☾kalon 1700☽ - - - ☾dream walker, nightmare's bane☽

[Knickknacks]

☾ tryout for kalon 1700 ☽

☾ username:: knickknacks
☾ kalon name:: morpheus
☾ gender:: male

☾directory☽

☾ prompt 1 ☽
☾ prompt 2 ☽
part i
part ii

[Knickknacks]

“What sort of accessories does a dreamwalker need?”

Morpheus, being the reclusive soul that he is, has found little need for ornamentation in his line of work. He is a strong enough being that armor is rendered unnecessary, and when facing creatures of nightmare he is content to arm himself only with his trusty sword and shield.

The shield is surprisingly soft, its woven surface being darkened and stained over the course of many battles with nightmares. The dark stones that form an uneven pattern of studs on its surface appear to glitter darkly no matter what sort of light Morpheus is in- the condensed nightmares he has trapped cannot break free, but they continue to try, giving off waves of malevolent magic.

Morpheus’ sword is equally intimidating, though almost paradoxically, this weapon is not used to bring death. Rather, Morpheus’ sword is enchanted specifically to bind nightmares, and a strike from it allows Morpheus to overpower the dark creatures long enough to condense into a harmless form- a dark bit of stone. A tiny prison, to be added to his shield or strung along his tail.

Even the small bits of jewelry he allows himself serve a practical purpose- the gems are amethysts, supposed to aid in connection to dreams and the subconscious. Though Morpheus is a powerful dreamwalker, it can become tiresome to spend much of his time flitting in and out of mortals’ subconsciouses. The gems augment his powers, making these transitions easier on him.

[248 words]

[Knickknacks]

Part I.

“Are you a monster?”

The tall kalon stilled, his sword halfway out of its sheath. The moonlight streaming through the window- his intended route of escape- suddenly seemed bright as a searchlight, painting spotted fur and gleaming bone and the dark stones adorning him all in shades of silver-white. No chance at hiding now. Normally, he wouldn’t have any trouble disappearing, waiting for his mark to fall asleep once more before - but he could sense a powerful darkness lingering here, and wanted to conserve his energy to face it.

And perhaps he was simply feeling philosophical, and wanted to answer the question.

He leveled his gaze at the source of the query- a young kit, tucked soundly in bed. She had pulled a blanket up to partially cover her face, eyeing him over the top of it, her gaze bright with apprehension.

“You should be asleep,” he murmured, sliding his sword soundly back into its scabbard. The child shivered slightly at the sound of it.

“I-I asked you a question,” she insisted, lowering the blanket to glare at him more properly. Morpheus surprised himself by chuckling, and gazed at the child with a faintly sad smile.

“Do I look like a monster to you?” He had heard this question before- from inquisitive children and disbelieving adults alike. Most often it was the children, however- he was either better at hiding from the adults or they were better at convincing themselves they were imagining things. Very possibly the latter.

The kit tilted her head to one side, apparently considering her answer.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “You speak more nicely than I’d think a monster would, but then again- you are in my room in the middle of the night, which seems like monster-ish behavior to me. Also, you do look a little bit scary.”

“I know,” Morpheus said, the words coming out almost as a sigh. “I’m sorry about that, little one.”

“That’s a point in your favor,” the kit observed unexpectedly. “I don’t think monsters are polite enough to apologize.” Morpheus was startled into a genuine laugh at this.

“I suppose not,” he agreed, eyes crinkling with amusement.

“But… what exactly are you doing in my room in the middle of the night, if you’re not a monster?” The kit’s question was punctuated by a yawn, and Morpheus could sense that she was near sleep again, but when she turned her eyes back to him, her gaze was steady.

“That’s a complicated question,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to sleep instead?”

“Not until you answer my question,” the kit replied stubbornly. Another thought seemed to occur to her, and she shivered again. “Actually… no, I don’t really want to go to sleep.”

“Why not?” Morpheus asked, blinking slowly at her. Though part of him wanted to just let the kid fall asleep and get on with his job… alright, maybe he was a little starved for conversation. This kit was surprisingly- although then again, maybe not so surprisingly- bright.

“I’ve… been having nightmares,” the child confessed, twisting the edge of her blanket anxiously between her paws. “Really bad ones. I don’t… I don’t want to go to sleep if they’ll just be there again.”

“They won’t be,” Morpheus said quietly. There was the slightest edge to his voice, a kind of surety that the kit couldn’t understand, but that gave her pause nonetheless.

“How- how do you know?” she asked, her question broken up by another yawn.

“I’ll take care of those nightmares for you,” he said simply.

“How’s that work?” she said, plainly skeptical. Morpheus strode closer, looking almost like some sort of knight, gilded by the moonlight. Though he cut a frightening figure, the kit found herself oddly comforted. His eyes were kind, his smile almost sweet as he spoke again.

“That’s my secret,” he said, even softer still. “I’m not a monster- not to innocents like you. I’m a nightmare hunter.” He reached out one paw and tapped the kit gently on the forehead. “After tonight, you’ll never worry about this nightmare again.”

He could see the child fighting to stay awake, could almost hear the questions that wanted to come tumbling out of her. But while part of him wanted to stay, to continue talking with this clever little one… he did have a job to do. He sent a single pulse of power through his contact with the child, causing her to drop into a soft sleep. Her eyes shut, and her paws relaxed their grip on the blanket. Morpheus reached out and gently tucked it around her, humming a soft tune that might have been a sort of lullaby.

When he straightened up again, he saw a crease had appeared between the child’s brows. The slightest indicator of discomfort, of a nagging dream. Now that his partner in the conversation was asleep and he had nothing else to focus upon, the darkness he had sensed earlier seemed to throw itself at him- it was all he could sense, the gleeful being he had tracked here, eagerly seeping into the young girl’s dreams, feeding on her fear.

