Log; Ongoing

[kittyjones.livejournal.com]

When; December 2nd, Night.
Rating; PG-13?
Characters; Kitty Jones (kittyjones), Morpheus (1st_dream_king)
Summary; Morpheus and Kitty arranged to meet in her dreams, to strike a bargain to save her friend.
Log;

Kitty was never sure what her dreams would be. To be honest, it wasn't something she tended to dwell on, really. Dreams were just... dreams. Representations of your unconscious mind. Perhaps interesting, perhaps relevant if you had the time to study them, but she didn't worry about them too much. A perfectly perfect vision, a perfectly horrible nightmare... in the end she'd still wake up, and it'd be over.

At least, that's what she liked to tell herself. But then when Morpheus had told her that they could meet in dreams, she had suddenly become a lot more wary of them. A lot more nervous of whatever reality she slipped into when she shut her eyes. She'd had some trouble getting to sleep that night.

But she was definitely sleeping now, that much was certain. Mainly because she wasn't in the City anymore. She was back in London. Tall buildings rose around her, each way she turned red brick was disappearing into the thick, murky mist that clung to the metropolis hungrily. The grey sky echoed the grey pavement, and even though she could see no people, there was still a hazy hum of background noise in her ears.

She took a step forward, and the sound of her bare foot touching the ground ricocheted off the concrete and into her ears, filling the air. This was partly why she knew she was dreaming. Not just because of the sound, but also because she was unlikely to go barefoot in the middle of London. The ground rippled with each movement she made as she advanced down the street, and faces began to appear at the windows of the houses, pale faces half-hidden behind yellow curtains. People she knew, loved, hated. Jakob, her parents, Nathaniel. All watching her. And then they began to beckon, with long, thin fingers. Asking her to come inside. Come back. Her hands trembled, and wrinkles began to set in them. But she wouldn't... no. She wouldn't. She had things to do. People to help. She shook her hands of her own accord, and they were back to normal in an instant.

Then she walked. Three paces forward, and she was on top of one of the skyscrapers, feet dangling off the end of the ledge. A pigeon and a crow were together beside her, and edging away whilst watching her intently. In the distance she could see Westminster Abbey, and it was burning. Green flames. She could make out shadows in front of it, illuminated by the fire, little figures that changed and shifted form. Not human, she supposed. And she watched them. She'd always watch this place now. That was all she could do.

All she could do. In the dreary light, she watched, and she waited. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Comments

[1st-dream-king.livejournal.com]

As time has no meaning in dreams, the realization she was not alone may have been sudden, or perhaps she had noticed him there long ago.

More a shadow, than a man; all twilight hues of blue, and inky black, save the alabaster hands, and what could be seen of his face from behind a touseled mop of black hair.

His eyes, however, were not so much black, as the absence of color; the absence of sunlight across a sleeping world.
And like the night sky, they too shifted with silver-spangled star fields, galaxies; deep wells of memory.

His clothing was rather mundane in comparison to those exotic eyes; a sensible, long coat, slacks, and boots partially covered by neatly folded pant cuffs. A midnight blue ( or was it black?) scarf wrapped his shoulders, and hung freely across the lapels of his coat, which oddly, had the same un-color of blue shadowed black.

His alabaster hands folded calmly in his lap, he watched the conflagration along with her without comment for a moment, then spoke.

"A burnt child, thus dreads the fire"
His voice deep, and mysterious.
A dark, strange sort of echoing sound...A voice that had once inspired dreams, and commanded nightmares.

[kittyjones.livejournal.com]

There had undoubtedly been one moment when the shadow had not been there, followed by another moment when he had, yet Kitty was unable to pin that instant down. It was as though he had faded into view, a dim outline becoming more and more sharp, set out starkly by the white colour that filled in face and hands. It seemed to have only taken a split-second, and yet she felt she had been aware of it for some time. Strange. Or perhaps, given that this was a dream, not.

