Spellcatcher - Dreamnotfound

Nostalgia

George passes his thumb over Dream's cheek again with a soft sigh.

"Stop squirming, do you want it to smudge?" He snapped, pulling his fingers away and examining the green paint he'd applied to the blonde's face.

They're sitting in the woods together as the sun is setting. After George had conjured up a lie to get both himself and Dream away from their escorts, the Magic had convinced Dream to let him create some sort of disguise— Which included a kind of paint the brunet had apparently snatched from a store.

Dream rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, crossing his arms. "I'm sorry I don't usually use paint on my damn face." He retorted sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah? Just walk into the camp and get killed on the spot, fine by me." George mutters as he carefully dabs his fingertip back into the jar of green paint. "You're so human."

There's a long pause, in which George continues to struggle with Dream's makeshift disguise, and Dream seems to be pondering over what the hell being so human is supposed to mean, it's not like he's an idiot, or anything.

And then another thought crosses his mind.

"Are you going to tell me about... Whatever today was?" Dream prods carefully at the subject, testing his boundaries.

George huffs. "I will, I will. It's complicated, and even I don't know a lot about what's going on."

He grabs Dream's hands as the taller once again attempts to touch the green on his face, and holds them down with a huff. Dream flushes slightly as George lets go again, his blue and brown eyes narrowed in focus as he carefully, oh so delicately, swipes at the paint.

"Well, can you at least tell me what you do know? I'm, you know, sort of lost."

George smiles slightly, looking a little wistful, if anything. "I was a Hallucination— Some... One, two years ago I think?" He adjusts his position and examines his work.

Dream sits perfectly still, processing this. It clicks fairly quickly.

"You were a thief?" 

"Don't sound so underwhelmed. I guess you could call it that." The Magic sits back with a sigh after a moment. "It's not perfect, but it'll do." George says as he stands, tossing the remnants of the paints into the woods.  

Dream resists the urge to pick at the paint, instead admiring George's handiwork along his forearms. The green mimics a water Magic's patterns— Specifically freshwater Magics, according to George. It'll make it more convincing that he isn't a human (Also according to George.).

"Anyway," George continues, "The group was pretty small then. It was Karl, Quackity and I— As well as a couple others, but... I can't say if they made it or not."

Dream nods slightly. "Sorry to hear."

"Doesn't matter anymore. We were pretty strong— I was a young moon Magic, for fuck's sake, of course we were!— And things were good. Except, you know, I was a moon Magic."

"Wh— What?"

George huffs fondly, and god, why does he sound so warm? "I mean, I was wanted. From the beginning, it was a risky game to have me— I'm surprised they even bothered to keep me around, being wanted and all." 

"I wouldn't say it was just the wanted thing that makes me wonder." Dream mumbles under his breath. George ignores him. 

"In the end, I saw it coming. One day, a couple of human spies found our group— It was bigger by then— And Karl and Quackity decided to help me escape before I was caught. Better that way, I guess, because in the long run I'm really the most valuable." George catches himself pondering, and laughs a bit.