One day, Alex was reading a book, more recreational in nature. There were a surprising number of stories and epics to be found in the collection. Tales of great hunters using their 'mystical means' or 'god-like strength' to battle against beasts. The stories were clearly embellished but it was an interesting read nonetheless.
As he was skimming past a particularly nasty segment of a depraved hunter having his way with a feminine beast, he heard a thudding sound behind him.
He whirled around, claws extended and brought in front of him should he need to use them. Facing him, was a door.
A door decorated with rubies, gold, and too many engravings for it not to look pretentious. He opened his sight, slightly and, while the walls surrounding the doors seemed to drip with knowledge beyond him, the door itself looked unusually safe for the dream.
Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought it back. Alex could only hope the same would ring true with him because after months of being confined to same empty room, no matter how soothing it was, he would kill to explore more of the dreaming world.
He tried for the handle and, instead of simply opening, the door swung out and the space behind the door drag him into a clearing between mutiple macabre Victorian-esque buildings.
The door was gone, and he had to near physically fight every urge in him telling him to scream. His senses were telling him he wasn't in danger and he'd come to trust those.
Finding an alleyway, Alex set about to explore the streets about him.
After a few blocks of largely uniform scenery, he looked down and saw nothing. The walkway had cut off into an expanse of darkness, exactly like what he'd seen when he jumped off the stairs in his first dream; an experience he'd never forget. After exploring in multiple directions and finding the same in all stretches of the new land, he jumped off, disappointed.
Of a Dream Past
Brandon had just broken up with his girlfriend and life felt like shit. Of course, nobody would be able to tell it just by looking at him but that didn't exactly make him feel better. He'd been quiet recently, not wanting to talk as much and that led to him noticing things. Specifically about the guy who sat in front of him.
He sent a furtive glance toward Alex. A not-so-small part of Brandon was waiting for Alex's name to come up under the news as a serial killer. Previously, he'd have only called him quiet but in the past few months, he'd seemed unruly on a good day–downright feral on a bad one.
And the worst part, he was the only one who saw it.
He pushed thoughts of the likely-murderer to the back of his head and instead chose to talk to Sarah. She was easy to talk to; no chance of getting flustered around someone who looked like her.
"You know, they found a body in those woods by our middle school."
It took Sarah a few seconds to realize he was talking to her. "I genuinely just don't believe you right now."
Her face was set in the most deadpan position possible.
That got a chuckle out of him. "I'm serious! It was the weirdest thing too." He leaned in closer. "It wasn't a whole body. It was the head and arm of a dude who died months ago in London."
"England?" That was Alex. Likely murderer Alex… A part of Brandon wanted to call him out on doing it himself but that wouldn't be fair; the guy hadn't done anything yet.
Well, other than speaking stupidly. "Oh yeah, for sure. Someone just murdered a man, hopped on Fly Canada, and dumped their arm and head in a Canadian forest for laughs and giggles. Does that answer your question?"
Sue him, Alex so clearly had a hate boner for him, had said something stupid, and was easily irritable in the first place. He was practically asking for it.
Alex scowled. "It's Air Canada, not Fly Canada, whatever that is." Then he turned away. Smooth.
"Where's London, again?"
He turned to Sarah. "Few cities over? Definitely not next to us and that's all I really know. Funniest thing actually, didn't know that London was in the province until after I saw it on TV."
"They say it walked."
Brandon had to hold back a bark of laughter when he heard Jace; the guy eats into anything he finds online. "Where'd you hear that one."
Clearly, he did a poor job hiding his amusement. "I'm not kidding." Jace shuffled over on his chair. "Some people are saying they saw the feet and matched it to footsteps in the forest."
"Yeah, and some people think the earth is flat." Points to Sarah; he didn't think she had it in her.
He'd have thrown in his own jab but that was when the teacher came into the classroom.
All-in-all, that had Brandon feeling better about himself. Girlfriend or not, Brandon still had his charisma to cruise on. Small mercies and that.
Although, he did find it weird that heard growling as he came out of the classroom.
Of a Dream Past
Ever since that class day, memorable only because of the odd growling, his dreams had been the same. He'd wake up to a gloomy and dirty city. One that had the moon high in the sky at all times.
He wasn't really in the city though. He was there but as a close spectator. One so close that he'd have been able to enter the city with only a single step. He'd felt so tempted to do so at times.
Then, he'd see Alex and wake up. The same quiet, tall kid who'd developed a healthy tan and had surprisingly good hair in the dream–he definitely didn't clean up that nicely during the day.
Over a year had passed since he'd last talked to Alex–senior year started and he hadn't heard a peep from him since their sophomore one–and there was only one conclusion Brandon could come to.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was attracted to Alex Benson. Brandon never told anyone about his dreams.
Of a Dream Past
Eleanor Mayfield wasn't an angel. She took pride in admitting her faults and never worked towards being a saint. For her, it was enough to do right by her family and friends. She felt that as long as she did while not doing anything overly horrible, the 'good karma' would be leaning in her favour.
She might've misread karma wrong this entire time.
Her son had been missing for about a year but she had at least bled her waste of a husband dry in their divorce. She'd even gotten herself a new boyfriend who was paying bills for the both of them and only asked that she do a housewife's job.
Maybe that was Karma balancing the scales. It rang hollow when she thought about the loveless thing she shared with her little pet.
