#;hypnos

(No, really, she has to believe him. It’s really not what it looks like, no matter how damning the scene before her is.)

There’s a perfectly logical explanation for why Hypnos is standing in the middle of the room with a pair of her underwear in his hands. There is.

He wasn’t the best shot under good circumstances, but with the wind picking up and kicking dust into people’s eyes, and the approaching storm clouds that loomed on the horizon, it was nowhere close to the best conditions. 

Instead of soaring beautifully into the net like it was supposed to, the ball went wide, flying past the goal and instead imbedding itself in the bark of a tree; right next to someone’s head.

Cursing loudly- probably loud enough to carry to whomever he’d just almost decapitated- Sleep jogged across the field, assessing damage as he went. 

“Ah, shit, i’m so sorry! You okay?”

Hopefully they wouldn’t notice that the ball had actually gone several inches into the tree.

ichor, the golden blood of the gods, is a substance that i write as acidic. it will eat holes in ordinary substance. if it drips on his shirt, that's shirt's gonna be eaten away. if it touches you, it will burn you unless you are also divine.

     Hypnos liked to pretend that he'd seen everything that there was to see in the world. Certainly he'd seen a lot of it: every country or place on Earth that had humans had been visited by Sleep. He'd roamed the continents alongside his brother in the olden days, when the humans were still learning how big a place the world was. They'd been guests at the courts of countless kings and they'd been criminals, pursued by a police force that had no chance of catching them. They'd been figments of imagination in the heads of small children and they'd been voices of madness in the fevered brains of addicts. 

    He slipped in through their dreams and danced in their heads, watching images of their lives flicker behind their eyelids. Sleep knew every nightmare that had ever been made and every dream that ever would be- though his son created and delivered them, Hypnos ruled them. 

     Having tricked himself into believing the waking world had no new experiences for him, the god had begun escaping into the dreams of mortals. It was a game he'd played since long ago; in dreams, oceans could float and something could be nothing, far better a playground than the world of consciousness. If Thanatos could have joined him in dreams, Hypnos didn't think he'd ever go back to being awake. It was much better to dream-hop and mess with the humans he found. They always assumed they were safe in their heads.

    But when he alighted in this new dream, he found that there was nothing to see. The utter nothingness of the space surprised him and he wondered if he'd somehow jumped into the dream of a dead person. It was the only explanation he could think of, until he reached out a hand and felt around. 

    Something rough and knobby touched his fingers and Sleep jumped a little, not expecting to feel anything where there appeared to be nothing. Experimentally, he reached out and spread his palm against the surface, letting the grooves dig into his skin. It felt like bark. Moving closer, he reached out with his other hand and felt the curve of the thing beneath his fingers. It was a tree trunk!

    With that realization came another one; he could feel more than just the tree trunk beneath his hands. A breeze swiped at his face and ran its fingers through his hair, sending the leaves of the there-but-not-there trees rustling. The sound was clear as day, and with it came other sensations: grass and dirt beneath his feet, warmth from sunshine on his skin. The smell of recent rain sprang to the god's nostrils and he inhaled deeply, a smile spreading across his face.

    He was in a forest. A forest that was there in every way except sight.

                                    The human was blind!

    Though a little disappointed that he wasn't inside the mind of a dead person- how cool would that be?!- Hypnos continued to wander the world. He'd never spent much time in the dream of a mortal who was blind and he let himself move aimlessly, arms outstretched to keep from colliding into a tree. The dreamer would present themselves eventually; dreams weren't as big as humans seemed to think they were.

     Sleep couldn't tell time without any references, but it didn't feel like it was long before there was another presence in the dream. He loved it when he was right. A small boy stepped carefully among the trees, pajamas trailing in the dirt. At first Hypnos thought it was his son Morpheus, as the other god always took the form of a child, (A blind one at that, coincidences!), but the face was wrong and he didn't walk the same way.

     Changing direction, he went to say hello to the kid, making sure to make plenty of noise along the way so he wouldn't startle him. Hypnos loved children and he didn't want this one to be afraid of him just yet. 

      If the alcohol didn't have nectar in it, Hypnos wasn't able to get drunk from it. One of the downsides of having a godly immune system meant that it excelled at expelling poisons and toxins from your body before they could affect you- Even if you wanted them to.

       Thanatos had a sticky relationship with Dionysus, but his twin couldn't have loved the other god's creations more. Though Sleep also ruled over narcotics and spent equal amounts of his time high and drunk, the flask in his jacket that sloshed with nectar betrayed his intent tonight. The being meant to get as drunk as he possibly could and perhaps take someone home; flashing smiles at everyone in the room, he made his way over to the bartender and ordered a round of drinks for everyone sitting on one of the stools. It was better if everyone around him was drunk as well.

Boredom was a killer, after all.

      Though he hardly looked older enough to order alcohol- more like a seventeen year old who'd tagged along with his older sibling- the bartender did what Hypnos asked without complaint. It might have been the confidence in those green eyes that stared down the mortal or the laugh that curved his lips into a radiant smile, but it was more likely the two hundreds that were casually tossed the man's way.

              Pour from the flask. Drink. Pour. Drink. Pour. Drink. 

       When the room spun and the laughter on his lips had dissolved into childish giggling, Hypnos decided that he was as drunk as he was ever going to be. Around him, the rest of the mortals seemed to be echoing the idea: a band had struck up in the corner and the dance floor was writhing with mortals. Unmistakable smells assaulted his nose, bringing the sharp scents of sweat and vomit, mixed with countless different perfumes and an underscoring of sex-in-the-bathroom.

