-25-
"Imperfect Host"
I shall take over for a bit, Mother... for while you slept in the castle in the centre of The Dreaming, my father Morpheus prepared to host a very dangerous gathering.
After you fainted, The Dreaming crew was alarmed, and Nuala asked if something was the matter.
"Just tired, I think," was the response that my father gave. "Take her to her room."
"Sure thing, Boss," said Mervyn, grabbing up Rose Walker and throwing her body over his stick-shoulder. Constantine took notice of Mervyn's stick-hands securing her backside, rather more than should have been necessary.
"'Ey, give 'er 'ere pumpkin-man," said Constantine, motioning to him.
"Do not try anything," warned Morpheus.
"D'I look like th' kind've bloke that 'ould take advantage o'an unconscious bird?" asked Constantine. Morpheus stared at him a moment, steadily. "Right. Been geggin' in on me dreams, 'ave you? Fair enough."
"She is a guest in my castle; it is therefore my responsibility to ensure that she remains unharmed."
"Never 'ad no mind ta 'arm 'er, chief."
"I urge you as much for your safety as for hers. She will not take kindly to any impropriety; and as you have witnessed, she currently has more than enough power to cause you regret."
"Perfect gent, or th' bot'l-red'ead goes ballistic - got it. Already figured as much."
"I'll go with them, and make sure the room is comfortable," offered Nuala, all the while giving Constantine a critical eye.
"Thank you, Nuala."
Mervyn unceremoniously dumped Rose into Constantine's arms. "She's got a nice toosh," Mervyn whispered, "too bad you'll never know, amiright?" He elbowed Constantine, before sauntering off to perform other duties on the grounds.
Constantine frowned, wondering why Morpheus chose to warn him instead of his own uncouth, handsy servant.
He looked down at the sleeping Rose in his arms, realizing he'd never seen her so peaceful. No matter, he thought. He was the one who would get to watch her sleep, her chest rising and falling slightly with every breath - even if the anorexic little twig-fairy had to be there to watch HIM (mind you these are Constantine's thoughts, Nuala - not my own).
Constantine conjectured that perhaps the reason why Morpheus showed such unequal distrust was because he wasn't threatened by Mervyn Pumpkinhead - but the same could not be said of the handsome magician John Constantine.
His chest filling with eager pride at the thought, John followed Nuala to the room designated for Rose (do not stare so, Mother - though you chose to ignore them, surely you must have known, deep down, what Constantine's feelings truly were in regards to you).
Matthew the Raven flew to Morpheus' shoulder and perched upon it. "It's cute how the chick swoons over you." Morpheus gave him a cool look, but said nothing. "So uh…" began Matthew, "Where's the Pouch?"
The former incarnation of Dream brushed the Raven off his shoulder. Matthew squawked with indignation, as Dream silently made his way to the Gallery of Sigils.
It was here that framed symbolic objects - the sigils - were displayed upon the walls on either side of the hall: on one wall was a Book and an Ankh; on the other was a hook, a glass Heart, and a piece of Abstract art comprised of texture and swirling color. Two of the frames were empty: the third frame of the first wall, which was supposed to contain my uncle-brother Destruction's sword, and the lone frame on the far-end wall, which once held the Helmet of Morpheus - our own sigil - until it was stolen during his capture by the occultist acolytes of Roderick Burgess.
Dream stopped at the Book, and lifted it off the brackets which held it in place. The book was still tethered to the wall by an iron chain. "Destiny," Morpheus intoned, "I stand in my gallery, and I hold your sigil. Will you answer me?"
Destiny felt compelled to stop wandering the labyrinthine pathways of his Garden, and entered his own Gallery.
He passed by his own painting, and that of our sister Death, stopping at the painting which depicted Dream - but instead of a 2-dimensional painted image, the large frame appeared to be a doorway, on the other side of which stood the patiently-waiting Dream. Dream held the Book in his hands, but the chain disappeared into nothingness at the point of the doorframe.
Meanwhile, in The Dreaming, what was once a small picture frame became an open window, through which Morpheus could see his brother Destiny's face.
Destiny said nothing. His cloudy eyes could not be seen in the shadow of his hood.
"I wish to ask your advice, brother," Morpheus explained. "Many things have happened since I was imprisoned… and my realm is in disarray. A Nightmare has escaped into the waking world, and threatens my rule; and the Hell of Lucifer is no more, awaiting the appointment of new management; this I promised my elder sister I would do without delay. But my imprisonment has left me weak - and I lack my tools of office, my brother. The Pouch and the Dreamstone are in the possession of the rogue Nightmare - but the whereabouts of the Helmet are less certain. Those who I would invite to The Dreaming, so that they may submit their bid for the rulership of Hell, shall perceive my weakness - and they may very well attempt to exploit it."
"I cannot help you reclaim your tools," stated Destiny, matter-of-factly. "It is not my place."
