[ Regardless of the heat of the surroundings, the fire that lights the strange dream they stand in, that note of approval makes something in them respond.
(They are uncertain of what that feeling is, as of yet. But it's something they want to know more of.)
They look up at the response, head turning as they track each speaker. It feels new, to know that the words that the Grimmkin are responding to are theirs. Not a motion or gesture, a question posed in silence, but a voice of their own.
It's an almost frightening feeling. They know it's not something they're supposed to have; deep in their heart, they feel as if they have broken a rule. But those shackles placed at the moment of their birth aren't enough to stop them from speaking.
They turn to the exit, but before they leave something appears to occur to them, and they look over their shoulder. There was something, left unsaid...
[It certainly is breaking a rule of some sort. The Pale King had created his hollow children with no voices and he never did something without a reason. As terrible as it was seizing their voice was not born out of pure sadistic desire but a cold, unfeeling calculation.
Grimm was the opposite, fiery and dramatic. His legacy will not last as long as the Pale King's will but the Troupe Master will burn brighter. And now the Vessel has a choice of the same - a quiet body of water trapped under ice, a fire that consumed all....
Or something else entirely. It is up to them.
The Grimmkin look at each other and giggle. It is not directed towards the Vessel's question nor amusement at their asking such a thing. They were here by their Master's word to answer the questions, after all, and it would not do to be rude about it.]
So dark. Burn brighter!
The endless song has changed.
But a song is still a song, or so our Master says.
[Grimm's sacrifice for his child was something he gladly welcomed but as the Grimmkin's little ditty states, it is still a sacrifice. The Vessel's appearance in the Troupe is a new line of dialog and a new note written on a music sheet, but it was not enough to change their Master's fate.
But not all is doom and gloom. The middle Grimmkin waves their staff, mimicking their younger brethren, before offering more to their answer.]
A new dance, a new song. We wish to see it.
[A new note meant new instruments, new singers and a new crowd. But where their Master and the new Grimm Troupe takes this show is up to them. That is their answer on the matter.]
[ They're not...entirely certain that they understand everything they're being told, even after the time they've spent here. But they'll remember it regardless; it sounds important, even if they don't quite grasp its full meaning yet.
They simply nod, finding little to say in response even when their thoughts are freed to become a voice. They asked a question, and received an answer, and that seems to be the end of it.
There is a path to follow, through those scarlet flames; so they do. Wondering what will be waiting for them at the end.
Always, always wondering; always thinking about something or other. (The murmur of the Vessel's thoughts are ripples in still, dark water, the hint of some life or movement beneath the surface. A new note to accompany the sound of fire that they don't even realise they're projecting.
It is not the metaphorical gears of their father's thoughts, a finely-tuned machine bent to his will, but there is an echo of it, all the same. The Vessel's head buzzes with activity, with observations of the world around them.) ]
[The nightmare appears to respond to the little Vessel's thoughts, flames swaying and dancing as they think and form vague shapes of whatever comes to mind. Their mind is a quite, still body of water lit by the torches on the shore.
A nightmare requires a mind to exist or they simply would belong to their king, after all.
As the path goes along a sound will invade the Vessel's mind. One that is obviously not to do with their thoughts or biology. It is a heartbeat, slow and steady, and grows in volume as they approach. If the sound is disturbing that is wholly up to the Vessel but it feel...familiar, somehow.
(Stand before the Troupe's dark dream.)
At the end of the path reveals the Nightmare Heart in all of its glory, steadily beating away. The temperature of the room is on the side of unbearably hot and it is lit up with flames that had been lit on thousands of staffs that the Grimmkin normally carry, all jammed into the ground where they would normally sit.
The audience is not here, as it is not time for the show. But the Master of the Troupe is.
Wreathed in scarlet flames and standing tall in the center of the arena is the God of Nightmares. His gaze is fixed on the tiny Vessel and the room bends from the heat and his mere presence. It is not on purpose, however, but instinctive. The Nightmare King was the God over this realm and it responded to him.
Perhaps it gave away where his instincts would lie in a normal meeting. But this is different. He did not often call others to his nightmare for a variety of reasons - namely sharing his vessel's opinion that it was a bad idea. However, he had a reason to draw them here.
A song is a song, as he said. But the Nightmare King finds it better to meet those who make up the notes that his vessel dances to.
He speaks eventually, a voice that is old and rusted. Fragmented.]
Little Vessel...welcome.
[They can come closer if they wish and he will not stop them. But if it is their own instinct to stay away...he would not be surprised.]
[ They watch the flames at first, slowing their walk to stare curiously, but the sound catches their attention much more quickly.
The sound of a heartbeat is - not entirely foreign to them. The quickening pulse of the infection thumped and reverberated in their head, invasive and sickening; they always knew when something sick was nearby, because it seemed as if what gripped those empty shells was always desperately trying to claw its way out.
This is different. This is steady, measured; not quiet, but the sound of something at rest. For the moment, passive and without agitation.
(Safe? No, not safe, not in the way that the word would normally be used. But known, yes. They know this, from somewhere.)
