bakerstreet | Caged Bird

Caged Bird

THE CAGED BIRD

From the moment you first set eyes on them, you've been drawn - but this is no meet-cute. Thy are beautiful, interesting...and so, so sad or angry, like a bird with clipped wings in a cage. They're a prisoner: mentally, physically, or both. Again, caged. You? You could be anyone, from an innocent bystander who happened to catch a glance in a faraway window, just a cog in the machine that keeps them trapped, to a fellow entombed creature. Even if you've never felt a thing like "compassion" before (or thought yourself incapable), you are sympathetic towards them now and your feelings only begin to grow, a fixation forming. At a certain point, you realize that you have but one option. You have to free them by any means necessary. You want to see them safe and content, more than anything in this world.

...even if they're free and don't want to be with you, that's enough. Right?

HOW TO PLAY

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WHO

Caged: You're the victim here, kept locked away.
Passerby: Here you are, minding your own business, when - who's that? Why are they there?
Rescuer: Whether you're a knight in shining armor type or someone simply paid or commanded to do this job, you never thought you'd fall for the one you had to rescue.
Conflict of Interest: You're a guard, but you can't very well do your duty if you want the person you're guarding let go.
Unknowing Villain: You had no idea your allies were keeping someone and you don't agree with their methods.
Enemies: They did wrong by you in the past; even they don't deserve this, though.
Should Be Reviled: Your people and theirs have never gotten along. You should hate them, yet you don't. You want to save them.
Who's the Monster?: They're being locked away because they're a monster. No one could be further from a beast in your eyes, however.
Never Felt Before: Usually, you're stone cold, but their plight has gotten under your skin.
In this Together: Both of you are prisoners, so you can't easily save them, can you?
Not All Bad: They're been told that they're being protected. You want to show them the outside world isn't so bad.
The Better Devil: To be honest, you're not much better than their captor. Still, you're something new.

HOW

Plot and Plan: You know busting them out won't be easy, so you'll put your mind to it.
Sneak: It's an old-fashion escape with all the subtleties and espionage to get out undetected.
Fight Anyone: Maybe you're more brawn than brains, or maybe you're just in a tight spot.
Bargain: Their freedom for yours. Seems like a fair trade.
Guilt: You can't really free them, can you? This fact tears you up inside.
Give You Hope: You might not be able to get them out of here now, but you'll keep them looking towards the future.
Keep You Happy: You'd do anything to see them smile again.
Be Healthy: They're being mistreated or ill-fed. You can at least try to remedy that.
Saved Themselves: They only needed an extra push. At the end, they pulled themself out of the pit.
Selfish: No denying it, you freed them for selfish reasons.
Selfless: What you want doesn't matter. Their safety and peace are paramount.
Sacrifice: If need be, you'll put your life on the line.
Used You: They didn't really love you. But they did know you'd be useful.
Failure: Your attempt failed and now both of you are looking death in the eyes.
I'll Steal You: They didn't want to leave their "home." You stole them away.
Indebted Friends: So they weren't romantically attracted to you. They, however, did platonically bond with you.
Finally "Together": You've wanted to touch them, hold them, kiss them, and be with them in every way possible, even if it's only for a moment. The smut option.
Happy Endings: You're both safe, far from danger, and together.

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[ The captive one. ]

( Probably the captive one, but I'm definitely willing to flip roles. She could do the rescuing! )

[OOC: It might be interesting if he's visited by someone while caught in captivity. Or, conversely, meeting up with someone he met while he was held captive once he's free. I'm very open to crosscanon and some assumed CR, depending on which way it goes.]

[ I hope this is okay for you.]

Over the years security came and went. It was recent times when a security team replaced another team. The discreet lapel pins all members wore bore the logo of Merovin Enterprises. The Merivon were a werewolf clan loyal to their Alpha, Nathan Randell. With them, he had pioneered security which engaged in specialised circumstances. With offices is six US cities, London, Paris, Berlin and Beijing, they were the best in the business and didn’t come cheap.