       Hypnos dove enthusiastically into the fray, slipping between bodies and into any free space he could find. The drunk god was a whirlwind, flitting from one partner to the next and making no distinction between boys and girls. His brother was gone for the weekend and separation did strange things to the twins, made them seek things to fill the silence left by the lost presence. After being together for so long, it was almost painful to be apart.

      One of the girls he danced with soon found herself pulled onto a table with Sleep as he spun in the limelight. Faces turned to watch the drunken boy, giggling madly with his rush of adrenaline and swinging his dancing partner around as if she weighed no more than a feather. It was comically easy to toss her in the air and catch her again, as the crowd gasped and cheered.

Thanatos would have been having a coronary at the display of strength.

        But alcohol does strange things to people and even godly beings, if they've dosed themselves with nectar, weren't immune.

       Hands clasp around the mortal girl's waist, catching her once again as she screams her desire for more. There was something about being thrown like children that made humans deliriously happy, and Hypnos loved watching it in action. Preparing to toss her once more, he tightened his grip and squared off his foot once again... right off the table.

      The god and the human girl went tumbling together, as the table was upended by the sudden shift in weight. Screams sounded as the crowd surged forward, pretending to try and see if they were alright but secretly looking for carnage and broken bones. Always made a better story, when they went home to their partners or parents or friends and told them about the 'accident'.

       To the disappointment of many and the relief of few, there wasn't any blood- just two squirming, groaning people and a strange gold substance that streaked across the boy's face. It streamed from his nose and he threw a hand over his face to try and hide it, cursing in greek as he realized that he was bleeding. Ichor was hellish to hide and even though it would stop soon, his shirt would be soaked.

      Without stopping to make sure the human he'd danced with was okay- not really his responsibility- Sleep jumped to his feet and raced for the bar door. One hand remained clapped to his broken nose and the other cleared a path to the door, easily shoving people out of the way.

So many mortals and so little time.

      Hypnos wondered how Morpheus did it- how the little boy who walked beside him quietly could create dreams for every human in the world out of his imagination. His son was effectively blind and kept his eyes closed permanently, and Sleep had guessed it was an effort to remain dreaming even while awake. The work load would have made the older god give up on humans long ago, but Dream didn't seem to mind. The child didn't need help, in any case, refusing his two younger brothers' offers to help with the regular dreams instead of their assigned duties.

      Truly it was a staggering amount of responsibility and though his son was only a couple thousand years younger than he was, Hypnos felt an iota of pride at the boy's abilities. And of course, the option to play around in mortal's dreams was just too good to be true.

      This particular dream was quite boring, to begin with. The sky and ground were reversed, so that the ocean crashed above them and clouds moved sedately below. Bridges from building to building were everywhere, replacing the sidewalks of the real world that would have fallen into the empty abyss. Every few seconds, spray from the rough waters above would crash to the ground and soak some unlucky human who happened to be passing by- some ran through the streets, in hopes of avoiding this, and some dressed in ponchos or carried umbrellas.

      It was nothing special- Morpheus had created this landscape countless times- and as Sleep relaxed on the deck of one of the sky ships, he found himself bored by the display. He'd spent so much time cavorting through mortal dreams that the fantastic scenery no longer inspired him; when you'd seen enough of the wonderful and impossible, they became merely the ordinary and probable. What kept the god's interest in traveling through mortal dreams was the prospect of playing with the humans he found. In the real world, they were irritating enough, but here they were so absolutely sure of themselves and their subconscious that it was his pleasure to play around and show them just how much control they really had.

"It's my mind, you can't hurt me in here!"

      The ability to manipulate the world was one of his favorite things and if he could bring his brother into dreams with him, Hypnos would probably never return to the waking world.

      A rustling disturbed his reverie and the god looked to see his son on edge, standing with his fists clenched and feet wide. Bracing himself for something.

"What is it?" Sleep rose from the deck chair he'd been lounging on, searching for whatever could have set the child on edge. They were invincible in dreams- invincible in the outer world too, but not like this- and it was rare to see his son react to anything.

A voice resounded in his head.

                              -Intruder. I did not bring them.-

What? Someone else with the ability to walk into dreams?

                        -I retain control. But I cannot expel them.-

       It was a split second before Hypnos react, digesting what Dream was telling him. Laughter bubbled from behind his lips, giggles and guffaws as he registered exactly what Morpheus' words meant. If the small god still retained control, then this intruder would be theirs to play around with. He couldn't seriously harm them, of course, but Sleep had enough experience to know how to change any dream into someone's worst nightmare. And now he had two playthings!

       Whirling his son up into his arms, the god danced around for a moment, letting his joy and anticipation overtake rational thought. Interesting things were so important to him- they happened so rarely, after eons of time, and they were things to be savored fully.

"Take me there!" Hypnos commanded the boy, still carrying him easily in one arm. Dream nodded and the world around them blurred, streaking like lines of paint with oil thrown over the canvas. It righted itself to deposit the two gods in front of the DreamWalker, and Hypnos inspected them casually. It hardly occured to him that the father and son duo must have made a sight: a scrawny teenager in baggy sweats and an over-sized hoodie, holding a child who wore nothing but a piece of cloth wrapped around his middle.