They stop short at the heat washing over them, the sudden attention they are given from this strange being. There is, for the first time in this dream, a small amount of apprehension in the way they hold themselves, the way they look up to meet his eyes.
(They have never met him consciously. )
They bow in acknowledgement and then straighten up, unsure of what to say. What small talk they've picked up, little social niceties, seems irrelevant in the face of someone like this.
You called me?
Why?
As usual, they resort to questions, when left to their own devices. ]
[It is polite gesture to bow but it stops as a mere gesture. The Nightmare King did not curry favor with others, possessed no followers. A crown he may wear but he knew too well the madness that resulted from worshipers with no will and too much of it. The members of the Grimm Troupe were free to come and go as they pleased, to take off the mask and wake from their nightmare.
He met them all, knew them as Grimm knew them, but the Vessel was an old, yet new curiosity.
The Nightmare King taps the skin close to his right eye, burning with scarlet flame. It is more predominate in the Nightmare King to see the rolling flames in his eyes then it is Grimm as the God of Nightmares is the center of the storm. But what he sees is some thing he will keep to himself.]
See you. [Simple.] The song has changed. Your song.
[Grimm's fate is forever set in stone, to live is to die and live again. But the Vessel's, the Pale King's failed experiment, they did not die. They continued, changing the notes all on their own.
Something new. Something special. But what results from such things he doesn't yet know.]
[ That scarlet fire that once lit their restless nightmares is present here, in breathless heat that sears away water. Flames that make the shadows dance to their light.
A song. Do they have one all their own, even without a voice, without a heartbeat? Even empty? If they're being told it, then it must be true, but--
In the waking world, they had already been taught to question, to ask, to know that no question was too much to ask. To indulge their voracious but not destructive curiosity.
A song? Is it the same as music? Is it part of you?
[He does not mind being asked. It is something that Grimm encouraged in the waking world, a wonderful form of creativity found within the questions and those who asked them.
And that particular question...is one the Nightmare King is interested in. Life and death, both terrifying nightmares as they are gifts. A connection between all from start to finish.
One may say this does not apply to a Vessel. They were created by another's hand, a being sprung from the inky blackness of the Void. The natural breath of life does not flow within them. But there is a spark, a drive to live that burns in the child. They took the hand that was offered to them and chose to grow.
It was enough for Grimm and it is enough for the Nightmare King.]
A quite song. The wind, the sea. A lonely body of water calls you. For you...
[The Nightmare King pauses and for a moment appears lost in his own world. Songs go farther, deeper into the soul that one may think...unless they were those who dug into the soul with scalpels and magic. They knew.
It is difficult to explain. The flames dance again.]
A dance between us two until he wakes. Meanings become clear when it is quiet.
[He is being obtuse but it is really the only way the Nightmare King can put it. And this dance is an offer. Normally those who wandered into Grimm's mind had to accept what they unleash upon themselves.
[ They listen to that voice, crackling with the flicker of flame, with rapt attention. It might be reminiscent of the Wyrm's empty stare, but what similarities are there are rapidly becoming superficial.
(It is a story, in its own way. They soak up stories like the empty canvas they are, like coloured ink in water, and become dyed with it.)
They tilt their head at the mention of a dance. They're familiar with the idea - with both meanings of a dance they have learned so far, in their time here. They wonder which one it is that he means to ask them for.
Rather than answer with their newfound voice, the nail flashes into existence in their hand, quick as thought, because they turn to combat first above all (knowing little else in their life before now). A perfect copy of the weapon they wield in reality, because they have little room in their head for what does not exist in some manner.
(It does not have to dwell in the realm of the physical to be real, of course. But the fact remains that their weapon is not the usual type of thing one would imagine in their dreams.)
They hold it loosely at their side and look up at him, inquisitive. Is this what he means? Is this what he wants? ]
[The heat of the room skyrockets when their nail appears, bending the scenery due to the sheer power of the flames. The heart beats just a little faster, stocking the flames as the sound grows louder and louder.
Why yes, that is what he means.
But the Nightmare King does not immediately attack. Again, he had called them. Pulled the little Vessel from their sleep into his nightmares and in this situation the Nightmare King was more like his own vessel, to extend a choice.
The nightmare they weave together during this dance will make things clear. But it is their choice to follow along.]
Flames and shadows dance together. Not alone. Choose.
[ Again, it takes a little while, because as much freedom as they have been given here, the idea of choosing - of not obediently following along behind like the little shadow they were made to be - is still...new. The desire to be told, to be obedient, to look for the next task and wait eternally otherwise, is something carved into them. Graven into the mask that lets them walk this world.
Invisible chains, weighing them down. But not inescapably.
Shadows grow long in the light of the heart. Though the child that stands before the Nightmare King has no heartbeat, there is a certain darkness that wasn't there before. Waiting, watching, in silent anticipation.
They look up at him in order to meet his eyes properly, and nod. Just once.
They have chosen. The Nightmare King has a willing dance partner. ]
[Flame and shadow cast each other into light. A bound that goes beyond words because they are not needed. He knows of the chains that weighed the child down, knows why there is a delay in response. The Nightmare King's vessel would encourage growth and their own choices but to shake off the bone-deep carvings of the Pale King will take a long, long time.