It was common practice for Nathan to engage his team and leave them alone. Not once did he ever attend a site as he trusted his team to be professionals and do their work. They were always polite and never harsh as they knew Nathan expected manners in all situations. His second in command, Jake Bishop, a trusted human, alerted him to attend the situation and requested he assess what was going on and if he wanted his reputation associated with something that didn’t appear right.

This was the reason Nathan Randell stood in front of the ‘caged bird’. He didn’t say anything at first, walking around the caged structure assessing it and the individual in the structure. When he came back around to stand in front of the captive he asked.

“Have my team been respectful to you?”

[OOC: Looks great!]

In the grand scheme of the galaxy, a century and change was little. Morpheus had lived through millenia, seen worlds like earth and worlds apart from it come and go more times than his anthropomorphized fingers could count. His family had a beginning, but ever since that start, they had been a constant within the structure of the universe. It’s humbling and humiliating how fast Morpheus’s power was stripped away by a mere mortal, given the grand design he’d played. It seared his pride that he was so easily taken, no matter that he’d been weakened from the start by preventing the galaxy from ending. The irony wasn’t lost on him that he saved a world that was now seeking its own demise once more by holding him captive. The sleepy sickness infecting earth would only grow in scope.

Morpheus had been held, naked and captive, removed from his realm and separated from his power, Jessamy’s blood forever staining the glass no matter how much they cleaned the outside of it.

Had they been ’respectful’? Internally Morpheus snorted. Oh, this new team might not have been part of Burgess’s initial magic circle meant to trap Death. Perhaps they’d even been fed lies about what monster was being held within the walls of this prison. Perhaps they didn’t care, so long as their pockets were filled and they could claim they hadn’t done anything wrong by their standards.

He was weak, starving, but there remained a look of pride within the glittering, not-quite-human gaze of the Lord of Dreams as he turned his head to take in Nathan. Even through the glass, even cut off as he was from his resources that would let him gain full knowledge of this other man’s subconscious, Dream could tell he wasn’t entirely human. There was a long pause, moments passing into minutes, before Morpheus spoke. “Would that let you rest easy tonight?”

Nathan too had seen change, although by comparison to Morpheus, he was an infant barely walking. Some changes were for the better and he would readily admit a lot of the changes were not for the better. He understood only too keenly how things could be taken away in a blink of an eye. There was not a time when things were not taken away from him and none more so than when the world was ravaged by encephalitis lethargia, and death was sniffing around at everyone’s heels. He didn’t know the being in front of him was connected to those things. He was only aware of the blood on the glass and the being in front of him behind the glass.

Equal amounts of silent minutes passed before he spoke again.

“No, sir. Nothing about this will make me rest easy. But I expect my people to behave courteously in all situations and if they don’t, they will be disciplined.” His tone advertised loudly he wasn’t kidding either.

“My name is Nathan Randell. Do you have a name?”

“Does any of this look courteous to you?” The voice that comes out is a low rustling, old parchment pages turned, a sound that carries like a haunted wind blowing from all angles. He’s sitting on the floor, legs crossed and knees tucked in tight, skeletal arm bones that appear deceptively fragile folded over his upturned knees. Dream’s form in any shape he takes never holds much weight, as before he infused as much of his power and energy into the Dreaming as possible. Now, it’s due to starvation rather than him funneling his power to a needed source. Slowly his head rises and his dark gaze studies the man in front of him.

“I have many names, Nathan Randell. For you to not know mine I take it your employers, courteous no doubt, failed to inform you who they’re holding prisoner. I am Dream of the Endless.” Or he had been. The Endless are what they do, they came into existence when the universe began to need them. Dream is as much tied to his function as he is to his form in his mind. His duty is all he’s ever been. What that makes him now, he hasn’t the energy to gather.

“I trust my people when they are hired to do a job. This is the first situation in my long life where I have been called in to assess that, no, this is not courteous at all. But what others do is not what I do, Dream of the Endless.”

He doesn’t know what an Endless is. He does process the other name slowly dream, and prisoner. As he understands connections, two things happen simultaneously his jaw tightens and he curls his fist.

