𝕊𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕠! - Dreamtale vs. Dreamswap

Wings

Dream woke up slowly, the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. He lifted his to block it out, then realized.

His arm didn't hurt anymore.

That's weird. He could've sworn-
Wait.

He sat up quickly, taking in his surroundings. His unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn't his bedroom. The window was on the wrong end of the room, too close to the bed even, there seemed to be a walk-in closet where the bathroom door should be, and from where he was sitting, there seemed to be only one more door. Was that the exit? Where the hell was he?!

He slid to the edge of the bed and tried to stand up, but a weight of... something unbalanced him. It felt like a backpack, a very heavy one, was strapped to his back, so he reached up to pry the weight off. His phalanges brushed against something soft, so he looked behind him. His eyesockets widened in horror at what he saw.

He had wings.

FREAKING WINGS!!!

He cried out in alarm, and stumbled over his own feet, slightly panicked by the discovery. He had wings? How? What had that encounter with the tall skeleton done to him?

He slowly stood up, feeling unstable with the added weight on his back, and carefully made his way to the door he saw. Apparently, it was the wrong one, because it led to the bathroom. Did Ink decide to, like, rearrange everything in the house? It would be a first for him, but Dream was willing to bet Ink would do anything to distract himself from boredom. Or was this someone else's doing? Perhaps Baron and his demon buddies had done this for laughs. That... doesn't sound like him, though. He rarely wastes energy to mess with people unless it suits his purposes. So, what could he hope to gain by messing with Dream?

The positive guardian entered the bathroom, being mindful of the wings, and turned on the light. As soon as he looked into the mirror, he screamed and stumbled backward, hitting his back against the wall. The skeleton he'd met before was now staring back at him, a frightened expression on his face. He looked down at his hands, then put them on either side of his head.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no, this can't be happening! This isn't real! A-any moment I'll wake up in my own house, in my own body, a-and Ink will walk in and say I've been passed out for a week. Heh, yeah! That's gotta be it, right? I-I'm dreaming, right?!"

He ran some cold water in the sink and splashed a handful into his face. No change. He tried slapping himself. Still no change. Biting his hand? Nothing. Facepalming? Nada. Banging his head against the wall? Zip. Even pinching solid bone couldn't wake him from this bizarre...

Dream?

Nightmare?

What the hell was this?!

Not only was he in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar body, having no choice but to play this role, but that other guy could very well be in the same situation. And Nightmare! He'll kill him! He had to find a way to fix this, fast! Otherwise, the fate of the multiverse could be sealed in chaos.

Forever.

He ran out of the bathroom, his new wings almost catching on the door due to their size. Jeez, he really had to be more careful with those things. He didn't want to get used to them, but for now, he'd do his best to take care of this body. He noticed another door, and decided that one was the exit. He found himself in an office. It was spacious, and had a couple of windows overlooking a beautiful garden to his right. Behind the desk on the other side of the room was a portrait of Dream's reflection in a very regal position. It was serious, and held an aura of authority that Dream could only wish he could match. He also noticed the large sword. He looked down to his right and found the scabbard and the same sword.