⟪ the question catches him off-guard. it’s like a lightbulb suddenly lit up in her head, only to promptly explode. one second she speaks of her predicament, putting on the same brave face that she shows off whenever she’s on the verge of collapsing, and then she asks if he’s missed her. she doesn’t ask about the multitude of universes out there, or matthew, or how he can travel from the dreaming to the waking world. he was expecting her to ask for help, if nothing else — he hoped she would, truth be told — but no.
she asks if he’s missed her.
why do you make it so difficult for him, leanna.
has he? the answer seems a little too simple even to share. it’s highly incriminating, and dream of the endless likes to think that he doesn’t need anyone. but he made that same mistake, once, rebuffing his only true friend, all because of his damn pride. hob was right all along. morpheus is lonely, and however bitter a pill to swallow, his sister ultimately made him see what an utter fool he could be. his trauma is thousands of years old, sure, but therapy is a thing, and morpheus might benefit from reaching out.
his eyes have already widened surprised, and then wary. what does it matter. but he knows what it matters, because if the roles were reversed, he’d probably like to know. deep down. he wouldn’t ask, but he’d crave an answer he wouldn’t allow himself to seek, and there she is now, brave where he can’t be.
or maybe the question holds no ulterior motives and he’s a fool, again, for hoping otherwise.
his lashes flutter, a veil across his eyes, cast downward. his head dips just so, unwilling to show the twinge of vulnerability there, which is, all things considered, answer enough. ⟫ I am fully attuned to my realm, to my guests. ⟪ to her, perhaps more than the average visitor. he avoids her gaze for a beat longer, and then he catches hers, regal resolve stiffening his spine. ⟫ Leanna. ⟪ his voice, dropped to a rumble, rolling off his tongue and from his throat. ⟫ I promised you kinder dreams, but the waking world keeps you at bay. ⟪ the blue in his eyes grows unfocused, distant stars reminiscing as he startles himself uttering the next words. ⟫ I know what it is to be trapped. ⟪ quiet. low. a muffled rage simmering beneath his skin, dissipating as his focus resharpens, leaving only a gentle, sunken plea behind. ⟫ Will you allow me to help you?
no subject
⟪ the question catches him off-guard. it’s like a lightbulb suddenly lit up in her head, only to promptly explode. one second she speaks of her predicament, putting on the same brave face that she shows off whenever she’s on the verge of collapsing, and then she asks if he’s missed her. she doesn’t ask about the multitude of universes out there, or matthew, or how he can travel from the dreaming to the waking world. he was expecting her to ask for help, if nothing else — he hoped she would, truth be told — but no.
she asks if he’s missed her.
why do you make it so difficult for him, leanna.
has he? the answer seems a little too simple even to share. it’s highly incriminating, and dream of the endless likes to think that he doesn’t need anyone. but he made that same mistake, once, rebuffing his only true friend, all because of his damn pride. hob was right all along. morpheus is lonely, and however bitter a pill to swallow, his sister ultimately made him see what an utter fool he could be. his trauma is thousands of years old, sure, but therapy is a thing, and morpheus might benefit from reaching out.
his eyes have already widened surprised, and then wary. what does it matter. but he knows what it matters, because if the roles were reversed, he’d probably like to know. deep down. he wouldn’t ask, but he’d crave an answer he wouldn’t allow himself to seek, and there she is now, brave where he can’t be.
or maybe the question holds no ulterior motives and he’s a fool, again, for hoping otherwise.
his lashes flutter, a veil across his eyes, cast downward. his head dips just so, unwilling to show the twinge of vulnerability there, which is, all things considered, answer enough. ⟫ I am fully attuned to my realm, to my guests. ⟪ to her, perhaps more than the average visitor. he avoids her gaze for a beat longer, and then he catches hers, regal resolve stiffening his spine. ⟫ Leanna. ⟪ his voice, dropped to a rumble, rolling off his tongue and from his throat. ⟫ I promised you kinder dreams, but the waking world keeps you at bay. ⟪ the blue in his eyes grows unfocused, distant stars reminiscing as he startles himself uttering the next words. ⟫ I know what it is to be trapped. ⟪ quiet. low. a muffled rage simmering beneath his skin, dissipating as his focus resharpens, leaving only a gentle, sunken plea behind. ⟫ Will you allow me to help you?