PRAY FOR THE WICKED.

these people, these human beings, dance on with no regard for the suffering they have caused.

he was not surprised when roderick burgess mined wealth from his tools, nor when he used that wealth to increase his fame with feasts and invitations, nor that he kept the true source of his fortune a secret. there were no tours down into the cellar. those of his order who already knew, guards and co-conspirators both, remained the only ones morpheus ever saw.

so he is surprised — it shows only in his eyes — when a guest saunters past the guards. he thinks of his sister first. from the wavering of light around them, like a crystal glass casting out prisms, he thought, perhaps — 

but this is not the lady delirium.

he should have felt their presence. he would have, if the glass and the binding circle had not blinkered him; these ten years and more have been long indeed. what madness have they been spreading?

morpheus watches and says nothing. he watches and expects nothing. the endless do not have friends, but desire was always... friendly... with this one. all the more reason dream is not. how many gods have left or died, and yet dionysus remains — to come here?

"they really put in the work here," they mutter more to themselves as they stop in front of where they began, hands on their hips with a scowl on their lips. the longer they wait, the more beastly they become. their teeth are already showing past their lips, pupils thinning to slits.

it doesn't occur to them to smear the paint. no, their mind is buzzing with urgency to free him, to destroy the cage.

their arm shoots out to their side, disappearing into a doorframe that opens a fraction of a second before it can extend fully. leaning into the open doorway, dionysus leans back with a sledgehammer in their hands. they grin toothily at dream before taking a single, large step and slamming the hammer into the glass. it only takes one swing to break through with their godly strength, shattering the glass and breaking the painted concrete beneath it in one swing. feeling relief the moment the containment is broken, they begin to laugh, a sharp, hyena-like thing that rings with delight.