inklongdry | reverie ✶ inbox

[Arthur's warm against him, and it does bring a mote of comfort -- a reminder that he's here now, and not in that blasted pool hall, fending for his own life without anyone to aid him. But the guilt claws deeply. That quiet "oh" of a realization stings, in knowing that he could have saved him so much pain.

Easy to fall into gloom thanks to this thought alone. But Dream reminds himself that Arthur is the one in need of aid right now, that his self-pitying can be saved for later, and he lifts a heavy arm to (gently) wrap around Arthur's middle.]

And I will be there. Swiftly. You have my word.

But for now... what can I do for you?

[ Please be mindful of the charred skin on one side. He took a glancing blow from a lightning bolt. (He's going to have to ask Da Vinci for help fixing his clothes, he thinks.)

If he knew what Dream was thinking, he would be quick to try and assuage that feeling of guilt. It wasn't his fault that this happened, and certainly not more than a simple mistake that Arthur didn't know he could call for him. But he doesn't know what Dream is thinking, so instead he just kind of sheepishly holds up his phone. ]

Help me work the blasted prison shop? I'm afraid I don't know how.

[Oh, don't worry. Something will slip eventually; it always does with this one.

But for now, he nods, gingerly removing his arm from around Arthur and taking his phone. He may be an Endless, but he is not technologically inept as one might suspect. He has fiddled enough with his own phone that he can manage to exchange a token for a healing card in Arthur's stead without too much difficulty.

And there it is, a little tarot card appearing on cue, spinning gently mid-air, ready to be taken.]

There. I am only sorry you are having to use one of these so soon.

[?? so soon from what]

[ Arthur does watch, so he can see how to do it. Once the card appears, he reaches out to take it. ]

On the contrary. 'Tis the first time I've needed one since my arrival.

[ Clearly he's misunderstood whatever Dream meant.

The card vanishes in a burst of light, and Arthur breathes a sigh of relief as his injuries are fully healed. Broken ribs mend, bruises and burn marks vanish. It does nothing for his clothes or for the bone-deep weariness that's settled on him since the adrenaline wore off.

He leans against Dream a bit more. ]

Mm. May I stay for a while?

[No, it's not what he means. He means that something bad might have happened to Arthur so soon after being involved with an Endless; as he said, fate is ever unkind when mortals are involved.

But he lets that thought go unspoken, too. Instead, he allows to borrow some of Arthur's relief when the healing takes place, removing pain and injuries alike.

Dream angles and lowers his head, his jawline gently nestled in Arthur's hair.]

As long as you like. Would you like to sleep here? I do not require use of the bed, and you still look so very worn.

[ Ah. This is nice. After such a harrowing experience, it's nice to be comforted. To feel safe. He loops his arms around Dream's middle. ]

Ah, I suppose someone like you doesn't sleep, do you?

[ He leans away a little, turns his eyes up at Dream. ]

Still, I would like it if you stayed with me. Here. While I rest.

[He catches his gaze, and that look in Arthur's eyes stills his breathing for a moment. What a strange feeling, to still feel guilt but to have it entwined with warmth. Fondness. (Oh gods, it really is happening again.)]

Rest, and sleep. And I will grant you pleasant dreams. You deserve them, after all you have just been through.

[And yes, of course that means he will remain here with him.]

I may still lie here with you, if you wish.

[ While Arthur might not have any idea about again, it certainly is happening to the both of them. He catches Dream's gaze in turn, and... oh. He reaches up and rests his hand on the side of Dream's face. ]

You've stars in your eyes.

[ How had he never noticed that before? ]

[Instinctively, he leans into that touch, looking down at him with those same, starry-laden eyes. It is, strangely, like looking into a night sky.]

A family trait. [One that only he was given out of his entire retinue of siblings, but it's suited for an Endless called Dream.] Is it distracting?

[ It does seem fitting for him. ]

No. I think it's lovely.

[ And distracting, insofar as it's derailed the previous conversation. What if... he leans over for a kiss? ]

[If he does? It's clear that any of Dream's hesitations that he harbored beneath the mistletoe are null and void -- even those that were flitting about in his head just a second ago are always swept aside for a moment of affection, of closeness.

So of course he's leaning in to meet it, the mattress shifting a little beneath their weight. This would be more... dangerous of a gesture on the bed, if not for the fact that Dream knows letting Arthur rest is the most important thing right now.

But he can indulge, can't he? The kiss is warm and lingering.]

[ He needs this too, just as much as rest. A soft, quiet moment of warmth. Something to soothe away the sharp bite of fear and desperation that had come just moments before.

Arthur is indulging in this just as much as, if not more than, Dream is. And though he eventually pulls away, he doesn't go far. ]

Thank you. For saving me.

[He is a little flushed when he pulls away, and he reaches up to brush a bit of hair from Arthur's face.]

You needn't thank me. I am only sorry I came too late.

[Very sorry for it, actually. This man is due very pleasant dreams for a very long time.]

[ Let's not talk about Arthur's hair. It's a mess, and definitely in his face. He's going to need a new hair tie. ]

You came right when I needed you.

[That can be easily arranged, maybe after his nap.]

You are utterly optimistic, Arthur. You see this in one way, and I can only see it in another.

And what way is that?

That it is just one more instance of fate befalling... unkindly to someone I have decided to keep close.

Dream... what happened was not your fault. It was not a cruel act of fate for the supposed crime of being close to you. It was not Sprezzatura's fault, either.

If the blame must go somewhere, then let it be on the Warden's shoulders for putting these monsters beneath our skin in the first place.

[ He puts his hand on the side of Dream's face again, this time as a steadying gesture. ]

The fact of the matter is Sprezzatura called on me for help, and I answered. Just as you answered me.

[He meets his eyes again, and while the gesture is steadying, it is hard to disregard the idea of simple misfortune skewing their way because of his own decisions. That has always been the case, time and time again. Such notions are not so quickly erased.

...And it should discourage him, yet it never does. Is this a curse or a blessing? One might wonder.]

And if something like this should happen again?

[ Another smile. So gentle, and utterly forgiving. He presses another soft kiss to the corner of Dream's mouth. ]

Then I will call for you sooner, now that I know how. And I will not think it your fault that something bad happened in the first place.

[Far too forgiving. But maybe Dream is far too hard on himself, as he often is; there is a reason he is known as the gloomy one amongst his siblings, the standoffish one that is too sentimental underneath.

But how quickly he latches onto Arthur's generosity. For now, at least. The kiss helps.]

The head knows that the fault belongs to the Warden. The heart often feels quite differently.

[He strokes his hair again, then presses his lips warmly against his forehead.]

Will you rest now?

Heads and hearts are often difficult things to reconcile.

[ He leans into that kiss, ears lowered in a way that suggest he feels safe here. ]

I will. And I'd be glad to take you up on your offer to lay down with me.

[He won't argue that point. That has always been the case.

Dream begins toeing off his boots, which is a bizarrely human-like gesture, but he's not going to lie down in his shoes, after all. He eases Arthur gently down with him until they're lying on the bed, if only because he doesn't want to let go. He's comfortable. Comforting.]

What sort of dreams would you like?

[ Arthur kicks off his shoes too, though it's kind of silly considering his clothes are still dirty with blood and sweat and soaked in places with alcohol. Sorry about your sheets, Dream.

He snuggles close, finding the same to be true of Dream. He's comfortable. Comforting. ]

Mm. Take me to a library, Dream. My home away from home.

[ Right now, he's a viera of simple needs. ]

All else I will defer to you.

[Don't worry. He's not Henry.

A library, though...]

Perhaps you would like to see the one that exists in my realm?

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