“Is this the reason for the sleepy death? For why good people are dying and the world is burying those who weren’t supposed to die?”

Dream has people he trusts of his own. Though it’s more that his trust is tied to his duty, and how unthinkable it is for him that others he created, welcomed, and invested in his realm might not hold the same priorities. He worries over those whom he’s left in the Dreaming for far too long, those like Lucienne and Mervyn and Nuala and all the others who tend to the Dreaming’s upkeep. He worries about his dreams and nightmares - one nightmare in particular - acting without a guiding hand. Dream’s trust is not without his issues of control imparted into the mix, and the fact that he’s had to relinquish it for so long doesn’t let him rest easy even if he was one to rest.

Hearing the tautness in the other man’s tone, noting the tightening of muscle and sinew in hardened hands, Dream says with quiet compassion, “I grieve with you for their loss.” His dreamers are his beating proverbial heart, and the harm that has come to them fills him with sadness and rage. Though he feels something else now, too. Something that he’s not had an outcome for in so very long he’s almost forgotten how to thread it properly. Something though that is natural to him, to what he is.

Dream feels hope.

Leaning forward, he rests a hand against the glass. There’s magics holding him in, but he can break them. All he needs is one dreamer within his vicinity. One.

“I cannot undo what has been done, but I can heal what remains. If you are willing to listen.”

Nathan knows there is magic in all of this, that he understands. The being behind the glass, the structure, all of it he knew was to take something from Dream of the Endless and the structure did not cage normals, the humans. That told him consequences should be expected. Dream of the Endless at least had compassion in them and Nathan was thankful the world would not burn too badly instead dreams killed. The sleeping death was the consequences of the actions of a few. And everyone else paid. Nathan fully intended to tear the structure down, the whole place down belonging to the few who allowed selfishness to rule and make them pay.

Pulling back, Nathan held his growing anger in check and he did what he had not done for a very long time. He bent his knee to the Dream of the Endless.

“You’ve every damn right to be heard. I’m listening and always will.”

Edited 2023-07-02 06:44 (UTC)

It would have been easy to harden what passes for a heart inside Morpheus. Or rather, it should have been easy. The pain and humiliation he’s endured for over a century is more than sufficient to warrant desiring payback at an unbearable cost. Yet that isn’t how he’s designed to function. Oh, there’s rage inside of him. Burnt pride and petty spite. Fire that burns so hot a star might be born from it that blinds his captors once he’s released.

It doesn’t consume him, though. There’s room enough inside the Endless to grieve for his lost dreamers, to hold onto a shard of hope that things might be put to right. There’s room enough inside of him to watch as Nathan offers him a hand in help, and not see it as merely another manipulation. Nathan has a stake in this as well, Dream realizes. He must have his own past wrongs he’s perhaps hoping to amend, or his own outer demons he’s hoping to spear.

Slowly, one of Dream’s long, pale fingers points at the drawn symbols around his cage. “All you need to do is break that symbol, smear but one corner of it, and ensure I’m left alone with the guards on duty this evening. If you do so, I promise I will see to it you and your people are seen safely off this property come what may once I am released.”

Nathan knew they were on borrowed time before they would be interrupted by the security team of those from the Burgess’s family who had imprisoned Dream of the Endless in the Sussex manor of ‘Fawney Rig’.

He rose then, knowing his team at the door would cut down anyone who came at them. They protected Randell, and the Lycan was intent on protecting Dream. Which, considering who the Endless were, was waggish in away. Not that Nathan understood it, just he went on his definition to do good and his definition of good was protect those who needed to be protected. It wasn’t anything complicated nor did he expect anything to come from it.

“My people can take care of ourselves. As can I. Make sure any one you deem innocent in this household is sent to safety. Anyone you leave behind I intend to tear apart and use their bodies as a funeral pyre to burn this house down.”

Rarely a man of many words when he had something to say he said it.

He moved to the glass cage, following Dreams pale pointed fingers directing him to the drawn symbols and began to smear each symbol as instructed.

[OOC: Apologies for the delay. Life is starting to right itself on my end, however if too much time has passed to pick back up I entirely understand.]