But there is wiggle room within the chains binding them and perhaps one day they will notice just how rusted the links are.
The heat lessens upon their choice and the heartbeat slows but the light does not fade. The Nightmare King stands to his full height and the whole room seems to breathe with him.
And then he is gone in that familiar fireworks-crack of a teleportation. He is not like Grimm when it came to battle. The only warning that the dance is beginning is the sight of pink-red spikes shooting up from the ground.
[ They expect no quarter and are given none; this is, in some ways, more familiar than warnings and kind treatment extended to them, a warmth they don't yet understand. A fight with no reason for restraint.
The little vessel leaps backwards to avoid the first strike, though it snags their cloak, and waits for the Nightmare King to reappear before they launch themselves at him, swinging their nail at what they judge to be the right moment in an attempt to hit him.
It's highly likely they'll simply hit empty air. Their fighting style is something born out of necessity, rather than technique honed with practice and training, and is still clumsy. ]
[Hit empty air they do as the Nightmare King drops down, his extra limbs shooting out from their hiding place under his cloak as he steps backwards. A move that, if they have fought Grimm before, they will recognize as the apple does not fall far from the tree even when it comes to vessels.
The Nightmare King quickly straightens and opens his cloak with a flourish. Two flame bats burst out screaming as they hone in on the Vessel. Of course there is a way to dodge if they are quick enough to jump but they will find out the hard way the flames of the God of Nightmare burned hotter then his vessel's did.
Grimm turned his abilities into the tricks of a performer, a beautiful show and dance to behold. That is not to say he was incapable of being a terrifying opponent in the right situations but he was not like the God known as the Terror of Sleep. The Nightmare King has every intention of treating this as a fight to the death.
The tiny Vessel better as well.
They have a chance to take a swipe at the Nightmare Knight if they dodge the fire bats and are quick to close the gap between them and their opponent. But he soon will teleport into the air and float there, staring down at the Vessel as flames erupt from the ground from under them, following their footsteps as they move.
Once again they have a chance to attack the Nightmare King but they need to time it so they do not fall into the fire.]
[ They're scorched by flames; searing pain sends them tumbling backwards, but they quickly roll to their feet, undeterred.
A child without fear; a double-edged sword. Still, not fearing doesn't mean they have no survival instinct. They're fast enough to dodge the fire as it bursts from under their feet, leaping up to swing their sword at the Nightmare King once more.
This is something they understand. It brings them a certain focus, stills their questions and an unsettled heart that, at this point, they still struggle to comprehend. The world narrows to a point at the edge of their nail.
There is something almost soothing about this dance of violence and quick movement. ]
[Stills the mind, the questions and their what ifs. The world turns even without its Gods, began without them and will end without them.
But that is the world's nightmare and this one is still progressing. The Vessel comes after the Nightmare King without fear when many would cower under these flames. Even those brave enough to stand before the Terror of Sleep gave into the instinct to survive and played defensive when it was a derivative. Blades melt, shields broke.
No, not this one however. They did not throw themself into the flames just to fight but they did not run or hide. They did not wake.
The Vessel will stand their ground against the God of Nightmares and fight.
The blows do not stagger the Nightmare King but it comes close. He disappears again and reappears in the air to dive straight down with a vicious kick, fire trailing behind him. A hit or miss, he will continue to shoot across the stage with a blaze following behind.
The Heart is still quiet. It could be so, so much more louder! Burn brighter! Come to him Vessel and turn yourself into flame that is stronger then his!]
[ The Vessel before the Nightmare King has always reflected others' expectations of them. What others see in them, what they desire from them; they are a still lake, a dark night, saying more about the person that stands before them than their own identity. They mimic it, absorb it; it is instinct and nature to do so. The only name they were ever given (if it could truly be called a name at all) spoke to that purpose.
They have never expected or wanted for anything else.
But the flame calls them as an equal; expecting nothing, asking nothing except who are you? It kindles a desire in them to reach out, to leap and be transformed. To see what happens if they are transformed, what they will become - if they make the choice. If they step over the boundary themselves.
"Shadows dream of endless fire."
They don't understand what falls into place, but something within them responds.
The Vessel dodges the Nightmare King's strike with a sudden moment of grace, cloak swirling and lengthening like the darkness they were born from, in response to his flames. They chase after their opponent with nail in hand, striking at their foe, their nail a silver blur.
Something has changed in them. Once again, a spark ignites, a heart-pounding excitement. ]
[The flames contained in the Grimmkins' abandoned staffs erupt, bending and twisting the metal from the sheer heat. The Vessel's strike hits true and the Nightmare King bends over their blade in an arc before suddenly bursting into bats.
They scatter quickly, dark blots against blinding red, but there is one with the same fiery eyes that the Nightmare King shared with Grimm. That alone is the one that will take damage from the Vessel's attacks and they must act quickly as he will reform shortly.
The Nightmare King is aware this battle cannot go on for long. This will wake Grimm, if he was not already trying to wake on his own from the pain, and it cuts far to close to the Heart. The Nightmare King visited those who arrived to the Troupe but did not often pull them into his own nightmare. It was those who dreamwalked that found him and thus this was breaking a few of his own self-imposed rules.
