Concordia: Dreamnoblade Oneshots and Songfics

Shangri La

Techno is five years old when he first meets Dream. His family had just moved to this town, and they were introducing themselves to the neighbors. Techno peeks out from behind his father, crimson eyes wide and curious at the mention of someone his age. At the neighbor's side is another kid that looks roughly the same height as him, with messy blonde hair and equally messy clothes. He beams at the sight of him and runs over, babbling and quickly declaring them to be friends forever before even introducing himself. Techno looks up to his father as if to ask for permission, and he only smiles gently and urges him to go play with his new friend.

A flower blooms splendidly, in this dream-place even the wind is sweet

If I am with you, wherever it is, my heart flutters as it enters a picture

Techno is ten years old when he first dips his toes into the world of art. He and Dream had grown closer in those years together, soon becoming attached at the hip. Formalities are dropped and walls are broken, and soon Techno familiarizes himself with referring to Dream as his best friend. As a result, he's quickly dragged into whatever shenanigans the other seems to come up with. He doesn't exactly mind; in fact, he finds it rather entertaining most of the time. Right now, the blonde is interested in the painting classes the older kids seem to be taking, and wants to try it out for himself. Techno protests that they could be disturbing them but then Dream pulls him by the wrist, eyes twinkling in excitement and he just couldn't bring himself to dull the shine in those bright emeralds.

I'm drunk on you, leaning on the faraway scent

Leaving behind time, I'm looking at you

When the white moon rises, I see you reflected on it

Techno is thirteen years old when he first finds his own medium of art. The strokes of paint on empty canvas never appealed to him like it did to Dream, never came to him as easily as it had to his creative friend. His colors were never right, his grip was always a little shaky, his creations were always a bit lopsided or off-center. Instead, he finds his heart in the art of writing, in the art of words on paper creating imagery as vivid as paintings, in the art of pouring out his sentiments to be immortalized in sheets of hard work and passion. Instead, he finds his passion in the strokes of ink on empty paper, in the words that flow out of his mouth to make coherent stories in hand-bound leather books. And so, they remain this way, with Dream the painter and Techno the writer and both of them equally artistic best friends. Dream brings to life what Techno's words cannot, and Techno writes the stories that Dream's work cannot. They fill the gaps in each other's skills, they bring what is missing to create whole masterpieces. Just like that, they fit together perfectly.

Days and nights are all you

Without any space in between, you fill me up

All sounds of life seem like you

Techno is sixteen years old when he first gets his muse. He had been going through a tough time, plagued by one of the biggest ruts of writer's block he's ever experienced. The words don't flow quite right, the dialogue is coming off awkward, everything just feels so off. He turns to his best friend, about to rant to him in frustration before freezing in place. Dream looks positively ethereal as he works on his painting, the sunlight peeking out from the leaves of the tree they're under bathing him in a golden glow. It falls on his freckled cheeks, it falls on his messy hair, it falls on his fluttering eyelids and reflects off his bright eyes in such a way that seems almost deliberate, that seems almost like nature himself is gracing him with beauty. Before long, Techno picks up his pen and writes of gentle golds and shimmering emeralds and constellations on skin, the words flowing as easily as a river in the summer. He doesn't think he's ever struggled to write anything, after that.