Lucid dreaming was a fascinating phenomenon: to know that you're dreaming, and to have some measure of interactivity with it.

To live as one dreaming; to dream as one alive; some might call it an unachievable ideal, or perhaps an odd thought experiment.

The point, alas, was that those who had begun recalling their former lives in Aionios...slowly became more intimate with the contents of their dreams, to the point where they felt them acutely. To kill complete strangers out of hatred, for glory, for the mere sake of survival; to feel your Blade cut through them; to smell the dust-choked air, to feel invigorated as their flames empowered your own; such were foreign to the everyday experiences of most youngsters native to Alrest or Bionis. (After all, adults could be more equipped, arguably, to handle such trials...but when the soldiers of Keves and Agnus had been pulled from a population of those no younger than seven, and no older than twenty-one at the time of the Intersection, their lack of life experience showed all the more. Granted, these numbers were relative to one's physiology, which could vary between the races...but that was a tale for later.)

Dirk was no different. The sensations had only become more stark as time progressed from the moment of the Rejoining.

The night after he first learned that he had been a Moebius, he dreamed of a theater.

"Fascinating, is it not?"

It was a voice he had never heard before, yet had stark memories of regardless. Nervously, he looked to his left. "...Lord Z?" The words left his mouth without thought; he impulsively clapped his hands over his mouth, bewildered that he had even said that name at all.

The strange fellow spoke without looking back. "That the desire for what 'once was' still persists; that even in a world moving headlong towards the future, there is a remnant of the Endless Now." The being called 'Z' continued watching the movie screen, as if uncaring for Dirk's presence. "It was once said that 'everyone has a bit of Moebius within them'; how much is metaphor, and how much is literal? Even now, surrounded by so much light...the future still seems clouded over for so many. In the face of that uncertainty, how many yearn for the relative simplicity of Aionios; for the world made possible by Moebius?"

"Only because I've got memories of some arsehole in my head!" snarled Dirk, letting his impulsive anger shine through. quite literally; his ether buzzed, illuminating the seats around him. "I may not know everything about what Moebius did in Aionios, but Mum's told enough for me to know that I want nothing to do with you!"

"And yet it still lingers," calmly replied Z. "The sensations; the experiences; the invigorating liveliness of it all. You may call it dreadful, yet it was a world that existed on the taking of lives. Why feel shame, for being better at it than so many? Why do you seek to feel revulsion for enjoying it?"

"Because it ain't RIGHT!" There was nothing else to be said other than that!

Z finally looked away from the movie screen, staring at him stoically. "Then if it's so revolting, why is it so difficult to let go?" At this, the teenager had no answer. "If you can truly turn away...then show me your resolve."

Dirk grimaced, his gaze finally turning towards the movie screen...only to pause, eyes widening. "Wha...?" Footage of himself, cutting through soldiers; instead of the spray of blood, there was the light of red motes. "That's..." The 'Dirk' on screen varied in age, from a preteen to a young man; however, the same tired smirk was present on all of them. "That's not..." The hair was paler; the skin was ghostly; the eyes were dead; yet...it was him. "...not me...it can't be me...!"

"You sure about that?" The Dirks on the movie screen all looked at him; they spoke in unison. "You struggle because you're unsatisfied with how things turned out; you remember the power you once had, and you missit. The rules of your world frown upon the very existence of Aionios...yet there is lingering desire for that old life. So tell me, kiddo: why would you desire something if you didn't think it good?"

Dirk was still a child, in many ways; asking him to face such darkness and depravity — cultivated in isolation for untold generations — was too tall an order. "I...I'm not...!"

The Dirks on the canvas all sneered, coalescing into one. "Then maybe we should remind you of what you're missing." Seamlessly, 'Dirk' — nay; Moebius D — stepped out of the screen and onto the auditorium, clad in his resplendent crimson and violet garb; now an adult, he towered — literally and figuratively — over Dirk. "Power, uncaring for the opinions of anyone else; power, to take life as you willed; power, to do whatever you wanted!" In a flash of purple light, D transformed into a monstrous beast, all sharp angles and harsh edges. "So...let me show you..."

Dirk gasped with terror, bolting from his chair; all thought for Z or the impossibility of his current situation faded, as he tried to flee; yet the exit seemed so far away...!

"...JUST WHAT YOU'VE BEEN MISSING!"

A rain of glowing spears slammed into the ground around Dirk, shattering the floor. There was no foundation beneath the theater, but rather an infinite abyss: an endless pit, swallowing him whole...!

Dirk screamed-

xxxx

-and he sat up with a startled gasp; eyes wide, face clammy, hair slick with sweat. "Hah...hah..."

"Having a nightmare?"

