#drcamofthecndless

Sir Robert Gadling was descended from a long line of soldiers and war heroes. His own parents were general's in the King's army and had served for years under the crown. And so it was his duty, and his honor, to do the same.

He had planned his whole life to follow in his parents' calculated footsteps, rising through the ranks until he, one day just as they did, assumed their positions as generals. He trained and fought and strategized and learned. But it was not his destiny.

Against his arguments and pleading, his parents sent him to work directly under the crown as the King's personal knight. He was told he should be grateful for such an esteemed position, so close to the throne. And perhaps, he would've been if he hadn't believed so whole-heartedly that he was destined for greatness on the battlefield.

And so now he found himself, silver armor polished and shined, kneeling before the young ruler, King Morpheus. King of Dreams, ruler of the Dreaming, and son of Time.

Hob kept his head bowed, staring down at the stone floor of the throne room, waiting until the order was given to stand.

Sleipnir looked at the business card, matte black and blank except for what looked like gas mask in a faint gloss across the length on one side. Two long, confusing numbers that made little to no sense to the untrained eye written in grey. But Sleipnir was no untrained eye.

He looked up at the building it had taken him to, having walked with Sasha by his heel. People were giving him a strange look. He didn't belong here. That much was certain.

Can I be of assistance to you, sir?

Sleipnir looked down at the doorman, twisting the black card over as he began to think how the fuck he was going to explain this. But he didn't need to say anything as the older man turned away, using a card to open the door.

Enjoy your stay, Mr Winthers.

@drcamofthecndless

The Corinthian found it strange to walk in the Waking World once again. Well, technically it was his first time here. The older memories he held of the Waking World weren't truely his own.

And they were the reason why he's back. The Dream Lord wishes for the Nightmare to prove himself redeemed. Perfected. Incapable of failure. And the opportunity to do just that reared its head when Lucienne brought it to Dream's attention that a book was missing from her library.

Well, it is more of an entity than a book. An object of the Dreaming with a mind of its own. If anyone were to open its pages, they would find themselves enthralled by whats written there. And yet, they would not remember what they had read when they closed its covers.

It took Corinthian weeks to find the bloody thing. The book passed itself from mortal to mortal on a whim, captivating historians and scholars and book nerds before briskly moving on in its mission to be read by as many mortals as possible.

Corinthian managed to find it after the book passed itself into the hands of a rather handsome young man with a doctorate. It had been pretty easy to relieve the fellow of his newest possession after a night of generous convincing.

The Nightmare sat in a small local coffee shop. Absorbing the atmosphere of a bright autumn morning from the little corner table he sat at by a spacious window. He sips from a cup of black coffee, idlly sketching in a small leather bound journal resting on his folded knee. The book sat hidden in a leather satchel by his side, quietly calling out to be read.

Corinthian eventually closes his sketchbook and sighs, thinking its about time to let the Dream Lord know of his success. Without an uttered word, he reaches out through his essence, into the Dreaming. Calling for his creator.

“....Dreams cannot die, I said... so after my grand speech he got up, and you know what? He won!” Matthew gave a sort of nod, feeling rather proud of himself. “And he acts like he doesn’t need me. I mean, obviously he does.”

That’s when he noticed Lucienne looking directly behind him instead of at him.

“He’s right behind me isn’t he?”

@drcamofthecndless​

It was always the same in her dreams. First there was sunlight, it’s colour and texture so vivid that reaching up to hold it’s shape did not feel so foolish. Johanna admired the sun in all it’s glory, with it’s flecks of warm oranges and red’s that scorched the sky so beautifully that she dare not look away. Even as the sun surrendered to the night those same brilliant eyes remained set towards the sky. From light drew only darkness and what remained was a long and winding path with endless doors that seemed to trail on forever.

Johanna had become well acquainted with her dreaming ,with this corridor of collective memories. Each door presented an echo from the past or even a past life once lived. Some doors brought Johanna true comfort, with sweet perfumes of her late Grandmothers cooking, the soft sounds of children's innocent laughter. And then there were few doors, doors with tarnished frames and chipped paint that were better left to decay, to never be opened again.

A faint sound pulled Johanna’s attention for a moment, the sound of light footsteps, she knew she was not alone.“Focus” she whispered to herself, harnessing her power to alter her dreaming to her own manipulation and desires. Johanna had worked endlessly to be able to control her dreaming, a skill in which she believed one day would serve her well.Johanna took her time and when she was ready she simply chose a door and walked through it. Johanna quickly found herself in her Grandmothers kitchen, each definitive detail in tack.