So, conscious of his presence, she did not start when he spoke, although his voice was... different. New. At first she thought he was speaking a foreign language, the tone of it was so strange, and it took a moment before the words sunk in. Words that were of her own tongue, she knew this now, but still sounded so alien coming from his mouth. "Nice proverb, very apt," she smiled a little. "Though I was always more of a fan of once bitten, twice shy."

Her own voice sounded quite different in comparison to his. It held none of the power of the other, none of the mystery, but still it was calm, level, clear. "I don't dread it. I just... don't want to get too close to it. Better idea to stay back here, where it's safe." Whilst his hands stayed still, she fiddled with her own, pressing her fingers into a steeple. "But I'm not afraid," she added, quickly. "Takes more than a few impressive pyrotechnics to frighten me."

A pause. A second, or perhaps longer. Time was still hard to measure. She inclined her head towards him. "Thank you for coming, for offering your help, I..."

Her eyes had been looking to the ground in a gesture of respect, and here they flickered up to meet his own. They were... beautiful and frightening all at once. A part of her, perhaps common sense, told her to look away, but she held his gaze as she spoke again, her voice as composed as before. "Thank you."

[1st-dream-king.livejournal.com]

Starfield eyes shone in a minor display of light, although it could be seen as simple reflections from the far off fire, as he turned to regard his rooftop companion.

" You are welcome, Kitty." replied that echoing voice that still managed to hold a whispered quality to it.

A mild wind tugged at his scarf, sending the bluehighlights moving about as though slightly confused as to what color they were meant to display.

" When we last spoke, you wished to go to the Memory Merchant to find assistance for your companion."

He nodded to her in difference.

" I offer another option"
A pause as one alabaster hand rose to push some of the rioting black hair from his face.

" I can supply a measure of energy for the demon you spoke of, and while it is not a permanent solution, it will enable him to prolong his stay without falling into the City's debt."

A sigh of possible regret?
Hard to say with those remote eyes...

" I...am not as strong as I once was. I am no longer Dream, and much of the power that came with that responsibility passed onto the current Dream."

He glanced away, obviously pained by his diminished strength.

"....But I will offer what I may."

[kittyjones.livejournal.com]

At his mention of Dorian her brows furrowed for a split second as she nodded in agreement. Yes, that had been her first reaction. She had gone running to find the strange woman within hours, practically begging her to erase all of the memories in her head in return for a little energy for a friend. It had not ended in a deal, had not resulted in anything but dejection, and a sinking feeling that her one chance was lost.

But now this being, this man half-hidden in shadows, spoke of another option. "That would be..."

She couldn't find the words to express the feelings of joy, of release, of the hope that he had given her through that one offer. He said it would not be lasting, but it would give her time, and time was what she needed above all. "I'm not looking for a miracle, I'm just looking for help. And that would help more than... don't think for a moment that it would do anything but help."

His head turned from her and she felt a pang of guilt, that he should feel weak for not being able to do more for her. For a second her fingers stretched out in her lap, as though she was going to reach towards him, to reassure him... but no. She spoke instead, words quiet and sincere. "You still have power, just by being here you've proven that. It's more than enough."

Kitty halted, looking out to the fire in the distance once more. She wondered fleetingly how the flames were moving so violently when all she could feel was a light breeze on her cheek.

"What would you ask of me, for my part? I don't want you to offer me any power without you getting something in return. I like to pay my debts."

With a sigh she faced him. The firm-set angles of her jaw, her unblinking eyes, her composed, straight posture all seemed to echo the words she had spoken earlier. I'm not afraid. "Tell me what you want for my side of the bargain, and if I can pay it then I promise, I'll give it to you. Whatever it is."

[1st-dream-king.livejournal.com]

Starfield eyes studied her in silence for a few minutes...

Eyes that had seen the dawn of creation. Eyes that had known the dreams of kings, and paupers.
Of galaxies, gods, and men alike.
Eyes that had seen them all, but held no single dream in more importance than any other.

They sparkled at her as he seemed to consider her words...and a slight quirk of white lips; a bemused sort of smile.

His pale hand rose to push a strand of wind-tugged hair from her cheek....
Then lingered to brush against her cheek.