Dirk's eyes darted to his right; his sister Mio was sitting in a chair bolted against the wall. (That little detail brought him back to the present; he was in the shack upon Azurda's back; Dad had renovated and expanded it some years ago, to make room for his family. It had been a few days since the dramatic incident in the training hall with Noah and Mio; he, Dad, Mother, and Mio were on their way to the province of Mor Ardain...while Mum, Mom, Glimmer, and Dromarch had remained behind for a variety of reasons. Right. He was back up to speed.) "...guess I must have looked pathetic," he grumbled.

"I wouldn't criticize anyone having a nightmare," she solemnly remarked.

Dirk frowned, slowly moving his legs off of the cot; setting his feet on the floor, he rested his elbows on his knees, staring quietly at Mio.

Mio didn't ask why; they seemed to be trying to gauge each other, taking their sibling's measure.

Finally, Dirk asked, "What was it like? Regaining all your memories, I mean."

"...I'd be lying if I said there was perfect recall. I had centuries of M's memories, alongside my own. It's like..." The catgirl frowned, ears twitching out of irritation. (At least that aspect of his sister hadn't changed.) "...it's like I started out with a library, with some books; but a lot of the shelves are empty, and there was an inexperienced librarian that could tell you where almost all of the books were. But now...every shelf is full, and the librarian has a former employee assisting her, who used to work there for years...and knows exactly where everything is. Does that make sense?"

"...a bit of an obtuse metaphor, though, ain't it? Trying to show off how much of a bookworm you are?"

Mio frowned, impulsively retorting, "Come on, I'm trying to be helpful!"

At her snappish retort, Dirk cracked a grin; it was a nice splash of familiarity. "I know, I know, I get the picture...glad there's still some of my sister still in there."

"...do I really seem that much different?" she asked with a sort of disarming honesty.

"...maybe not with our parents or the adults who know you. You've always been very...respectful; the most 'proper' of us three. But with me, I could get under your skin so damn easy. And whenever Glim actually sides with me, you're quick to start scratching."

Mio flushed with seeming embarrassment. "Sorry. It seems so...childish."

And there we go again. "It's how I've always known you." The silence trailed on once more, heavy and uncomfortable. The very thought of committing some easy chatter felt anathema, and it bothered Dirk something fierce. "Do you...feel, different?"

"...I'm not sure how to describe it. It's like the person who I've been met another version of me...and just welcomed her, as though she had always belonged. I was Mio before, just as I was Mio in Aionios...and I'm still Mio now, at this moment."

(That's what Dirk was afraid of.) "Not exactly a sterling vote of confidence for my fate, is it?"

Mio scowled, looking rather annoyed by his dejected tone. "Don't give me that. You're still here; you're still fighting. And it's not like you have a time limit built in; so long as you have the strength to carry on, you don't have to become like D!"

"...really hope you're right, sis." Dirk wasn't so sure about his own chances. Suddenly desperate to change the subject, he gazed at the nearest porthole. "We ain't movin'."

"Waiting for clearance. Papa 'Zurda is a bit bigger than most of the other airships that dock at Alba Cavanich. And given the nature of our visit, we're waiting for a chance where we'll be seen with minimal interruptions."

Dirk grinned. "Hope 'Big Zee' doesn't mind floatin' around," he joked, using an old pet nickname for Azurda that he had used for years...and yet, the moment he said it, his guts quivered with anxiety. It was so very close to the name of a particular Moebius. Take it easy. It's just a name. Just...a name. "Where are Dad and Mother?"

"Fishing."

"Well, that beats sitting around." Dirk stood up, just as Mio did; they looked at each other eye-to-eye, still evaluating where they stood with each other. Finally, Dirk took the first proverbial step. "Ladies first."

"And expose my back to you?" Before any of the immediate implications could spring to Dirk's mind, she added, "You'd probably do something to my hair."

(A joke. An attempt at humor, at bridging their newfound unease. Not entirely successful, but an effort nonetheless.) "Nah, your hair ain't long enough. Though, I have considered ear extensions, to make you look more like Mum..."

Mio audibly scoffed, reaching behind Dirk and shoving him — playfully (hopefully?) — through the door.

Dirk's eyes narrowed from the sudden brightness, even as his feet navigated the gnarled yet grassy back of the Titan with the instinct of memory. He quickly looked around to get his bearings: the sky was blue, with cloudy patches; the ocean was calm, smelling of salt and crispness; to his left, the great form of the Ardainian Titan — still an imposing sight, even with its torso partially embedded in New Elysium — loomed as an immense mountain. About its form, airships and Titan transports buzzed about like flies, while even more naval vessels moved to and fro around bustling port towns that had emerged along the Titan's partially submerged thighs over the past decade. Last, but certainly not least, Rex and Mythra were sitting in a couple of casting chairs on Azurda's starboard side, both of them holding heavy duty rods.

