@rekant said: ❛ the storm’s getting worse. ❜ eden @ dream
“It’s the way of storms to get worse.”
the dreaming is a wonderful, terrible place for prophets. the abstract incarnates as the literal — leaves ripping from trees, the crackling sky, rain hitting pavement as if it wants it to bruise. time bites its own tail to join the future to the present: is this what’s coming? is this what’s coming? is this what’s coming?
none of it disturbs morpheus. he did not come to stop what should be, will be, or is. he came because he was made for it: to be the eye of the storm.
“Would you warn me, little Fate? Or do you fear for yourself?”
‘ what good is warning you. you see it coming, too. ’
a storm isn’t a terribly frightening thing, especially when it’s just in their head. it gets a lot worse in here, and eden can’t feel their brain leaking out their ears when they’re sleeping.
they don’t mind playing the observer, even when fear feels different in dreams. something you might rationalise otherwise creeps under your skin, slides between the little notches in your spine and gets so, so cold. there’s no getting used to the feeling of something grazing the back of your neck, causing those little hairs to stand on end; but eden has gotten as close as anyone possibly could.
besides, what can they do but watch?
‘ do you think it matters? you know, i know, but we’re just standing here. ’