That’s when she finally caught sight of him, lingering in the shadows, he stood so still that he did not appear to be real at first. His thick dark curls blew ever so gently in the wind across his sculpted features. She wondered how long it would take him to follow her into her dreams and now here he was and he had no idea that she, Johanna Constantine was awake in her own dreaming. This was going to be fun

Johanna continued to play the role of just another mortal in just another dream, and noticed his approaching figure in the corner of her eye. She stood by the kitchen counter and reached for the kettle turning it on to boil. She could not help the faint smirk creep across her lips as he continued to draw himself closer. Suddenly she could pretend no longer. Johanna turned herself towards him “ You know, it’s rude to come with no invitation” Johanna met his gaze, her tone arrogant. She fetched two mugs from the counter top “Cup of tea?”

Caligo had been watching the crowd of demons rail up to Lucifer’s command. That they would soon take action against the King of Dreams and he couldn’t share their enthusiasm as he had no hate like them towards the Dreaming world and the master who controlled it. In a dark corner he watched and debated, biting the inside of his cheek until a flavor coated his mouth.

Warning Lord Morpheus would make him a traitor and only Satan knew what would be done to him if he got caught. But he had no desire for an extended hell, for the waking world to shrink or even disappear. What would the purpose be of such actions? It made no sense to him. Without the King of Dreams, the humans would surely be in despair. No, he had to warn him.

With all the distractions, Caligo managed to leave hell and stepped foot on Earth and now somehow has to find a way into the Dreaming. He succeeded in this too, but was still far away from where he was supposed to be.

The cawing of a bird sounded above Caligo and he looked up. The bird cawed again. “Get lost! Shoo!” The demon had no time for this nonsense.

“No need to get rude, sjeeesh.” The Raven spoke. “You don’t belong here! You should--. shoo.” He flapped his black feathered wings and cawed again.

“I need to speak with the Lord of Dreams. It’s urgent. I need to be here.”

“He has no time for the lot like you!” Hopping on a branch, a little closer and looking down at the creature. 

“Lucifer is making plans against him, I’m sure he has time for that!” The demon got impatient with the bird. “Bring me to him!”

“You’re lying, demons lie.”

“You want to risk the Dreaming on that? Why would I risk my fucking life based on a lie? If Lucifer catches wind of a demon ratting her out, I’m doomed.”

Matthew stayed quiet for a little moment, then nodded. It made sense to the raven. “Wait here, I’ll inform him and he decides if you can enter, or he comes to you--. Or neither.” Flap flap and flew off.

Robert Gadling loved churches. Specifically Catholic ones. He loved their architecture, the way they smelled of incense, and the music that flooded from their doors. He adored the guilt that slithered its way around the limestone halls and the heavenly sin that abounded. He was drawn to them even if they were harmful to him.

He had been a God-fearing Christian man once. Back when he had no choice but to be one. Before he'd been turned. But that was centuries ago and Hob had a strange relationship with religion now. He didn't pray to the God he used to even though he knew there must be something. If there wasn't, why would stepping inside one fell like getting hit by a car?

That was why he found himself lingering outside of the cathedral, watching the people leave from the midnight mass on Christmas Eve. They were all bundled up, chattering excitedly as they hurried to their cars. No one paid Hob any mind as they brushed past him. He was just another man, bundled in coat, standing outside of a church. He wished to step inside. To see how the building was decorated for Christmas. He caught glimpses of it as people flooded out, saw the nativity at the front of the church with the replica baby Jesus in his manger.

As the crowd dwindled and the pipe organ stopped, he stepped up to the doors but did not go inside. He placed his hand on the heavy oak door and peaked in, the flames from the candles reflecting off of his dark eyes. A couple more people pushed past him, telling him 'Happy Christmas' as they did. He smiled and nodded at them but did not wish it back. He did not celebrate Christmas anymore.

He wanted to cross the threshold, to bask in the golden light of the cathedral and to stare up at those wonderful stained glass windows. But he could not.

It is safe to say that Corinth looked positively bored throughout the entire wedding ceremony. Only showing a vague interest in anything that was going on when he first laid his deep blue eyes on Dream.

And if the Lord was going to be honest, his raven haired betrothed is fucking gorgeous. In a pouty, miserable kind of way.

It will be fun to break him.

And yet, they had not been able to utter a single word to each other during the ceremony. Only in the eccentric aftermath, when they are sat side by side at the lavish wedding reception, is the blond haired Lord able to lean close to his husband and speak with him.

"What a load of bullshit, this is." He muses past the lip of his wine glass, casting a devilish side glance at his partner while he sips from his drink.