" You should know better than to ask such a pointless question." 👀
It should know better. For a moment its jaws feel wired shut, remembering: a hand shoved into the cavity of his chest, up to the elbow, the flesh wet and loose around it, dark matter dripping out. His heart in Dream’s hand. His eyes, wet with blood and tears, choking. He has not invoked his master’s extreme displeasure since then, there have been no more betrayals, but…
The Corinthian inclines its head the smallest amount. “As you say, lord-shaper. I apologise.” How easily apologies come to him now. Faced with his creator in the Waking world, thinking he had the power of a Vortex at his disposal, he had been confident: he would have fought and been destroyed before he ever made concessions to his creator.
But that was before.
“Even so…”
It sidles a little closer, coming to stand to the left of the throne, its eyes never leaving its maker—just in case he rises suddenly, or gives the Corinthian a look, or. Or.
It is better to see a threat coming.
“…you wouldn’t have to do anything to it. Just let me have it. It’s just sitting out there.”
He had found, on the farthest reaches of the Shores of Nightmare, a great black inverted pyramid. Obsidian and glass; quartz, like his heart; mirrors and mirrors. It was empty. Nothing seemed to want to go near it. No one he asked seemed to know where it had come from or if Lord Morpheus had created and discarded it long ago.
The Corinthian had immediately wanted it as a place to live, so to speak, away from the castle and away from his king and the rest of the Dreaming.
He has had enough of other dreamkin looking at him. Word travels fast in dreams, and they all know what he did.
“I’d be out of your way,” he suggests, half-heartedly. His chest hurts, and he curls an arm around his middle without intending to.
