In which I don't even
Sep. 14th, 2012 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katzenstreuAuthor: Katzenstreu Gesicht
Date Written: September 14th, 2012
Fandom: Crossover, The Picture of Dorian Gray/One Man Cleanup Crew
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Day and Night are more or less truly Dream aspects, but y'know. nothing new here. Night is much more talkative when her brother's around, or when discussing fantasies and dreams and the like. But in OMMC, neither of those happen often, sadly.
I feel like I should make up a family chart or something, but it's honestly so confusing as others consider themselves of different relation to another compared to another's. /le sigh~
"She's lost," yawns the one with hair like filtered moonlight, inlaid with silver and with stones distantly beautiful as those found in the sky when all dream. She is but a child, leaning on her brother, at the moment much older, whom has been kissed and touched and bathed in the hours of daylight, then dressed in warm and earthly garments.
"It's easy to get lost when you're dreaming," offers her brother. The room they sit in is full of clocks, hourglasses, sun dials and a clepsydras or two.The floor is glass and shared by two clock faces, one ticking backwards and the other one going forwards. The domed ceiling is dotted with pinpricks of stars. "But then it depends on what sort of dreaming you do."
"I'm right here, you know," says Sarah, a tad huffy.
"Are you?" asks the youngest, lazily, as if the answer doesn't truly matter.
"Well, yes," confirms Sarah, though there is admittedly some hesitation there. "Where else would I be?"
"Dreaming!" they chime in unison with each other, and with the roll of the clocks, and then Sarah swears the older man is becoming young and the girl is becoming a woman.
"I don't think it's a daydream, though, sister," says the man, with his facial hair falling off like leaves.
"Too bizarre, but too intentional," says his sister, the childlike whine to her voice is gone, but it is of one trying to be grown up too fast. Not so much of an improvement. "Couldn't be both. What think you, dreamer?"
"Honestly, I don't know what to think," says Sarah, "look, do you mind showing me a way to the castle?" The two exchange a glance, share a thousand words in an instant, and then turn back to her.
Night is the first to speak, and with it the tone of complete knowledge and authority on the matter. "You'll find it on your own, should you wish to. Just hope you don't wake up before then," she adds, with a cautionary nod.
"The worst thing is to wake up without finishing what you started, and live reality in regret. People have been born here, and grow up here, but wake up one morning to find their life is gone. Sad, really," says the boy, somberly.
"That doesn't--" starts Sarah, but even though it shouldn't have already, the clock chimes again, with the hands lining up perfectly. The room shakes, the stars burn, the water boils.
Sand fills the room, and she wakes up in another place entirely, wondering if it is possible to dream within dreams and the very nature of them entirely.
Date Written: September 14th, 2012
Fandom: Crossover, The Picture of Dorian Gray/One Man Cleanup Crew
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Day and Night are more or less truly Dream aspects, but y'know. nothing new here. Night is much more talkative when her brother's around, or when discussing fantasies and dreams and the like. But in OMMC, neither of those happen often, sadly.
I feel like I should make up a family chart or something, but it's honestly so confusing as others consider themselves of different relation to another compared to another's. /le sigh~
"She's lost," yawns the one with hair like filtered moonlight, inlaid with silver and with stones distantly beautiful as those found in the sky when all dream. She is but a child, leaning on her brother, at the moment much older, whom has been kissed and touched and bathed in the hours of daylight, then dressed in warm and earthly garments.
"It's easy to get lost when you're dreaming," offers her brother. The room they sit in is full of clocks, hourglasses, sun dials and a clepsydras or two.The floor is glass and shared by two clock faces, one ticking backwards and the other one going forwards. The domed ceiling is dotted with pinpricks of stars. "But then it depends on what sort of dreaming you do."
"I'm right here, you know," says Sarah, a tad huffy.
"Are you?" asks the youngest, lazily, as if the answer doesn't truly matter.
"Well, yes," confirms Sarah, though there is admittedly some hesitation there. "Where else would I be?"
"Dreaming!" they chime in unison with each other, and with the roll of the clocks, and then Sarah swears the older man is becoming young and the girl is becoming a woman.
"I don't think it's a daydream, though, sister," says the man, with his facial hair falling off like leaves.
"Too bizarre, but too intentional," says his sister, the childlike whine to her voice is gone, but it is of one trying to be grown up too fast. Not so much of an improvement. "Couldn't be both. What think you, dreamer?"
"Honestly, I don't know what to think," says Sarah, "look, do you mind showing me a way to the castle?" The two exchange a glance, share a thousand words in an instant, and then turn back to her.
Night is the first to speak, and with it the tone of complete knowledge and authority on the matter. "You'll find it on your own, should you wish to. Just hope you don't wake up before then," she adds, with a cautionary nod.
"The worst thing is to wake up without finishing what you started, and live reality in regret. People have been born here, and grow up here, but wake up one morning to find their life is gone. Sad, really," says the boy, somberly.
"That doesn't--" starts Sarah, but even though it shouldn't have already, the clock chimes again, with the hands lining up perfectly. The room shakes, the stars burn, the water boils.
Sand fills the room, and she wakes up in another place entirely, wondering if it is possible to dream within dreams and the very nature of them entirely.