But the flames coming after him were far different. A being that mirrored others finally deciding to look at their own reflection, a still lake whipped up into a frenzy by an incoming storm to meet the raging inferno that burned dreams to cinders.
"Silent voices shout and sing."
Can they hear themself as this continues? Can they see past the boundary of "The Vessel" and find the beginning that does not stop at that name?
All fires burn with the knowledge they will one day run out of kindling. But do not let that spark burn out before it can grow. Do not.
The nightmare rocks as the God appears in the center of the stage. With a sound that is a cross between laughter and a scream, the Nightmare King surrounds himself with his cloak and it puffs up like a balloon. Soon fireballs begin to pour out of his cloak, quick and just as damaging as any one of his attacks.
Just bull-rushing their way through this attack will not help them. Dodge and weave as fast as possible. That is the only way to survive it.]
[ The shadow that grows to dance with the fire has glowing eyes rather than a hollow stare. The last part of their former self, the child who suffocated under the stifling mask and succumbed.
They're caught up in the dance created for them, for a moment. They chase their opponent, thinking of nothing else but fighting, the impersonal point of a nail and the fire of battle, and for a moment that is what satisfies them best.
But the stuttering heartbeat distracts them, something other than their newfound excitement for combat seeping in. The sound is familiar; not from their dreams, but mirrored in reality.
(The sound is painful - not to them, but to another. The heartbeat of something under strain, under stress.
In pain.)
This is a dream. Yes. But dreams affect reality, they understand that.
This heart is-
When their opponent starts to pelt them with fireballs, they dodge as best they can, though they're struck and almost overwhelmed. But they hold on, regardless.
But when the onslaught ends, their nail is no longer in hand. Not melted away by the fire's heat; simply dismissed. Their wielder doesn't want it, not any more.
Something in them has changed. When they raise their head to look at the Nightmare King, there is a spark of light glowing in what was once a previously empty eyesocket. It illuminates their left 'eye', a roiling red flame with a white-hot core.
Rather than offer their nail, they offer an outstretched hand to the Nightmare King instead. ]
[The Nightmare King was the one who governed bad dreams but not to the point of utter madness. He had created a vessel to walk the physical world so he would not become blind to what bugkind was. A cycle where the candle must be put out before the wax completely melted, yes, but he would not cause Grimm undo suffering when it came time for the Ritual.
He appears again, arm drawn back to lunge forward, when he spots the Vessel no longer carries their nail. The expression on his face is a startled one, amusing as the God of Nightmare finds himself wrong-footed and trying not to follow through with his attack.
There was nothing yet to determine a winner of this dance. But the Nightmare King sees the fire in the Vessel's eye socket, sees the hand they offer him rather then the edge of their blade. A flame tempered to a fine point yet with the kind soul to know when to use it.
And he can now hear what they knew before even he did, why they stopped.
"Nightmare...the Heart...hurts..."
The cruelty of the God of Nightmare was in his vicious way of attacking, a flame that even water could not stop. But he was not mindless. He was not.
They knew when to stop and so did he. The Nightmare King breathes and the room does too, the flames of the now-ruined staffs cooling as the minutes ticked by and his stance relaxes. Approaching the tiny Vessel, the God of Nightmare kneels and takes their hand in his.]
I saw it...did you?
[The path that illuminates their way forward, the flame that they created all on their own?]
[ There is no winner, but the Vessel is content; they do not need to triumph, to have determined a victor, to gain something from the experience.
(Not causing someone pain matters far more to them than testing their own strength. They are already striving not to do such things.
Someone showed them kindness, when they had no reason to. It was a simple choice, a simple act, and yet it has already changed them in many ways.)
Their vision is...adjusting, right now. When they stepped into the dream, it was monochromatic; a fiery red, with no ability to discern the subtleties of the shadows or any other coloration that existed within it.
When they had experienced the Dreamers' visions, when they had listened to that plaintive song on the stage, it was something they could see and listen to, but couldn't touch or understand. The world had seemed...gray. Washed out and empty, being viewed from a fog, through a distance. A masked shadow creeping upon a clouded world, not able to be part of it.
Now, though, colour is creeping in, adding warmth and casting shadows, bringing a new dimension to their vision. A connection that wasn't present before.
They squeeze his hand and nod, indicating the fire that burns in their eye, that spark grown to a flame.
Yes. Saw it.
They glance at the Heart, at the room around them, with fresh eyes. They seem...worried, and it's not hard to tell why that is.
[If they do finally see the colors they had missed, then the Vessel won regardless of the outcome of the dance.
The Heart is beating a little erratically but is slowing down to a normal rate. Although it was something the Nightmare King did not go out of his way to test, Grimm was rather sturdy. It was only during the Ritual he would fall from the Heart's declining health and be reborn from the ashes of his death.
But the worry the Vessel is expressing for him is good to see. They could have kept going, kept enduring the Nightmare King's assault but they knew it would be a hazard to someone else's health and stopped.
Within their own newly discovered flame they have not lost what made them unique. Grimm would be happy.
The Nightmare King nods.]
Yes. Time to wake.
