#quillsofmelancholy

He worries about her. Always has. 

It was painful to look at her sometimes. Maybe you could go as far as frightening. fFor he remembers her how she once was. Remembered her before the world fell down around her. Before she changed. That was the thing, people changed and as much as Dream would always deny it, Endless do too. 

That was something Dream couldn’t abide. 

Change was terrifying, dangerous. 

At least he told himself that was the reason. Reality is, he understands in some way why it had happened. He does, after all, hold the collective consciousness of all of creation in his realm. All of those dreams. Their wonders. Their hopes. Along with it comes their fears, the terrors and nightmares. He has found, in many strange ways, that mortals are beings of fear. Driven by trying to avoid rather than to reach a goal, or at least most of them were. 

So there are rules, regulations, ways of doing things that he has single handedly decided on and then made canon because if he does that…then there is no chance of breaking. Tells himself that if he just follows those rules, does his job properly, that breaking in the same manner is impossible. For what happened to Delirium, must be because of…some unfollowed rule, and not the idea that they could break like the mortals. 

It pains him more, to have to live with the realisation that his distance had done more damage, for no real gain except the avoidance of topics he did not like. Now he feels himself only 

He softens, his other hand coming to cover hers. He just gently lets it rest on top of hers and lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. 

A sea of books spread out across the table as he attempts to piece together a problem he is desperately trying to solve, an annoying one involving a human, a nightmare, a raven, and a spider. Frankly the entire situation was so stupid it was almost beneath him. 

Almost. 

“Sister I am-” there is an element of frustration in his voice. He doesn’t like being pulled away from tasks he is engrossed in, but he finds that he can not be mad at her. Instead, he is simply…perplexed?

A flower? 

His eyes flick up to it, just in the corner of his vision and then back to his sister. "Must you be so..." what distracting, endearing, so delightfully Delirium?

It is a kind gesture, softer than what he is used to, and yet it comes from the one being in this universe that Dream would dare not chastise. 

What has got her in such a good mood escapes him. He has long learned that what puts her in a good or bad mood changes as easily as the wind and the direction of tumbling sands. So instead of trying to deduce it, he simply accepts it, and decides that it may be time to harness it in some way. 

“Sister, I am busy…” he does after all have duties to attend to, a job to do, one he took very seriously. Yet, he was not above finding a solution that would make both of them happy. 

exhaustion starters | accepting

@quillsofmelancholy said: "I feel like a jukebox. Juice - juice box. Empty juice box." for Strange from Tony

~ Pulling away the coffee cup that was precariously dangling from Tony's uncoordinated grasp, Stephen glanced into it's depths. Holding it up to his nose and instantly recoiling when the bitter, acrid scent attacked his senses. Mumbling to himself as his mouth downturned in obvious displeasure. ' Why not just eat coffee grounds at this point..'

Setting the mug aside - and OUT of Stark's grabbing fingers - Stephen stepped back from the desk. One hand on the back of Tony's chair, pulling it away from the screens he'd been staring into for the past....32 hours. ' Okay, well. I think that's quite enough...up up. '

Spinning the chair around to face him, he GRABBED either side of the armrests, boxing Tony in as he LEANED DOWN to lock blue eyes to the others face. Neatly manicured brows raising. ' And just so you're aware...if you fight me on this, Anthony, I am not above MANHANDLING you out of that chair. ' ~

She’s not listening to him. Not on purpose, it’s just been a long night, too long really. Sure, she registers that he’s said something but it doesn’t really stick. Hell, she has a headache now so bad in her temple that she would sit through a lecture from Abbot if it meant she didn’t have to be here right now. 

Idly, as she picks out a tiny piece of something sharp out of her arm and drops it into the empty glass on the table as she wonders if she should just go home and go straight to bed or have a shower first…her hair is still damp from the rain outside. 

Then it occurs to her that Stark probably isn’t going to let her go back to her apartment. It is probably not safe. 

"What do you mean by he laughed? " - from Dorian about a dead body on the table. (modern verse , set in morgue /mortuary)

Stix's gaze turned from the body lying on the autopsy table to the other man with a little bit of a smirk, and then he gave a light shrug before reaching down with blade in gloved hand to make the first incision.

Elias looked, by any measure , like a deer staring directly into oncoming headlights. Completely alert, faintly frozen, and genuinely uncertain whether the socially correct thing to do was to return the hug or simply wait it out with as much dignity as the situation allowed.

He opted for the latter. Mostly.

In his defence, he hadn't thought he'd been particularly loud, at least not enough to warrant such concern. The cursing had been mostly contained to himself barking the occasional 'Fuck' or 'Damn it' with each bent nail. Though , he was , admittedly, not always the most reliable judge of his own volume when something had gotten under his skin - but he'd have put money on having kept that particular exchange to a grumble at most.

It was a rare weekend off, genuinely off, with no extra shifts quietly absorbed to fill the hours and no particular excursion to occupy the rest of them. What he had somehow found himself conscripted into instead was DIY assistance, which he was fine with, having made a private and considered decision to accept any requests after the burst pipe incident in the middle of last summer. Besides , the tea and a chance to check in on her were always a bonus.

His arms settled, somewhat belatedly, into something approximating a reciprocal hug - more for her sake than his.

"I appreciate it." Genuine, if slightly muffled by the logistical reality of the height difference. "Really. I'm fine. Just had a disagreement with a nail and the nail had some strong opinions about it."

[ text ] Sunshine Bear: Can we move to just standing in the corner and silently judging? Any more small talk with out-of-touch doners and I'm escaping out of the window in the toilets like it's Alcatraz.

Roughly twenty minutes later.