Why?
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The Amazons do have their own names and histories with the Endless, yes. Though I would not put words into their perception, she may speak on it should it ever arise. I have admired much of their philosophy, though.
No great reason, honestly. I suppose the discussion of family turned my thoughts to feeling rooted. Which can happen in people, places, or both. Paris is a fine choice to reside. When I have visited the city it has been rich.
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You have? How come?
It's beautiful here and I like that it's something familiar but has nothing to do with my life with Hank. Most of the memories I have in this apartment are of my mother, we used to come here for vacations when we were little. Just us girls.
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Why have I admired some of their philosophies? There is a sense of duty and honor I find admirable.
It is quite lovely. The personal attachment I can see only making it better. Perhaps in our next cooking endeavor we shall attempt crepes in its honor.
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Yes, they have a very strict code when it comes to such things. They also have a high respect for Death.
Crepes! What a fantastic idea! I haven't ever tried to make them but I'd be willing to try if you are.
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I know you have a complicated relationship with her.
I am willing to try, I enjoy them. Particularly paired with fruit. I shall find a recipe for us to follow as we see fit.
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I do and knowing that she's your sister I feel guilty of that.
Oh of course paired with fruit, maybe strawberries? :)
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I do have a very different understanding of her, though I have known grief and loss and understand that pain, too. Perhaps one day we might discuss our viewpoints. I do not belittle how you see her, though. She taught me that long ago, by not belittling such pain, either.
... some with strawberry, some with blueberry?
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Thank you. I'm sorry that it's such a complicated issue with me.
That sounds delightful.
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I think for some there is difficulty distinguishing between the causes that lead to death and her function as Death. I am not saying this is your difficulty with her, merely what I have seen in others. When a life is cut short or has a brutal end, that is outside of her control. She merely is present when they pass so they are not alone, and facilitates their transition to the afterlife. She does not cause their end, she does not pick and choose who and when. Still, death causes grief and anger. It is difficult to extricate those emotions from her function as the end result of natural or person-made causes.
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I guess in a way that is comforting to know that my mother and Hank weren't alone after they died, that someone was there to explain things and comfort them. But if she isn't controlling who lives and who dies then what about when someone comes back? Donna died trying to save me but she came back a few months later, does your sister have any involvement with things like that or is that something in itself?
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[Thessaly is even worse than Hob in that respect.]
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When those sorts of things happen does your sister get angry? I'd hate for her to be upset at Rachel, she's just a sixteen year old girl who doesn't understand the limits of her powers yet.
[Can you tell that Dawn is a little bit protective of her?]
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Would she? Is it because I wear black?
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Oh very much so. Because you wear all black, because you're extremely good looking and mysterious.
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Flatterer. [His tone is warm though as he says it.] I should think my appreciation of you would be the highest selling point to her. A show of excellent taste.
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I'm just telling you the truth. [Her tone is just as warm.] And yes, that's also a high selling point. But the dark clothes and mysterious vibe doesn't hurt either when you're talking to a sixteen year old goth girl.
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Is that my vibe, mm? Mysterious. I do suppose not many dreams are blatantly stark.
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[She's giggling at you again, Dream.] You know very well that you can be mysterious.
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I can neither confirm nor deny your theory at this time. [Mystery.]
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Uh-huhn, suuuuure. ;)
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[ooc: shall we end this thread here?]
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Hahaha yeah Thess is awesome but that relationship was kind of on fire. XD ]
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I think it's really sweet how respectful Dawn and Dream have been with one another. <3 ]
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@100more
[In a parlor room, no...]
How often did it happened to you before you claimed it an expertise?
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[He can't imagine what that would look like. Would Dream become even more brooding? Was it possible?]
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For others, it lets them forget their troubles for awhile.
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I guess that's where the library comes in handy.
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Your company can be quite nice distraction, too.
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[Hob is clearly happy, even if he has to endure some teasing, which he doesn't mind at all.]
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Perhaps we all find difficulty in seeing the fascination with ourselves. Or well, many of us do.
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I thought you were interested in my experiences. Human experiences. It almost sounds like you were interested in me, personally.
[Hob only meant to tease him. Dream once corrected him when Hob asked if he was interested in him.]
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Yes, I've an interest in you, personally. Although it is also true that I sought to understand humanity better. Though I don't think all humans would have made the choice to live as long as you have.
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[Enjoy it too much, as he enjoys all things, one might say.]
I guess you and your sister chose poorly that day.
[Picking the one man at the inn, maybe in all of England, who would never regret the passing of years no matter what happened. One day, perhaps, he'll be ready, but he still does not anticipate that day coming for some time.]
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[It's a strange thing, hearing that Death was asking about you.]
Does she.. know about us?
[Beyond the friendship, Hob means.]
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@dawn_is_breaking
It makes me reach for my helmet, internally if not literally. Though I think we all benefit from such a person in our lives, if we're fortunate to have them.
Very old, though it took me awhile to admit to friendship. Nearly too long. [Hob had been quite generous to forgive him, Dream knows that much, after his outburst and then missing the meeting after.] Humans can be quite... forgiving, can't they? [It's said with a humbleness he rarely displays.] I don't wonder why the heart plays such an image to your people.
thank you for moving 💕
May I ask what their name is? And humans can be strange in that we can be both incredibly forgiving but also hold the dumbest grudges.
Welcome, any excuse to mangle Hozier lyrics, LOL (I say with love)
You'd like him. He's a good man. Capable of change, and is that not what the promise of dawn brings?
I have seen the depravity the ages have wrought. Sometimes lived it, even. ... I have also seen, and been reminded, that atrocities are not all that humans bring. A reminder not solely of your people, I assure you. The galaxy is vast and varied.
Haha all the love
I like someone who embraces change, and would you want me to meet him or do you prefer to keep things private?
So does that mean there are other beings that hold dumb grudges as well?
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That is a question, isn't it?
Hob never met my wife. She was before his time. I never met his wife, either. Due to my own folly. ... I have been batting this about in my head, back and forth. What to share, what to commit. Not out of embarrassment, but out of... what is being built? I don't know. I value you, what we have. It is less a matter of private and public and more a matter what of what you want, and what we want.
I hold dumb grudges. We all hold dumb grudges. I won't admit it around family if you won't.
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Oh. Would you prefer to discuss these topics in person when you get back? I don't want it to distract you while you're away for work.
My lips are sealed.
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Perhaps in person would be best, though it isn't without merit to have such topics broached now to be finalized later. You are always very much welcome company, over the phone or otherwise. And if reassurance is needed, I am committed to what we have and where I hope we are going. I simply wasn't certain when was the right time to talk about it, and see where we both stood on the matter. Timing and pacing have not been my strong suits, in the past.
When I get back, then?
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I appreciate the reassurance, especially right before you leave for work, and I agree that talking in person would be best since sometimes tone can be misunderstood through text.
So yes, when you get back.
@jovial
Yes, forming friendships is different than meeting people, I'd say. I'm tired just thinking about if I had to be friends with everyone I've met.
[She's welcome to hang in the Dreaming if she keeps any embarrassing stories about him to a minimum.]
Has Destiny been angling a family dinner your way?
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There's a whole gamut of characters out there. Lots of fun people and not so fun ones.
[ The current soul she's accompanying with watches her wrinkle her nose in distaste before she sends a reply to Dream. ]
Thankfully nothing. It'll come, sometime.
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Mm. I wonder what he wants with me, then. He doesn't reach out often otherwise.
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[ It's probably because of the fact that they're texting and not using their sigils to communicate, that her worry decides to make itself known. But also he said Destiny's been reaching out to him. ]
Did he say anything?
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If he's found another ship in his garden, this time it isn't my fault.
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[ Oh boy. ]
Are you okay with that? I know you and Desire verbally spar more often than anyone of us— a ship?
[ She's not entirely omniscient and the thing is, she was really busy at the time that insane star started to cause an awful lot of trouble.
There were so many coming to her and she took on all sorts of forms, never stopping to be kind. ]
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You never heard about the ship? I suppose Destiny never spoke on it. He does keep his own counsel.
A ship from the Dreaming sailed into his garden once, while I was... detained... elsewhere. He was not anticipating it, and you know how he hates imaginary things within his realm. It annoyed him enough to summon me to fetch it back.
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Huh. Guess we really just gotta wait for that Moment, huh.
[ He what. Destiny doesn't usually do rescues. ]
You were detained and he got you out, because there was a ship from your realm in his garden. When was this?
[ brb sending an angry voice mail to her older brother—j/k. But yeah, she asks, because why didn't Destiny told her about it? Yeah, she had to be on overtime, but also she had to guide an aspect of her little brother some time ago. And that was jarring. ]
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I don't know that I would quite put it as him getting me out. Yes, though. He summoned me. [Not all of him had left that darkness, he'd felt that quite keenly. From a practical standpoint though he'd managed to collect his ship and return to the Dreaming, and that was sufficient for him. That practicality, that adherence to tucking one's shoulder to the wheel and carrying on, that he does share in common with Destiny.] Oh, this was a very long time ago. What I hold dear in memory is knowing our elder brother can be surprised. It's good for him, I think. To keep such things in mind. [Far better to focus on that aspect of the situation than on the one he lost.]
