"Arthur Inkwell here. I've no earthly idea how this thing is supposed to work, but leave me a message if you're so inclined. I'll retrieve it at some point or another!"
[He does. He's the King of Dreams, after all, and a throne is perfect for striking a moody pose upon.
Anyway, he smiles, raising his brows.]
Very well.
[The next corner they happen to round, whether it be a turning corridor or a bookshelf, will simply suddenly lead them up to the steps of the throne room. The huge, engraved double doors open with ease as Dream leads Arthur up the steps, to reveal the very vast, though somewhat empty, throne room.
Ethereal light filters in behind the throne which sits atop a set of winding stairs. Puzzlingly (or maybe not, given what this place is), there is no ceiling, but only the sight of a night sky above -- or maybe the cosmos itself. They seem so small within it.]
This is where many decisions have been made, through an equal number of eons.
[ What a marvelous sight, the way rows of shelves give way to wide open space, beams of otherworldly light, and the whole of the sky opened up above them. ]
It's beautiful. [ Though quite empty, he notices. ] Do you normally sit in here all by yourself?
But no, I do not simply sit here by myself and hope for company. There are many things to do in the Dreaming, and very little time for an Endless to remain idle. I must oversee the health of the realm when necessary. And if not that, then I spend my time creating dreams and nightmares.
I cannot know while trapped. [In Reverie, he means.] And it is all dependent upon how much time passes while I am gone. When I was missing for a century, what you see here today... It was left in ruin.
[The throne room was in shambles, and he had been too weak to fix everything that had broken. That was an extreme example, of course, but the uncertainty is still bothersome.]
[He gestures with an open palm towards the throne and the stairs winding up to it, nodding.]
Of course.
[And he will follow a few steps behind if Arthur chooses to ascend. And while these stairs are a very strange structure, leading up high with no apparent support, there is no fear of one tumbling off into the abyss with a misstep -- not a smidgen of vertigo.]
As though he'd ever say no to such a request, though. In fact, when it comes to those he cares about--especially when they've breached that threshold of romance--Arthur will find that Dream is quite pliable in the request department.]
Does he?
[And so he moves forward, up the steps until he's level with the throne, a palm placed on one of its arms as he dips down and over Arthur to make up for the height difference.]
[ His Majesty might also be enjoying making Dream sweat, just a little. And he must say, he enjoys the view when Dream bends to get in his space, dipping in for a kiss. Arthur is happy to meet him, angling his head as their lips meet, one hand coming up to curl into the fabric of Dream's coat. He means to make this one last. ]
[He's very good at making Dream sweat a little, though when their lips meet, they may have moved past that point and straight into anchoring warmth, the sort that makes his heart flutter.
He has no intent of pulling away, and if Arthur wishes to hold onto the fabric of his coat as it hangs down, then so be it. Dream parts his lips slightly, makes this kiss matter, makes it last. Here, in a version of his own realm, at his throne, it's poignant -- it may only be a dream, but dreams are never "only". He will mark this in his memory, recall it even eons from now.]
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Anyway, he smiles, raising his brows.]
Very well.
[The next corner they happen to round, whether it be a turning corridor or a bookshelf, will simply suddenly lead them up to the steps of the throne room. The huge, engraved double doors open with ease as Dream leads Arthur up the steps, to reveal the very vast, though somewhat empty, throne room.
Ethereal light filters in behind the throne which sits atop a set of winding stairs. Puzzlingly (or maybe not, given what this place is), there is no ceiling, but only the sight of a night sky above -- or maybe the cosmos itself. They seem so small within it.]
This is where many decisions have been made, through an equal number of eons.
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[ What a marvelous sight, the way rows of shelves give way to wide open space, beams of otherworldly light, and the whole of the sky opened up above them. ]
It's beautiful. [ Though quite empty, he notices. ] Do you normally sit in here all by yourself?
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[In other words, when he sulks!]
But no, I do not simply sit here by myself and hope for company. There are many things to do in the Dreaming, and very little time for an Endless to remain idle. I must oversee the health of the realm when necessary. And if not that, then I spend my time creating dreams and nightmares.
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Have you any idea how it fares in your absence? Your realm.
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I cannot know while trapped. [In Reverie, he means.] And it is all dependent upon how much time passes while I am gone. When I was missing for a century, what you see here today... It was left in ruin.
[The throne room was in shambles, and he had been too weak to fix everything that had broken. That was an extreme example, of course, but the uncertainty is still bothersome.]
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For whatever it might be worth, I have heard tell that time is at a standstill outside of this place. So mayhap all is well.
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He'd know, it's his dad.What is the truth for one person, or one world, may not be the same for his own universe.Still, the optimism is appreciated.]
I do hope to find out sooner rather than later.
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[ So, about that throne, though. He angles his head at the stairs spiraling up, up, up. ]
May I?
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Of course.
[And he will follow a few steps behind if Arthur chooses to ascend. And while these stairs are a very strange structure, leading up high with no apparent support, there is no fear of one tumbling off into the abyss with a misstep -- not a smidgen of vertigo.]
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Once he's reached the top, he spends a moment just peering out at the rest of the room. ]
You've quite the view.
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He stands just a few steps below, raising his brows.]
You can sit if you want. [Decorum doesn't matter when it's just the two of them.] If you're curious.
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[ How could he not be? He steps over and seats himself in the throne, one leg crossed over the other. ]
How do I look?
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It suits you.
[Unsurprisingly, maybe.]
You look like a proper King of Dreams.
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Do I now? I suppose I do look rather dashing in black. Is that a requirement?
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Distractedly:]
Yes.
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Something on your mind?
[ Is it him? Is he on your mind, Dream? ]
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Yes.
[He clears his throat.]
I am just imagining you wearing all black. You should, sometime.
[For science.]
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I can quite imagine what the real thing would do, Arthur, and I have a feeling you can, as well.
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I suppose you will simply have to update your wardrobe to find out for certain.
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As though he'd ever say no to such a request, though. In fact, when it comes to those he cares about--especially when they've breached that threshold of romance--Arthur will find that Dream is quite pliable in the request department.]
Does he?
[And so he moves forward, up the steps until he's level with the throne, a palm placed on one of its arms as he dips down and over Arthur to make up for the height difference.]
If His Majesty requests it.
[And closing that space for a kiss.]
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He has no intent of pulling away, and if Arthur wishes to hold onto the fabric of his coat as it hangs down, then so be it. Dream parts his lips slightly, makes this kiss matter, makes it last. Here, in a version of his own realm, at his throne, it's poignant -- it may only be a dream, but dreams are never "only". He will mark this in his memory, recall it even eons from now.]
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