My father lowered his eyes. He knew his brother well; he had expected as much. But he would nevertheless express his disappointment. "...I see."
"About this mortal girl, Rose-"
"She is not a problem, brother. That situation, at least, I have well under control."
"Mm," was our brother's skeptical response. "You know what comes of the union between a mortal and an Endless."
"Yes. You have warned me."
"The power of Dream is not destined to be shared. If you do not take action soon, Rose will become the Endless, and you the mortal."
"I am aware."
The window misted over, and became a solid wall once more. Dream replaced the Book back onto its holding-pegs. He glanced at the next frame, containing the Ankh - no sense in calling upon Death, however, as she would think he was making excuses to delay handling the Hell situation. He decided to move to the frames on the opposite wall, and lifted the sharp hook away from the rusted nail it hung upon.
"Despair. I stand in my Gallery and I hold your sigil. Will you answer?"
In that cold, misty place, where countless mirrors hung suspended in the still air over a cold, grey stone floor, Despair had hooked a rat and was drawing it to her. The thing squeaked pitiably, but Despair had no pity to spare. It was going to be a miserable meal, after all; she wasn't any happier about it than the rat.
But then she felt a plaintive, crystalline cry, louder than all the rest, emanating from the dusty collection of mirrors she held in reserve for family.
Despair sighed. No one ever called her, but once was far too many times. What was the use of answering?
The cry got even louder. It sounded like her brother Dream, making a fearful sob. Oh well - might as well see what his problem was. It's not like she was terribly excited about eating the rat, or that she had anything else better to do than listen to her older brother whine about his problems. Maybe it would make her feel better, less alone.
But she doubted it.
She groaned, and slowly dragged herself over to the mirror. It felt ever so far away. If only Dream knew how much effort she was making on his behalf… but no, he probably didn't care. No one did.
At last she was there, in front of the crying mirror, after that complete and utter waste of energy.
She figured she should at least be grateful that the face in the mirror was his - that hopelessly beautiful, well-defined marble face of Dream - and not her own; it always made her feel infinitely worse to catch sight of her own ugly, pathetic face (again, I must remind you that I only give voice to the inner thoughts of my sister Despair). But then again, she loathed seeing good-looking people, too - because they reminded her of just how badly she compared.
"What do you want?" she grumped, and instantly regretted doing so. She was such an awful person - she would be sure to punish herself with the hook for it, later on.
"Sister," said Morpheus oh-so-gently - trying to be patronizing to her, no doubt. "Do you know where my Helmet is?"
Oh of course, she should have figured - he didn't care about her, only about his stupid Helmet. "No," she answered flatly.
"Ah."
"You should give up," she told him. She may be a terrible person, but she was still his sister - she would give him the best advice she was capable of giving.
"On finding the Helmet?"
"On EVERYTHING." Yes, that would be so much better - that way she could wrap her pallid, flabby arms around him from afar. Even when he was in that glass bubble, he had never wandered into her realm for even a moment, the unfeeling bastard - perhaps now, he would appreciate her chilly embrace.
"That's not an option, Sister."
Rats. Too much to hope for. Story of her life.
She would never convince him, he was far too stubborn. But then again, she was the patroness of hopeless causes… she would continue to argue, to the bitter end.
"It's always an option. Disappoint your sister by refusing to solve the Hell problem - tell her it was too much for you. Tell her she was a fool for placing her trust in you. Let go the idea of rebuilding your kingdom to its former glory. The Dreaming will never be as grand as it once was; you will never be what you once were as its king. Let Rose and The Corinthian have it all - they will surely fight and destroy one another anyway. Give up on your dreams, Brother. Dreams are nothing."
"Dreams are nothing, Sister? Without dreams, there could be no Despair."
Despair snorted derisively, and turned away from the mirror.
She really didn't know why she bothered talking to anyone anymore, especially him - Dream always knew exactly how to cut her down, and make her feel stupid.
And that infuriating, childish optimism of his - at least it would be infuriating, if she could even bring herself to care that much. All she felt was a numb, resounding emptiness inside her.
Maybe she should eat something. Where was that rat? The one she'd hooked, before Dream so carelessly interrupted?
It was gone - her hook had nothing. She'd lost it.
Despair sighed. She'd have to start all over again. But she wondered if she even had the energy left to try...
Figures… she just knew that this day was going to turn out rotten…
With the image of his morose sister gone, Morpheus moved on to the next frame, with the red glass heart. He lifted it up, and made his call.
The Fleshold - Desire's realm - is fashioned after their favorite temple and altar: a body. In this case, a human body. Desire, dressed in a black skin-tight bodysuit, lounged on a bed made of blood-red crimson satin that resembled a kidney, lighting a cigarette caught in a long, old-fashioned holder with the help of an art deco heart-shaped lighter.
The Gallery was on the ceiling, and it was made of TV screens.
Dream's face appeared on one of the screens. The androgyne looked up at it, flashing a cruel grin framed by red lips.
