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I shall wait here for your return.
[And by wait he means drink wine and look up shows.]
[And by wait he means drink wine and look up shows.]
[It doesn't take her long to change into the dress and a pair of heels. She looks much more appropriate for the theatre.]
Better?
Better?
You are a rare vision. The opposite of a nightmare.
[He rises to take her hand.]
Shall we visit the West End? Or are you feeling Italy or France more this evening?
[He rises to take her hand.]
Shall we visit the West End? Or are you feeling Italy or France more this evening?
Thank you, my love.
[He gives very good compliments.]
The west end would be nice.
[He gives very good compliments.]
The west end would be nice.
[OOC: Continued from here.]
Perhaps sometimes.
Which does not mean he deserves anyone to act upon it. I doubt he wishes to be disturbed, anyway.
Perhaps sometimes.
Which does not mean he deserves anyone to act upon it. I doubt he wishes to be disturbed, anyway.
He very well might enjoy his solitude.
[She doesn't know the Prodigal very well, they had only crossed paths briefly.]
[She doesn't know the Prodigal very well, they had only crossed paths briefly.]
He is free to do so, and reject his family in the process. I will still judge any who abdicate their duty.
What about me? I'm not inspiring the way I used to?
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.
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.
I do, it is just less direct.
You have a point, my purpose is not so directly tied to the functioning of existence.
You have a point, my purpose is not so directly tied to the functioning of existence.
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.
It may just be because his domain is so well handled by humanity without any aid.
[She sits next to him a rests her head on his shoulder.]
[She sits next to him a rests her head on his shoulder.]
Perhaps. There is so much we still do not know, despite age and power.
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.
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.
But you do good for your Dreamers, Destruction kills the very same dreamers.
[OOC: Continued from here.]
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.
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.
Edited 2024-09-22 15:35 (UTC)
[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.
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.
There was a swirl of sand inside the apartment door, the grains slowly taking on the shape of Morpheus. Dressed in his usual black attire, one hand was oddly in his pocket as though fiddling with something. While uninjured, his expression showed both perplex as well as perturbance. Ancient blue eyes settled on Stella as he took a slow step forward. It was one of the rare times that Matthew didn't accompany him, the bird always trying to play escort to Dream in the waking world. "Forgive the intrusion." The words rolled out with their usual melodious precision.
He settled on the edge of the sofa, his back ramrod straight as usual. The very image of control, despite ruling the realm of endless flexibility. Or perhaps because of it. "I was hoping... I have need of your presence." A beat. "I've just returned from Hell. I went to undo a wrong, only... or perhaps you already know what transpired in the underworld." Did she? Would someone from her family's pantheon also be showing up in his realm shortly to plead their case for the realm of Hell? He had to get back to the Dreaming soon.
With a small, weary sigh, he reached into his pocket and laid the key on her coffee table.
He settled on the edge of the sofa, his back ramrod straight as usual. The very image of control, despite ruling the realm of endless flexibility. Or perhaps because of it. "I was hoping... I have need of your presence." A beat. "I've just returned from Hell. I went to undo a wrong, only... or perhaps you already know what transpired in the underworld." Did she? Would someone from her family's pantheon also be showing up in his realm shortly to plead their case for the realm of Hell? He had to get back to the Dreaming soon.
With a small, weary sigh, he reached into his pocket and laid the key on her coffee table.
Stella was not expecting him, though she is not startled by the sands. She can tell that something is wrong, and when he settles on the arm of the sofa, her head finds the side of his leg to rest against.
No one had come to tell Stella yet, she wasn’t exactly high on the Pantheon’s chain of command. Her breath catches for a moment.
“Oh, my love, what have you started?” She would not disagree with his choice, but with the incredible rashness with which he acted.
[ooc-ive gotten through episode one]
No one had come to tell Stella yet, she wasn’t exactly high on the Pantheon’s chain of command. Her breath catches for a moment.
“Oh, my love, what have you started?” She would not disagree with his choice, but with the incredible rashness with which he acted.
[ooc-ive gotten through episode one]
[OOC: TY for letting me know! I'll keep the specifics of ep 2 as a spoiler then minus Dream ending up with the key. We can just run with doing our own thing, anyway.]
"I don't know." The words come out with a hesitant unraveling, a phrase that Dream does not speak often. He's lived for eons. Since before many worlds even were capable of speech. He is often deliberate and confident, knowing precisely what he plans on saying at each moment. It takes a truly spectacular event indeed to knock him on the back foot. A moment in time like this one. "I was trying to right a wrong." What is that proverb? Let no good deed go unpunished?
No. He cannot blame this on his actions to free Nada. This is all from old wounds of pride, having been left to fester too long. His. Lucifer's. God's. Who knows how many others.
Long, thin fingers move to brush Stella's hair back from where she rests upon his leg. His knuckles caress her cheek as his gaze doesn't waver from the key. Such a simple design for such power behind it. Destiny would approve. Reality without the trappings of anything ornate.
