a/n: Guardians of Childhood (c) William Joyce.
SANDERSON had heard that making small motions with the tip of one's left index finger, particularly drawing small, invisible shapes, helped one to relax, and enter a peaceful state of mind- the most namely of which was sleep. The perfect state of relaxed semi-consciousness was sleep, and he should know.
But what was the point of drawing something when others couldn't see it?
His dream sand swirled around his fingertip with every movement, blossoming like golden butterfly wings and echoing away from his touch like ripples on a still pond. But he was frowning at them. It appeared that no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, the sand simply would not hold still. And, try as he might, it seemed to be gently drifting all over the place, first forming one thought that came to his mind, then the other. And, eventually, when he became frustrated enough at it, it slashed away from him in ribbons as he hung his head, sighing through his nose.
He immediately felt sorry for his outburst. Dreams were the element of freedom- and while he could bend and shape the sand with relative ease, it was not his place to solidify the exact shape of what a dreamer would dream. What he did was not exact, as it was interpretive; he never chose the dream for the dreamer. He merely had to deduce the type of dream a sleeping person would want, and give them the means to create it themselves. And human beings had always proved highly adept at it, although sometimes he wondered if they didn't get a little help with their imaginations from somewhere.
Sanderson exhaled softly, closing his eyes and beginning his task again. His anger was getting him no closer to ending his plague of recently sleepless days. His eyelids felt sore and dry, from exhaustion. His manners were getting irritable, he knew... so he'd gone off for a small while to be alone, so as not to trouble the rest of the guardians with his problems.
Nicholas surely would have suggested eggnog and a warm fire, Aster some sort of chamomile chocolate that was sure to be delicious, and Kathrine would have offered to read him a story (stories were probably the worst thing for him, at this point; he always stayed up to hear the ending, and was far too excited afterward to sleep), and Toothiana...
Sanderson felt a sad smile tug at the corner of his mouth, as he drew circle after circle with his dream sand, drifting away like smoke rings. It had only been a few days, and he so missed Toothiana. The warrior queen would have just held him; she seemed fond of it. Which was probably a worse idea than the stories, as he never wanted to fall asleep and miss anything she did.
If he got this sleep out of the way, he could go back to her...
Sanderson's eyes shot open. Get sleep out of the way? Why was he thinking like that?! Sleep and dreams were important- they couldn't be wasted or undervalued like that! But his thoughts strayed to Tooth again, and his brows drew again with frustration, and he dropped his hands, flopping on to his back in the sand and puffing out a large breath to clear the gold out of the air.
He pressed his fingertips gently into his shut eyelids, trying to massage away the dry. He could always ask the mermaids for help, their lullabies could lull even a sea serpent in to peaceful slumber... but he felt strange for doing such things, now that Tooth had agreed to be his friend. Even napping with his seagoing friends, a favorite pastime of his in the past, felt odd. And he couldn't imagine why.
He'd have to figure this out on his own, he guessed. Even MiM wasn't around during the day, so he couldn't ask his advice. Why did it feel like everything had been easier, when he had been jetting though the cosmos in his star? He had been sending countless dreams to countless planets, then... but now that he was grounded, he only had one planet to care for... and it seemed so much more difficult. But perhaps that was the exhaustion talking.
Sandy gnashed his teeth. 'Nocturnal Magnificence' indeed!
He dug his fingers in to the sand below him, and stared up at the ceiling. At his asking, it melted away, the mid-day sun piercing through and a warm ocean breeze sweeping in to clear away the dust. The sunlight was warm, as it touched his features, and he stretched in it, shutting his eyes once more. He did this every night for millions of people- surely he could manage to craft a single dream for himself. He needed to let his frustrations and his thoughts go. He went over the checklist.
Calm? More-or-less.
Tired? Absolutely.
Needed? Rest and energy.
Liked?
He drew a blank for a few moments. He liked a lot of things. But he knew if he started dwelling on them, sleep would never take him. So he settled on the short answer, and it made him smile.
Toothiana.
She was smart and graceful and brave. She had always had the most beautiful dreams, dreams of places like the deep jungles and forests, or the highest mountain peaks. And her dreams had been vivid, too; the heat and mists of hot summer nights, the exotic smells of the various plants in bloom, the sounds of the bird cries and running streams. Sanderson had probably first found his fascination with her dreams before finding it with her. She dreamt of her home, and of places she had never been... but she always dreamt of her parents, in some way or another. Their faces, their voices, their familiar touch. She missed them very much.
"Do you ever dream of your family?" Tooth questioned, her fingers tracing through his hair gently. Her dark skin was as warm as the sun-soaked sand of his island, and he cuddled closer to her. Outside, a toucan called through the night in the jungle Puyjam-Hyloo.
"No," Sandy answered quietly, "I don't remember them. I don't remember a lot of things, before the crash. I don't know if I had a family."
"Why do you make me dream of them? My parents?" She asked, her accent as rich as the smell of spices in the air.
"I don't make you dream of anything," Sanderson murmured in reply, nuzzling in to her neck, "People dream of what they want."
Toothiana smiled, and stooped to kiss him as the familiar taste of chamomile was sweet on his lips.
"SANDY!"
Sanderson woke with a start, blinking in surprise. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, squinting up at the full moon overhead, then to his friends that stood over him. He was confused for a few moments, before the truth sunk in- it had been a dream. He grinned sheepishly. Of course it had been a dream; he had been able to talk...
And Toothiana...
The warrior queen was glaring down at him flatly, and he felt a blush creeping up his neck. "Is this were you've been, for the past three days?"
Sandy's brow furrowed in confusion, a golden question mark forming over his head as he looked to Nicholas and Aster. North's saber and Bunnymund's egg-tipped staff were glowing brightly in the dim with contact from the dream sand, and North shook his head, "You've been gone for a while, friend," he confirmed Tooth's story, "We were getting very worried. We've been looking everywhere for you, and we finally had to ask Manny," he motioned to the full moon overhead, beaming down at them intently.
"And even after he told us where you were holed-up, it was a terrible trying to find the place," Aster added, "A moving island, of all things, Sanderson. Truthfully, I should have thought of that myself; it would have saved me considerable trouble with the humans."
North frowned at him, "Yes, perhaps it would have been better for us all," the cassock grumbled.
Toothiana's comment cut through the night like a blade, "You should have told us where you were going, Sandy," she said, "I've lost three nights worth of collecting, because of this. And what if Pitchner had gotten to you? We're guardians, Sandy. You aren't just doing this alone, anymore, and there's a reason for that. These are very dangerous times, and we've all got to stick together." she offered him a hand up, and he stood, "Though, I know it can be difficult," he shot a glance at North and Bunnymund, "to find peace. But we've all got to do our best and stay safe."
Sandy watched the way her feathers shimmered in the moonlight, and felt his blush coming back. He nodded curtly, trying to clear the heat from his features.
Tooth smiled at him, "Good. Now come, everyone, we have jobs to do." she patted the coin pouch at her hip, and leapt into the air, darting off in to the night.
Sandy sighed happily. North was staring at him quizzically, and Bunnymund's ears twitched. Immediately Sandy began gathering up dream sand in swirling streams of light to avoid each of their gazes, pretending to be calm and composed. Even MiM, far overhead, seemed to be watching his motions intently, uncertain of what to make of them. The much-needed sleep had done him wonders, but it had left him with a fair number of things to think about.
He left them all behind in a rush of gold, shooting him in to the dark night sky like a comet, well on his way to delivering his very finest dreams.
People dreamt of what they wanted. And Sanderson couldn't wait to shut his eyes.
END.