“Very well. I shall leave yours to you.” Which didn’t mean Dream wouldn’t be careful in his actions to avoid harming the wolves, he was a being of his word and all dreamers he felt some measure of protection towards. He was more than content though not to take lead on their goings on, and to focus instead on his retribution. “Burgess though is not to be ripped apart.” His dark eyes glittered, a cold fury lit inside of them that counterbalanced the eerie quietness of his tone. “Destroy whatever else you wish inside the house, any who remain behind, but Burgess is mine. I have a fitting punishment in mind for him.” An elegant brutality that still couldn’t match the agony Burgess had brought on so many lives. Still. Leaving the man to his eternal waking was a start.

Nearly mesmerized, briefly wondering if somehow he’d gone mad after a century, Dream watched as what he’d wished for happened. What he’d long for after so many years. A small break through the barriers that held him, a man-made crack through which he might enter back into the world. Slowly Dream got to his feet, starved yet determined, studying Nathan. A small, single nod of his head was sent in the other man’s direction. “Thank you.” All that was left for the guards to come, and finally the world could start to be patched back together. Never the same, it never was, but perhaps into something less of a nightmare once more.

[ooc: Backtagging forever is all good. And rl is more important to deal with first so don't stress with rp. Also slow tagger myself.]

"Burgess is yours."

It was a cold comfort knowing Burgess was to face what he had done to an Endless and to the world. It was some comfort knowing the price would be collected. The Lycan, for his part in the imprisonment of Dream would also pay the price for involving his team in the situation without fully investigating properly what he was involving them and his reputation in. He'd needed a long time before he could forgive himself as was his nature when he hurt innocents. A lot of alcohol. A warm body. His usual axioms whatever got him through the night to stand guard at the gate of his heart and head to stop him from spiralling too badly. All of it softened a smidgen with Dream's thank you.

He stepped back as the Endless moved free once again.

"If any escape, I will hunt them down individually; no matter how long it takes."

And of course, Burgess' guards did come with guns firing.

[My brain just slammed into the idea of mashing up the two verses somehow and them mutually being trapped- Morpheus as in canon, Mikh'tan here by adoption/etc, finding him when he's young and basically seeing him as like his only friend in the estate.

And when he figures out how to free him when he's older whoops guess who decides a perfect way to thank him is to take the dumb kid with him? Either starting with them interacting while Morpheus is trapped or starting with jailbreaking, whichever sounds most entertaining atm!

Could stay with found family/mentor/whatever vibes, or spiral into slow-developing ship as Mikh'tan'd be old enough at that point, whatever works.]

[OOC: Hi there! I'm definitely down for some crosscanon. I'm canonblind but as long as that isn't a problem on your end it isn't on mine. As long as Mikh'tan wanted to come visit the Dreaming, Morpheus could take him with him after he's escaped for sure. Perhaps a thank you for helping free him, to give Mikh'tan time to figure out what he wants to do with his life after leaving the Burgess household. Sorta like a couch to crash on, LOL. If he ends up becoming like family, he could just stay there as long as wanted. If that works for you I don't mind tossing up a starter for them.]

[Absolutely! I had some Interesting Thoughts for mashing up canons/potential plotting fun if we decided to take this beyond the initial thread, if you have a discord or plurk we can chatter in! I'm atomic_kiwi on both!]

[OOC: Sounds good! I don’t have plurk but I’ll hit you up on discord if we want to carry things after this thread. Let me know if anything needs tweaking!]

It isn’t much power. When the glass that separates Morpheus from reaching his realm shatters, when he steps outside that circle into the waking world, he has scant particles of hope within his hands. Already he can feel the heavy weight of humanity’s suffering, of the suffering of all his dreamers even beyond this world, now hit. It is a human, many humans, that deserve his revenge for it. Morpheus uses his little strength and power to ensure it happens. There’s also one human who ensured Morpheus hadn’t been disturbed when sending the guard to sleep, in helping him finally break out of his confinement after over a century of solitude. That one Morpheus offers a hand of help in turn. What is left at the Burgess household is nothing but ruin. He can at least offer the one who aided him a place to collect themselves, to find a direction in what they now wish to travel.