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[ Her fingers on the screen of her phone pause. She's good at a lot of things, she thinks. Passable at some others. Words, though. Words and poetry and songs and stories, that's Dream. When she was less of a frigid bitch and more like her current self, she always enjoyed walking to the Sunless Lands with the people her little brother has touched: all creatives, just like him, storytellers in a thousand different ways and mediums.
Sometimes, she kinda wished she was just as good at words as he is. ]
Saying it was a long time ago doesn't really mean a thing when it comes to us. I know I haven't really asked it yet, since I'm so used to finding you in the mortal realm whenever you're not like, entirely okay, and I just stare you down to get you to talk. But I'm asking it right now, hopefully, with this little mortal invention. What happened back then?
[ There's more to the story. ]
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My mishandling of a past vortex nearly ended all creation as we know it. I was investigating the matter to try and prevent a prevailing madness amongst the stars, when I found myself kicked into a black hole for my attempts. … I visited our parents, and Mother Night ensured I did not escape the black hole, until Destiny intervened. The dream ship that found its way to his garden, and those upon it, helped to ensure reality was not all lost. The dreamers dreamt of something more, something beyond such an ill fate, and they changed the galaxy for the better. [It’s a skewed retelling of the story that feels entirely true from his perspective. He gives himself no credit for saving the universe and 100% of the blame for all the trouble caused in the first place, and he clearly cares only about the damage done to others and not at all that an aspect of himself died in flames or that his parents couldn’t care less what happened to him. Or that, weakened as he had been, had been what let Burgess easily capture him.]
There. You asked.
[He knows it was a monumental screw up, and it's why he wanted to do so much better when Rose came around. Debatable if he did do better, but he had tried. At least he hadn't killed entire worlds this time?]
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This also feels like she needs to be there with her instead of texting back.
In fact, she doesn't reply. Instead she finishes her work for the day, stands in her gallery, and cradles Dream's sigil: a shadow of the helm he made from the bones of old gods who dared to invade his realm. She remembers him asking for help at the time. She didn't come.
(She was a bitch, then. She isn't, now.) ]
Dream, I stand in my gallery, and hold your sigil. Can I come through, to your realm?
[ Normally, she can go in and out without all the bells and whistles and rules and laws. His palace staff both fear and respect her, but those closest to her brother have also shown their joy and gratitude to her (normally for pulling said brother out of his moods). ]
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Very well. You may enter.
[He takes a step back, arms folded and eyebrow already raised inquisitively.]
Is there a problem?
good day i am sorry for Emotions ;u;
Both arms around him. ]
You're an idiot. [ She chokes out. She might cry in a little bit, if she lets go.
She might have been busy then, but she loves her brother. In all his aspects and facets. She loves him even as, just a little bit before he had set an old wrong to rights, she took an aspect of him in another universe that died by the mad star. She told Destiny this, she knows. Maybe, for once, Destiny summoning Dream from the Darkness their mother put him through, was a kindness.
Lots of what-ifs and maybes run in her head. He'll tell her they don't matter now— heck, he might have said something similar before. One time it had been I didn't want to worry you. She always worries, for him, and each of her siblings. But none of them made her worry as much as Dream did... does. Delirium feared her, in her own way, which was fair. And the twins didn't have a lot of things they needed a big sister for. Destruction left. Destiny keeps to himself until he has read that he requires their presence.
So, she was the closest to Dream. ]
You're a silly idiot.
Sorry for the delay, it's been a long week. Emotions are <3.
What do I owe the pleasure of being called that this time? [Or perhaps a better question is...] Seeing me like that must have been difficult for you. [When she'd taken an aspect of him to the Sunless Lands.]
no biggie <3
[ She sounds muffled, her face right at his chest. Sucks to be the oldest sister and shorter than her two younger brothers. ]
You're, [ sniffs ] an idiot. [ +1 sniffs ] I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.
[ She's not quite openly crying but she holds him a little tighter and a little bit longer. It's a little embarrassing but at least they're in his gallery and not... well, at least no one from his staff will see. ]
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[It pains him to see her like this. Not that she's displaying emotion, although she's much better at that than he is. It's rather knowing that he's the cause of it that makes him ache where a heart might have been. If anyone else had made Death cry, would he not be out for their blood, too? He doesn't consider himself an exception. He holds her tighter, more tightly than he would most, for a long moment.
There's a moment's pause, then he offers quietly.]
Would you care to sit? I've been standing quite awhile myself.
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[ +4 sniffs. She lets him go, taking a bright blue handkerchief from her jacket pocket and wiping her face with it. She wheezes out a small, quiet giggle when the handkerchief is mostly stained black. ] I ruined my makeup.
[ She folds the handkerchief and puts it back into a pocket in her jacket. ]
Yeah, sitting... would be nice. I've been on my feet the whole day.
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It's been awhile since I've seen you without any makeup, anyway.
[There is nothing in his gallery save for small pyres of fire and the sigils along the walls. Dream waves his hand and the dream he is working on disappears, and is replaced with a modern sofa long enough for them to sit comfortably upon. There are pillows tucked into the corners. All in black, of course. He gestures for Death to sit and he sits beside her, his posture still.]
I know I made a mistake with that vortex. I perhaps course corrected too much with Rose, though thankfully, that did not end as poorly.
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Nah, you'd probably smudge it on the first try. [ The image of her little brother sitting down with her trying to do her makeup is silly and a touch sad. ]
... Mm, sometimes I go out with makeup on and sometimes I don't. [ she flops on the conjured sofa and reaches down to take off her boots. ] That's what Unity told me. I'm glad it happened rather peacefully.
[ boots off, she brings up her legs to the sofa and hugs them. ]
Still. You aren't catching a break, aren't you, little brother?
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[After a beat, Dream reaches down and slides off his shoes and socks. Barefoot is often how he goes about his castle, anyway. It's habit to look more put together for outsiders, but Death isn't really an outsider, is she? He folds one long leg under him and turns so he can face her better, tucking one pillow onto his lap. Fingers lightly play with the pillow's seam, a perfectly straight line with nary a hole in sight.]
When do we ever take a break, sister? It is always all or nothing.
There's a play called La Morte in Vacanza by Alberto Casella. Death Takes a Holiday. Can you imagine?
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[ She says that with fondness. Because she agrees and she's not biased at all.
At the mention of the play title, the smile on her face grows a little bigger. ]
Funny you mention that, because I kinda do.
[ Once, every century, just like how her brother and Hob Gadling meet. ]
That was how I met Hazel and Sexton.
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[Not that he cares about being called a ditz by a mortal. Except maybe it smarts a little.]
Oh?
[He raises a curious eyebrow at her admittance.]
It sounds as though there are more details to this story to share, then.
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That hurt, didn't it? It's fine. You know it's not bad.
[ She settles more into the couch, no longer hugging her legs. ]
So, I don't know if I ever told you this. I probably haven't. Anyway, every century, I'm human.
[ And she hears how that sounds and she snorts, waves a hand as if waving something away. ] Mortal. Once every century, I'm mortal for a day. I was in New York, went out for a walk, and heard a guy yell from a dump site because a fridge fell on him. That was Sexton.
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[It might be a skewed definition of fine in his mind, but he stubbornly adheres to thinking he always fits it no matter what. He still exists after all, surely that is the same thing.]
I had some awareness of a different aspect of yourself turning up now and then in parts it should not have been, but not the details as to why. [Now it made some sense, if she came to collect herself once a century.]
Is this part of your quest to understand the beings that you come to collect?
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[ The humans even made a show around the very idea. She was charmed by it. ]
Well, yeah. And, remember a long time ago, even before this world, somebody really told me I was a bitch? She dared me to see what it was like, be mortal for a day, and picking myself up after all that.
[ It was revelatory, and well, it helped. And it continues to do so. She reckons she'll do this until it's Closing Time for the universe. She's fair (maybe 99% of the time, and the other 1% was for the brief times she couldn't even comprehend the certain viciousness and cruelty that a great many sentient beings carried within them until she comes to them at the end of their lives) after all. ]
Got into a spot of trouble, though. Mad Hettie pulled Sexton and I through, though.
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Is that why you've turned a blind eye to Mad Hettie? Because she helped you out?
[There's a moment's pause then, before he cautiously asks another question.]
There are those outside Mad Hettie and Hob who have evaded your realm, through your permission and otherwise. What makes you decide which ones to leave be and which ones to gather regardless?
omg i feel like this is so long T_T
[ Not their parents though. She's made her peace with that, that their parents are just too distant and too eldritch and inhuman to even remotely care about anyone else but themselves and each other. So, all seven siblings have each other, in various ways. Destiny is sometimes too much like their Father, exactly his function and purpose, and second to Dream in enacting his responsibilities. But Destiny cares, in his own ways. Destruction cares, and she understands why he left. He cares too much and then he packed his gallery, his sigil, and any of his things. The twins care, in their own little ways (even if Desire can be rather callous and cruel; Despair, awful and depressing). And Delirium cares, but Delirium is herself, and sometimes she's there, sometimes she's not.
Anyway! ]
Oh, no. Mad Hettie... I suppose, she asked. As a favor. [ she shrugs. The old lady in the 18th century telling her that Death ain't some bonny young lass, dressed entirely in black. ] Hob Gadling, you already know about that. Um, who else. You remember Madame Xanadu? Or well, that's what she goes by nowadays. She read her cards. The final one she pulled was really funny. Figured she could go on for a little bit longer, but I said, "You're not going to be as young as you used to look." [ Another shrug. ] She seemed to be fine with that, and you know us, we got all the time.