[The Heart's beating is normal again and the room begins to dim, the fires going out one by one. The Nightmare King closes his eyes as a familiar tune begins to play, the song Brumm often played.
But he has one last word of advice before the nightmare ends.]
Listen. A call. Your dreams will lead you. Your nightmares will remind you.
[Remember it, as the sound echoes around the chamber before everything goes black.
The Vessel will wake up exactly where they were before the Nightmare King pulled them into his nightmare. And if they so happen to hear something crash elsewhere...
Well it is resulting from the nightmare. But not a bad result.]
[ The cry snaps them back into reality, back into the waking world. Their head is still ringing from it, so it takes a moment for them to register the other thing that just happened, and then to connect that with-
Wait, now they remember.
They scramble to get to the source of the sound as quickly as possible. They might be panicking! They might be panicking a lot! Oh no what have they done. ]
[Grimm is sitting up by the time the Knight finds him, having fallen off his perch while he was sleeping. He had not expected the Nightmare King's final words and coupled with the battle that had taken place, it had startled him awake.
He cannot help but cough and press a hand against his chest. It would be a lie to say that did not hurt, to suffer a nightmare where he was trapped listening to his heart pound and stutter under the strain of bearing the Nightmare King's full power.
But the Vessel had to fight the God of Nightmares and light their own flame. That was a harder battle then simply watching the fight unfold. So Grimm smiles when he spots them.]
Good morning, my friend. Quite the wake-up call we both experienced?
[ Smile or not, they're anxious enough about the pain they've accidentally caused that his question gets little more than a nod before they're running over to where he's now sitting on the floor.
Unsure of how to apologise for what has happened, or how to start, they anxiously look him over instead. Tilting their head close in a clear attempt to listen for his heartbeat; it's something they've done before out of curiosity, more than once. They were fascinated with it then, not having one of their own; now it's a cause for concern.
(It hasn't quite sunk in yet that something has followed them out of the dream. There is a distinct red glow lighting their left eyesocket, where once there was merely emptiness. They're too busy worrying about the Troupe Master to notice it, but it's an obvious change to an observer.) ]
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(They are uncertain of what that feeling is, as of yet. But it's something they want to know more of.)
They look up at the response, head turning as they track each speaker. It feels new, to know that the words that the Grimmkin are responding to are theirs. Not a motion or gesture, a question posed in silence, but a voice of their own.
It's an almost frightening feeling. They know it's not something they're supposed to have; deep in their heart, they feel as if they have broken a rule. But those shackles placed at the moment of their birth aren't enough to stop them from speaking.
They turn to the exit, but before they leave something appears to occur to them, and they look over their shoulder. There was something, left unsaid...
You told me why I am here.
But why are you? ]
no subject
Grimm was the opposite, fiery and dramatic. His legacy will not last as long as the Pale King's will but the Troupe Master will burn brighter. And now the Vessel has a choice of the same - a quiet body of water trapped under ice, a fire that consumed all....
Or something else entirely. It is up to them.
The Grimmkin look at each other and giggle. It is not directed towards the Vessel's question nor amusement at their asking such a thing. They were here by their Master's word to answer the questions, after all, and it would not do to be rude about it.]
So dark. Burn brighter!
The endless song has changed.
But a song is still a song, or so our Master says.
[Grimm's sacrifice for his child was something he gladly welcomed but as the Grimmkin's little ditty states, it is still a sacrifice. The Vessel's appearance in the Troupe is a new line of dialog and a new note written on a music sheet, but it was not enough to change their Master's fate.
But not all is doom and gloom. The middle Grimmkin waves their staff, mimicking their younger brethren, before offering more to their answer.]
A new dance, a new song. We wish to see it.
[A new note meant new instruments, new singers and a new crowd. But where their Master and the new Grimm Troupe takes this show is up to them. That is their answer on the matter.]
no subject
They simply nod, finding little to say in response even when their thoughts are freed to become a voice. They asked a question, and received an answer, and that seems to be the end of it.
There is a path to follow, through those scarlet flames; so they do. Wondering what will be waiting for them at the end.
Always, always wondering; always thinking about something or other. (The murmur of the Vessel's thoughts are ripples in still, dark water, the hint of some life or movement beneath the surface. A new note to accompany the sound of fire that they don't even realise they're projecting.
It is not the metaphorical gears of their father's thoughts, a finely-tuned machine bent to his will, but there is an echo of it, all the same. The Vessel's head buzzes with activity, with observations of the world around them.) ]
apologizes for the delay in response
A nightmare requires a mind to exist or they simply would belong to their king, after all.
As the path goes along a sound will invade the Vessel's mind. One that is obviously not to do with their thoughts or biology. It is a heartbeat, slow and steady, and grows in volume as they approach. If the sound is disturbing that is wholly up to the Vessel but it feel...familiar, somehow.
(Stand before the Troupe's dark dream.)
At the end of the path reveals the Nightmare Heart in all of its glory, steadily beating away. The temperature of the room is on the side of unbearably hot and it is lit up with flames that had been lit on thousands of staffs that the Grimmkin normally carry, all jammed into the ground where they would normally sit.
