I am clueless as to why I haven't published my 2 newest Sandman stories here on FanFiction, but oh well.
Abril: Many thanks to Androxys (AO3) for being the beta for this story, it was very appreciated. And all my other buddies who play soundboard with me when I'm filled with doubt hehe.
Robert Gadling was a naturally chatty person. He liked to talk alright, but he also liked to listen to others –their ideas and experiences and dreams. So yes, he was chatty, but one did not have to shut him up to be heard or look unendingly at a watch, hoping for one's turn to speak to come.
Dream of the Endless was not a very chatty… being. In fact, Hob would argue the man seldom saw fit to say words at all. He was quiet and engaged little in conversation, but he was quite the good listener. Not absent to the words floating around, but very much there.
Hob didn't mind this at all, he'd lived with all manner of people through the ages and he'd learned to love all of them in whatever form they came. So if his friend did not see fit to talk, Hob could very well fill the silence between them. Robert Gadling after all, had words to spare.
Currently, the men were walking beside a London canal. The weather was nice, just slightly chilly. It was nicer still, Hob would argue, because he was spending a quiet evening with his mysterious stranger. His friend.
Oh, Robert Gadling knew things about his patron now, things he'd never before dreamed of knowing, though his friend remained mysterious and elusive. Aloof, yes, but perhaps a bit more prone to diminutive smiles and indulgent visits. That's right, Hob's friend visited him now, like he was just any other sort of bloke, visiting his mate, and not the anthropomorphic personification of the whole of unconsciousness or whatever. Hob was still rather in the dark about that one, but at least he'd received an answer.
"… though I have to say, I do miss the time when shoes would last you a quarter of your life if you took care of them. Now I have to buy new tennis every other five years or less-!" Hob stopped walking and turned around.
Behind him Dream had stumbled to a stop. The lack of grace in that movement was already weird, but there was also something else. All over his stranger there was an abnormal tension. Hob could see a subtle tremble in his pale hands. His eyes seemed far away.
"Dream?" He asked, just a little concerned. Sometimes strange things happened around his friend, it was part of the job, so he took them all with an open mind and tried not to worry unnecessarily. facade
"I am… being summoned," Dream said in a very stilted manner, every halted word an effort to pull out from his mouth.
Hob rushed quickly to his side. Dream had told him about his imprisonment, about the century trapped in some wizards' basement. Because he'd been summoned. He didn't know much, but he knew enough to be worried.
"Can you stop it?" The immortal man asked. His friend gave him a sharp shake of the head, his lips pressed tightly together.
"I must come… when I'm summoned," Dream's deep voice wavered almost imperceptibly.
"Take me with you," Hob said, taking hold of his friend's elbow. A stubborn frown settled on his face.
"No," Dream seemed to regain some composure as he straightened his back. His voice was the one he used that seemed to pierce through Hob's body like an intrusive resonance. It held power. It was more than. And if Hob stopped to think about it a little while, he'd be scared, so he chose not to.
"Let me come with you," he stressed, tightening this hold above Dream's elbow.
The being was preoccupied enough at the time that he only spared half a glance at Hob's presumptuous contact.
"I will not have you put in danger on my account," Dream said, ireful at the idea, but he kept his eyes away from Hob, somewhere beyond.
"Listen, if you're captured again, we can fight them together. If they use some weird magic on you it may not affect me." The being shook his head in harsh denial. Hob could feel the slight trembles getting more noticeable. "Please Dream." He had no real arguments but his conviction and a hope that his friend's traumatic experience would persuade him to not do this on his own.
Finally, Dream seemed to shrivel down a little, the summoning wasn't all that strong but it would tug, and tug, and tug at him until he gave in.
"Alright," he nodded smally, gaze straight forward so he would not have to look at Hob.
The immortal man let out a sigh of relief, but before he could thank or reassure Dream, he was being pulled away, somewhere, with his friend.
Things did not make sense for a stretch of time. He could not tell up from down and the world was darkness, but also color.
When Hob regained his senses there was a raven beside him. It reminded him of the one that followed Dream on occasion, always keeping a distance but ever watchful. Hob realized then, he was a bird as well, a falcon of some sort. He and the Raven shared the perch of a dried out branch in the middle of a dark nowhere. In the distance, he could almost perceive faint stars.
"Who… summons me?" Dream said, and it was with that voice, the inexplicably deep one, the powerful one. And Dream… he did not look like his friend at all, he looked like some contorted thing, maybe a surrealist portrait someone had tried to make of the man. But Hob felt as if he had never seen his friend before this moment, as if this Dream was more real than the one he sat down with and had just touched a moment before.
Dream was tall. His skin, which had always been sickly pale, was even more so if that was possible. There remained an echo of color, but it was half a step away from paper white. And he was… he was burning… his friend was burning.
