[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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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