A Matter of Time || Dreamnotfound

1

What is death? Everyone learns about it from a young age. Is it the idea that you no longer exist? When you fade into nothingness, never to live again? Some believe in reincarnation, others believe that death is the end. For Dream, it's not so simple.

Dream has lived a long, Fae life― he's still living it. A couple centuries old, but still young, Dream is notorious for his line of work. He was once foolish and rebellious, but now, he knows better than to make mistakes.

You could call him an assassin, a mercenary, a hitman, whichever one, it doesn't matter. What mattered was that Dream did his job and he was good at it.

He had a dark past, one that he no longer thinks about. It didn't matter anymore, Dream was practically immortal. What was the point of dwelling on the past when he had a job to complete?

Speaking of his job, Dream now approached his target; a middle aged human who had been getting on Dream's boss's nerves. Dream stalked down the alley, unsheathing a long dagger. The man stumbled drunkenly forward, oblivious to the predator behind him.

Dream was usually given a specific method to eliminate his target, but this time he was just told to take him out. Fast or slow, painfully or peacefully, Dream's boss didn't care. Dream typically would've taken his time with men like this one, a perverted sadist who owed money to several bars and gambling clubs, but that night he was feeling irritated and a little annoyed. That being said, Dream really wanted to do his job and get some rest after weeks of travelling.

The drunk man suddenly became aware of the stalking presence behind him and gasped, raising his grubby hands in defense, "Who are you?!"

Dream tilted his head, his masked face not visible beneath the hood of his cloak. He lifted his dagger and pushed the man to the wall, holding the blade to his throat.

The target's eyes widened at the eerie mask staring down at him and sputtered, "Don't do this! I-I have money! I can pay you more than your boss!"

"Your filthy human money is worthless to me," Dream replied coldly.

"How about gold? Silver? Anything!"

Dream chuckled and tsked, "I don't think so."

And with that he slit the man's throat, a quick slice that killed him within seconds. Dream stepped out of the way of the blood and strode away, not watching as the man's body fell onto the cobblestone pavement. He grabbed a shirt hanging from someone's clothesline and wiped his dagger clean, sheathing it back into his boot and tossing the shirt to the street.

His leather boots made little noise as he walked out of the small city, taking him towards a light on a nearby hill. His presence made people scatter as he walked; Dream always made himself look as threatening as possible, he didn't want people approaching him.

A tall, hooded man, clad in dark boots, a forest green cloak, and black clothes, with an unseen mask below the hood, always scared people off. Dream didn't bother to wear armor, he had no need for it.

He made his way up the hill, heading towards a midnight carnival being held. A random festivity that people would come to get drunk, have fun, or just play some games. Dream headed into a tent, ignoring the strange looks cast his way.

He approached the temporary bar that was set up and took a seat, motioning for the bartender to get him something strong. Moments later, a drink was in his hand and a silver coin was being tossed out of his other. Eyes snapped to him as the sparkle of the silver was flicked out and the bartender pocketed it immediately. In villages like this one, silver was scarce, gold even more so.

Dream held the drink in his gloved hand, not making a move to drink it. With his mask on, it wouldn't have been possible to drink, however, no one in the tent could see the mask because it was covered by the shadow of the hood of his cloak. Dream smirked at the thought of what he looked like, a mysterious foreign stranger, clearly rich and deadly by the looks of a long, sheathed sword hanging from his jeweled belt.