"Dream!" Hob shouted, but it was nothing more than a hawk's shrill. Dream was… He was not burning. The edge of his cloak was engulfed in flames, but they did not move up to consume him or harm him.
He seemed to be standing oddly; arms and fingers all pulled taught and sharp in their angles. His arms one around his torso and the other holding his head. It would seem unnatural and uncomfortable on anyone else, but as he did it, it felt right. Like a dramatized portrait of some young tortured hero in waiting.
"Who dares summon me?" Dream the entity asked again, commanding, dangerous. "I do not like to be summoned."
"I- I did," said a breathy, feminine voice. For the first time Hob noticed the kneeling girl before Dream. She was a skinny, graceless thing. She looked very scared.
"A who. Are. You? That you think to drag me to this little corner of your mind?" He loomed over her like a predator, beautiful yet deadly.
"Ju- Julia. My name's Julia," the girl said, but she seemed to be having a horrible time coming up with anything more to say.
"Am I to infer you've only summoned me to gawk at my presence?" Hob could tell that, for whatever reason, some of the sharp edges of Dream began softening. And it was no great wonder really, such a wretched sight as this girl was. She looked like she could use a good meal or even just a hug. "Shall I leave then? Now that you've done your staring."
"N-no. NO!" She shouted. "No! I- I summoned you cause- cause I need help. I need help," her voice cracked, "please."
Dream stared unimpededly at her from his tall height. The girl continued.
"I- I read in a book that you could ask gods for boons and they would help if… if you gave them tribute." Her voice was frail but there was a fire within her for she kept speaking, not breaking eye contact with this being she'd summoned.
"I didn't have much of anything but… ah, I read that Morpheus was offered poppies. I didn't know where to get any," she took the plastic tupperware by her side and opened it. "So I drew some."
It was filled with carefully, though not perfectly, made flowers painted red with markers and crayons. They were different sizes, and not all looked the same, like the girl had tried different types of flowers and been unconvinced about which one was the right one.
"That's… That's all I have," she whispered, holding back tears.
Dream leaned down, bending over at the waist with unnatural grace until he was an inch away from the girl's face. He grabbed one of the paper flowers.
"Go on then," he said with honey in his voice. The girl gasped when the flower began burning in his fingertips. Between his fingers, elegantly held, was a real poppy flower. "Convince me." And then he put the flower inside his mouth and ate it.
The girl sighed with religious relief.
"I…" And just like that, her words seemed to dry in her mouth. When a prolonged time seemed to extend, Dream tilted his head, star eyes gleaming dangerously.
"Well then? I am waiting?"
"Please I-" The girl Julia broke out of her quiet spell. She whispered in a frightened voice, "my dad- He touches me at night and… we do things together."
Dream's face turned stoic, which Julia mistook for apathy.
"My father rapes me," she said more clearly, fearing this creature must need explicit statements or instructions. It was always best to be clear with magical beings, or so she had read, they could always decide they were in a mood and twist what you wished or requested.
She remained unable to take her eyes away from the Lord of Dreams.
"And what… would you have me do about this?" The entity asked, unpassed.
"I want justice!" She said fiercely, burning rage just beneath her skin.
Julia noticed offhandedly how she was not acting like herself at all. She wouldn't even dare to think about shouting at a much stronger person than her, much less one she wanted benevolence from. Her father came to mind. But life when asleep was always strange like that.
"Dreams cannot give you what you seek," he said hauntingly as the girl dissolved into tears.
"Anything please, I'll take anything you give me. Just please, please help me."
Hob wanted to shout at Dream to do something for the girl, or tell the girl to give Hob himself her address so he could personally help, but Hob was a bird and he had no way of talking.
"Anything, anything at all," she whispered between tears. "Please, please."
The entity examined the waif of a thing before him, proud and noble, every inch a king hearing his subject's plea. He sighed softly, but it felt loud and heavy all around, like the darkness surrounding them was sighing too.
"Very well, Julia. I shall give you this. Upon waking your mother shall have revelation. Things that seemed odd before will finally make sense in her mind. And because I'm feeling benevolent," he leaned down again, taking another paper flower, which promptly transformed into a real one, petals smooth beneath his touch. There was a dangerous smile touching his lips. "Should she not feel inclined to act, I will inspire her to do so. It might wake her into action if there be fear in her heart or should she doubt herself."
Julia started crying anew, but her tears were tears of overwhelming relief.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she mumbled, overtaken by emotion. She gathered the remaining flowers and stood up quickly. "Please," she offered up her hands to Dream.
He was still somber, but his anger seemed to have cooled down, almost an inconvenience now. The slight twist of his lips was fond.
"Thank you," and he let the girl place the flowers on his palm. "Sleep now, and be not bothered. None else shall visit you this night."
The edges of the dream, previously black as a raven's wings, began dissolving around the edges to a gentler gray.
Robert Gadling stumbled to the ground, suddenly not-a-bird and in the middle of the street he had walked with Dream before. When he gathered his wits about him and turned in search of his companion, he found him standing very still in the middle of the cobbled road.