His skin, for all it's chilled appearence, was as warm and alive as anything.
Smooth, and softer then one might expect, but so...human...all the same.

In silence he leaned very slowly foreward, so slowly that if she chose to lean away, she would have ample time.
His hand cupped her cheek, and held her without holding for his pale lips to brush gently against hers.

At this distance one could see that his eyes truly did hold nebulous points of light in them.
Whole galaxies condensed into two pieces of deep obsidian.

"Your debt is now paid, Kitty." he said softy. ( or had he spoken at all?)

[kittyjones.livejournal.com]

It was hard for her mind not to drift when she looked at him, not to wonder what he was thinking, why he was smiling, why he was looking at her so intently. She did not understand him. She knew full well the only thing preventing her from launching into barrage of questions was the fact that this was a dream, and here things were... not quite the same. So absorbed was she with her mind and his eyes that it was with a jolt she realised that he was reaching towards her, touching her hair...

Her breath caught, air stuck at the back of her throat as his hand stroked her skin lightly. Her mind had gone instantly blank at the contact, frozen in brief shock, eyes only just remembering to blink. He was bending to her face now, but she could not move. And she would not move. Whatever he wanted, she'd said she'd do it, she wouldn't turn away, she wouldn't...

He kissed her, with a gentle touch, almost chaste. Instinctively her eyes slipped shut. This is a dream. But for a dream it felt so real, his lips were white but still warm against hers. The soft pressure on her mouth felt familiar, and hesitantly she returned it, if only for a moment.

Then it was gone, he was gone. She thought she heard him speak, something about a debt, but perhaps she was imagining things, or else the words didn't permeate her brain. He had just... and she had... they had... One hand rose to delicately press fingers on her mouth, as though trying to capture and explain the still-lingering feeling of his lips.

"What... but you... I... why..."

The words fell from her mouth disjointed and incomplete, just as her eyes dropped to the ground, her hand to her lap. Indeed, the only thing that rose was the colour in her cheeks as she began to blush out of... no, she couldn't even begin to name all the reasons she was blushing. Cautiously she smiled, a look not entirely unlike the bemused expression he had given earlier.

"Y-you... you trade in strange currencies, Morpheus."

[1st-dream-king.livejournal.com]

He nodded somewhat to her and offerred that mysterious smile.
...And yet even as an expression, it held a shadow of sadness somewhere near the edges.

" Perhaps.." he replied enigmatically.

A pale hand rose to indicate his own chest, for in a fold of his jacket, the briefest flash of sapphire cast it's own shadow along the black trim, and chasing it's own blue highlights away.

As quickly as it showed it was gone, and instead of that alabaster hand indicating his own chest, it now hovered a breath away from the soft 'v' where her collar bones met.

" You now possess a part of me..a piece of my pressence." Whether she felt a difference or not, still the kiss had served dual purpose.
A passing of some of that familiar, yet not, blue-tinged power with her that she could take back with her to the waking world, and give to him that needed it.

She would be waking soon, and Morpheus drew the backs of his fingers across the smoothness of her cheek, an age, and a fatigue that had not been present in his eyes shown in thier depths now...

[kittyjones.livejournal.com]

Her mind no longer reeling, she attempted a quip, though her voice was softer than usual. "D'you always make a conscious effort to seem so... mysterious?"

She stopped when he spoke again, stopped both talking and moving, the meaning of what he said sinking into her. He had given her... she had this gift of his power. It was within her. She could feel it now she knew of it, a faint throbbing somewhere inside her, though whether it was in her body or her mind she could not say.

Unflinching as he gently touched her, she nodded in understanding and gratitude. "I will give it to him."

The world, this dream, was starting to fade. In the street odd trees flickered out into the blackness, buildings began to crumble into smaller pixels and then shiver to become nothing, the outline of the horizon starting to shimmer as it drew ever closer. She was waking, she knew it, she had been asleep for hours though this dream had lasted but minutes.

As the world collapsed, there was one final thing she had to do. Didn't have to, but wanted to. Reaching out, she took hold of the man's hand, and squeezed it tightly with her own. "Thank you."