I Moderate (i_moderate) wrote in we_archive, @ 2006-03-13 08:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | dream of the endless |
i_weavedreams Dream a Dream of Me
Dream was preparing himself for a confrontation with the Morningstar. Lucien knew this. But the Dreaming was being forcibly entered - again - by a source that had already been warned against such intrusion.
So Lucien did what any good and faithful servant would do. He delegated the responsibility.
Mervyn Pumpkinhead didn't know what HisExcellencyLordDreamO'DaEndless was preparing for. But when the librarian asked him to inform the Lord Shaper that some bloke was coming in, uninvited, he let Dream know in his usual manner. Marv pounded on the door twice before pushing it open enough for his large head to look in. "Hey! Boss! That batty bloke is tryin ta work his way in again!"
Morpheus turned towards the door, his helpet in both hands. The starlights of his eyes narrowed to two pinpoints of light.
"Ah, sit," the pumpkin-headed janitor muttered, reminding himself that librarians were not to be trusted on this or any other Plane.
Dream glared for a moment, then set the helmet on his head.
"This mortal will learn his place," he said, and slipped into the fabric of the Dreaming itself, leaving a very relieved Marv alone in the throne room.
Morpheus swept through the Dreaming, easily finding the breach. He lunged, caught the dreamer as he did, and threw the mortal back into his waking body, following him out into his bedroom.
A white-haired man gave a start. With a pinch of power, Dream rendered the butler to sleep.
"Who do you think you are?" the King of Dreams demanded of the man. "To not once, but twice invade my realm, force your way into my borders, which have always and forever been open to all, and demand an audience with me?" He removed the helmet and looked at the man. "I have seen how you treat those closest to you, Bruce Wayne of Gotham. Had this been a personal insult, I would see to it that my sister would keep her promise to you sooner than later. As it is, you will have one final chance."
Sand poured from the Dreamlord's fingers, and covered Bruce. "A dream of you, a lingering memory of the Wayne that was. For yourself, it was a dream of what might be. For others, little more than deja vu."
Of course the dream spell wouldn't hold for those with particularly strong reactions to the things Bruce had said and done. But the others would have a passing sense of familiarity, and little more.
The man was already asleep again, the spell taking hold, but that was of little batter to the King of Dreams. Morpheus grasped the sleeper by the lapel of his nightshirt and gave one final warning. "Your final warning, Bruce Wayne. Make it count for something."