Perchance to Dream Part II

By: Julsey

(Myerf! Okay, so this part of the story wasn't supposed to exist...it was really only going to be stretched into a two part story, I promise! I just...decided to write this earlier...*cough* So..yeah. It's really -not- my best piece of writing, at all..and I think it's begging for a rewrite already, but it'll work for now. ^_^;)


“You are playing a dangerous game.”


A young woman sat upon a chair, gazing at the cloaked and shadowed form pacing before her. She had her hands clasped in her lap as she watched him, infinite patience exuding from her. The shadowed figure stopped pacing, turning to face the seated woman. Two gnarled old hands appeared from the beneath the dark cloak surrounding him, lifting up to push back the hood of the cloak shrouding his features from view. The grizzled face of an old and worn man appeared, and he gazed back at her with black, sightless eyes.


“I know, Urania…but I have no choice.”


The woman, Urania by name, sighed and rose from her chair, letting it fade to nothingness. Her dark blue robes swirled around her as she walked over to the old man, silver specks, like stars, sparkling on the robe with every step. Urania placed a gentle hand on his stooped shoulder and smiled softly.


“I know that that is what you believe, my friend.”


The old man frowned.


“You would have me believe that the stars tell you otherwise?”


“The dream realm is disappearing. That, yes, I will admit to, but it has nothing to do with what is written in the stars, Morpheus…nothing. I cannot change the course of the stars, no more than you can change the fate of a man, and yet that is what you are trying to do.”


“I have to try! You know that I cannot allow the dream realm to just disappear!” the old man, Morpheus as she called him, began to shake, with fury or with fear, it was hard to tell. “I would cease to exist if that were to happen!”


“That’s not necessarily tr-“


“It is true,” he said coldly. “I am but a shell on earth…a thin, translucent husk resting alone in a cave within Mt. Olympus. I have dwelt in the dream realm for far too long.” Morpheus closed his black eyes and took a deep breath., “I could not survive without it, now.”


Urania gazed quietly at her companion, a look of understanding reflecting sadly in her eyes. She always had the stars to turn, and she would always have them…but this was Morpheus, what was he without dreams? The realization of how desperate he was truly becoming startled her. She finally understood why.


“But Morpheus,” she began softly, “what makes you think that you will succeed?”


“Because I have to.”


“I still don’t know why you came to me.”


“You are Urania, are you not? Muse of the stars, which are, themselves, fuel for so many dreams. Wasn’t it you who found him for me, four years ago?”


Urania nodded lightly.


“What do you plan on doing about the Moirae?”


“The Fates?” the man scrunched up his nose, the wrinkles on his face deepening, “With any luck, nothing. They have more than enough to deal with, more than enough lives to watch over. What is one to them? They won’t miss him.”


“All right…and what about the man? What happens if he won’t play your game, won’t give in to your wishes? You spooked him this morning, you know that.”


“Oh, I’m not worried about that right now. I believe he will accept my offer, and if he does not,” Morpheus shrugged, “well then, I shall try again.”


She pursed her lips in silence, quietly thinking to herself as she stared at her friend.


“You’ve been grooming Jonathon for this moment for the last four years. I know you, you won’t give him up that easily.”


Morpheus smiled, lifting his hand to pat Urania’s as it rested on his shoulder, as if comforting a concerned daughter.


“My dear Urania, you know me too well. No, I will not give him up so easily, but you recall what you told me about him, do you not?”


“Yes…I remember.”


“ ‘He is a dreamer, Morpheus…he lives in his own world. There is nothing to keep him here any longer.’ “


Urania made a face, then shook her head as she chuckled quietly.


“Never discuss the lives of mortals so trivially with gods,” she muttered, smiling at Morpheus, who grinned toothily at her. “Especially not with wizened old dream gods. You do realize that I made that statement four years ago. Things change; I am no oracle.”


“So you’ll go to him, then? Deliver my message for me?”


“Hmph,” Urania sighed in defeat, nodding. “Yes, Morpheus, I will deliver your message…but don’t expect any miracles on his behalf, okay?”


“Of course not. Miracles are for dreamers.”


“Morpheus is up to something,” her sweet, childish voice carried over to the two women with her. The young girl-child never paused in her spinning, gathering more and more thread to her spindle, her youthful hands moving skillfully.


“Yes, sister, he is,” a grown woman replied, her gaze was centered unfalteringly upon the endless mass of threads before her. She pointed towards a thread, and a pair of gilded shears appeared, firmly held in a wrinkled hand.


“And we must know what,” the rusty voice of an old woman filled the room. She lifted the scissors to the thread pointed out to her and cut it, not hesitating a moment before moving to the next thread designated by her sister.


“He cannot deceive us,” three different voices blended to form one, echoing around them. “He will not deceive us.”

PERCHAN1
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