"Dreamie, is that you? I haven't seen you in, gosh, what feels like FOREVER. What has it been now, seventy years? Such a long time… you still remember me, don't you? Of course you do."
Delirium bounced down from some other organ-shaped playground furniture - attached to a scrotum, perhaps - onto the kidney-bed where Desire sat.
"DrEAam? yOu'Re bACk, OhH mY gOsh yOU're bACk...a lOng looong tiMe, YAY! Do yoU remEmbER mE toO?"
"Delirium?"
"ThAt's MYseLF. ME. i wAnt tO sEE yOU, i mEAn, REaLLy sEe yOu... YOu knOw...nOt liKe thiS sEeiNng YoU…"
"Just a moment. I have business with Desire."
"Is this about your little affair and its messy ending? I'm afraid you managed to screw that one up all on your own." Desire took out the cigarette and renewed their cruel grin afresh. "Though I did find it extremely amusing."
"No. It concerns my Helmet. Do you know where it is?"
Desire took a drag from the cigarette - they took their sweet time in answering, savoring the flavor of their brother's desperation.
Under Delirium's influence the smoke turned into shapes and butterflies, which Delirium stirred with her finger until they mutated and lost all coherent form.
"I didn't take it," said Desire at last. "Such an ugly thing, after all."
"I'm not accusing you. I'm-"
"i wANna gO sEE my brOTHer aNd pLAy aLL dAy wiTh hIm iN tHe...uM WHaTSiT-cALLeD 'DReaMing' ThaT'S riGHT… iS thAt o-kaY? iT's okAy riiiGHT, DrEAm?"
"No, Delirium. I don't have time-"
"i lOst sOme tiMe, oNce… i alwAYs FiNd iT iN thE LAst pLAce i lOOk foR iT. WaiT i'Ve saiD thaT beFoRe haVen'T i?"
"Mmmm…" Desire purred, "Yes THAT takes you back, doesn't it Dream? To the last time we all saw one another - at that little family get-together, remember? Before Krypton exploded, and Hell went vacant… and you were accidentally invited to that extended sleepover with those wretched occultists, who as it turned out didn't even want you? Oh, and on that note: how is Nada doing, by the way?"
Delirium rummaged around in a brown filthy bag covered in detritus, and eventually just dumped the whole thing on Desire's red shag carpet; this was how she kept her Gallery pictures with her wherever she went, which were hand-drawn scrawls on random bits of paper of each of the Endless. These images were drawn up by Delirium herself, using crayons and finger-paints: each of the Endless were depicted with rather large heads and round eyes, and small, chubby, child-like bodies.
Delirium spread the collection around, and found the drawing of Dream on a page of yellow lined legal paper.
"i'M cO-MinG tO pLAy… reaDy oR noT heRe i coMe!"
"No! Stay where you are. Delirium-!"
Delirium took no heed, instead diving into the picture like it was a swimming pool.
She popped out the other end, through the frame in Dream's Gallery. Some frogs, butterflies, and rainbow-colored fish came with her - they were hopping, ribbiting, fluttering, and flopping onto the floor wetly, but you would be surprised which action corresponded to which creature; she got them mixed up sometimes, you see.
Delirium herself landed on Dream with almost enough force to knock him over, wrapping her arms around his neck almost tight enough to choke him, and vice-gripping his torso with her legs almost enough to crack his ribs had he been human. "YAY-HOOOOO! BroTHeR!" she squealed.
Dream pulled her off of him, which was no easy task. "Go back to your realm, Delirium."
Delirium looked stricken. "WhAT...?"
"I have things I must do."
"That's right Dreamie," taunted Desire nastily from the picture-frame, "Tell the little gleet to buzz off and bother someone else, so you can get back to your favorite pastime: feeling SORRY for yourself!"
Delirium twitched. "...OhH. OkAy. Um. WeLL…"
She simply stood there, and stared up at him.
"Delirium? You are beginning to try my patience."
Delirium began to cry.
"Is… something the matter?"
She sniffled. "i knEw iT... thAt yOU'd wAnt tO bE aLL hOrrible tO mE...yOU aLwAYs aRe trYing tO gEt riD oF mE...aNd iT's nOt jUst yOU eiThEr…"
"Delirium…" Dream created a tissue from thin air and handed it over to Delirium. She took it and blew into it with great force. She offered it back to him, rainbow-colored snot and all. "Keep it," he told her.
"i wAs gOing tO bE sOOO gOOd, cuZ I knEw yOU'd bE liKe thIs iF i wAsn't, aNd nOw it's aLL a meSS. i sEE hOw iT iS… i'LL gO, bE iN mY rEAlm iF yOU wAnt mE. iF anYOne wANts mE…"
Delirium slumped over - almost in half, her tangled rainbow hair falling forward over her face - and shuffled slowly toward her portrait of swirling colors, swinging her dangling arms limply like a poorly-controlled marionette.