[ But has she answered his question... ]
You know, I think it's because I'm a little too nice. Maybe.
Long's good! Forgive the short back, I've been super sick
You are very nice. Nicer than I am, at least. [A small beat.] No. Those individuals aren't who I meant, but no matter.
omg noo please take lots of rest and get well soon! ;w;
I can't speak for everyone but I know I would get you help. [ She knows Mad Hettie and dear ol' Henrietta knows people. ] And I could have, if you had called me. [ She reckons Destiny could have made the smallest of changes, like a drop of water hitting the binding circle. Small, insignificant changes to the eyes of many, but big enough for a chance. ]
But, it's happened. [ She sort of deflates onto the pillows behind her. ] A lot of things have happened and everyone's made their choices.
[ She swats a stray lock of hair getting into her eye. ] You're nice, too, though you'll disagree with that. [ She lifts her head from the pillows. ] Who do you mean? Have you ran into Charles Rowland?
TY, hope things are okay on your end. <3
No, I have not run into Charles outside of his dreams. [Ghosts don't sleep per say, but just like the damned in hell the dream in their own way of something better. Ghosts of that nature aren't Dream's concern, outside of servicing those dreams. The only ghost of late that caused problems for him was Hector Hall, given what happened with Lyta in the Dreaming.]
I knew someone. A witch. She's lived for centuries on time borrowed through magic and backdoor deals.
it's been constantly raining for me but i have been well! <3
Oh, that's a... well, I wouldn't call it a relief. But at least Charles and Edwin are still playing detectives.
[ A witch. Borrowed time and backdoor deals. She knows this person. ]
The Thessalian. Yeah, I've heard of her. [ And some of her good humor slips. Death doesn't like how the witch does things. Sure, she's smart and resourceful and while not entirely manipulative (Wanda didn't know her long but she had been decent, and she did help with Barbie's situation), she has done so much throughout her entire life that does not vibe with her.
And because the damned Ladies seem to let do whatever. ] No, she never asked me, at least, not politely. More like demanded and I said no, so she found someone else.
[ In retrospect, Mad Hettie had been much nicer. A wee bit informal, considering her background, but was still nice. ]
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[Dream's reserved expression grimaces a little in discomfort at seeing Death's demeanor change at the mention of Thessaly. Not that he's surprised. Thessaly's methods of extending her life involved dark magic and deals with dangerous beings. Her cold practicality and survival instincts superseded the boundaries that most people would put in place. They definitely were outside the boundaries of nature that Death followed. He understood Death's reaction.
That didn't mean it wasn't a bit awkward. Thessaly was also an ex-girlfriend of his.]
Yes. Well. [There was a beat of silence.] It sounds like you simply avoid her, then?
[That seems the most ideal outcome.]
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[ Not that she has any but the Thessalian is the Thessalian, the last of her kind. Wanda told her of one facet, a modern one. Doesn't mean the Thessalian is off the hook, though. She's murdered her way through immortality and she's ferried those poor, sorry souls.
And they had nothing good to say about the Thessalian. ]
Not quite. I'm there every time she does another animal sacrifice, y'know. Or kills a man then uses her magic to bring said man's shade to what's left of the man's face, nailed to a wall. [ She remembers this because Wanda had a lot of stories but That had been fucking wild, girl. Thessaly just ripped George's face off! ] I'm unavoidable. Sooner or later, she'll have her own happy ever after, or whatever passes for one, for someone like her.
[ Why is he asking this though— Wait. ]
You didn't... make a deal with her or anything, have you?
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[The words are even but firm, they're certain as if he knows. Which, of course, he does know. He's talked to her about it, as much as he and Thessaly ever dived into personal topics. He feels he knows her enough though to know that is true. She might not have been pleased that Death didn't give her immortality, but Thessaly chose sparingly whom she placed under the hate column. She isn't one to let her emotions run away from what serves her best.]
A deal? [That earns the faintest quirk upright on the side of his mouth.] No, sister. I don't make deals of that nature. I've already Hob for that, thanks to you, let's keep in mind.
She and I were... acquaintances, for a time. I suppose I was curious whether you were trying to make that reunion sooner rather than later.
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Dream. Did you date the Thessalian?
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Though we have parted ways since.
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She hits him with the pillow in his hand. ]
Were you mad? Her? She's not even your type though she kind of passes in the looks department...
[ The Thessalian was definitely pretty in a mousy witch kind of way. But she was also the last of their sort of witches. Death doesn't really have a problem with a lot of witches until they start being rude, and her first impression of the Thessalian was exactly that. ]
I can't believe you dated her!
[ half-heartedly smacking Dream's legs with the pillow in her hand. It doesn't hurt and there's really not a lot of force in it, but it's the thought that counts. ]
LOL
It isn't as if she's a demon. She's quite intelligent, you know. Driven. Passionate about knowledge and learning. [There's a part of him that had rather liked sharing what knowledge he could with her. Although, admittedly, he does know that she enjoyed the knowledge gain as much as, if not more, than his actual company. Still. He didn't think her entirely heartless, even if they had drifted apart once the ember of initial romance cooled.]
We didn't marry.
GAKSHSK SORRY DREAM
[ And she gets one final swat at him. She takes another pillow and hugs it, but she's facing him now. ]
I just told you that she and I do not, as what kids these days say, vibe. The people and beings she's killed have told me as much. She was rude the first time she demanded immortality. And maybe I don't like how she was kinda mean to Wanda. Or that she called the moon down and caused an awful storm in New York.
[ Bad magic, she remembers Maisie telling her. Bad stuff, missy. She sighs. Dream, what are you? Stuck in the Regency era? ]
That's not the point. I just hope you had the presence of mind that absolutely no one sleeping when you two were together saw anything they shouldn't have.
[ Remember more than 10,000 years ago and you and Nada did the horizontal tango and made it everyone's business? ]
He can never look her in the eye again, LOL
[His hands drop the pillow he's pulling back to himself to cover his face in mortification at her last words. Thanks ever so much for reminding him of that, dear sister. He was much younger and had less control back then!]
How did you even know about - nevermind. I most assuredly am not having that conversation. [If he somehow gave his sister sex dreams he's going to kill himself now and walk himself to the Sunless Lands. Or oh gods, did someone die having sex dreams and talk to her about it?]
Thess... aly and I are over, anyway. It doesn't matter.
f in the chat for dream
What is her brother's taste in women. Well, technically, he's had some decent ones. Killala, she didn't really care for much, but she had been a different person. Nada was lovely, and her brother a giant idiot for sending her to Hell. But at least he's doing right by her. Now Calliope. They had been cute together. She liked the muse a lot, and their work was not the same but at least similar. (And they got married. He chose her! And they had Orpheus, and well, the boy was loved. She loved his nephew.) Titania, if she recalls the rumor mill in the Dreaming, was typical faerie: flighty and mercurial, even more so that she was a monarch herself. ]
I know she helped people. [ For that nastiness with the Cuckoo and George, she had been kind to Wanda. ]
How do you think anybody knew the first time. [ she tells him, flatly. ] You were loud. So I'm asking if you remembered not to project your dalliances to the whole sleeping masses. [ Or else she's going to source of the Dreaming's rumor mill, his staff. And they'll tell her everything (probably). ]
...Was it you or was it her?
ETA: Sorry, talking about his sex life makes him grumpy, LOL
I have had several relationships since Nada, and I thank you to realize that has never been an issue with any of them. There is no reason to bring it up now as a risk. [None of them have ever had that happen since 10,000 years ago. None of them have ever been Nada. No love will ever be what hers was. He's accepted that, and that just because he cannot recapture what had once been, he has tried to find happiness in other ways. It just... doesn't work out.]
Was what me or her? The breakup? I fail to see why that matters.
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[ She'll never get the Thessaly side of the breakup but she could probably get her brother's. ] It matters. I think I returned a few books one time and Lucienne told me the cleaning staff had just finished ensuring the courtyards were dry.
[ Considering you flooded one dreamscape when you met your ex-wife again... yeah. It matters. ]
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There was nothing left, by the time she left. Embers remained of what fire had once been. That is true on both sides. No relationship is ever the same, sister. I know you withhold yourself from romance, but it is the truth. The start, the middle, the end... they are never interchangeable. They are also not regrettable on my end, for all the regrets I hold from them.
Have you truly never experienced it yourself? A romance.
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They see her brother. ]
No. I mean, aside from the Rules, there wasn't really an idea of it in me. [ She reckons it has everything to do with her entire self. Death has been impartial and it is true. She does not care for romantic entaglements for herself. She doesn't feel the same all-consuming want and need and love that Dream constantly seeks out. ]
Hazel did tell me she loved me. I told her I knew and she said I love everyone, which is true. Or, well, 99% of the time. [ Obvious with her... it's not disregard for the Thessalian, but it's something. Not like some people she could name, and she did like them once. And well.
Some of them spat in her face, metaphorically and literally. ]
It's not a big deal to me, though. So don't worry about it too much.
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You deserve love, sister. I’m glad that some like Hazel give it to you.