"What're you cooking?" Warm arms wrapped around her back.
"You can't recognize penne?"
Matt groaned. "I could see the pasta doesn't mean I know the sauce going with it. What's a guy got to pay to get a straight answer from you?"
"50 thousand dollars? Failing that, I'd say showering before you hug me." He quickly moved off her.
"My bad." She sent a glance backward and had to stifle a laugh at the puppy-like dejection on his face. The man loved too hard.
"Honey, you just came back from the gym, I get that you love me but the man I love showers. I bought you more of that shampoo you like; helps with the curls right?"
"Does wonders for it; thanks, babe."
He was getting too happy. Too comfortable. 8 months into their relationship and he was already looking at ring options. She did like the stability though. It gave her very little to worry about when looking for her son.
Of a Dream Past
When Eleanor closed her eyes for long enough, she'd dream of an ocean. She was on a canoe with only a paddle and hope to her name. Every night she would row; a feeling in her gut caused her to travel.
She'd started hearing the sounds months ago, a constant chittering in the ocean. She only ever looked down into the ocean once on account of it. Never again.
She spent her nights rowing toward an unknown destination, her only motivation being what she had to consider maternal instincts. As if her soul resonated with the calling.
One day, she closed her eyes and woke up on a ship. An opulent yacht, so high above the ocean floors that she could no longer hear the chittering on the edge of her hearing.
Her devotion had found her suitable. A deliverer of children. A girl of lesser blood would be born to Eleanor, a prostitute born sister to a prince.
And then, The Formless One slipped no longer able to find purchases in the universe. However, for better or for worse, his work was done.
Of a Dream Past
Time would pass and occasionally, he'd walk out the door. Every time, the land would be larger. More houses, more buildings, and most importantly, more variety. A forest with trees that reached into the expanse above; eerie tree houses placed at different locations and elevations.
He'd find sand and snow, swamps and lakes. He'd find beasts, gargantuan ones he wouldn't dare go near, and droves of negligible ones, that he became practiced in dispatching.
For years, the land grew, to the point where he'd given up on exploring it all and then, one day, he found a man.
Of a Dream Past
Alex heard the groaning first. Then he smelled the blood, a fresh wound because he couldn't smell any of it having dried. He instantly jumped into the dark, the long shadows of the surroundings hiding him from the beasts.
He found that he was talented at hiding moreso than anything else; the cowardly nature of his talent irked him.
He located the source of the noise in a man. A man who wasn't strange by any means. He wanted to study the man; take him to the well hidden house he'd taken as his study, take him apart, and figure out how another human had managed to find their way into here.
The sane part of him noted the large gash on the mans leg. "Shit."
He swiftly climbed up the balcony man was bleeding onto. "Are you okay–ignore that I just asked, it was a dumb question." He gently lifted the man into his arms. "I'd honestly love to swap notes with you but we have to go."
There were 3 bears, each with a clawed yet human arm instead of one of their forelegs and a pair of feetless legs growing out of their backs. He knew they were too clumsy to climb but already they'd broke pieces off their footing, and the Dream buildings were never the most stable things.
Not to mention the little problem of a man bleeding out. "Clench your teeth, old man."
He fished a vial of blood out of his pocket and drank it.
Instantly he felt electricity trace down his form. He tensed his legs, sprung up, and pushed energy outwards, landing on a roof nearby. He dashed along rooftops, balconies, and the off bit of piping and railing.
The nearest analogy he could think of when talking about the Dream City–like the pictures of Yharnam, but far away enough for him to feel safe–was of Star Wars' Coruscant. A city built on top of a city, built on top of a city but far less stable. As if the entire thing was begging to come down but somehow managed not to.
He quickly turned and threw himself through a window, wincing sympathetically at the man's new visage. He was deathly pale; he had clearly lost blood during Alex's hasty retreat.
Alex unsheathed his claws, fur sprouting across his arms as wind and lighting swirled around him. He grabbed one of his healing vials, ready to kill the man if the blood made him turn beast, and injected it.
Hours later, he allowed himself to sigh in relief. The worst was over and the man was alive, in a way. He knew what the man's body accepting the blood would mean. The man before him would never be able to go back to his life.
Then, the man began to stir. His skin started to bubble slightly as his eyes opened. Instantly, he screamed.
"Yup, it's like that. I've read that blood transfusion and a decent amount of training makes the blood go down easy but we have neither so it's always gonna suck the first time." Alex only had himself for reference but the stranger didn't need to know that. "Sorry, where are my manners? The name's Alex."
He wasn't getting a second name and Alex had made sure to put on a mask (more a wrapped cloth meant to keep out the sickness but mask sounds nicer in his head).
"Where am I?"
"Don't know; I just call it the Dream City, personally, but I'm not sure if it has a name. Haven't seen the owner in years." He brought out a bottle of diluted blood and took a long drink of it. "Just me and you in the little slice of hell; you got a name?"
Honestly, he was so used to forcing nonchalance that he wasn't even sure if it was an act anymore.
The man gulped. "Do I need to give you the full thing?"
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Yes? I mean, you've seen how bad it is out there, how much I help you depends on how much I like you, and a full name is a great way to start."
The man seemed to war with himself on what to say before eventually deciding. "Nicodemus West."