It was time to get to work.

Morpheus reached out once more. He could feel the bright spark of her subconscious, see it in his mind’s eye. And he could feel the swirling darkness seeking to engulf her. He focused in on that, willing himself to be drawn into that maelstrom, into the spark at the eye of the storm, and then the child’s quiet room was dissolving around him and he was falling, falling inward, into a dream.

[939 words]

[Knickknacks]

Part II.

Every dreamscape was different. Some were sharp, focused mirror images of the real world; others were swirling indistinct landscapes that held impossible things. All varied based on the character and imagination of their creator, but every one Morpheus had visited had one thing in common: they were under siege.

Morpheus found himself falling into a pastel-colored landscape. Everything was washed in shades of blue and green and orange that, at first sight, made him think of sherbet. It has been a long time since he’d had anything of that sort.

The next thing he noticed was the kit, striding across the meadow, eagerly chatting to a figment of her imagination. The details of one’s dream were always one’s own, and for all his talents Morpheus had never yet been able to discern what someone was dreaming about.

But that wasn’t what he was here for. He was here to help the child. Now that she was asleep, the nightmare couldn’t be far off. He followed the child at a distance, not wanting to disturb her dream and alert the creature to his presence.

Time stretched on- or maybe raced onward- or maybe it stood still. Time was funny in dreams like that, even for beings such as Morpheus. He supposed the fact that he was inhabiting another’s subconscious allowed them to play tricks on him.

However long it was in reality, though, it felt like it was a short time before the dark tendrils started appearing. It could have been longer, Morpheus mused, but then, he couldn’t exactly be sure.

But there they were, the familiar purple-black tendrils arching across the dreamscape toward the child. Morpheus started forward, taking long strides across that oddly bouncy, candy-colored ground.

The child had stopped walking, gazing about her like she could tell something was wrong. The nightmare was starting to coalesce, a dark seething mass blocking her path. It appeared indistinct to him for now, but Morpheus thought he could sense its glee nonetheless. He saw the kit start backwards, turn to run. As she started to run, Morpheus moved forward, drawing his sword from its sheath and his shield from his back.

“Hey!” He shouted, his voice echoing and rippling weirdly across the dreamscape. The child paid him no mind, distracted in her flight, but the nightmare responded. It had been edging after the child, but now it turned its great writhing bulk toward him.

“I will give you one chance to leave this place,” Morpheus said. He tried this with every nightmare he faced- an appeal to reason, a hope that perhaps he would meet one that could be dissuaded from its goal. A soft-hearted aim, he knew- there were other, less merciful dreamwalkers. Those who offered no quarter, and sought to kill nightmares rather than trap them. Perhaps Morpheus would be better off doing the same. Perhaps that way it would be simpler. But still, he tried.

And, as with every time before, the nightmare didn’t seem to care for his offer. It shifted and twisted, taking on a tangible form as it faced him, in an attempt to frighten him. Morpheus had seen nightmares take many forms throughout the course of his work, and though the appearance of a great dark lion before him was an interesting one- he found it interesting, how every nightmare took a different form. Did they have preferred ones, he wondered?- it was not a frightening one. He had faced lions and dragons and great formless monsters, but all of them fell to his blade just the same.

The darkened beast leaped, and Morpheus rose to meet it. Though time was fluid in dreams, it always seemed to warp even more as he fought, slowing and speeding up in equal measure. Every movement seemed heightened, every breath felt slowed. He dodged darkened claws and slashed at stray tendrils of nightmare, seeking to trap him or yet pursue the child.

And then, at last, the blur of motion ceased. Morpheus stood over the writhing nightmare, pinning it with his sword. The blade’s touch was almost gentle as the dreamwalker muttered under his breath, and the nightmare churned as his binding spell took effect. That was the most unsettling thing about the nightmares, Morpheus reflected- their soundlessness. Though the lion opened its maws at him, though it writhed and tried to escape, the only sound was of his own breathing.

And then it was over- the nightmare condensed into a small dark stone, gleaming with the same ferocious malice as the others on his shield, woven into his bracelet and draped along his tail. Morpheus sighed, and wedged the new stone into the folds of his woven bracelets. He’d secure it later. Right now, he needed to find the child.

She was hiding- or thought she was hiding- only one hilltop over, paws pressed over her head, her tiny form quivering. He could only imagine what sort of dream she thought she was having.

“It’s okay, little one,” he murmured, tapping her head once more. “You can get up. It’s over.”

She emerged from the protective circle of her arms, blinking up at him.

“It’s you,” she said, a faint tinge of wonder to her words. “You really can walk in dreams. Did you slay the nightmare?”

“Not exactly,” Morpheus said. “But it won’t trouble you any longer.”

The child lapsed into silence for a moment. Morpheus gazed around, reflecting that this dreamscape was one of the nicer ones he’d seen.

“Will you stay?” she asked. “Aren’t you tired? Maybe you could stay in my dream, in case another one shows up. I want to know how to fight nightmares.”

Morpheus laughed again. He felt warm all the way through just now, warmed by this child’s kindness and wit, and by the cozy feeling of the dreamscape around him.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he said. “But you’re sweet to offer. Farewell, little one.”

“I think you’re sweet, too,” she said. “Slaying nightmares sounds like a scary job. But thank you for helping me with mine.”

Morpheus smiled once more, and raised a paw in farewell, before he felt himself rising, out of the dreamscape and back into the waking world- or the sleeping one, he supposed. This child, at least, would sleep soundly.

[1047 words]