The audience is not here, as it is not time for the show. But the Master of the Troupe is.
Wreathed in scarlet flames and standing tall in the center of the arena is the God of Nightmares. His gaze is fixed on the tiny Vessel and the room bends from the heat and his mere presence. It is not on purpose, however, but instinctive. The Nightmare King was the God over this realm and it responded to him.
Perhaps it gave away where his instincts would lie in a normal meeting. But this is different. He did not often call others to his nightmare for a variety of reasons - namely sharing his vessel's opinion that it was a bad idea. However, he had a reason to draw them here.
A song is a song, as he said. But the Nightmare King finds it better to meet those who make up the notes that his vessel dances to.
He speaks eventually, a voice that is old and rusted. Fragmented.]
Little Vessel...welcome.
[They can come closer if they wish and he will not stop them. But if it is their own instinct to stay away...he would not be surprised.]
no worries, it's all good
The sound of a heartbeat is - not entirely foreign to them. The quickening pulse of the infection thumped and reverberated in their head, invasive and sickening; they always knew when something sick was nearby, because it seemed as if what gripped those empty shells was always desperately trying to claw its way out.
This is different. This is steady, measured; not quiet, but the sound of something at rest. For the moment, passive and without agitation.
(Safe? No, not safe, not in the way that the word would normally be used. But known, yes. They know this, from somewhere.)
They stop short at the heat washing over them, the sudden attention they are given from this strange being. There is, for the first time in this dream, a small amount of apprehension in the way they hold themselves, the way they look up to meet his eyes.
(They have never met him consciously. )
They bow in acknowledgement and then straighten up, unsure of what to say. What small talk they've picked up, little social niceties, seems irrelevant in the face of someone like this.
You called me?
Why?
As usual, they resort to questions, when left to their own devices. ]
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He met them all, knew them as Grimm knew them, but the Vessel was an old, yet new curiosity.
The Nightmare King taps the skin close to his right eye, burning with scarlet flame. It is more predominate in the Nightmare King to see the rolling flames in his eyes then it is Grimm as the God of Nightmares is the center of the storm. But what he sees is some thing he will keep to himself.]
See you. [Simple.] The song has changed. Your song.
[Grimm's fate is forever set in stone, to live is to die and live again. But the Vessel's, the Pale King's failed experiment, they did not die. They continued, changing the notes all on their own.
Something new. Something special. But what results from such things he doesn't yet know.]
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A song. Do they have one all their own, even without a voice, without a heartbeat? Even empty? If they're being told it, then it must be true, but--
In the waking world, they had already been taught to question, to ask, to know that no question was too much to ask. To indulge their voracious but not destructive curiosity.
A song? Is it the same as music? Is it part of you?
What does it mean to have one? ]
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And that particular question...is one the Nightmare King is interested in. Life and death, both terrifying nightmares as they are gifts. A connection between all from start to finish.
One may say this does not apply to a Vessel. They were created by another's hand, a being sprung from the inky blackness of the Void. The natural breath of life does not flow within them. But there is a spark, a drive to live that burns in the child. They took the hand that was offered to them and chose to grow.
It was enough for Grimm and it is enough for the Nightmare King.]
A quite song. The wind, the sea. A lonely body of water calls you. For you...
[The Nightmare King pauses and for a moment appears lost in his own world. Songs go farther, deeper into the soul that one may think...unless they were those who dug into the soul with scalpels and magic. They knew.
It is difficult to explain. The flames dance again.]
A dance between us two until he wakes. Meanings become clear when it is quiet.
[He is being obtuse but it is really the only way the Nightmare King can put it. And this dance is an offer. Normally those who wandered into Grimm's mind had to accept what they unleash upon themselves.
But he called them. It was only fair.]
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(It is a story, in its own way. They soak up stories like the empty canvas they are, like coloured ink in water, and become dyed with it.)
They tilt their head at the mention of a dance. They're familiar with the idea - with both meanings of a dance they have learned so far, in their time here. They wonder which one it is that he means to ask them for.
Rather than answer with their newfound voice, the nail flashes into existence in their hand, quick as thought, because they turn to combat first above all (knowing little else in their life before now). A perfect copy of the weapon they wield in reality, because they have little room in their head for what does not exist in some manner.
(It does not have to dwell in the realm of the physical to be real, of course. But the fact remains that their weapon is not the usual type of thing one would imagine in their dreams.)
They hold it loosely at their side and look up at him, inquisitive. Is this what he means? Is this what he wants? ]
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Why yes, that is what he means.
But the Nightmare King does not immediately attack. Again, he had called them. Pulled the little Vessel from their sleep into his nightmares and in this situation the Nightmare King was more like his own vessel, to extend a choice.
The nightmare they weave together during this dance will make things clear. But it is their choice to follow along.]
Flames and shadows dance together. Not alone. Choose.
[Will this be what they want?]
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Invisible chains, weighing them down. But not inescapably.
Shadows grow long in the light of the heart. Though the child that stands before the Nightmare King has no heartbeat, there is a certain darkness that wasn't there before. Waiting, watching, in silent anticipation.
They look up at him in order to meet his eyes properly, and nod. Just once.