Perhaps it is less worry and more… wonder. [Neither of his elder siblings seem to have much use for romance personally. He supposes he can somewhat understand why in their cases, but it begs the question why himself and his younger siblings felt such compulsions. Were they simply more disciplined to avoid romantic entanglements? Or had they truly never felt that spark, that want for connection, as he had with his past great loves?
It isn’t a talk he’s comfortable having with anyone, let alone a family member, but the curiosity exists, nonetheless.]
It’s true that one needn’t have romance to be fulfilled. I’ve seen that much. I wonder why any of the Endless are drawn to it at all, I suppose. [Although really, only he’s ever been married and had long term live together romances, near as he can tell.]
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[ she moves closer until she's within hugging distance, and leans her head on his bony shoulder. ]
And Hazel, yeah. I got you lot, I think I'm happy with that.
[ Aside from Dream, she knows the only one who would actually go out and date would be... well, Desire's obvious. But Desire doesn't date, in the way mortals think. The other one is Destruction, but that's more of a question of "has he, or has he not?". She remembers him being just as much as his function and purpose.
(And then he left.) ]
You know, I think it's because we're constants in mortal lives. Well, not just mortal, but y'know. Plenty of folx out there, living and dreaming, and we're just there, unseen. That's just a thought though, nothing as confirming as fact.
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[Abandoning one's realm is unfathomable to Dream, and while he still loves his brother, he just can't bring himself to forgive that gross misconduct until he returns and takes measures to set things right.]
Yes, though. You have the rest of us. Only the stars know whether that is for the best, in some cases.
[Family is complicated.]
Mm. Perhaps. I wonder sometimes why none but I have felt certain ways, but I'm sure that we all have areas we believe make us stand out from the rest.
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[ And it had taken a young person to remind her that she had to go back, that nothing was dying and remained ridiculously stagnant. The Death card in the Major Arcana never really means literal death.
It was all about change. ]
I may or may not have a theory about that, but y'know. Theory. Not to mention, you'll probably disagree with me. But yeah, I definitely agree on that.
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[He gives her a look that says he doesn't get it, and that he refuses to do so. The judgement only softens slightly when he hears that she once abandoned her realm as well, though the resentment is replaced with confusion. Oh, he gets being tired and unfulfilled, in wanting something new or other. Yet he cannot imagine actually acting on that feeling. He's always been too grounded in duty and obligation to let himself walk away. Perhaps that's part of why he resents what the Prodigal did, because he somehow could cut those ties without hanging himself in them instead.]
It's good you came back. The galaxy without Death would be even worse off than when it was without me. I told them as much.
Perhaps the Prodigal will return eventually.
[No, he definitely is not certain about that.]
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It definitely was bad, when I left. [ Nothing changed. And it affected every single thing, from ideas to living, sentient beings, to those on the bridge of death—constantly rotting and decaying but never finding the end. She grabs a random pillow and hugs it like she first did, but tighter. ] I think it's because I'm me. The Prodigal... well. He did care a lot, but I think, he cared too much, then left.
[ Destiny's obviously seen it coming, the departure. Death... well, she didn't, but she understood. In a way, for Destruction, it stopped being about responsibility and more about conscience. ]
You care a lot, too. But it's different for you. [ She told him once that the living... well, every single sentient and breathing being in the universe, rather... were never theirs to manipulate and control. It's still true.
She gives him a small smile at the hope of Destruction returning. ] Maybe. Hope springs eternal, after all.
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[He doubted he would change his position on that matter though, so it seemed a moot point. He knew what it was like to care and what it was like to hurt, and he still didn't think any pain was worth abdicating his responsibilities to the wind rather than at least a suitable replacement. He tried not to think on the Prodigal too much though, because he doubted that the Prodigal was thinking much on what he left behind.
He gave a bit of a sideways look when Death declared it different for him.]
Is that so? And why am I so very unique once more?
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[ All she has is speculations and theories and thoughts. None are confirmed, none are factual, or rooted in facts. She feels like a conversation about responsibility might be too early.
Whatever, Destiny can tell her off later. ]
It's a little bit muddled, when it comes to us.
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[He will never simply abandon his realm, no matter the personal cost.]
I doubt we shall agree on this point though, and it matters little with respect to the Prodigal who made his choice.
Tangentially speaking on the matter, I do have work I must attend.
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Yeah, you busybody. [ She's one as well, of course, but she's got a... she supposes it's a healthier way of handling everything, but it works in her favor. She sits back up straight and stretches her arms. ] I got some callers on the line myself.
[ She can just blink and put on her boots again like they've been there the entire time but she leans down, puts them on one by one, and ties the strings as comfortably as she can. When she's done, she stands up and stares down at him still seated. ]
Don't be a stranger, little brother. Call me whenever, okay?
[ incoming kiss on the cheek and hair ruffle from big sis. ]
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I enjoy you being happy, and being the cause of it.
It would be wise for you to at least know Lucienne, in case of emergencies. Matthew is often with me, so if I am unavailable, she is the easiest to then reach.
thank you for moving <3
I'd love to formally meet Lucienne, I've heard so much about her I feel like I know her already.
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I imagine you two shall get on well, she's quite the optimist herself.
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What about Mervyn?
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I'd love it if you could also meet Donna, she's my closest friend.
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The Amazon, yes. I would like to meet her as well. Though perhaps we don't invite everyone together all at once.
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No, I'm thinking perhaps we might make use of your shower.
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Oh are you? Mmmm, please tell me more.
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We've made enough use of your bed, I thought we might choose a different backdrop. See whether we might compete against the water's heat.
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Oooh I like that idea, my building has some pretty reliable hot water so there's a good chance it would keep up with us.
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Shower or bath now is the only question.
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Oooh that's a hard decision. I usually prefer a bath but that's just when it's me and you are very tall.....
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Provided I enjoy their company.
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What about you?
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I never really give much thought to end of year ruminations, unless I'm around those who celebrate such things. My role doesn't much change, outside of a particular people's dreams revolving around whatever cultural importance is happening going on the uptick.
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So you don't bother with giving gifts for the staff of the Dreaming?
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I do not. Most who staff the castle were never humans who embraced that tradition. Though if Matthew wishes to celebrate a holiday that is known to him, I will allow it.
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What of you, any wishes for your upcoming holiday?
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Oh I'm pretty easy when it comes to gifts, I prefer to do things rather than get actual items. So basically I'm just wishing to spend lots of time cuddled up in your arms.
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There are some lovely gardens we could explore together, if that would suffice? Or should I keep the present of what we do together a surprise?
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It would more than suffice, you know I love looking at gardens.
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@dawn_is_breaking
Words can hurt, but they can also be hurt, my hope.
I shall only find something else to worry over, you know. Best we leave it on finding a new lamp.
thank you for moving :)
All right, you can worry about getting me a new lamp. I'm curious what you will pick out for me.
<3
Gift-giving is a longstanding tradition for a reason, and I accept the challenge with pleasure. Or… replacement-providing, though that sounds less noble.
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I consider it gift giving, do you want any hints as to what kind of lamp I want or can I just let you go wild?
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I have never gone wild a day in my life, I should like to be able to tell others I now have when they complain otherwise.
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[excuse her while she giggles at the idea of Dream 'going wild' in the lamp section at a furniture store.]
I think last night could be considered 'going wild'. ;)
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You have a point there, though that sort of lacking restraint I’d likely not comment on to any but you. Though your neighbors and those in the Dreaming might.
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Thankfully my building has very thick walls so I don't think my neighbors hear much, as for those in the Dreaming...well....if my cries of passion were heard by them then I'd almost be impressed with us.
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I would step in to assist so you did not fight alone. I know how capable you are, but I will always help if I can. … for a long time I took assistance as an insult. It’s a difficult perspective to shed. Until I had it shoved my face that I can’t abide to let those I love suffer. And that I am, apparently, an idiot for attempting to do it myself.
Lucienne’s words, in not so many words. A roundabout way of saying, whatever you face, you don’t have to do so alone.
I made the walls very think for us, so I suspect any whispers are just rumors.
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Thank you, I will always appreciate your help and will always be willing to do the same for you, my love. You're not alone and I love you.
Matthew made a comment about how whenever I visit you the morning after in the Dreaming is especially sunny....
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I know, and I am grateful for it. Even if I ever get grumpy in the moment over it.
… he is more astute than often gets credit for being. It’s true that the Dreaming does reflect my mood. I don’t directly cause it intentionally, but it… senses my disposition. I suppose you do make me feel… warmer, than I might otherwise.
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It's okay, you're kind of cute when you get grumpy. ;)
Warmer and more sunshiney?
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That sounds like a fair reason to stick with my disposition.
You do make my world brighter.
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Works for me, I'm just going to start kissing the grump away.
You're making me blush, Dream.
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[Sweetest little nightmare book vampires that ever existed in his eyes.]
I see no flaw in your dastardly plan, save if I became too cheerful I think others might worry.
I consider that encouragement.
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Somehow I doubt that will ever happen. ;)
It is.
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Your faith in me is admirable, I hope I never give you reason to have misplaced it.
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I'm sure you won't.
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What's the cutest dream or nightmare you've ever made?
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The flying fish come a close second, but there’s simply something novel about the former.
[No he won’t acknowledge nor apologize for what he just did there.]
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Nice Dad joke by the way. XD
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If you found a joke then you went hunting, and I know better than to disturb such efforts. [Admits nothing, nope.]