"I'm not angry with you. I'm sorry. You can stay, if you wish."
Delirium abruptly stopped. She rose up and looked at him through her locks of hair with deep suspicion. "YoU're mAkiNg fUn oF mE, i knOw it. YOU neVeR apOlOgize. YOU pRetEnd yOU knOw stUff i dOn't knOw thAt mAkes stUFf yOU dO okAy."
"I meant it. Go explore the castle, and find something with which to occupy yourself - I shall be joining you shortly."
Delirium instantly brightened and skipped away out of the hall, humming.
Desire smirked at Morpheus. "Now that you're baby-sitting the little headache, I feel I owe you one: go ask Orpheus. He'll know."
Dream's face fell at the mention of that name, echoing from out of the past and seizing his heart with the cold pangs of remembrance; then his face hardened, jaw setting firmly with anger. "I like being made fun of less than Delirium."
"Ah well, just a suggestion. I know you don't want to visit your son, but then again… I could always MAKE you want to."
"Like butterflies to a flame."
Desire noticed that one of Delirium's butterflies had been left behind in their realm. They held up the lighter, exposing the small flame - and the butterfly flew right into it. "Exactly," growled Desire. Looking up at the TV screen, they saw that Morpheus' face was replaced with static. Desire chuckled to themself - they did so love to jerk their brother's chain. It was just TOO easy.
Meanwhile, Dream realized that he had not yet mourned for that which he had lost, and that which he knew he was going to end up losing sooner or later. During his imprisonment, he had thought always of escape, and of reclaiming his throne - it had not occurred to him how much would have changed by the time this was accomplished.
Thessaly. He thought she would be waiting for him, in The Dreaming, for his return. He had no reason to think otherwise; he had installed her into his world, and she was a fixture there.
But her eyes, when he finally saw her, in that dark and blood-stained apartment… cold eyes, weighing him dispassionately. Finding him wanting.
He should have known. Even before he was captured, he could see that look in her eyes.
And why? He would have given her worlds of her own, strung like sapphires and emeralds on a silken cord…
…But she no longer loved him. Nothing would change that.
This was foolish. Why did he hurt so? He'd known her for a mere handful of years… a couple centuries, little more...
Nada. He'd scarcely known her at all. If only he had not lost his temper from desiring her so much, and sent her away to Hell… but no, he knew the truth. He knew that even if she had agreed to spend her brief mortal life with him, still he would have felt desire's cruel sting.
And now, the thought of seeing his son once more… and knowing the terrible boon that would be asked of him.
It was too much. Desire always did know just the right way to get under his skin.
He shook his head and decided to go outside, to get some fresh air, bitterly cursing his sister-brother all the while.
-Rose Walker's Tale-
I'm pretty sure I was awake at this point, so let me get back to it.
I woke up in this massive bed - bigger than a king-sized mattress by far, and very cushy.
Somebody was breathing softly - I realized that Constantine was fast asleep on the bed beside me, sitting propped up with his back against the padded plush headboard, head all the way back and his mouth open, a drop of drool sliding down from the corner of his mouth. I could smell his stale ashtray-and-beer-bottle breath from a yard away - I hadn't seen him drink any alcohol for the last many hours, so that made me wonder when he'd last brushed his teeth or washed his mouth out.
He was still wearing his nasty, musty-smelling trenchcoat - arms wrapped tightly around himself, legs crossed, shoes on. I felt like this was not the first time he'd slept in such an uncomfortable-looking position, and had most likely slept much rougher in the past.
But I couldn't really say anything - my clothes had not changed either, it's just that my sleepwear finally matched the context of the situation.
"Don't worry miss Rose," came Nuala's sweet voice, which announced her presence to me from the corner chair. "He hasn't done anything improper."
"Thanks," I said. I wouldn't have wanted any part of his scuzzy, unwashed self getting familiar with me while I was awake, let alone asleep.
She got up and brought me a glass of fizzy and blue-green liquid. "This mouthwash is better than anything in the waking world," she explained. "It cleans your teeth really well without having to brush, and you can even swallow it without any trouble."
I took it and drank it - it was really good actually, very sweet. "You should give him some when he wakes up," I suggested, nodding my head toward John.
Nuala narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, I will - but I won't promise it'll taste the same for him."
I shook my head and shuffled out of the room, hugging myself.
I'd built this castle, but I had no idea what the actual layout was - as Dream had told me, the castle remembered what it was supposed to be. But within it, I was lost.
I felt awful still, even after finally getting some sleep. My head was pounding, my body was heady and exhausted, and my stomach was queasy. It was like having jet-lag mixed with a bad hangover.
I realized, with amazement, that this was the first time that I wished I could just stay asleep instead of being awake. Usually I was so terrified of the nightmares, and of not being able to wake up like my mother; but now that my waking world was so screwed-up and weird, and full of broken things that I had no clue how to fix (and yet, I supposedly had the power and responsibility to do just that) I wanted to run and find solace in the void of responsibility known as dreams.
