Collection of Oddities

To Call Forth Powers of Old

Summary: Killer and Cross practice their summoning skills.

(Warning: This chapter contains mild swearing.)

Two cloaked - or, more accurately, dark sheet-robed - figures stood amid a candlelit room. Thin strands of smoke billowed from the wicks' easy-to-extinguish flames and filled the room with a calming, smoky lavender scent. (Because the candles may or may not have been stolen- liberated from a particular negativity-laden monster's bathroom, which would undoubtedly irk the other when attempting to take a relaxing bath after a hard day's work later.)

Darkness shrouded the space, barring the one area alight with a soft orange glow. Illuminated by its light was an odd chalk illustration that had a robed figure positioned on each side- left and right, respectively.

The unique art piece consisted of random, shaky lines connected to form a big star and circle. (Well, oval. But its artist was more than prepared to argue otherwise.) Senseless symbols (little stars, quadrilaterals, and meaningless blobs) laid inside the shape, adding further complexity to the poorly drawn chaos.

"This will be great!" The first figure chuckled, bony hands wringing together like how a stereotypical villain's would.

The second pulled their makeshift hood down, exposing mismatched eyelights and a red scar before responding in a nervous tone, "But, Killer, we don't even know what we're doing. What if something goes wrong or the floor catches on fire, or-"

Killer rolled his nonexistent eyelights and gave a dismissive wave of his hand, scoffing. "Relax, Cross. All this summoning nonsense is a bunch of bologna. We aren't actually going to summon anything with this disaster."

"Famous last words," Cross muttered, warily eyeing the supposedly nonfunctional summoning circle.

While ignoring the words, the usually hoodie-clad murderer produced pinecones and miscellaneous plant parts (petals, stems, leaves, etc.) from his inventory. He chucked them into the circle once the old grandfather clock hidden in the shadows stuck "3:00 a.m."

Anticipation hung in the air as they waited for something to happen.

Several seconds past and nothing did. However, right when Killer was about to be proven correct, a puff of black smoke erupted from the circle's center, engulfing the room.

"Oh, shit!" Killer swore, swiftly taking a knife into his hand and aiming it at the illustration's general direction.

Meanwhile, Cross shrieked. "My fears were perfectly justified!"

The magical smoke cleared after a few moments spent panicking, leaving not a single whisp behind. And the two froze at the sight revealed.

Inside the circle was their boss's greatest adversary: his brother, Dream. He only had enough consciousness upon his reveal to murmur a gentle, "... 'm not taking sacrifices right now. Go away."

Yellow pajamas covered his small, languid frame and light snores escaped from his jaws.

"Dream?!" Cross cried, staring down at the other.

"Cross?" The aforementioned guardian sleepily lifted his head and blinked up at the monochrome warrior in confusion.

"Killer!" An overly enthusiastic voice added.

Both turned to face the tear-stained skeleton, who pointed his blade at the smaller. "Okay, now that we have that out of the way: Why are you here?"

Dream's brow furrowed, yellow eyelights trailing down to the surface beneath him. "Wh- what? Why did you use my summoning circle?"

"How is this your summoning circle? All I did was throw a random forest junk together and scribble chalk on the ground!"

"Hmm, doesn't matter. Can- can you send me back home now? If 'm out of bed for too long, Ink 'ill steal the blankets."

Realization spread across Cross' face at the request, soon morphing into terror. "Oh, stars. Dream is in the hideout; Nightmare is going to kill us!"

Killer donned a similar expression but was left unable to voice his concerns due to a loud, wooden squeak echoing throughout the room. Thus, leading both to slowly as well as somewhat fearfully turn their skulls in the noise's direction.

As if called forth by the duo's fear, the door behind them had creaked open and in came a dark, oozing figure clad in purple sleepwear.

"Boys, it is the middle of the night. Why are you-" The Guardian of Negativity's sentence trailed off as his cyan eyelight scanned the state of the room (no doubt looking for anything broken or blatantly hidden), finally landing on Dream. An exasperated expression quickly overcame his sleepy scowl. He raised a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nasal cavity, sighing. "Of all the demons you could have brought into the house, it had to be him."

"He did it!" Killer and Cross shouted in unison, pointing at each other.

All the while, the Guardian of Positivity curled up in his summoning circle and began to fall back asleep.