Morpheus barely has enough energy to get himself from the waking world to the Dreaming, let alone carrying a mortal with him. The thin tendrils of his power reach outward for weak purchase, and he knows that he’s not in any shape to protect. Yet he does, regardless. What else is he if not a caretaker to those who fall under his purview? For all that Dream holds himself outside reach of those around him, he cradles their subconscious minds to his proverbial heart. His duty binds him to his dreamers, and he doesn’t take his function lightly. There’s little that the Prince of Stories takes lightly.

Morpheus is unconscious when they arrive on the beaches outside the Dreaming. Lucienne is there to greet them, ecstatic to see him again, baffled at finding him with Mikh'tan, sorrowful when Morpheus sees the state of his kingdom now in ruin. After a long discussion of what happened and what now must come to pass, Lucienne leaves the two of them alone in Dream’s ruined throne room. Morpheus stands like a stone statue, a study in blacks and whites with shadows gathering around him. The ancient gaze of his eyes stares at the broken steps, though he speaks to Mikh'tan at his side. “I had thought there would be many rooms from which you might choose. It appears there are none.” His tone is tinged with bitterness, but also resolved not to leave his world in ruin. He will repair his world. “I shall make you one, as soon as I’m able.”

The assistance hadn't been planned. Not in as many steps that was. Dream of the Endless, trapped in the basement behind sigil and glass was a strange sort of constant in the Burgess household. Mikh'tan grew up with the knowledge that the being was there always in the back of his mind, and as uninterested as his father proved to be with him? Perhaps it was little surprise that he'd gravitated into the cellar plenty of times over the years. The guards didn't allow him to stay long, nor was he allowed past the square of water carved into the stone floor, but otherwise he was left to his own devices. Maybe they figured that his presence might encourage more movement or maybe even words. Mikh'tan didn't seem concerned either way. As lonely as it was for him, with the whole of the grounds and all of the staff, he could only imagine it was moreso for Dream in his tiny bubble, locked away from the world above. So he'd bring down books, reading aloud, or spend time with his sketchbook drawing and painting. At least until his father had caught sight of dark wings and feathers in one of the pages. The man had a strange hatred of ravens that Mikh'tan didn't understand, had underestimated the strength of before his father had, in a rage siezed the sketchbook and flung it into a lit hearth.

Years passed, and Mikh'tan was almost as much a fixture in the cellar as it's constant inhabitant. The guards, more comfortable with his presence, assured now that he could be trusted not to cause mischief, allowed him to cross the threshold of water. More because it meant he didn't have to read as loudly for the imprisoned being to hear him, but it brought him closer all the same. His gaze had traced the barrier markings so many times over the years that he could have sketched it from memory. It had surprised him to realize that it was simply paint. That it was something so easily swept aside when containing something so immense in power and consequence. The guards hadn't realized that Mikh'tan had stopped reading, or that he was staring at one of those golden lines with a somber frown, book set at his side forgotten. Everything about this miserable house and what was happening in it was wrong. He'd known it since he was young, despite his father's insistence that it was in some way justifiable. One of them should be able to go free of this wretched place, and so without another thought, he reached out, palm smearing through gold in a way that honestly surprised him for how easily it wiped away.

Things happened quickly from there- for all he knew logically that Dream was surely weakened by his captivity, by the theft of his things, the display of his power rooted Mikh'tan in place, awestruck and silent in contrast to the guards all the same. By the time he was pushing to stand on trembling legs, still processing the enormity of what he'd just done, attention had returned to him. He could have run- sense dictated it would be wise, and yet... where would he go? What would he do? So he allowed himself to be swept up. Taken to the Dreaming. Sense would tell him to be frightened and yet he had the sense that he had naught to fear. But the melancholy air of the place, the ruined landscape and crumbling state of the palace seen beyond the vast gates encouraged him to stay near Dream. Wide eyes taking in everything as Lucienne spoke to Dream of the state of things since he'd been imprisoned, and the Endless just seemed all the more somber for it.