"I am now the conservator of Hell. Those from all over will be vying for it. I doubt they will only turn up on my doorstep seeking an audience. I am sorry. For what trouble this will bring you. Us." Hell knew about Stella, of course. So many did. Dream's romances were never kept to just his counsel.
"I don't know." The words come out with a hesitant unraveling, a phrase that Dream does not speak often. He's lived for eons. Since before many worlds even were capable of speech. He is often deliberate and confident, knowing precisely what he plans on saying at each moment. It takes a truly spectacular event indeed to knock him on the back foot. A moment in time like this one. "I was trying to right a wrong." What is that proverb? Let no good deed go unpunished?
No. He cannot blame this on his actions to free Nada. This is all from old wounds of pride, having been left to fester too long. His. Lucifer's. God's. Who knows how many others.
Long, thin fingers move to brush Stella's hair back from where she rests upon his leg. His knuckles caress her cheek as his gaze doesn't waver from the key. Such a simple design for such power behind it. Destiny would approve. Reality without the trappings of anything ornate.
"I am now the conservator of Hell. Those from all over will be vying for it. I doubt they will only turn up on my doorstep seeking an audience. I am sorry. For what trouble this will bring you. Us." Hell knew about Stella, of course. So many did. Dream's romances were never kept to just his counsel.
The little caress is needed, it soothes a hint of the weight that comes when she leans forward to pick up the key. It will be a huge upheaval on so many levels.
She sits back and looks to him properly, the key between her fingers.
“Just tell me what you need from me and it will be done.” She does not need more from him to have his back on whatever his latest quest is.
She sits back and looks to him properly, the key between her fingers.
“Just tell me what you need from me and it will be done.” She does not need more from him to have his back on whatever his latest quest is.
He does not stop her from picking up the key to examine it. There are few he would trust to touch it, and from that pool, even fewer still he'd feel comfortable burdening with it for even a moment. He and Stella however have grown closer over the last few years. A partner in many ways, if not in ruling name at his side. He knows that whatever story is unfolding now from Destiny's book, it will involve her. It cannot help but do as such, given their close ties in the past and present.
"As you wish." He's not very good at apologies, anyway. "I was hoping that perhaps you might join me in the Dreaming for the time being. To sort out whom should receive the key. To vet those who ask for an audience. Perhaps even to hear what will be said behind my back, with your ancestry and abilities." A dangerous game. Dream isn't one who enjoys politics, and this will absolutely involve that. It will tie into gods and mythical beings from all realms, perhaps including her own. "I know what it means to ask this. I know what old wounds may open, what dangers are inherent. I will not think less of you if you would rather not. I only ask then that you let me set you a guard duty detail, if you wish to remain here."
"As you wish." He's not very good at apologies, anyway. "I was hoping that perhaps you might join me in the Dreaming for the time being. To sort out whom should receive the key. To vet those who ask for an audience. Perhaps even to hear what will be said behind my back, with your ancestry and abilities." A dangerous game. Dream isn't one who enjoys politics, and this will absolutely involve that. It will tie into gods and mythical beings from all realms, perhaps including her own. "I know what it means to ask this. I know what old wounds may open, what dangers are inherent. I will not think less of you if you would rather not. I only ask then that you let me set you a guard duty detail, if you wish to remain here."
She has never given much thought to ruling at his side; she doesn’t think he would ask. Their lives have been working together as they are.
She waits for him to explain, it is an incredibly dangerous suggestion. She stands so that she can properly touch his face.
“I will go with you. The safety of you and the Dreaming is far more important than this life on Earth, even as fond of it as I am.” Her fingertips sweep along his jaw. “I love you.”
She waits for him to explain, it is an incredibly dangerous suggestion. She stands so that she can properly touch his face.
“I will go with you. The safety of you and the Dreaming is far more important than this life on Earth, even as fond of it as I am.” Her fingertips sweep along his jaw. “I love you.”
He reaches up to catch her hand in his, jaw working. "I did not mean to imply that this life on earth you have is not important." Was it not always how it ended up, him placing the Dreaming and his priorities above all else? He had to protect the Dreaming, he had to, but that did not mean nothing else mattered to him. That he did not have priorities higher than his own life. He has contingencies for the Dreaming, after all.
Rising to his feet, he stares down at her. Dark orbs that hold nighttime with its endless promise gaze down into her own eyes. His voice is low and tired, but no less resolute for it. "Your safety matters to me, Stella. I don't want... I ask you to come with the sworn promise I will protect you, at whatever cost to myself." He pauses for a moment, touching her face. "I could use your aid, yes. But I am not asking you to come as a sacrifice. I will not let it come to that. If you wish to return to earth and carry on as now afterwards, I shall do all I can to make that happen."
Rising to his feet, he stares down at her. Dark orbs that hold nighttime with its endless promise gaze down into her own eyes. His voice is low and tired, but no less resolute for it. "Your safety matters to me, Stella. I don't want... I ask you to come with the sworn promise I will protect you, at whatever cost to myself." He pauses for a moment, touching her face. "I could use your aid, yes. But I am not asking you to come as a sacrifice. I will not let it come to that. If you wish to return to earth and carry on as now afterwards, I shall do all I can to make that happen."
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