If you could create a dream or nightmare, what would you be inspired to make?
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Hrm that's a good question, I think if I could create a dream I would want it to be something gentle and soothing. Something that brings comfort to people when they encounter it.
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I’m envisioning a warm cloud full of sunlight’s warmth that dispels jazz music instead of raindrops. Which is, entirely, my own preferences.
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And maaaaaaaaaaaaybe sad goth music like The Cure.
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Death told me the same thing once.
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[Not at all a dramatic statement.]
I wore black before Goth was invented, you know.
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You're so adorable.
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I find you an anchor upon which memory revolves, whether you are painstakingly put together or a random slapdash effort to get into bed quickest.
One you wear to present to the world, the other to find comfort in between the sheets and solace.
I notice both. Without judging any well worn concert shirts. [If there aren't any he's just shit talking in many words.]
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Quite the opposite.
I love being all wrapped up inside your dark cloak.
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I am glad to wrap you in my cloak, and I am glad find someone as strong willed as steadfast. I value that you are also not quick this go around with your heart, that you are keen to listen and stern on being heard.
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Oh yes. I very much would.
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I can't stop thinking about it since we started talking about your cloak.
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[This is new in his relationships. Not him sharing control, he's learned to do that more with Thessaly, but there it never came as easily and honestly as it does with Dawn. If he is to wrap her in dreams, he wants it on terms that will be pleasant for her, not a nightmare, and he won't just presume where that would be.]
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I shall meet you after your patrols.
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I'm excited.
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Stupid little moments can definitely cause issues is what I’m getting at though so even sleeping funny is valid and ugh. Regardless of what caused it, I’m glad you’re feeling better and hope there aren’t any future flare ups. ]
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Yes, Lucky would perceive me as a dog, and yes, I can chat with him as well. It’s likely best not to think too greatly on it.
No, it probably wouldn’t be the best for them. If you have need of care items I could provide some for the little night prowler.
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You just told me you're capable of talking to my dog and you expect me not to have A MILLION QUESTIONS?
Also, if he sees you as a dog, what breed are you? Are you a mutt? I can kinda see you as a pretty serious Pomeranian.
You have kitty goodies in your castle?
Honestly, Morph, sometimes you're super nice.
No problem!
[Black fur though of course. He’s got an image to maintain.]
I can procure them easily enough. Cats are often more tolerable than people, it’s only fair they get treated well for it.
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And you know what? A wolf is OBVIOULSY so in brand with you! That makes so much sense!
Two questions: 1) have you ever been petted?
2) How did you know that about Pomeranians?
[And Kate now knows what she wants to ask him to do for her birthday.]
Should have known you were a cat person.
You know, since you're kind of becoming this cat's uncle now and getting him his first toys, could you ask him if he already has a name? I mean, I feel like it would be even more traumatic for him moving in and getting a new name all in one go.
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A more relevant answer is, I wouldn’t recommend petting me.
I know the history of my dreamers, how subconscious minds have shifted due to real life shapes throughout time.
I can inquire when I arrive what his name is, and if he wishes to go by it. You might want to reconsider giving me a family moniker, though. [Family tends to be something he doesn’t gel often with.] You’re planning on keeping him, then? Perhaps you have an animal sanctuary in your future.
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In human or wolf form?
So, you follow people in their awake time to? I mean, I guess that's what happened with us? For a moment I imagined you like a proud dad following people a little creepily, you know? In the distance. You already have the dark, shadowy costume. Totally need to wear some shades.
Do you have a birthday? That would make a nice gift.
Oh, you don't wanna be an uncle? Guess that not a proud dad of woken up people either then.
And
And I don't know, I'm putting up some posters but I'm sort of considering it as a possibility.
He's pretty sweet too, even cuddlier than Lucky.
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... all forms seem the most comprehensive answer as you’d only do it should I show up in sloth form, otherwise.
Was I lurking? [Perhaps he was, he’s a little awkward at getting to know people in the waking world. It’s a newer strategy on his end.] I was… I thought knowing people during their waking states would be informative. In a way I had previously overlooked.
I don’t know a birthday. I existed before recorded history. … though I did not always exist. I came into being when the first creature in the universe dreamed.
So no party hats.
For what it is worth, I think any creature that needs a new start would benefit from your care.
@acapriciousthing
I should give film more of a chance. I was indisposed when it truly came into its own art form.
Though it being happy is less of a deal breaker on my end. A good story is paramount.
Though from your perspective, I can appreciate why you’d favor one genre over another.
@hawk_shot
Right now I'm reminding myself that I must serve all my dreamers in equal measure.
It's overselling to say I had a feeling they might. Rather it was more a guess they could based upon Lucky's demeanor. I'm glad to hear of it, though. Even if you might need to upgrade your pantry lock with them together.
... yes, quite. Humans are unique unto themselves, and I won't pretend that aspect is discountedOh .
Oh yes, I can. It doesn't offer sustenance in the same way, but I enjoy it and even base some dream meals that do fuel me upon it. I'm very partial to a well-made omelet and wine.
@jovial
[It’s true that Dream feels distinctly less at ease in his siblings’ realms, although not all discomfort is created equal. The one that itches his proverbial skin the most is his eldest brother’s realm, Destiny’s, perhaps because the polar opposites of their natures. The rigid inevitability of Destiny’s garden constricts Dream’s fluid nature of endless possibility.
Oddly, the ultimate finality - death - does not feel as restraining. Perhaps because it is only an end in one sense, but mostly, it’s because Death is the sibling with which Dream feels the most attachment. He values her judgment, even if he gets cranky over needing it at times.]
’It’s cool, never kick a good pun in the teeth is what I always say.’ [Matthew’s cheerful demeanor fills the dreary space with cheer to match Death’s.]
I’m sorry to take you away from your duties in the waking world, then. .[Dream figures she was there for work, if she was in the realm closest to him, unless she meant the Soft Places in-between - which would open up new questions.] It is good to see you, though. [He finally turns to face her at that.] See? I can be hospitable, too.
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[ A good enough reason for her to skip work, lbr. And besides, she 's very good at waiting for the right time to accompany the dead on their journeys. ]
You say hospitable, I say— [ she looks up at the ceiling. ] Maybe pull back the goth atmosphere a little bit. And that's coming from me.
[ Does it get a snort out of Matthew? It definitely does. But! ] What's up? And I know you asked me not to ask questions, but your text sounded serious.
[ Especially when he told her that not he didn't think it was safe with Lucienne and his library—an extension of his castle, ergo an extension of his realm and basically him at the same time. ]
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[Though it has always been reason enough for Death to be there for her little brother.
He gives Matthew a little look at the snort, but there’s no bite behind the silent bark. Raising a hand, he gives a little ‘come here’ gesture with his fingers. Matthew knows what it means and flaps over to land on Dream’s shoulder so Dream can pick up the book he’d been sitting on on the throne.]
There has been a dispute over ownership of the book, or more precisely, what ownership of it means to two different groups. There has already been an attempt to abscond with it. Until I can sort the matter, I’d rather it not be kept on the premises.
[And he didn't think anyone, even these groups, would risk crossing Death for it.]
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And that's why she thinks it might help all of them to have a therapy session—Well, they can disagree on that but she knows her siblings can come through, given enough time
reason, motivation, and a scolding or two. But she's here. She looks at the book in his hands. It looks ancient. ]Yeah, I can take care of it. Hopefully no one tries to crash my place. Some demons tried when the Lightbringer gave up Hell.
[ Has she told you this story yet? It also ended up into becoming a fun bonding experience with her Despair and Delirium. ]
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Especially when he hears that someone has tried to infiltrate his sister’s realm. Protectiveness flairs, and the stars in his eyes glow ominously against their pitch black backdrop. His voice is low, measured, and certainly not above malice. ]
Which demons.
[He needs names so he can destroy them.]
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Dream, no. [ In fact, she'll take the book he asked her to keep from him. ] They trashed the house party Del set up with the damned but it's over and done with.
[ Though she had to do all the cleaning. At least her goldfish and hat collection were fine.
Ish. Her goldfish might need therapy. ]
Don't do anything stupid. Or reckless.
[ she gives Matthew a serious look. ] Call me.
@duckshaveears
You are known to some of them by the mere fact of your existence, but you're for the better to avoid sparking an introduction you'd recall from them.
@aspolyhymnia
He doesn't feel bad about where they leave things, but he knows that with regards to patching up the fractures over Orpheus will be a long time coming. Perhaps never fully, really. It's also likely best he avoid turning up to any family gatherings as Polyhymnia's date for at least a little while, to give Calliope time to absorb the news. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass her. He doesn't imagine Polyhymnia wants that, either.
He's flopped on his throne afterwards, eyes closed as he calls Polyhymnia. His voice is rough and worn, but still with that slow, melodious nature it always has.]
I spoke with her. She was... surprised, but not malicious. I didn't imagine she would be.
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[Her eldest sister is a reasonable person and Stella is confident Calliope knows that this isn't some intentional act for either Stella or Morpheus.]
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I thought you should know, though. That she and I spoke.
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Shall I seek you out tonight?
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[It's his manifested safety blanket. Or rather... it's his second choice for that.]
Actually... I think I shall depart for Fiddler's Green, if you'd like to meet me there.