"For a moment I thought you were going to leave her like that," he chucked, feeling off-center. "What you did was kind," he stressed. He did not want his words to discourage Dream from doing something like this again.
"Dream?" Hob asked when the Endless did not react. His friend took a couple of unstable steps to the side towards the wall. "Hey, hey!" The man rushed to his side in time to hold onto Dream's arm as the being began to falter to the ground. Hob eased them both down, leaning the raven-haired against the wall. "What's wrong?"
After a couple of unsteady breaths, Dream's blue eyes, not pitch black, crossed his.
"I do not like… being summoned," he said as the last dregs of his otherworldly powers faded from his voice. He was a normal bloke again, or as normal as Dream ever was. His clothes no longer rippled and reformed with invisible winds, there was no fire, no strange marble statue body contortions. Just Dream as Hob had ever known him.
"Hey, it's okay now Dream, nothing happened," Hob said quietly, rubbing comfortingly at his friend's arm.
"I thank you for your company Hob Gadling. It was… most appreciated."
"Yeah, anytime mate." The man took a chance and carefully placed his arm over the thin shoulders of his friend. Dream tensed under his touch, but after a moment, very awkwardly and stiffly, the being leaned his head down over Hob's shoulder. Hob sighed, relieved he hadn't overstepped and that his comfort was being accepted.
Hob looked down at his friends' lap where he was keeping his hand in an open fist. Gently held in his palm, were five, bright red, poppy flowers. The man huffed an incredulous chuckle. His friend had been eating those.
"It is impolite to refuse tribute and offering," Dream muttered as if reading his mind.
"Have I been starving you all this time? Should I have been bringing flowers to our meetings?" Hob joked.
"Perhaps," Dream answered stoically, the cryptic bastard. Hob could see the slight upward pull of his lips though.
Hob laughed but was quite unsure at the continued quirk on his stranger's face.
"But you are mucking about though, right?" The immortal man asked. His friend just stood up; not a speck of dust on his pristine coat.
"Dream?" Hob scrambled up to catch up with the already leaving man. The part of his brain that was still wired for respecting great gods and being god-fearing screeched. Modern him only thought, 'shit.'
"Should I have?" The immortal man insisted once he was at the other's side.
"You continue to amuse me, Hob Gadling," Dream said fondly, still not answering the question. For now, Hob let it go.
"Hey but, in all seriousness, are you okay?" He asked and wondered if the word 'afraid' was too much to use between them. "I know how worried you were for a moment there." There, that worked better. No need to bruise his stranger's pride.
Dream just hummed a nonanswer.
"I, geez-" Hob shook his head. He combed his hair back to distract from his worry. "I thought… I thought it was a hard thing. Summoning you, I mean."
"Hm, not quite."
"But! How can a kid just… call you like that? Just make you appear. She didn't seem particularly magical."
"The right amount of luck. The right amount of accidentally stumbled upon knowledge."
"This… has happened before?" Hob asked incredulously.
"On occasion. It's a big universe, Hob Gadling. All sorts of things happen time and again." They walked quietly for a moment more. The sounds of life around them comforting, "But still, the knowledge of these kinds of rituals has become scarcer. While it's always been a bothersome thing to me, it is… unpleasant now. To be called like this."
'I have PTSD about being summoned,' is what he meant. But Hob did not say as such out loud.
"I'm sorry," is what he said instead.
"Whatever for?" Dream raised an eyebrow at him.
"That you have to deal with this. That it's not something that-" 'That I can stop,' he thought. "Something that can be stopped. It- it can't be, right?"
"It cannot." his friend affirmed. Hob nodded in acceptance.
"I wish you didn't have to deal with it though."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, none of this is under your control or within your power to change," Dream said levely and then he pressed his lips together, his eyes fixed on the cobbled road before them. "Still… I appreciate the sentiment," he admitted.
"That's what friends are for I suppose," Hob chuckled lightly and thought about Dream's face; within the dream it had been so much more than a man, even an immortal one, could put to words. There was something life frightful awe within him, having just a taste of what Dream actually was but… He was Hob's friend. No amount of healthy fear or awe would ever change that.
"You are…" Hob turned to look at his stranger. "A good friend," Dream said hesitantly.
Hob almost toppled over. He breathed in and then out carefully, touched by this sign of trust and openness.
"Hey, whenever you need me mate," Hob said with feeling, placing a hand on Dream's shoulder.
His friend nodded his face with grateful grace.
Abril: I love it when I open documents that I haven't touched in ages only to find out that past me did a great job and left me a story already 95% finished. Noice.
Anyway, I live for Hob and Dream's friendship, and for Hob being like ? every time Dream does something inhuman. My bread and cheese right there.
Remember, comments are a writer's daily nourishment, so leave something nice down below if you feel like it :D