#hypnosuwu

          To put it simply, the godling was undeniably LAZY and had little interest in the managerial aspect of his father’s house. 

          Perhaps this was in part due to his divine lineage, for what care does an immortal have for the finer aspects of DEATH? The concept is strictly mortal in design, thus Zagreus found little interest in the demands of the afterlife. While he did not necessarily see mortals as beneath him — rather the opposite, he found them fascinating — but such a delicate process would no doubt be disturbed, if not incinerated, by his aid. Experience begot understanding, and, lacking in such, how could he ever expect to properly assist the shades which oversaw the tedious work that kept the Underworld functioning? It was a fool’s endeavor and a DISASTER waiting to happen. One would think that after a fair few near-successful escape attempts and several centuries of records quite literally going up in flames, Hades would reconsider his son’s position in managing his house. 

          Yet no change was to be had, much to the dismay of numerous overworked shades. Oh, to be rid of the prince who was not so courteous as to even present for work in a timely manner.

          On the subject, Zagreus was — yet again — late for work. 

          Unbeknownst to him, time marched on outside his dreams ⟅ and his father’s ire surely increasing in his absence ⟆. This particular ILLUSION he was more than a little reluctant to depart and return to the waking world. Unclear, his mind’s eye could not decipher much from the dizzying, technicolor blur of his dream. Flashes of vivid hues dappled with a pair of dazzling evergreen eyes — unconditional LOVE in their verdant gaze — and intertwined among them flaxen tendrils glistening like endless fields of golden wheat. Perhaps if he reached, the little prince could grasp those fading strands, immerse himself in the gentle aroma of delphinium which graced that CROWN. However, same as always, the vision would gradually dissipate to leave him void of its tender light...once more cold, and alone in the DARKNESS. 

          Panic would grip him, familiar, yet no less startling to abruptly cast him back to REALITY in a tangle of bedsheets upon the cool tile floor. An inelegant heap upon the stone, Zagreus let a breathless sigh escape his fair lips. Should he squeeze his eyes shut against the rigid interior and flickering light of his bed chamber, perhaps he could still cling to the remnants of that dream? But the nagging sensation that he was inexcusably forgetting ⟅ read: dismissing ⟆ certain obligations would not let him linger. A grunt of exertion and the immortal was on his fire-touched feet, ready to start a day — or NIGHT — that had long since left him in its wake. 

         Despite his delay, the prince’s gate was far from hurried, if not dragging to prolong the inevitable CONFRONTATION with his father. Outside his private quarters, the House of Hades was lulled by the monotonous demands of supervising the dearly departed. The lounge across the hall was relatively at peace, save for the bustle of a few pots and pans and the cheerful hums of a certain gorgon. Shades shuffled about their business, tossing the occasional wordless greeting to the house’s heir in their vague expressions. Zagreus returned them in kind, with a nod of his head or brief wave in passing. 

          His mother, Nyx, was no where to be seen, much to his disappointment. At the very least Lord Hades had vacated the throne room — confirmed as he peered somewhat sheepishly around a grandiose pillar. To the left of the gargantuan desk lay the imposing form of CERBERUS, curled up as any ordinary hound and not one bearing three menacing heads. No matter how quiet his approach, one head was disturbed from its slumber. The great beast snuffled and tossed its shaggy crimson coat ⟅ several tufts dancing through the air to decorate the interior ⟆ and peeked one luminous emerald eye at the prince’s arrival. Quick-witted, Zagreus held a finger to his lips, signaling the highly intelligent canine to alert no one of his arrival. Cerberus was quick to obey the command of his favored immortal.

          ...And none too soon as it became evident they were not ALONE in the throne room.

          Blatant snores heralded the presence of a certain deity as the prince tiptoed around the corner. HYPNOS remained at his usual post, manning the entrance to the throne room to monitor newly arriving shades by the Pool of Styx. And, as per the usual, he appeared to be slumbering on the clock. The godling was hardly surprised in part due to the frequency of this behavior — which bordered on habitual — but also Hypnos being the embodiment of SLEEP itself. Were anyone to dare and doze off on the job with little repercussion, it would be him ⟅ Zagreus would know, for he too has nodded off and received no small amount of grief in turn ⟆. With his brother, Thanatos, nowhere in sight, who was to disturb him?

         Why, the LITTLE PRINCE, of course. 

         On silent steps, Zagreus made his approach like a predator hunting prey. The opportunity was far too tempting to pass on a harmless prank. A teasing smirk already began to curl his features at the thought of pulling one over on his entirely unaware KIN. Each step was calculated, mindful not to wake his target. Inch by inch, he neared ever closer, pausing only when Hypnos stirred in his dreaming. 

         Oh, what to do with you, my dear brother...?

         Possibilities blossomed in his MISCHIEVOUS mind, all manners tricks now at his fingertips. Craning his head up slightly, he eyed the snoozing god — eye mask slipping to obscure his features. A few tentative plans came to his childish musings, but all were tossed aside as a single leaf of crimson bay laurel drifted into his line of sight. The laurel crown upon his head — its leaves ever-falling like dying EMBERS — presented the perfect test: Just how deeply does the God of Sleep and Dreams slumber?

         Delicate stem pinched between his thumb and forefinger, his free hand rose to clasp his mouth in an attempt to smother preemptive fits of LAUGHTER. Cautiously, he lifted the leaf to the upturned nose of the leisurely floating Hypnos. His intent was clear: just a quick tickle. Would he wake with a start? Or  — if Zagreus could only be so lucky — smack himself directly to cease his incessant teasing?