(rp)

For someone as utilitarian as Dream, his armour is hauntingly beautiful. Maybe scratched and missing a few pieces after living through wars and countless battles, but still beautiful. Its intricate butterfly designs pay homage to the faithful critters always loyally fluttering around the man, following him to the deepest, darkest depths.

To those who did not understand him this was strange. Everything else about Dream usually stripped down to it's bare, most useful essentials, everything but the intricate armour. Nightmare, its called, an unnerving name for something that would've evoked a sense of awe if it were worn by anyone else. Yet another example of the man's contradictory nature. Just by looking at it, it's quite obvious that someone spent countless hours forming netherite to this form, lacing it with emerald, adding the designs and painstakingly etching the enchantments into the resistant material. By all means it's masterfully crafted. Some would say that Dream didn't deserve wearing something so precious.

a   ‘  goodbye  ’   kiss.a  lying  kiss.

Most of the time she enjoyed his company. Korregan knew she was a difficult person to be around. Her moods tended to vacilate from prickly and defensive to light hearted and flippant. Her managed to keep her on track by not playing into her bullshit too much. Which was usually what she needed.

But that also meant that he didn’t let things go when it became obvious that she didn’t want to talk about them. Or when she was trying to keep a secret. He could pry and needle and prod like no other and in her mounting frustration she often just said things to get him to stop bothering her.

Which of course never worked because then he had new fuel to pester her with. 

It didn’t help that she had exactly zero per cent chill. And he knew how to exploit that.

In retrospect she shouldn’t have said anything at all. But they were friends (at least she thought) and she had the sort of ridiculous thought that someone might miss her while she was gone.

“I’m not going to give you a key because I know you don’t need one.” she was packing. Her rucksack sat open and half deflated on her bed as she neatly tucked things away inside. A few books including her water warped journal. Tinderbox. A little enchanted lamp which she wrapped with a threadbare towel before gently tucking it inside. Her remaining three pairs of socks.

He was perched on the footboard, watching her with equal parts suspicion, interest, and something she couldn’t quite decipher. Maybe annoyance. In the end she knew she didn’t know him very well. Neither of them knew each other that well. It wasn’t trust that had her offering to let him crash at her place whenever he wanted, including while she wasn’t there. It was something else. A something else she couldn’t figure out either, and honestly didn’t care to.

“You could tell me where you’re going. I could probably help. My schedule looks pretty open…” There was something in his voice that made her glance up from rolling her sleeping bag down into a surprisingly small cylinder. For a moment it looked like she was considering it when in actuality she was considering him. His motivation behind the offers and the queries. Whether or not he really wanted her to accept.

After a beat she shook her head, buckling the sleeping bag to the top of her half-empty satchel and stepping a little closer to him. She lifted a hand, glanced at his face to make completely certain they were alright with this at the moment - the little brief contact that sometimes one or both of them pulled away from - and finally settled her hand kind of benignly on the outside of his leg.

“It’s only going to be a couple of days and we’re booked full. Besides you’re way too skilled for this job. I don’t need you thinking less of me when I make a complete mess of things.” The self-deprecating joke wasn’t particularly mean spirited but she could see him starting to protest. So she snagged the collar of his shirt in her other hand and guided him down to meet her obvious distraction of a kiss. Just long enough to begin to soften into it. Not so long that she got carried away.

Letting him go she patted him a little too hard on the cheek just to put some sting into what she’d just done. To distract from it. Bounce him from one thing to another. This time when she smiled it was smooth and easy. She didn’t always fumble her way through things.

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