He didn't interrupt the silent consideration, wide-eyed gaze taking in the sheer scope of the building evident even in it's ruined state, the hazy sort of nebulas that stretched overhead beyond the shattered remains of arches. The soft, sonorous voice speaking up at his side startled him from his consideration, eyes turning back to his companion. "It's... it's alright. You couldn't have known it would be like this," He offered gingerly, sensing that resolve in him. "Is there... can I help somehow?"

Stupid surely, to think that his efforts would amount to much of anything in this, and yet... the bitterness in Dream's voice, the sorrow that seemed to permeate the place in this state compelled him to want to help.

How had he not known? In retrospect, a thoughtful exercise that became second nature the more time stretched beyond a being, Dream felt he should have anticipated the ruin that was his realm. Logically, he had known that he was weakened the longer he was cut off from his dreamers. He’d felt it, that thinning grasp upon realities that gave him meaning and purpose. To once have touched countless lives, to have cradled them close, and then suddenly find himself without any connection had been such a shock to his system it left him unconscious at the start. Dream could sense that even when he’d been released that his power was tenuous at best, that reforming those bonds was both natural yet not sufficient. The Dreaming was synonymous with Morpheus, but it was an extension of him in many ways. It acted and reacted to him in turn, it was a realm that he could mold but not entirely control. It did need him to thrive, though. Without him, of course it was barely surviving.

He turned his gaze towards Mikh’tan when he spoke. He’d seen Burgess cast off the young man much as he did anyone and anything that did not provide immediate use to him. Entitlement and shortsightedness went hand in hand. A distant father was something Morpheus understood only too well, though that only made him feel compassion towards the young dreamer whom he couldn’t protect through slumber as he once might have. Morpheus had been slow to accept the company provided in the early days, having been accustomed to solitude for decades, but he’d come to find that having a mostly silent and still presence seemed to aid Mikh’tan in some fashion. It was human nature, after all, to want some form of company.

Morpheus came to find some comfort in sharing a quiet space, too.

When Mikh’tan had helped to disrupt the magical sigil that kept Morpheus in place, he’d also offered back a little of what Morpheus was made of, too. Hope.

Dream had taken advantage of that and one of the guards having been asleep to gather sands of power upon which to cause a psychic storm on those that deserved it. He hadn’t left it all to Mikh’tan to aid him in escaping, rather working together even if unintended - and he’d ensured he’d gotten his revenge on the remaining household before offering Mikh’tan a trip to the Dreaming to figure out his next steps. For while Dream could be kind to those who helped him, he was still vengeful against those who dared cross him. It was for the best, though. Dream wasn’t about to let those who had captured him run free to try and capture his sister or worse. The revenge he exacted was fair, and also preventative.

Without the help he’d received though, he’d still be incarcerated.

“You’ve done more than enough to aid me.” His gaze went back to his tattered throne. “Without you, the Dreaming might not have had anything left in existence.” Who knew how much longer it could have stood on these scant legs. “Whether it was your intent or not, you have helped save humanity. And… me.” His gaze flicked back to study Mikh’tan. His voice was slow and even, soft yet encompassing, as though he vibrated through every inch of the ruins. “I will need to find a source of power left here that I might absorb. From there I can start to rebuild all that’s been lost, to reclaim what’s been stolen. I shall need it as well to craft you a place to rest. You may come with me, or remain here. You must be weary.”

Mikh'tan of course had no way of knowing just how Dream affected his realm, or how it might affect him in turn. His father hadn't been concerned with such things, and so there was little and less actual information about that to be found if he didn't want to pry at Dream himself for answers. And something about that seemed cruel while he was imprisoned. Like digging at a wound, where either he was reminded consistently of the ruin of his realm, or reminded of a place he could not go if the realm ticked on safely without him. What he had found in his books however was confirmation that isolation was bad for a person. He felt it keenly himself, even with the house and grounds to roam, the staff to speak with, and he could only imagine how much more it must weigh on Dream, trapped in the cellar in his glass prison for decades on end, with only the guards for company who did little more than jeer at him in an attempt to gain a reaction on occasion. It was good for the both of them then, to share that companionship, no matter how quiet it might've been on occasion. Bolstering both of their spirits, at least that was his hope.