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[She just has to go fall asleep real quick.]
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One tree limb bends to Stella, offering itself to shake in greeting. The leaves quiver and the remaining flowers release sweet scents, insects buzzing and fish in the water rippling their greeting. It seems Fiddler's Green and its inhabitants love when she visits.]
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She does love the greeting that she receives, shaking the offered branch and waving at the fish. It is lovely to always feel so welcomed by the Dreaming.]
It's moody weather, are you doing alright?
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Seeing her, it always reminds me of... him.
[Orpheus. Dream can't even bring himself to say his son's name. Stella is one of the few who even knows about him still around. He gives a little shake of his head.]
It's no matter. I'm merely tired. It was a talk we needed to have, about you and I, and I'm glad that it is done. We can move forward now without feeling that weight.
[He reaches out to brush back her hair from her face.]
You're getting wet.
[As though that isn't his fault.]
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I'm glad it seems to have gone as well as it could.
[She gives a little shrug about getting wet.]
I can't catch a cold here, so it doesn't bother me.
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[Given his history, falling for his ex wife's sister is about on track for Morpheus. No doubt Desire would have a field day with it should they become aware.]
This is true. The Dreaming would not bring you such an ailment. And I rather like the feeling of rain.
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[She steps close to drape her arms around his neck. The rain feels cool and it is rather pleasant.]
It reminds me of standing outside during summer thunderstorms when I was little.
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I can see you doing that. What did you enjoy about them, back then?
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The cool of the rain on my skin after a hot day. It was always refreshing.
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[He makes a small gesture towards his bare feet.]
I am making up for lost time, although granted doing so in my realm.
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It would be very strange to see you frolicking in a city park.
[a hand moves to his face, to caress his cheek and brush away droplets of rain as they drip from his hair.]
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[Big sisters, amirite? Though Dream does love her dearly. His hair is indeed wet and dripping, though oddly, it does not lose its wild shape no matter how sodden.]
I find Fiddler's Green to be quite peaceful, though. Even if it grows weary of me sometimes.
[Tree branches shake vehemently as if to say, 'NO. Us? What? Never' in a way that's a little too emphatic to not actually be true. Dream gives a knowingly wry look around, he knows he can be a lot for even his subjects sometimes.]
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[Which sounds absolutely adorable. Stella could imagine Morpheus sat on a bench looking sullen instead.]
I never grow tired of watching the Dreaming react to you. Even when it seems a little overly enthusiastic.
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[He gives a fond look around the space that is both an extension of him as well as home to so many outside of just him. It's an intricate organism of sorts all its own, yet one that vibrates to the very center of his being.]
It is my purpose, and sanctuary. I shall never let it fall into disarray again.
[The rain is slowly dissipating, leaving a brilliant black sky in its wake. Midnight creatures flock and fly above every so often against a moon that shifts in phases.]
Would you care to walk, or shall we sit?
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[The Dreaming is endlessly fascinating in a way nothing else she's ever seen is.
His mood must be lifting if the rain is subsiding.]
Let's go for a little walk.
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[He offers her his arm so they can stroll, heading vaguely in the direction back to his castle.]
I have allowed Matthew to decorate the entrance area of the castle for Halloween. He and some of the other castle staff have taken to it with... let us call it gusto.
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[She doesn't think they really do. She slips her hand into his arm.]
You're decorating? I love everything about Halloween in the Dreaming as a whole concept.
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Matthew is largely spearheading the decorating, but I have crafted what he's asked for in order to complete it. I think his death is still new enough that he misses his human traditions. It is a little thing to give him his holidays.
... though I found spiders and cobwebs on my throne. I did have a talk to him about that.
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That is very kind of you, Matthew still holds a lot of humanity in him.
Your throne has a very halloween vibe to it. I honestly can't blame Matthew on that.
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That he does. I would say he is by far the most human of all the ravens I've had.
It is more comfortable to sit in than the appearance may seem.
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[Since Matthew has also taken to visiting Stella from time to time.]
I don't believe that. It does not look comfortable at all.
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[Despite the grumbling, Dream does care for Matthew very much.]
Would you think any throne looked comfortable?
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Matthew does have quite a lot to say.
[She does know how much Dream cares for his ravens.]
Yes. If it was plush and cozy.
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You don't think the stone is more regal? I always did like the designs on it.
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It's intimidating, but doesn't look comfy.
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I suppose I have never truly prioritized comfort, save for when guests are staying over and require quarters.
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I've never asked, do you have actual quarters? Or do you just have anything you want when you want it?
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[Black, white, and grayscale. He's got A Theme and he embraces it.]
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[She isn't saying no, she's just giving him a sly little smile]
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[The Dream King offers back a slight but present smirk of his own.]
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[Still she smirks right back with a little nod.]
I'd like to see.
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[The breakup with Thessaly hadn't been his worst by far, but it also hadn't been fun and Dream had been in his Focus on Myself having some straightening out to do phase, but romance never did work that way. It tended to sneak up on him even when he wasn't looking for it. And he can't say he's sorry now that happened.
He's also not going to think on how many women from Ancient Greece he apparently will end up dating.]
Perhaps we could have some refreshments there, then. Though we'll first have to get past Matthew's decorations.
[Having reached the castle entrance the squirrel scurries off him and chitters its goodbye. The gate guardians dip their heads in bows. Dream lays a hand on their heads before entering a truly garish depiction of a spooky Halloween theme. Fake cobwebs, spiders, skeletons, dream ghosts, eerie music, candles that flair blood colors, skulls full with wine... no expense has been spared in the main hall.]
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[She teases. She is eternally greatful that things have worked out so that they can try.]
Oh wow. Matthew really did go all out.
[She can't help but to wander off to take in all the decorations. They are everywhere and very ornate.]
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[He smiles a little seeing her intrigue. Going to the grand staircase, he sits on the bottom steps to just enjoy watching her survey the room.]
That he did. Matthew seems to have been the sort to live life to the fullest.
[OOC: Feel free to add in whatever decorations and such you want her to find if any!]
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[She finds an especially ominous looking spider that is fluffy and has massive fangs. She even makes a skeleton wave at him. Stella quite likes Halloween and all of the decorations really fit with the overall look of the castle.]
You aren't even using that very comfortable throne!
[She points at him sitting there using the skeleton arm.]
I stand by my assumptions that it's more show than comfort.
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He gives her a dry look at the skeleton waving, badly trying to hide his amusement.]
It's a long way up the steps, is all. They are called a grand staircase for a reason.
Though I find comfort in a certain level of show.
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[She can tell he is trying to not look too entertained by her silliness. She has a certain joyful jaunt in the way she makes her way over to his spot on the stairs, offering both hands to help him up.]
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[He reaches up as though to let her help him up, but instead tries to pull her down onto his lap on the stairs.]
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[She does end up in his lap, laughing the whole while. It is not the most graceful move she's ever done.]
Too tired to move even.
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[It takes a concerted effort or emotionally trying situation but he can become exhausted and weakened, he can even pass out, but when he rests he doesn't enter slumber and the Dreaming, given he's literally the embodiment of it already.
As he shares the little tidbit about himself he wraps his arms around her to hold her near him, gently kissing at her neck.]
Would you rather be sitting on the throne you've complained about?
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[She had never considered as much but it makes sense. But then he's kissing her neck and she isn't thinking about sleeping at all.]
You're practically a throne in this realm anyway. Sitting on you is just as good.
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[He doesn't mind being a distraction for her.]
I have been informed that I normally appear quite tall.
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[She sighs at his ministrations.]
Where is this bedroom you mentioned?
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He sets her down on his bed, featherlight cushions that smell of sand and time, settling himself next to her.]
Better than the throne room?
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The room is beautiful, it's far more comfortable than one might imagine given the general look of the castle.]
It's beautiful. You do seem to have a personal vendetta against color though.
[But she flops back to lay on the bed, watching the shifting galaxies above her. It is magical.]
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The fall leaves at Fiddler's Green are pleasant.
[Then again, Fiddler's Green is a favorite of his, and he does play favorites.
He props himself up on his elbow to watch her watch the moving draperies.]
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[She reaches a hand to touch his arm while she watches the galaxies.]
Do you change your room often?
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No, I don't. Not nearly as often as the rest of the castle changes. I don't spend much time here, admittedly. It is not as lived in as your bedroom is. Which I enjoy as well.
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[She has started going to bed a bit earlier so she can spend more time with him in his realm. Her attention turns to him and she tugs him close to kiss him. Since the first kiss they shared, she has no hesitation in stealing little kisses.]
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[Constantine somehow won it in a card game, the little menace. Dream is distracted from that though by the kisses. He tips her chin up so that he can meet her lips, hand then moving to brush through her hair and just enjoying the taste of her.]
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There is no rush, time passes different in the Dreaming so she can linger in these languid kisses.]
@aspolyhymnia
I don't, no. I tend to be rather singular in my attentions, until such time that a relationship comes to an end. What of you, have you gotten the wandering eye?
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I could have stopped at casual, couldn't I?
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In either case, you can at least rest assured I shall never cheat while we're together.
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@sisterimperator
I suppose that is part of my nature, to seek layers as much as it is to unveil them. My purpose and goal are constantly being achieved and also never ending.