Judging by how Mythra's hair was curling upward with ambient ether, she wasn't doing too well. "Ugh, I have no idea how you and Nia make it look so easy."

"The fish can sense if yer agitated," easily said Rex, a carefree grin on his face. The two were clad in simple swimwear, befitting their temporary stay out in the water. "Besides, if Nia were here, we'd end up having to donate our excess to the local fishmongers."

"Smartass." Mythra gazed over her shoulder, eyes softening at the sight of Dirk and Mio. "Hey, kids."

Rex turned, focusing entirely on Dirk. "Sleep well?"

Dirk shrugged, ambling over between Dad and Mother. "Not what I'd call beauty sleep." Sitting down on the grassy surface, he lightly patted the bumpy skin of Azurda's back. Offering some spare ether as a courtesy to the elder Titan, he asked, "Is Pops resting?"

('Pops' was an older nickname; one that the children had often used before developing their own pet names for the beloved Titan that had helped raise Rex. If Rex and Mythra were confused by why he hadn't used 'Big Zee', they mercifully didn't comment on it.) "More like sucking in any fish that are too curious about our bait," observed Rex.

"Well if Azurda's been eating my catch, he has another thing coming." Looking towards the partially submerged head of the Titan, Mythra yelled, "You hear that?!"

The surface of their 'vessel' lightly vibrated: a simple chuckle by Azurda at Mythra's expense.

Mio lightly giggled, sitting on Mythra's other side. "Maybe I could give it a try?"

"Oh no you don't," growled Mythra. "I'm not letting go until I catch something."

Dirk nestled down, letting the wind blow through his hair; it was a peaceful and rather tranquil scene, waiting for approval to finally head to the Imperial Palace. I really hope Auntie Mòrag can help. (Ironically, the fact he had no memories of her from Aionios was...a saving grace. There was little reason for D to intrude upon memories of Mòrag.)

Still...sitting around was a bit boring. "You know," he said aloud, as one pondering a great question. "If the Titan had settled down just a bit lower, they could have had a port around the crotch."

"That they could have," idly remarked Rex, nudging on Dirk's shoulder with his elbow. (The 'Dad' signal for 'stop while you're ahead, there's no winning.')

"Uh huh," dryly said Mythra.

Mio, bless her heat, simply asked, "What are you getting at?" she asked with some suspicion.

"Just curious about what they would've named it, if that had been the case." There was no stopping him now. "Maybe they'd have named it after Uncle Ozzy?"

Rex and Mythra paused, while Mio — intentionally or not — took the bait. "Why would they name it after Uncle Zeke?"

Dirk grinned cheekily. "Well, didn't Mum call him a one-eyed monster one time? Seems perfect for the part!"

Dad couldn't help the loud belly laugh that escaped. Mio groaned out of disgust. Mother, meanwhile, simply scowled.

"Oh come on, you know Ozzy would get a kick out of it," protested Dirk.

"Not the point, young man," growled Mythra, using her knuckles to rub furiously against his noggin. "If you talk like that in the Palace, you're gonna be in so much trouble."

"Ow ow ow, come on Mother, it was just a joke, it was a joke!" protested Dirk, squirming all the while.

Alas, Mythra was too focused on 'disciplining' Dirk to realize something — a young Aligo, to be precise — had snagged her line. Thus, there was only a surprised yelp as the blonde went overboard.

"Mother!" cried Mio out of shock.

Rex and Dirk, alas, laughed even harder.

And so Mythra settled for screaming out of impulsive rage.

xx

Azurda had worried about Rex's son ever since they had left their home; the boy's ether had been undeniably agitated in a way the old Titan could not recall.

Yet, as Mythra fell onto old habits and started blasting her prey with bolts of Light ether, the boys' (because Rex would always be a boy to him, no matter that he was Dirk's father) laughter evoked a more pleasant sensation.

And so he remained stoic, letting the cool waters drift past his rocky flesh.

Alas, it wasn't much longer — after Mio had already started dissecting the partially toasted Aligo into slices for easier consumption — before they got the signal to head to Alba Cavanich.

xxxx

Author's Note: That whole first scene was basically Dirk pulling a Persona 4 moment.

Dirk: YOU'RE NOT ME!

D: You're right. But I still took that personally. }:D

Given that Z is essentially a Yaldabaoth/Nyarlathotep equivalent (since Moebius's whole gig kind of fits being a Persona-type villain), I wonder who the XC3 equivalent of Philemon would be? The Nopon Archsage? Alvis?

And who would Igor be?