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ᴋʟᴀᴜs' ᴇʏᴇʙʀᴏᴡs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴋɴɪᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙᴇᴍᴜsᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴡɴ. His eyes roamed along the warm clover coloured walls, he found himself walking up a grand, twisting staircase. Where was he? The sound of a child's laughter made his head turn, looking ahead. His feet reached the final step, and padded along the floor softly. He paused at a mirror on the wall, his lower lip dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed in confusion. His hair was long and curl again, he was claded in black and red leather - in short he looked exactly like he did during the latter half of the 1400s. What? He turned away from the mirror, edging towards a room at the end of the candle lit corridor. Klaus inhaled, slowly raising his hand, pressing his fingers to the door. Lightly nudging it open, to reveal his old bedchambers. Air fled from his lungs faster than a shot out of a gun. His lower lip fell to the floor, his eyes glistened as his eyelashes fluttered. He was unable to tear his eyes of the sight of the young child lying on his bed, clutching one of his pillows with her tiny arms. His breathe became slightly ragged in awe, as he neared the bed, taking a seat and reaching to brush a stray hair behind the child's ear.
Elizabeth?
The child stirred slightly, eyes roaming half closed only to widen when they landed on him. She beamed and jumped into his arms. "Daddy!" She cried with joy, burrowing deep into his chest. Klaus gasped, a delighted sob escaped him as he cuddled his sweet daughter. "Elizabeth. My own heart." He chuckled, placing a kiss on her head. Morpheus smiled slyly, from the doorway before slithering out of the dream he had crafted. He paused in his footsteps, letting out a soft hum. He edged towards Orpheus' dreams, slyly peering in curiously. The youngest original was dreaming of...the desert, more specifically a crumpling, stone building. It's sandy compound littered with jeeps, tarps, nets and hammocks. The dream lord's eyebrows furrowed in a frown, his tearful orbs roamed around until he finally spotted his son. Orpheus was sitting in the sand, in the shade of a tarp, watching the scene around him. Men in Arab headdress, dirty white, sleeveless shirts, shorts and boots were lazing about, yet somehow seemed on edge - waiting for someone.
Morpheus' frown deepened, creeping closer. Carefully, not wanting his son to sense his presence. Orpheus turned his head, looking at the jeep that was appoarching. A figure appeared, getting out of a hammocks, stepping out of the shadows. Morpheus froze. Elizabeth. It was a common fact that whenever the Oneiromancer made love with his wife - which had been quite regular in the past, - everybody dreamt about Elizabeth. Yet he could sense this dream wasn't just a dream. It was a memory. He moved, edging closer, entranced by his wife's sudden appearence. He missed the sly smirk on Orpheus' lips. Of course, the devious grandson of the hybrid couldn't wait for his father to learn of his mother's...warfare career - and not just his father learning about it. Elizabeth was gripping a long barreled gun, gazing at the man in front of her with a unfazed expression.
"Stirling captured at Gabes' Gab. Stop. Overall command of the SAS regiment, all units to pass to...Major Robert Blair, Paddy Mayne." The man looked up from the paper he clutched, with silent yet echoing bewilderment and shock. His mouth hanging open. Elizabeth blinked softly, several times, tilting her head forward, stoic. He uttered like it was surreal. "They've made you a major and put you in charge, Paddy." The men shifted slightly. Morpheus glanced around, them all seemed shocked...yet they weren't making movements or sounds of displease or outrage. His gaze flitted back to his wife. "The mad bastards have put you in charge of fucking everything."