Or nightmares. I didn't even care anymore - after what happened to Paul and Rachel, I knew I wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyway.
And it would be nice if the nightmares would stop when I woke up, instead of feeling like waking up was the end of my brief reprieve from the recurring and never-ending nightmare called Reality.
Somehow, my aimless wanderings led me to a balcony. And there, I saw Dream.
It was raining, and the raindrops were pelting him pretty hard as he gripped the balcony railing. His midnight cloak was billowing behind him, slick and shiny with water, just like his dark hair. Thunder rolled.
As I got closer, I realized that Lucien was with him.
"The uh, palace staff was wondering… what you would like done with the suite of rooms created for her?"
"Erase them." Dream looked over his shoulder at his pointy-eared Librarian. "And Lucien? I would appreciate it if the palace staff would refrain from mentioning her in my presence."
"Very good, Dream Lord."
Lucien walked back inside - I ducked and hid behind a pillar. The Dreaming crew, including Nuala (who was, apparently, done with Constantine), were gathering downstairs - they watched Lucien as he descended, "Well?" demanded Mervyn Pumpkinhead. "What's the scoop, Loosh?"
"He wants the rooms erased," Lucien said, wiping the raindrops off his spectacles with a handkerchief. "Mm, to be on the safe side… better dismantle that whole wing of the castle."
Mervyn growled with irritation, crossing his arms and blowing smoke violently out of his eyeholes.
There was a tall-backed throne that loomed from the upper level - Matthew the Raven was perched on the arm of it. "It's been a whole 24 hrs, for chissakes! Isn't he tired of standing in the rain?"
Is that how long I'd been asleep? I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept all the way through the night, let alone that much - maybe when I was a little kid?
"I've been here before," grumbled Mervyn. He pointed at Lucien. "You've been here before. Hell, we've ALL been here before. It always happens like this when a girl walks out on him, don't it?"
"Not at all," corrected Lucien. "After the Nada affair, he RAZED The Dreaming. It was a bleak desert for centuries."
"Wow. Jeez," said Matthew the Raven.
Nuala sighed, ears drooping. "Poor Lord Dream…"
"Poor Dream?" echoed the incredulous Mervyn. His voice raised sharply, like a boiling teapot going off with a streaming whistle - and with the smoke from his cigar rising, it really did complete the look. "HE'S not the one who has ta dismantle a whole wing! He could vanish it in a blink! Gone!
Us Ordinary Joes have broads walk out on us all the time. We shrug it off, hey that's life. But he's gotta be the tragic figure in the rain, mournin' his beloved. So down comes the rain, right on cue.
Hey, if ya ask me, I mean, okay, he's our Boss... ya know, right or wrong. But the guy's a FLAKE. But it's not his fault, y'know? It's like, you hang out with poets an' those guys, you're bound ta go a little flaky."
"What do you mean?" asked Nuala.
"Cuz next thing ya know, he'll find some other broad ta be moonin' over," theorized Mervyn, flippantly. "Then it's gonna but nuthin' but moon moon moon, moon, all the time, like he's never even been in love before. Least until THAT deal runs its course, a'course - and then we'll be right back ta where we all started."
Lucien raised an eyebrow at the Pumpkinhead. "Perhaps, instead of regaling us with your assessment of his character and personal affairs, you should take your complaints to Lord Dream directly?"
Thunder cracked and rolled loudly, shaking the castle. Mervyn shuddered. "I'll go gather the wrecking crew. Later Loosh. Seeya Toots."
Mervyn ambled off, and Lucien calmly announced that he would be returning to the library.
Now that my curiosity was piqued, I slowly made my way through the dark hall to the balcony.
Standing at the archway leading out to the balcony, I could see more of the outside - and it became apparent that this rainstorm was not widespread over the landscape; in fact, looking up I could see that a little rain cloud darkened the air just above Dream's head, dumping cold water like an aggressively high-pressure shower-head, and that Dream himself seemed to be the only thing it was getting wet.
Wet Dream. Ha…
That laugh did not stay inside of me - it escaped, and he turned around.
"...Rose?"
"Hey. You enjoying yourself out here?"
Dream looked away - I'm guessing he was a bit ashamed about being caught moping, by one of his guests instead of his servants. The cloud dispersed almost immediately. "I… find the rain refreshing, sometimes. It enables me to think clearer."
"Uh huh," I said, totally convinced. My stomach growled then, loud as hell.
Morpheus smiled slightly - in fact that was the only type of smile I ever saw from him, like he was always hesitant about whether he really should commit to a smile or not. I don't think I ever saw him lift both corners of his mouth upwards all the way, at the same time. "I'm afraid I've been a poor host to you, Rose. Now that you are awake, will you kindly join me in the dining hall for some refreshments?"
"Absolutely," I consented, wholeheartedly. I wasn't such a big fan of sleep, but I never had anything against eating.
