In all his years upon this green Earth, Robert Gadling knew no such fulfilling profession such as teaching. To be fair, he rather regretted not doing it sooner. He loved the thrill of lecturing, the excitement of fostering young minds. He relished in office hours and meetings over coffee. And of course, he loved the sound of his own voice.
Some might say that's the real reason he got into being a teacher at the university level. He certainly wouldn't deny it but he hoped, for his students' sake, that it wasn't obvious.
So there he was on the first day of the fall term, pulling syllabi out of an old leather satchel as students filtered into the lecture hall. He looked up and smiled at all of them, murmuring a quick hello or giving them a nod. He frequently ran a hand through his hair, the annual first day jitters getting to him again.
One of the last students to take their seats was a young woman. He did not recognize her as he did many of his other students so he left himself a mental note about her name when he got around to asking it. He, unlike many of his colleagues, was particularly good at remembering names. It wasn't as if he had hundreds of years of practice committing names and faces to memory.
So as he went around the class and made everyone do the agonizing task of introducing themselves, he burned her face and her name into his memory.
"And you are?" he asked, gesturing to her as he leaned against the desk at the front of the hall.
Matthew did not have a fucking clue what was going on. One minute he was a raven, going about his business, checking on things for Dream, and the next thing he knew, in the blink of an eye, he was human shaped. He couldn’t tell if he was still a dream or not... it was a very strange sensation.
When he looked down he recognized his hands, which were now shaking in disbelief. It took him a few distracted moments to collect his thoughts before he realized he was completely naked. “Shit!”
Luckily, he had already been making his rounds, checking on all those Dream ordered to be looked after. He quickly his between some bushes, crouching low to keep more or less out of sight from any strangers.
“Jess...!” Matthew whispered as loud as possible. “Jess! Jessamy!!” He hissed as the branches from the bushes scratched at his skin. “Shit.. fuck....!”
“No! Over here! Not up!!!!” Hopefully she would recognize him by his voice and not freak out that someone that looked like a complete stranger was talking to her. After all, Matthew as a human wasn’t the most intimidating figure. He was a dorky, lanky, curly haired, goofy nosed man. He wasn’t very muscular by any definition. Sure, he had enough that he wasn’t a toothpick, but he was still far from a threat.
@jesscmy requested for The Corinthian: ❝ it’s been awhile since i tasted fresh blood. ❞ ((for Corinthian - Vampire!Buds?)) ( * ― VAMPIRIC STARTER PROMPTS . / accepting !! )
“——you’ve been drinking from animals, haven’t you?” He shook his head, snickering at Jessamy’s choice of lifestyle. “That’s the wrong way to do it. You’re like Lord Morpheus. He’s going for some stupid substitute to feed. It’s not the same and it’ll never be the same.” He poured out a glass for Jess. “Drink. AB positive this is. Quit with the animals. Don’t be like Morpheus.”
DELIRIUM’s voice comes to HER first; a radio-hum, with its lispy lilt and somewhat distorted quality; formless. The noise is unintelligible at first—something vaguely human-sounding— then, over the course of many days, words finally begin to reveal themselves. Slowly. Very slowly. Painfully so.
❛ I think I know you... ❜
The voice says,
❛ You look awfully familiar... ❜
❛ Do we know each other?... ❜
It isn’t until the tenth day of murmuring that the speaker reveals herself in bodily form. She materializes— a girl, with shaved head and tattered, baggy clothes— before this FAMILIAR STRANGER. Delirium isn’t at all concerned with where she is, and chooses to pursue this mystery steadfast rather than concern herself with sillies and walls. She rocks back and forward on thick, heeled boots, and clasps her fish-netted hands together with a look of... Finality, perhaps?
❝ Hey you! I know you. I think, for absolute certain, that I know you. ...Do you know me? ❞
@jesscmy asked: ‘ He’s the only likable one in the bunch. ’
Arrested Development Starters
Accepting
“ That’s not true.” She was closer to Dream, she might even spoil him but she’s just as fond of Delirium. Even protective of her & Despair. “ I’ll admit a lot of my siblings are hard to understand & sometimes talk to...” Especially if you’re a mortal, Death’s three younger siblings often play games with them, but they all have their own quirks & even struggles.
Destiny was hard to judge, he took his job to a different level than Death or even Dream. Nor does he come out often, it was hard for anyone who isn’t destined to meet him to even see his face. Desire, well Desire is Desire.
“...but that can be said about any of the Dreaming or the Waking. Beings are complicated & have their own inspirations, focus & flaws. It depends if you wish to see past your own reactions to them & to see them as they truly are.”
@jesscmy asked “Will you tell me how it happened?”
It is a strange thing to be sporting a bruise on his pale and delicate skin, considering he could literally warp reality around him. In the Dreaming, there was nothing to worry about, very little a thing that could hurt him. In the waking world, he was weaker, though not enough to warrant the blossoming bruise that covered the right half of his neck, trailing down to rest upon his shoulder.
Dream rests on the steps of his throne as Jessamy comes beside him, his arms draped over his knees as he glances towards her, his expression soft but his gaze distant. He should not have been hurt like this and even more so there should not be a bruise on his regularly unblemished skin.
“I will be honest in my admittance that I do not know exactly how it happened. I do not often find my dealings with mortals...painful. Something weakened me - but I know not what it was.”