I have enjoyed many earth poets who seek to capture life's experiences. It is perhaps easy for me though to wax on about a journey when my goal is ever-ongoing. Which is to say, I value your perspective on it, from a human angle. I think it is easy though for many to forget or not trust a path that's easy or enjoyable, because it has been the opposite too often.
thanks so much for moving the thread c:
Some people deliberately seek hardship. Problems give their life meaning.
[ Perhaps he could feel her rolling her eyes through the phone. ]
No problem, you're welcome!
This is true. Rather than focus on creation, they seek to prevent other destructions. I agree that it needn't be the sole way to build character or satisfaction.
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Sadly, I think that is a part of human nature too. We can be destroy as quickly as we can create something worthwhile.
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Indeed. Even with intentions placed elsewhere, that sometimes can be the case.
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Though if I must give an answer... my dreamers. My staff. My friends. ... my family. All can make me feel refreshed for the duties to which I am devoted. How do you find respite, outside of sleep?
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If anyone would grow tired of anything, she suspected it would be an immortal. Even one of the Endless. They dealt with the same bullshit day in and day out. ]
Do you not find yourself tired sometimes?
Brief moments to myself. I'm always thinking of the Clergy and of my son. If for but a brief moment I can just breathe, I am grateful for it.
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Though you are correct in making the most of small moments. To find worth in the while. It is not an endeavor I always embrace, though humanity does well enough in reminding me.
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Or else my sister tosses pigeon feed at me.
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Then you must simply suffer the indignity of your sister pelting you with bird feed.
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Life however began and ended long before that first happened. And my sister was there for them. As she will be until the last living thing ceases to exist.
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And then we dream.
I look forward to meeting her.
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I would not figure you to be one who feared death, though.
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I indeed do not fear death. Why would I, when I know where I will go next?
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I do admire your conviction, Sister.
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Someone told me that I was "psychopathically" devoted to my job. I consider that a compliment.
@aspolyhymnia
Oh, there have been many jokes at my expense for that. 'Keeping it in the family' has also been heard, though only Constantine dared make that one.
A moment.
[With a swirl of sand he appears in her living room, in the requested black toga and feet bare. He holds his arms to the side, looking at her with an expression that asks 'well?']
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It does suit you. But makes me think of when I last saw you in a toga.
[Though she is crossing the room to reach and touch his arms, a little grin playing at her lips.]
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[He lets her run her fingers up his arms before he folds them around her and leans down for a kiss in greeting.]
Hopefully the memory doesn't mar the present too much.
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[She chuckles and leans into the kiss.]
It doesn't. You're here to see me, and we've both grown.
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[The wry look on his face says he knows he's joking with that one. If anything, Dream is known for being stiff and uptight, bound by his duties and traditions to where he doesn't bend easily. He's trying to be more flexible these days though and make up for his past actions. His efforts seem to be paying off, not only in his friendships but in a newfound relationship with Stella.]
We have. Who know it would only take a thousand years or so. Are you ready to depart for the Dreaming or shall we stay here longer?
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Let's go. I'm quite eager to see what Matthew had orchestrated for the throne room.
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Then, on the throne seat itself, is a wrapped garland of chili pepper lights and a Santa hat dangling off one corner.
None of the decorations match each other. Dream looks ruefully around the space.]
He said it was a 'vibe.'
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It is a vibe. The throne looks friendly.
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[He's left it alone.]
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[She sits on the throne and puts on the Santa hat.]
Can I be Lord of the Dreaming for a little bit?
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Would you wish to be in charge of the Dreaming?
Would that leave me to inspire artists instead?
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[She holds out a hand to him.]
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[Coming to stand beside her on the throne, he accepts her hand and laces their fingers together.]
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[She brings their joined hands up to kiss his knuckles.]
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[He gives a teasing look at that as his thumb rubs against her knuckles in a soothing fahsion. He's familiar with GRR Martin's books.]
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[It is always amusing to see what bits of culture he decides to reference.]
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[Dream, Lord L'Zoril, Lord Morpheus, Prince of Stories, Lord of the Dreaming, King of Dreams, Oneiros, Kai'ckul, Murphy, Lord Shaper, King of All Night's Dreaming, Onehiroi, the 8th Circle... the list goes on.]
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@aspolyhymnia
The women might suspect that a part of Dream is also curious to embody that which he hasn't in all his millennia. That even he can be curious, and want to stretch boundaries, and know what another life might be like.
Matthew is with them, and they perform the ritual at Stella's apartment. He still has his pouch of sand, he can still ensure his dreamers' safety and connect to the Dreaming. Death is but a call away to end the experience short if she has to. These failsafe measures make him feel better. Sitting on Stella's sofa, his posture perfect and hands folded on his knees, he holds a breath he doesn't even need to take as Death does it.
Then, suddenly...
He very much does have to breathe.
Morpheus lets out the air from his lungs in a surprised gasp, leaning forward. His clothes feel like they're on him rather than a manifested part of him. The air around him is pleasantly warm, rather than a state which would need much greater extremities for him to really notice. His eyes widen in surprise as he looks at Stella, fingers of skin reaching up to touch his own face.]
Did it work? [Matthew looks questioningly between Stella and Death.] Should we peck him to check? That's what people do when someone's in shock, right? Pinch them? ... maybe you should do it, Stel.
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Still she is a little nervous, but once he gasps she knows he's human. He needs to breathe.
Instead of a pinch, she reaches out to graze her fingertips along his jawline.]
Hello, Morpheus. How do you feel?
[He feels warm under her fingers, very human.]
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Nothing hurts, does it?
No, nothing hurts.
What about tingles?
No.
Itches?
Matthew... [Morpheus blows out a breath, a little impatient but clearly trying to hide it as best he can for his familiar's sake.] I'm fine. [He looks over at Stella, feeling the warmth of her fingers on his face. He gives her a nod, too.] I'm well. Everything just feels more... real in a way.
Think my work here is done, then. [Death gives him a smile, and Stella she leans over to kiss her cheek goodbye.] Have fun. Call me if you run into any trouble. Don't do most of the things I would do. [With a wink she vanishes unless Stella stops her.]
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I guess I've just had the time to adjust to human sensations.
I'll make sure he only he only gets in good trouble. Thank you.
[Stella likes Death. They've starting have the occasional girls coffee date.]
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I'm used to sensing humanity's emotions through their experiences. This is... quite different.
[Though not necessarily bad.
He gets to his feet, his body feeling a little more weighted in the space it takes up. On a curious whim he tries to change his form into a cat, but can't manage it.
He sits again, seeing what that's like.]
These pants are rather tight.
[They never really feel tight when he merely imagines them.]
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The way your clothes sit looks different.
[Though she laughs about his pants.]
Your pants are always impressively tight, but I guess they don't normally feel that way.
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No, normally my clothing is nothing more than thought. A part of my anthropomorphized representation. It feels like a part of me, rather than something I wear.
... what is it that humans do, then? Not about the pants, I meant... what should we do this afternoon?
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We eat, we go to our jobs. Feed birds on our lunch breaks.
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[Yeah, not even being human can take the pompous out of him entirely. He means it sincerely, though. He's taking her words and advice very seriously.]
... I am not against feeding birds, however. I suppose I shall have to eat, as well.
[He says that in a musing way. Morpheus is capable of getting hungry as one of the Endless. His diet though is dream energy that he simply often transforms into plates of food in the Dreaming because it's more enjoyable that way. Sans eating he can't be killed but he can starve. Now, though, in a human body, the need to eat is more immediate and the consequences more dire without it.
There's a look of concentration as he tries to ascertain the current state of his stomach.]
I do not think I require eating right this moment.
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[She reaches out to take one of his hands to twine their fingers together.]
I promise you'll enjoy the food.
[She's decided she would take him to her favorite little Greek Cafe.]
Shall we go for a little walk? You can get the full city experience.
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[Which has mostly been through Hob, and now Matthew and Stella. He gives her hand a squeeze, the experience warmer with him having a human body temperature.
Rising to his feet, he gives her a nod. He lets go of her hand only long enough to hold her jacket open for her. His own is still on him. It used to be mostly for show, but now he'll actually need it.]
Yes. I'd like to see the city how you might see it. Though try not to steer me into oncoming traffic to see what happens.
[He's teasing her.]
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[She slips into her coat and then takes one of his hands again.]
You feel really nice at human temperature.
[She snorts a little laugh]
I'd try to avoid putting you through pain, and then your sister would be summoned right back to come take you home. Embarrassing if I can't keep you alive one day.
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[Hearing her mention the warmth, he gives her hand a squeeze.]
Perhaps when I change back, I can use hand warmers before touching you.
[A thought which makes him wonder what it'll be like to kiss her. He's tempted to do so now, but Morpheus is a romantic. A part of him wants to wait and kiss and bed her later, with candles and wine and flowers.]
Not only that, but Matthew would never stop cawing about it. He really didn't like leaving me in the waking world, he never does but especially now. He's probably following us at a distance to ensure we don't need help.
[When ready he steps out onto the streets with her. He inhales a little in surprise.]
It's bracing.
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[It is a unique experience to touch him normally, he just is. Not quite cold, not quite warm.]
I am sure we will have a raven following us all day. I'll keep you safe, I've managed as a human for a while now without dying.
[It is cold outside, but that's typical of winter. She nods.]
It's the wind that makes it really cold today.