They have chosen. The Nightmare King has a willing dance partner. ]
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But there is wiggle room within the chains binding them and perhaps one day they will notice just how rusted the links are.
The heat lessens upon their choice and the heartbeat slows but the light does not fade. The Nightmare King stands to his full height and the whole room seems to breathe with him.
And then he is gone in that familiar fireworks-crack of a teleportation. He is not like Grimm when it came to battle. The only warning that the dance is beginning is the sight of pink-red spikes shooting up from the ground.
So it begins.]
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The little vessel leaps backwards to avoid the first strike, though it snags their cloak, and waits for the Nightmare King to reappear before they launch themselves at him, swinging their nail at what they judge to be the right moment in an attempt to hit him.
It's highly likely they'll simply hit empty air. Their fighting style is something born out of necessity, rather than technique honed with practice and training, and is still clumsy. ]
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The Nightmare King quickly straightens and opens his cloak with a flourish. Two flame bats burst out screaming as they hone in on the Vessel. Of course there is a way to dodge if they are quick enough to jump but they will find out the hard way the flames of the God of Nightmare burned hotter then his vessel's did.
Grimm turned his abilities into the tricks of a performer, a beautiful show and dance to behold. That is not to say he was incapable of being a terrifying opponent in the right situations but he was not like the God known as the Terror of Sleep. The Nightmare King has every intention of treating this as a fight to the death.
The tiny Vessel better as well.
They have a chance to take a swipe at the Nightmare Knight if they dodge the fire bats and are quick to close the gap between them and their opponent. But he soon will teleport into the air and float there, staring down at the Vessel as flames erupt from the ground from under them, following their footsteps as they move.
Once again they have a chance to attack the Nightmare King but they need to time it so they do not fall into the fire.]
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A child without fear; a double-edged sword. Still, not fearing doesn't mean they have no survival instinct. They're fast enough to dodge the fire as it bursts from under their feet, leaping up to swing their sword at the Nightmare King once more.
This is something they understand. It brings them a certain focus, stills their questions and an unsettled heart that, at this point, they still struggle to comprehend. The world narrows to a point at the edge of their nail.
There is something almost soothing about this dance of violence and quick movement. ]
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But that is the world's nightmare and this one is still progressing. The Vessel comes after the Nightmare King without fear when many would cower under these flames. Even those brave enough to stand before the Terror of Sleep gave into the instinct to survive and played defensive when it was a derivative. Blades melt, shields broke.
No, not this one however. They did not throw themself into the flames just to fight but they did not run or hide. They did not wake.
The Vessel will stand their ground against the God of Nightmares and fight.
The blows do not stagger the Nightmare King but it comes close. He disappears again and reappears in the air to dive straight down with a vicious kick, fire trailing behind him. A hit or miss, he will continue to shoot across the stage with a blaze following behind.
The Heart is still quiet. It could be so, so much more louder! Burn brighter! Come to him Vessel and turn yourself into flame that is stronger then his!]
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They have never expected or wanted for anything else.
But the flame calls them as an equal; expecting nothing, asking nothing except who are you? It kindles a desire in them to reach out, to leap and be transformed. To see what happens if they are transformed, what they will become - if they make the choice. If they step over the boundary themselves.
"Shadows dream of endless fire."
They don't understand what falls into place, but something within them responds.
The Vessel dodges the Nightmare King's strike with a sudden moment of grace, cloak swirling and lengthening like the darkness they were born from, in response to his flames. They chase after their opponent with nail in hand, striking at their foe, their nail a silver blur.
Something has changed in them. Once again, a spark ignites, a heart-pounding excitement. ]
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They scatter quickly, dark blots against blinding red, but there is one with the same fiery eyes that the Nightmare King shared with Grimm. That alone is the one that will take damage from the Vessel's attacks and they must act quickly as he will reform shortly.
The Nightmare King is aware this battle cannot go on for long. This will wake Grimm, if he was not already trying to wake on his own from the pain, and it cuts far to close to the Heart. The Nightmare King visited those who arrived to the Troupe but did not often pull them into his own nightmare. It was those who dreamwalked that found him and thus this was breaking a few of his own self-imposed rules.
But the flames coming after him were far different. A being that mirrored others finally deciding to look at their own reflection, a still lake whipped up into a frenzy by an incoming storm to meet the raging inferno that burned dreams to cinders.
"Silent voices shout and sing."
Can they hear themself as this continues? Can they see past the boundary of "The Vessel" and find the beginning that does not stop at that name?
All fires burn with the knowledge they will one day run out of kindling. But do not let that spark burn out before it can grow. Do not.
The nightmare rocks as the God appears in the center of the stage. With a sound that is a cross between laughter and a scream, the Nightmare King surrounds himself with his cloak and it puffs up like a balloon. Soon fireballs begin to pour out of his cloak, quick and just as damaging as any one of his attacks.
Just bull-rushing their way through this attack will not help them. Dodge and weave as fast as possible. That is the only way to survive it.]
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They're caught up in the dance created for them, for a moment. They chase their opponent, thinking of nothing else but fighting, the impersonal point of a nail and the fire of battle, and for a moment that is what satisfies them best.