Suddenly, we heard a distinctive, burbling scream.
"Lord Dream," said an unfamiliar voice, which sounded like the low growl of a lion and the sharp cry of an eagle at once, both speaking the human words simultaneously.
We looked down, over the balcony's edge, at the castle gates: that's where a winged horse, an eagle-lion and a dragon, all made out of stone, kept watch. The dragon had a rainbow-haired girl dangling from his snout, her oversized and raggedy coat caught in his jaws.
The girl was pale, just like Dream and his sister Death. She was laughing and screaming hysterically at the same time, flailing her fishnet-stocking covered limbs.
"We caught her trying to escape, Mi'Lord," explained the winged horse.
The dragon tried to speak without letting go of the girl's coat caught in its mouth. "Fhee fhed fhee wov wor fhifter," the dragon mumbled through his gritted teeth.
"Huh?" I said, looking at Dream to see if he understood.
"Yes, I'm afraid she IS my sister, Wyvern," responded Dream. "Put her down."
The winged horse gasped. "Mi'Lord! Are you certain? She may be a wild little filly, 'tis true, but I really do think that with a certain reining in, she would be more than manageable..."
"I meant for her to be placed on the ground, and released. GENTLY."
"Oh, of course... naturally, Sire," said the winged horse, ducking further into his folded wings and looking ashamed of himself.
Wyvern followed Dream's clarified instructions, and set Delirium down.
"WHEEE!" yelled the rainbow-haired girl.
The dragon spoke - and he was so much clearer and more intelligible, now that his mouth was free. "My… my lady, had I but known-"
"S'oKaY iT waS fuN esPeciaLLy thE swiNGing biT liKe DiSneYLanD," garbled the rainbow-haired girl, wobbling around dizzily and trying to pet Wyvern's snout... but only managing to slap at the air around it. It was like watching a drunk child stagger around - hilarious in its own perverse way, but also really worrisome.
"How many sisters do you have, Dream?" I asked.
"Three and a half," said Dream. "And there are just as many brothers, if one were to include myself."
The mathematical riddle almost broke my brain, but I managed to sort it out. "So… there are SEVEN of you in total."
"Indeed. That one down there is named Delirium."
I nodded. "Makes sense."
He called out to Delirium below, though 'calling out' wasn't the way I would describe it - he didn't actually have to strain and yell in order to be heard over great distances, like normal people... it was more like he simply increased the volume and made it more directional. "Delirium, meet us in the dining hall," his voice calmly boomed.
"O-kaY bROtheR…seE yOU theRe… aND hEaR yoU toO, noT juSt seE… I haVe eARs anD theY wOrK juSt fiNe CauSe theY dOn'T haVe aNy woRmS iN theM aT aLL… weLL okaY exCept maYbe oNe buT i DoN't liKe tO meNtioN iT a LoT beCauSe thE oTHer eAr geTs jeaLouS fOR noT hAVing AnY. It'S A sOng aND iT's VeRy caTchy ANd iT gOes liKe thiS... LA-LA-DI-DA-DAAA..." sang Delirium tunelessly, as she tottered on her stockinged feet through the gateway doors, which opened automatically at her approach to let her pass within.
I followed Dream to the dining hall. Nuala very delightedly took Dream's rain-soaked cloak from him.
I was shocked to see that he was wearing tight-fitting jeans and a T-shirt underneath. Who knew that he could ever be that casual?
Inside, John Constantine had his legs rudely propped up on the long dining-room table, leaned back in his chair and smoking away on a cigarette.
"Constantine, you're getting the tablecloth dirty," I snapped at him.
"Sorry," he growled, swinging his legs down and giving me a dark look, "Consequences a'growin' up without me mam - 's why I'm just SO well made up 'bout 'avin YOU 'round ta set me straight."
"Well somebody has to," I said, taking a seat… in a chair which had been pulled out by none other than Dream himself. Constantine freakin' SNEERED at this gentlemanly gesture - he followed Dream with his eyes, even craning his neck around as Dream passed him by to reach his own chair at the other end.
"Yeh know mate, if yeh keep treatin' 'er like some sort a' posh princess, she'll actually start BELIEVIN' she is one," Constantine warned. "An' then there'll be NO bloody livin' with 'er after that."
"What's your problem, John?"
"Too many ta account for, luv. So wot's yours, eh?"
"What? What the hell do you mean?"
"I mean, are you MENSTRUAL? You've 'ad a cob on for days now, poppin' off at me any chance you get! I'm bloody sick an' tired of it!"
"If you don't like me criticizing you, then maybe you should try not being an asshole all the time."
"Yeh sure, alright, maybe I will... once YOU stop being such a bloody BITCH."
I glared at him for a few moments, feeling my internal temperature rise until it was making my face hot. In a low, chilling, biting voice that almost seemed not to come from me, I said: "...I can see now why Rachel LEFT YOU." It just kind of came out, fully-formed and without any conscious planning on my part.