Maybe it was a strange thing for hope to exist in a place like the Burgess household, but it was hardly the only way Mikh'tan was 'strange' in comparison to his father.

Dream's response to those responsible? It made Mikh'tan nervous to be certain but he was a gentle sort, so it wasn't entirely surprising that seeking vengeance might startle him. Not that he protested it- who else was there to offer the justice that Dream deserved? And what would stop his father from trying once again to trap the being if he had been left to his own devices? No, it was... not better this way, but it must be this way for all Mikh'tan found he mourned it. Not Burgess as he was, but the person he might have been if he hadn't been raised by a man so irrevocably broken, who'd made sure that he'd been broken in the same manner.

There had always been a sense of more to Dream. It was a subtle thing before, when he'd been locked away behind glass and magic, a faint prickle of awareness of something other. Easily brushed aside by arrogance, unless he deliberately did something to emphasize it. Here, it was more prominent. The feeling that the being was far more than his tall, slim frame hinted at, for all it wasn't there to see physically. But in the heart of his realm, damaged as it was, it was hardly a strange idea that such a sense might increase. It didn't frighten Mikh'tan at least, though there was a wonder if maybe it should. But Dream had been kind to him, and growing up had been a constant in his life, the only person that Mikh'tan might dare to think of as something of a friend. But he had no clue if Dream thought of him the same way, if he even was capable of such a thing- tales of gods and immortal beings always emphasized how they viewed themselves and mortal creatures as apart even if they cared about them, and he had no clue if that rang true here or no. And he admittedly didn't have the heart to risk ruining that little hopeful dream of friendship for himself.

"I just... did what was right," He murmured in a shy tone, pink creeping over pale cheeks as his gaze skipped from Dream to their surroundings. "I mean... even if you weren't y'know, you. Father keeping you prisoner like that was wrong." Was it strange how steadying he found Dream's voice? It was in it's strange way comforting, bringing to mind the soft, muted quality of evening. He couldn't help but perk as Dream continued, laying out his plan. Not that he understood it entirely, was sure that there were complexities there that the simple explanation didn't touch on, but the news that things could be rebuilt was heartening. "I'd like to come with you, if you don't mind."

Weary to be sure, but Mikh'tan couldn't help but want to see a bit more of the Dreaming before he even thought of settling down.

[ Most likely the captive one, but also willing to play around with an Inquisitor Cal to be in the other role 👀 No Survivor or Battle Scars spoilers, please! ]

[The caged. literally.]

( caged. canon or au. m/m for shipping. detailed prefs / info . please note there are spoilers. )

[ the caged ]

_[Caged]

[Either role is fine]

[Could be either role, rescuer pre Calamity, captive post Calamity given what his fate is.]

[About as likely to be captured or rescuer due to her abilities and general ~~good-natured~~nosiness.]

Edited 2023-06-25 23:26 (UTC)

[ rock 'n roll bard from the 90s, can be tweaked to fit any kind of AU setting, more info in journal.

More likely to be caged, whether it's physically or mentally/emotionally, but can be a rescuer with the right setup! OTA, assumed cr, AU settings, etc. welcome ]

[Likely the caged, but I'm willing to consider alternatives.

A modern AU of sorts, but open to canonical possibilities and other types of AU.]

[Definitely the captive one.]

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Caged Bird

Ereshkigal || Fate/Grand Order || OTA

Claire Bennet ∞ Heroes ∞ OTA

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cal kestis | jedi fallen order | ota

Kara Zor-El | The Flash

elan ceres ( 4 ) • mobile suit gundam: witch from mercury

elia martell | asoiaf | ota

Xie Wang | Word Of Honor | OTA

Maedhros | the silmarillion | ota

Zerxus Ilerez | Critical Role | ota

Althea Brooks | electrokinetic OC

jeff | original | ota

Dmitri Karamazov | The Brothers Karamazov | OTA

Stolas |Helluva Boss | OTA