Ronan Lynch (alteridem) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-08-31 21:00:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, the raven cycle: ronan lynch, ₴ inactive: dream |
Log: Dream & Ronan
So in this new world, where the Dreaming was not bare, but different, he was on edge now. He could still see into the dreams and nightmares of those here, but had not quite learned how to navigate them.
But he saw a bright spot. A dream that was more. It was similar to a Vortex, fully formed, and clearly, the dreamer in question had control. So Morpheus slipped in uninvited, curious and wary all the same.
As he walked through the open field, he took it all in silently, the effort and artistic presence it must have taken to control such a field was astounding and impressive. Typically a dream vortex was drawing on the power that other dreams put out, but this was its own entity. Morpheus continued his path, towards the shadowed figure ahead, not fussed by the fact that he was invading someone else’s safe space.
There was a hard-earned level of comfort to dreaming for Ronan Lynch. When dreams and nightmares had started to come to life recently without any one’s say so, let alone a dreamer’s involvement, he’d lost that ease for a time. His dreams wouldn’t disappear when the chaotic magic of Vallo decided it was done playing with that particular toy. So he’d had to be more vigilant. Anxious. Sleepless more than he liked. He'd only just started to relax back into this place but the dream around him was his comfort dream.
There were no people here. The BMW sat off to the side, ready for a fast drive any minute. Cows dotted the horizon but they weren't close enough to be anything but decoration. There were no people here.
Until suddenly, there was. Ronan felt Dream's presence like a splinter under his skin. A really fucking big splinter.
"What. The. Fuck." He spun around and stared down the gothic-looking dude in his dream that was definitely too real to be there. "Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?"
Morpheus was unphased by the question, he continued walking forward at a slow pace, hands held tightly behind his back. He lacked his helmet here, so was more likely to tread lightly in this newfound area. It would not do to start a fight, not when he was not sure of the playing field as long as it wasn’t his own.
He did not answer the question to start, instead, he walked closer to the car to get a better look. “I walked in.” As if that was the most normal thing for anyone to do, to just walk through the dreams of others. He still didn’t reach out to touch anything, just took it all in with a keen eye and calm expression. He looked to the dreamer, “Is this of your creation, or did someone else forge it for you? It is impressive.”
Ronan squinted. This place was his. The only person who'd ever come here without his permission was his flesh and blood daughter. This guy's vibe was intense, but he didn't feel like a part of him. He felt alien. And way too powerful.
"It's mine. This is all mine," he grunted, shoulders tense. The space around them reshaped, the grass growing and forming trees and broken logs and shadowy spaces full of blinking eyes. It was Cabeswater, and it seemed to breathe around them with its own power. "Which is why it's really fucking weird that you were able to just walk in here. Are you a dreamer?"
Morpheus knew the moment he hit a sore spot, and his head tilted up to look at the eyes staring at him. He blinked back, but slowly and with more purpose. He bowed his head with respect after a moment and turned to look back to Ronan.
“A dreamer,” he smirked, amused at the question. “I am Dream of the Endless. I am lord of dreams, nightmares, and stories.” He began walking again, with open respect for the forest as it grew around him. “I arrived in this world today, and this, you, had the greatest pull of dream magic I have felt in a long time.”
Dream of the Endless. Ronan was annoyed at how fucking cool that name was. The guy radiated power and control. A younger Ronan would've wondered if he was his world's bargain bin version of Dream. But this Ronan had worked hard to believe in himself and to grow here in Vallo. The flash of insecurity in his head was dim compared to the reckless curiosity and bravado that stood at the forefront.
"Maybe in your world you're the lord of dreams. In my world, there's no lord. There's me, the Greywaren." He didn't admit that he still had no idea what that even really meant, just that it marked him as special somehow. "And there's other dreamers who can pull shit into the world too. But nobody's stepped up to pretend they're the boss."
Morpheus couldn’t help the surge of amusement as this Greywaren stood up to him. People rarely had the bravery to do as such when they felt who he was. It was different after he had come back from captivity, with the bold ones feeling their way to his power, and Morpheus knew his power was not quite the same here.
Still, it would not do to make enemies immediately, and showing off was not something he was ever keen on doing. Not in a place that did not belong to him. “That you know of, Greywaren. Rarely do those who dream ever know I exist.” Just as rarely were there those that could pull objects from their dreams, as the Greywaren suggested. That set him on edge.
Morpheus looked around again, and the forest parted to show an image of the world he had just arrived in, like a window to Vallo. “This world is much more contained. Smaller. I am not your boss, I simply am.”
The curtain parting didn't feel like someone swimming in Ronan's bathtub. It felt powerful but natural. He didn't believe anyone like this guy existed in his world, but with how easily Dream moved through Ronan's space, he couldn't deny that it was possible he didn't know jack shit. He didn't love that feeling. But he did like having someone with similar powers around. Assuming he wasn't a dick, which he didn't seem to be.
"Glad we're agreed on that," he scowled. "Do you exist in a body or just like a godly ghost type thing?" His curiosity was taking over for his suspicion. Adam would probably hate that, but Ronan had always been a creature of instinct, and his weren't ringing any real warning bells yet. "Do you eat? I have a farm."
Morpheus didn’t expect the questions. He expected hostility, usually, those with abilities that felt his power were threatened and challenged him rather than acting curious. It’s what prompted him to actually answer the question rather than to push it off. “I have a body,” it wasn’t much of an answer, but it was the truth. “I can eat but I do not require it.” That was more to Death’s favorite pastime than it was his own, but Morpheus didn’t give that knowledge freely.
Morpheus looked at the dreamer over his shoulder, “How long have you been doing this, Greywaren?” He had met powerful mortals before, to the point of being imprisoned by a lucky one, but rarely did they have control over his own territory. A Vortex was an obvious exception, though “control” was not in that description.
Well, now Ronan was just going to imagine this gothy god of dreams walking around his farm until it actually happened. Cabeswater sensed his lowering tension and started to brighten. He put a little extra oomph into that and dreamt the forest the way he liked it most - damp with a light fall rain, the sun speckling through the trees, and animals happily frolicking.
He was showing off. Not that he'd ever admit that.
"I was born like this, so. Twenty two years in November." Ronan crouched down to pet a fawn who stuck her little nose out of a bush and sniffed at him. "I've dreamt lots of stuff into the world now. Come by the Barns when you're done creeping around in people's dreams and you can see for yourself. Even if you don't want to eat any of my awesome ice cream."
Morpheus had questions about the Greywaren’s parents, but did not ask them. The dream space changing around them was so similar to his own that it caught his attention, and he was curious but did not want to overstep. Lucienne or Matthew would have put a barrage of questions forward if they had been here, but Dream was not that type. Instead he was content to leave well enough alone and take information as it came to him.
“Very well,” he eventually said, and started fading into the distance. “I will come to your farm, and see what you have to show. We’ll see if your waking world is half as impressive as your dream space.” He meant it as both a taunt and a jest, the corner of his mouth upturned just slightly as he bowed his head. “Farewell, Greywaren.”
Ronan cupped his hands around his mouth to cheekily yell back, just as Dream had nearly faded out of sight completely. “It’s more impressive because it’s real.”
Now that the intruder was gone, he felt supercharged with energy to dream for real. He smirked and started picturing a big black rooster, with a spikey head comb, reminiscent of his visitor. It’s tail feathers draped like a certain long black coat.
This was going to be fun.