Constantine's face took on this righteously-angry, teary-eyed look, like I'd hauled out and slapped him right across it. He responded quietly, like he was having trouble getting the words out past the indignation swelling up in his chest: "... An' I'd bet yeh Paul was a ladies' man, a'fore 'e met you luv."
Dream seemed to be observing our squabble with extreme dispassion - considering what I'd overheard his servants saying about what he was going through at that point, he was probably just glad not to have a vested interest in the petty drama that was unfolding before him.
I wasn't even sure why the two of us were fighting, honestly. I guess we were both just tired and cranky from the magical rollercoaster we'd been on, for the last many hours up until that point - that, and lack of food (what're you rolling your eyes at me for, Desire? If you have something to say, just spit it out already!).
Anyway, our fight was basically at a stalemate, with both of us glaring at each other and waiting to see who would make the next move. I got up, determined to leave and go back to bed - I wasn't hungry anymore so much as I was pissed off. But then Dream looked up pleasantly at the dining hall entryway. "Ah, Delirium - please, take a seat."
Delirium stood in the doorway, blocking my exit. "ThEre yOU aRE, DrEAm…" she said, weaving around on unsteady feet. But then she took notice of me and startled, as if I'd just suddenly appeared in front of her, from out of nowhere. "WhO're yOU?" she asked.
"I'm Rose," I answered.
She peered at me then, and looked me over from all angles, like I was a fascinating piece of sculpture. "YoU're DrEAm'S girLfriEnd, rIghT?"
"Yer spot-on there, li'l Skittle-'ead," said John. "Only fer some reason, SHE don't know it yet!"
"No I'm not!" I protested. Jeez, seriously - what was WITH him? And he had the nerve to call ME a bitch - hell, if he wasn't a guy, I'd be asking HIM if this was HIS time of the month!
Delirium pouted and frowned at John. "WHaT's HE dOing hERe?"
John threw up his arms. "Great, more birds 're flockin' ta take a peck at me! Well alright now, come on an 'ave a go at me too, 'oever yeh are - but you'll have to get in line behind THIS one, li'l sister, because I doubt she's had her fill a' takin' the PISS outta me yet!"
"i'M nOT youR LittLe siSteR i'M hiS," corrected Delirium. She turned her attention back to me. "i'M, uM. DELiriUm, liTTLe sIstER. Of DrEAm. ActUaLLY aLL thE EndLEss."
"I know. Dream told me."
She beamed at Dream. "SHe's MUCH pRETTiEr thAn thE girLfriEnd beFOre. ThAt oNe wAs mEAn. i wIsh sHE hAd bUgs crAwLing aLL oVer heR fOrEvEr aNd evEr...
"Delirium, you're mistaken: Rose is merely a guest, nothing more."
"Uh-hUh. i'M nOt aLL tOgEthEr i knOw, i usEd tO bE anD nOw i'M nOt. BUt i stiLL, uM. KnOw thIngs." Delirium took my hand and pulled me over to the table. "SiT nExt tO mE, o-kAy? WE're gOIng tO bE thE bESTest oF friEndS..."
Delirium crawled into a seat on the other side facing John, and I took the chair beside her as she'd asked me to do. She squirmed around restlessly - like she was either dancing, reacting to her own thoughts, or having a muscle spasm; or maybe all of those things at once.
"I hope she is not bothering you."
"Oh no, not at all," I assured him.
"VErY gOOd friEnds, mE N' ROse."
"Wonderful."
Constantine looked with concern at Dream. "Oi, yer kid sister - wot's she on now, then?"
"Nothing," Dream replied. "What you are seeing is her natural state of being."
"Ah," said John. "That's really disturbin' ta hear, actually."
A bug-eyed humanoid with curling whiskers that resembled those of a catfish entered the dining hall, dressed in a vaguely Arabian Nights-looking outfit.
"Now that we are all here, please order whatever you'd like to eat from Taramis," said Morpheus.
"HAve yOU gOt anY liTTLe CaNdy pEOple? AbOUt thrEE inchES hiGh, gUYs aNd girLs, fiLLed wIth rAspbERRy crEAm…"
"Very good ma'am," said Taramis, unfazed by the bizarre request. "And to drink?"
"FrESH mAngO jUice, pLEEze."
The catfish-person waiter looked at me. "Would you like something, miss?"
"Oh. Uh... oatmeal?"
Delirium made a rude noise. "YoU cAn hAve anYthIng yOU cAn thiNk oF, reALLY. I'Ve spEnt dAys n' dAys mAkIng Up flAvOrs oF ice crEAm nObOdY's EAtEn, liKe chIckEn aNd teLEphOne iCe crEAm...hAve yOU evEr dOne thAt?"
"Not really." I looked up at Taramis. "Oatmeal would be fine. Thanks."
"An omelette, a light salad and a glass of white wine for me, Taramis."
Taramis nodded serenely. "As you will, Sire." Then he looked to John Constantine. "And you?"