But the stuttering heartbeat distracts them, something other than their newfound excitement for combat seeping in. The sound is familiar; not from their dreams, but mirrored in reality.
(The sound is painful - not to them, but to another. The heartbeat of something under strain, under stress.
In pain.)
This is a dream. Yes. But dreams affect reality, they understand that.
This heart is-
When their opponent starts to pelt them with fireballs, they dodge as best they can, though they're struck and almost overwhelmed. But they hold on, regardless.
But when the onslaught ends, their nail is no longer in hand. Not melted away by the fire's heat; simply dismissed. Their wielder doesn't want it, not any more.
Something in them has changed. When they raise their head to look at the Nightmare King, there is a spark of light glowing in what was once a previously empty eyesocket. It illuminates their left 'eye', a roiling red flame with a white-hot core.
Rather than offer their nail, they offer an outstretched hand to the Nightmare King instead. ]
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He appears again, arm drawn back to lunge forward, when he spots the Vessel no longer carries their nail. The expression on his face is a startled one, amusing as the God of Nightmare finds himself wrong-footed and trying not to follow through with his attack.
There was nothing yet to determine a winner of this dance. But the Nightmare King sees the fire in the Vessel's eye socket, sees the hand they offer him rather then the edge of their blade. A flame tempered to a fine point yet with the kind soul to know when to use it.
And he can now hear what they knew before even he did, why they stopped.
"Nightmare...the Heart...hurts..."
The cruelty of the God of Nightmare was in his vicious way of attacking, a flame that even water could not stop. But he was not mindless. He was not.
They knew when to stop and so did he. The Nightmare King breathes and the room does too, the flames of the now-ruined staffs cooling as the minutes ticked by and his stance relaxes. Approaching the tiny Vessel, the God of Nightmare kneels and takes their hand in his.]
I saw it...did you?
[The path that illuminates their way forward, the flame that they created all on their own?]
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(Not causing someone pain matters far more to them than testing their own strength. They are already striving not to do such things.
Someone showed them kindness, when they had no reason to. It was a simple choice, a simple act, and yet it has already changed them in many ways.)
Their vision is...adjusting, right now. When they stepped into the dream, it was monochromatic; a fiery red, with no ability to discern the subtleties of the shadows or any other coloration that existed within it.
When they had experienced the Dreamers' visions, when they had listened to that plaintive song on the stage, it was something they could see and listen to, but couldn't touch or understand. The world had seemed...gray. Washed out and empty, being viewed from a fog, through a distance. A masked shadow creeping upon a clouded world, not able to be part of it.
Now, though, colour is creeping in, adding warmth and casting shadows, bringing a new dimension to their vision. A connection that wasn't present before.
They squeeze his hand and nod, indicating the fire that burns in their eye, that spark grown to a flame.
Yes. Saw it.
They glance at the Heart, at the room around them, with fresh eyes. They seem...worried, and it's not hard to tell why that is.
It's the reason they stopped, after all.
Time to wake up? ]
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The Heart is beating a little erratically but is slowing down to a normal rate. Although it was something the Nightmare King did not go out of his way to test, Grimm was rather sturdy. It was only during the Ritual he would fall from the Heart's declining health and be reborn from the ashes of his death.
But the worry the Vessel is expressing for him is good to see. They could have kept going, kept enduring the Nightmare King's assault but they knew it would be a hazard to someone else's health and stopped.
Within their own newly discovered flame they have not lost what made them unique. Grimm would be happy.
The Nightmare King nods.]
Yes. Time to wake.
[The Heart's beating is normal again and the room begins to dim, the fires going out one by one. The Nightmare King closes his eyes as a familiar tune begins to play, the song Brumm often played.
But he has one last word of advice before the nightmare ends.]
Listen. A call. Your dreams will lead you. Your nightmares will remind you.
[Remember it, as the sound echoes around the chamber before everything goes black.
The Vessel will wake up exactly where they were before the Nightmare King pulled them into his nightmare. And if they so happen to hear something crash elsewhere...
Well it is resulting from the nightmare. But not a bad result.]
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Wait, now they remember.
They scramble to get to the source of the sound as quickly as possible. They might be panicking! They might be panicking a lot! Oh no what have they done. ]
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He cannot help but cough and press a hand against his chest. It would be a lie to say that did not hurt, to suffer a nightmare where he was trapped listening to his heart pound and stutter under the strain of bearing the Nightmare King's full power.
But the Vessel had to fight the God of Nightmares and light their own flame. That was a harder battle then simply watching the fight unfold. So Grimm smiles when he spots them.]
Good morning, my friend. Quite the wake-up call we both experienced?
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Unsure of how to apologise for what has happened, or how to start, they anxiously look him over instead. Tilting their head close in a clear attempt to listen for his heartbeat; it's something they've done before out of curiosity, more than once. They were fascinated with it then, not having one of their own; now it's a cause for concern.
(It hasn't quite sunk in yet that something has followed them out of the dream. There is a distinct red glow lighting their left eyesocket, where once there was merely emptiness. They're too busy worrying about the Troupe Master to notice it, but it's an obvious change to an observer.) ]
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