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I trust you implicitly, Polyhymnia. Matthew cannot help his nature to protect us, though I've no doubt his services won't be needed.
[He folds an arm around her shoulders, holding her close to him for the shared warmth.]
If we find a stand along the way I shall get us something warm to drink as walk.
[Oh. Wait. He can't manifest money.]
... I may have to pay you back.
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[They fell into touch easily and now are usually touching in some way when they're together]
I know you do. And I would be grumpy with Matthew if he wasn't keeping an eye on you.
[She fits neatly under his arm against his side. And she laughs that his usual trick to have money on hand won't work.]
I did expect to pay today. You don't have the same skills as you normally do.
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[Dream's eyes are no longer quite the same inhuman midnight sky they usually are in human form, but he's still looking at her with intent and want. It's only the realization he doesn't have his funds on hand that makes him look rueful instead, though he gives an agreeable nod as she says she'll pay. For the best, as while Dream does know an immortal on earth, Pharamond, who could help him with financial and transportation issues, he'd rather not open that can of worms.]
No, I suppose I do not. I'll have to, what's the expression, muddle through somehow?
What do you enjoy viewing on your walks? Are we heading anywhere in particular?
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That's what I'm here for. To make sure you are fed and cared for.
I usually go to the park, there is one with a really pretty fountain.
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[He knows the answer to that, and he gives her arms a squeeze.]
A fountain sounds like a lovely place to feed the birds. Shall we pop in quick at a market on the way to pick up food for them?
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[It will probably help the Dreamers in general, but there's also a personal element.]
Sure. I could use a warm drink if we are going to be outside.
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[He gives a nod at the rest, them slipping into a corner store when they come across it. He's both baffled and enamored by it. He wanders the aisles, stares too long at the items. The other patrons give him peculiar looks as they often have to walk around him.
He's clearly never been in a store before in his existence.
When someone offers him a free sample he stares at them, then looks at Stella, then looks back.]
I will require two of your goods, under the condition I am not required to make purchase of more.
[The vendor gives him a confused look but offers two small samples of some cheese spread on a cracker along with tiny cups of wine.]
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At the confusion of the poor sample person Stella simply responds.]
He's not from here.
[Which is very true in so many ways. Still she is happy to try something and watch Morpheus discover the joy in the mundane bits of humanity.]
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[He is certainly old enough to give 'back in my day' grumbles. He examines the small plastic cup, taking a sip of the wine followed by the bite of cracker and cheese.]
It is a pleasant combination. Your wares do your sales pitch justice.
[The last part is said to the vendor, who gives a confused nod and smile to them. He then turns back to Stella.]
Shall we get a bottle for later, or do you have beverages you wish me to try at your apartment? Otherwise, shall we get some bread and seed for the birds?
@dawn_is_breaking
I shall await your word, then.
thank you for moving <3
Okay, all cleaned up.
Ready for those kisses. ;)
NP!
How are you faring?
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Better, especially now that I'm with you.
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He takes them to his immense chambers where his throne room lies, wherein a crib has been set for the little creature. It's nestled and warm, with Matthew perched on the lip of the crib to keep watch until they return.]
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Once in his chambers she opens her eyes and smiles, noticing the crib.]
Is it asleep?
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Yes. It is resting. I am giving it a pleasant dream to soothe it after its trials.
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[Dream lays a gentle hand on the edge of the crib, a look both alien and ancient on his face as he looks downward, but not one without compassion.]
He worries not about himself but for his kind, that they are not caught similarly. Intergalactic poachers are a threat, as they have little defenses. They are exotic pets at best, science experiments at worst.
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[She echoes and leans her head against his shoulder, watching the creature as it sleeps peacefully.]
I never would have thought there was such thing as intergalactic poachers but I guess it kind of makes sense, earth can't be the only place with assholes like that....
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Indeed not, though it seems you have come across a hub of theirs where this little one was saved. Perhaps further answers might arise when we shut them down. I need only a moment with one to see into their mind with my sand.
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I should be able to source out their location by tomorrow night and then we can go pay them a visit.
@talentedscavenger
To care for others is certainly time consuming, and a struggle to balance their needs with other duties.
@aspolyhymnia
Not terribly long once they came into existence, no. Though it took awhile for them to arrive, relatively speaking.
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He does, however, hold two bottles of wine in his hands. Blends that never existed beyond an ancient dreamer's wishes. A red for her, a white for him.]
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That is a lot of exposed neck you've brought for me to kiss.
[She gets up from her spot on the sofa to get them a pair of wine glasses.]
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[He is one who often considers what is suitable, even if he's come to find that a very blurred line. He sets the bottles on the coffee table. They're chilled already and with a delicate raise of his hand the corks rise up and open.]
How are you faring?
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[Stella is always a bit in awe of just how beautiful he can be. She sets down the glasses on the coffee table and sits again.]
I'm good, nothing of note recently.
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I have stood on business today. My nature in so doing is fluid. As dreams of old meet needs of new, so too must sharp angles give way to flexible corners.
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Are you tired of flexing your corners today?
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I don't understand those who flail and brag to impress on merits that mean nothing.
I tire of tricksters who wish ill rather than gain.
I don't know why I am to blame for not forgiving my sibling who chose to abandon -
[He breathes deeply. Sinks wearily into her sofa. Sips his wine.]
I'm fine.
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You do not need to be fine, I am here to listen to you, the same as you are for me.
[She can only vaugely understand what it is like to be one of the Endless, to be so entwined with your purpose that it becomes you as it does for them. But what she does understand is how to listen, and to cuddle up with him to offer him the comfort of a warm touch.]
and you are always welcome here, my love.
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My siblings wish my ruin.
I worry I play into their game. And that it might hurt others in so doing.
Your family knows of such ancient games.
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[Stella and Death have become friends who meet up on occasion.]
I never cared for the dramatics of my family.
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[She sips her wine and snuggles up against him.]
Is there anything I can offer to help you? Even just listening.
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It sounds though as if your family is quarreling again?
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I don't believe you on that.
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It matters not neither way.
Many care so intimately, though.
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You are quite melancholy tonight, aren't you?
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We have never gotten along.
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[She brushes her fingers through his hair. Stella is a rather tactile person.]
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[He leans into her touch as he sips his drink.]
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[She is happy to offer some comforting touch.]
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They will not let such a slight go.
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[yeah, that's not great.]
Perhaps I should see how my Uncle is doing, underworld to underworld and all.
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Who I'm sure has plenty of ideas, you know, about everything.
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No matter the cost.
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[She finishes her wine and sets the glass down. Now she can wrap her arm around his middle.]
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[He snuggles in against her. He's thin and angular but also surprisingly soft as dreams might imagine.]
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[They both are quite fond of physical affection.]
How can I cheer you up?
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You may need a less dramatic shirt.
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If you insist.
[He chooses a fully black suit with a super long, dramatic scarf. He's an Eternal drama queen Stella, this is as good as it will get.]
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I'll have to put on something nicer to match.
[She's in sweats. She can't go on a date with him in his full drama and not put on a slinky little dress at least.]
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[She is able to pick one that is a deep blue to complement his all black.]
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You're welcome to do so, but we would have to stay in.
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With nudity as an option afterwards.
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[And by wait he means drink wine and look up shows.]
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Better?
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[He rises to take her hand.]
Shall we visit the West End? Or are you feeling Italy or France more this evening?
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[He gives very good compliments.]
The west end would be nice.
@leavesof3
Dreams can be a place of respite, yes. Though not always. It depends on what the subconscious mind needs, what it is trying to process to better face the waking world.
@aspolyhymnia
Perhaps sometimes.
Which does not mean he deserves anyone to act upon it. I doubt he wishes to be disturbed, anyway.
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[She doesn't know the Prodigal very well, they had only crossed paths briefly.]
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In any case, while you served an important purpose as a Muse, you were not the only one, and you did not have an entire kingdom and fundamental function of the universe to bear upon your back. It does not diminish the joy you gave to artists, but it also did not cause the death and disarray my captivity did when you left Mount Olympus.
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You have a point, my purpose is not so directly tied to the functioning of existence.
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[She sits next to him a rests her head on his shoulder.]
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I would not wish to risk humanity, or any of my dreamers. It was a risk on his part. I see it as selfish. He does not.
Family is bound to have contentions when it is as old as ours.
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@felinemajesty
I know well the persistence your kind can voice when objecting.
[There is merely a head tilt, a look, at the following teasing. It does indeed mimic that of his sibling Desire, though Dream refuses to speak on it when he's playing host.
He simply leads the Cat King through the main hall and into a more private drawing room where refreshments are set. The castle this time is done in medieval Spanish style, and the tapas and wine on the table reflect this Spanish theme, if not all of the medieval period. Dream settles into a seat at the end of a long table. In the space are bookshelves and cabinets, pictures on the walls filled with artists that never put brush to paint. Doors off to each side lead to spaces he would not let guests venture.
Steepling his fingers, he gives a nod towards the wine bottle. In the glass, as requested, is indeed some catnip.]
Your daydreams in particular have been busy of late.
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His grin is feral as he takes a seat closeby and immediately sniffs the uncorked wine bottle]
Huh? Oh, guess so. There's been a bit of trouble in Port Townsend. London Ghostie tripped and fell into a hornet's nest by pissing off the local witch.