Constantine scratched his chin stubble. "Anythin' I want, eh? I'll 'ave… a massive gin an' tonic, the good stuff, no ice but freezin'-arse cold, an' I want all the water innit ta be made HOLY. Oh, an' a side a' porkchops would do us just fine, thanks." He shot me a sideways glance. "Unless me MAM o'er there disapproves a'me choices."
"You can shove anything in your mouth that you want to, John," I told him, "I'll be happy as long as it shuts you up."
Taramis left quietly, somewhere in the midst of us bickering.
Desperate to get us talking about something else, I looked at Dream (and, frankly, it was pissing me off that he looked so calm and above-it-all over there at the far end of the table).
"So. You've had women stay at the castle before?" I knew the answer already, but he didn't need to know that.
Dream looked uncomfortable, and nodded hesitantly. Mission accomplished.
"Mortal women?"
"YeAh, prETTY mUch mOstLY," said Delirium, playing with a spoon that she'd pulled out of her ear, "ExcEpt fOr fAEriE quEEns and gOddESSes aNd-"
"Delirium, please."
Taramis returned crazy fast, carrying a bottle of white wine - with him was a topless woman with an eyepatch and a plaid skirt, carrying a covered platter.
"Dinner is served, Sire."
"Thank you, Taramis."
The topless eyepatch woman stopped by Dream first, and when she lifted the top off of the platter, his order was there steaming on the plate, as well as his wine glass. Taramis poured the wine for him.
The lady stopped by Delirium next, and this time when she lifted the lid of the platter, there was a plastic cup of mango juice with a curly straw, and a plate with a pile of small dolls made of candy - they were naked, anatomically correct, and highly-detailed (embarrassingly so).
As the eyepatch lady set them down in front of her, Delirium marveled over the edible men and women. She peered at them closely. "Oh lOOkIE! ThEY've aLL gOt LiTTle eyEbrOws…"
I was given my bowl of oatmeal from the magic platter, and as it turned out I didn't regret my choice at all - it was the best oatmeal I'd ever tasted, and full of cream and colorful fruit.
I tried not to think too hard about the topless woman serving me, or make it too obvious that I was avoiding looking at… THEM… as I mumbled my thanks to her. I mean, I'm not a prude or anything... I just wasn't used to dealing with topless waitresses, that's all, and I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable.
The eyepatch lady made her final stop, giving Constantine his tall glass of booze and plateful of meat - but unfortunately, the food wasn't what he was staring at. "That looks like a tasty dish yeh have there," he said. "Ta, cheers." He toasted with his glass in the direction of the waitress' bare chest.
Thankfully, I'd gotten Dream going, staring at me from across the table with a critical twinkling eye. "Is there a reason you are pursuing the subject, Rose?"
Delirium paid no attention to the conversation, blithely playing with the candy people.
"FIRst i biTe thEir liTTle hAnds oFF, aNd thEn theiR liTTle nOsES…"
"Just curious," I answered. "Is it painful to talk about?"
"Indeed."
Constantine was eating his pork chops with relish, like a starving dog - but he was listening, and he paused to look at Dream. "I'm sorry ta hear that, Mate. 'Ow did she die?"
"She's not dead." Dream stared down into his wine glass. "She decided she no longer loved me."
"Aah. That's rough mate - condolences."
There was silence, for a while. But then Delirium brought that to a sudden end, when she picked up two of the candy people, a man and a woman, and smooshed them together.
"LOOk, thEY're mAkiNg lO-Ove...K-I-S-S-I-N-G…"
I could feel my face getting red.
Dream's fingers tightened around his wine glass. "Stop that."
Delirium looked alarmed that she had upset her brother. "SOrrY...Um, thEY wEREn't reALLY kiSsiNg. ThEY wEre uM... sqUiDgiNg. YeChhy, kiSSing…"
Delirium dropped the candy people, and began licking the residue off her fingers; however, within moments, she realized that her magical touch had brought the candy people to life… and what they decided to do with that brief borrowed life was to immediately and desperately copulate together on the plate. Delirium grinned sheepishly, taking up her napkin and discreetly covering them. The napkin was still moving about with each pelvic thrust, so she shoved her plate forward, away from her.
Constantine grabbed the plate, looking under the napkin. "Missionary, eh? Bad choice. An' look, they're already meltin', so they won't be gettin' ta try nutin' else... that's just tragic, that is." Then he chuckled. "Ah! But would yeh look at that? 'e just shot out a load a' raspberry cream, 'e did! Filled 'er right up!"
I dropped my spoon, disgusted - my appetite for my fruit and cream oatmeal was officially gone.
Dream got up stiffly, abruptly, and left the table. I went after him.
Delirium bounced off her chair, rushing to follow us. "HeY, wAit fOr mE!"
Meanwhile, I could hear Constantine gathering up all our abandoned plates and glasses, and happily helping himself to them. Limey bastard...