The Stage is Set

A Means of Contact pt.3

Nightmare opens his sockets to see a room of darkness. He's almost convinced this is a void, yet he trusts his senses. And they're telling him that it's somewhere he's been before. Something has changed. There is almost no light inside the room. Just a faint glow of soul shards floating around them. The paint splatters on the soul shards are what give away who's dreamscape they're in. Only one person's soul has those exact paint splatters. They glow their colors, casting Dream and him in a soft rainbow of colors. He grips Dream's hand tightly; he doesn't want to know what would happen if Dream wanders off.

He takes a step only to notice that he's shin-deep in thinned paint and ink. Dream looks around, raising his wings to stay out of the paint. He doesn't want to know what would happen if his feathers get wet. He doesn't know if they're waterproof, much less inkproof. It's silent for a moment before an airy whine fills the void. It calls out to Nightmare as if it knows that he's here. It's followed by a soft shushing sound and murmured words. Nightmare looks around, trying to find the source of the sounds as Dream focuses on the soul shards.

Each glows with a different color. They're morbidly beautiful to him.

He covers his mouth with his free hand as his sockets widen in horror. What happened to his friend? Why is his soul broken into so many shards? Is he okay? He watches as they float by, listening to their gentle whispers in the empty void. They must have memories attached to them. Emotions tied to them and tie them together. Emotions string them together, leaving them floating together, never that far away from each other. Their whispers promise a story. A memory or a lifetime to tell. They make Dream want to stay here to know what they wish to share. Would they show past rewrites? Would they recognize Nightmare, or maybe even himself?

"She's so small, but she has his smile..."

"Tall, strong, and charismatic? It seems like I'm the lucky one, S..."

"'You are the sun, the moon, the starry sky that I want to see?' You're so silly, but I love that about you..."

"Don't do this to me. Don't leave me. I can't do this..."

"Hello there... you're beautiful. What are you doing out..."

Each has its meaning, dying out before the last sentence is finished. They continue in one-sided conversations. Each one glows a little brighter as they whisper. Dream can't begin to count just how many there are. They all slowly dance around each other as they create something like a starry sky. It's not enough light to fill the whole room, but enough that the two can vaguely see around them.

Nightmare shivers at a chill that sets in. He tries not to show how nervous this makes him. Ink's dreams and dreamscape are always warm. It's never been cool, or this cold. He's worried that one wrong move will cause the paint to super-freeze, leaving the twins stuck where they are. He draws in a breath, as he continues to push forward. The room itself feels dead. Other than the soul shards, everything gives off a feeling of death. As if something has come here to die. He doesn't like that idea.

Dream turns away from the few shards as Nightmare drags him in another direction. Nightmare follows the path that the soul shards create. Weaving through the darkness, he finds himself getting out of the paint. It barely comes past the tread on his boots. He steps as quietly as he can towards two figures. As he comes closer, one figure sits up. They're missing their sockets, a large hole goes from one socket across the nasal ridge to the other socket. There are no eye pips, but he can feel the figure following his every move.

The other one, as he can see, lacks their lower jaw and an eye pip. Nightmare gets a little closer before the other turns to fully face him. Thick black tears roll down what's left of their face as a soft airy whimper, if it can be called that, comes from them. Dream watches in horror as they lean a little forward, their rib cage slowly expanding with every breath. He doesn't see their sternum, it's shattered as parts of cartilage dangle from the ribs themselves. He moves to cover his mouth as tears fill his sockets. There's only one person he can think of with those colored bones.

Nightmare squints to stare at the being. His pips latch onto the tattoos he can barely see through the light and he gasps in horror. Denial and grief set into his soul as he takes a shaky step back. He reaches a hand out, "Ink?"