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.]