[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.]
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.
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.
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.
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.
[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.
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?
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.
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?']
[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.
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 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.
![[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
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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
You're welcome!
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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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@dawn_is_breaking
Mhm. I'll just say no kittens were involved this time.
thank you for moving <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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@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 💕
Welcome, any excuse to mangle Hozier lyrics, LOL (I say with love)
Haha all the love
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@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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no subject
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
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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 :)
<3
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no subject
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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No problem!
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@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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@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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@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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@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:
No problem, you're welcome!
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@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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@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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@dawn_is_breaking
I shall await your word, then.
thank you for moving <3
NP!
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@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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@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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@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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