A collection of little snippets for the countdown soulmate verse with @jesscmy even tho idk that the mun even checks the blog anymore 😮💨
Reaching Zero:
“This is Jessamy, Lord Morpheus. She is the latest Raven to join The Dreaming.” Morpheus turned at Lucienne's words, breath catching ever so slightly at the stinging buzzing feeling in his wrist that he could only assume was a signal of the numbers reaching 0.
He hadn't checked the numbers in what felt like eons, the time was impossibly long as it was with most immortal beings. Checking always felt like inviting anticipation and anxiety in multitudes, and that proved to be the case now as well.
The Ravens didn't have a timer, not really. They still possessed the bond they were meant to or had formed, an echo of it reflecting within their soul. But until they regained their human form in the same way Lucienne had? Through years of dedicated service and a bond with The Dreaming that allowed them to learn to reshape themselves when they wished? The full power of the bond was filled into a shadow of what it could be.
“My Lord?” The Raven spoke and he turned away, knowing that the action would be seen as odd at least to Lucienne.
“I trust that Mia is training her well, and you are teaching her well.” Were the only words he said before he was gone, stepping through the doorway and vanishing as he moved himself to entering another farther away.
When he was in his room he removed his coat, tossing in over the seat that had appeared in the room as it bent to what he needed from it. Rolling up his left sleeve he confirmed it, thumb on his right hand moving to ghost over the timer that now read 0 and could almost be mistaken for a tattoo not that the numbers had stopped moving.
A sigh and he moved again, coat on and timer now covered again. He went to do the only thing that he could think of to clear his mind, create.
Assignment:
It had been weeks since he had met the newest Raven, and he checked in on her progress as much as he was able to without it seeming strange. Now he was in the library, speaking to Lucienne as he looked over a document that had needed his attention.
“How is Jessamy's flight training with Mia fairing?” Mia had a habit of training the young ravens sternly, not that it wasn't necessary.
Getting lost within The Dreaming was easy if one didn't know how to navigate the currents. In contrast, Lucienne tended to teach them less hands on knowledge they would need. They were the 2 eldest Ravens in his employ, each teaching new ravens their own skills was practical.
“She's... Fearless in flight, Mia says it's either going to serve her well or be the death of her.” At the words Morpheus bit down on his tongue to prevent crumpling the edges of the document he held.
“Was there a reason you ask, Lord Morpheus?” There was an under current to her question, Lucienne was smart. It wasn't surprising to him that he had noticed the interest he had taken in Jessamy, that didn't mean that he was going to tell her though.
“You're well aware that I'm in need of a new personal Raven Lucienne, Mia has been filling the role when the need arrives - but we are both very aware of how much she detests it.” Mia very much preferred the freedom to look over the dreaming, watch dreamers and make sure they didn't get lost, guide them back to the path of consciousness when they delved too deep into The Dreaming.
“Well yes, sir. But I had assumed that you would choose from someone fully trained. There are a number of Ravens currently in The Dreaming.” Lucienne's words were correct, and he was very well aware of it. Jessamy was still learning, still finding her wings and her place within this realm.
But well the statement has mostly been a way to brush off his curiosity, it occurred to him that if she were his personal Raven? He wouldn't need to inquire about her progress, wouldn't have to worry she may end up injured and he not know about it.
“There are, and they each have their own tasks that they excel at. As does Mia, and I am sure that she would appreciate not being pulled from those tasks when I have need of her. Which is why a Raven yet without defined duties is the most appropriate fit to be your replacement, now that you act as Librarian.” Lucienne opened her mouth to make an argument, likely about experience, before closing it and pursing her lips together tightly and giving a small nod.
Etched Out:
Dreams left hand still rested on the glass, tears of anger and grief that he refused to let fall pooling in his eyes as he started at the red on the glass. His gaze tipped down, the image of the raven on the floor nearly pulling a yellow from his throat. He held it back though.
Beside that? The feeling to the red line searing itself across the timer that had once spanned such a length it wrapped around his wrist was barely noticed, a wave of regret, grief, helplessness and rage swirled inside of him - barely contained by the knowledge that seeing him react would only give his captors more fuel.
He noticed it though, the way that Alex's eyes darted to the line etching itself across his timer well trying to avoid the look of pure, unfiltered hatred he was giving him.
Second Chance:
Morpheus had never heard of this happening in the millennia he had lived, but then perhaps that was because this feeling wasn't one he was sure a human could survive.
Unlike when the line had etched across his timer this hurt, not as much as seeing Jessamy's body laying there still and blown apart. But enough that he let out a yell at the unexpected sensation, right hand moving to dig his nails into the skin there helplessly as he collapsed to the bottom of his prison.
He wasn't aware of anything else in the room around him, not really. He heard the guards yelling, he heard the sound of frantic footsteps as someone ran up the stairs. But the only thing he could focus on was the white hot pain in his left wrist as he tried to claw at it with his right.
When the feeling finally stopped he let his entire body go limp without meaning to, only when Alex stood in front of the cage with Paul and spoke did he finally realize he could move again. He used his hands to push himself up, glowering at the 2 as they stared down at him.
It took a moment for him to realize that they weren't looking at him, not really. They were looking at his wrist, and he looked down and froze. The numbers were no longer at 0, counting down again with only a faded scar to show that it should be impossible.
