How to Be a God [ManXMan]

Chapter Seventeen: Sickly and Dreaming

~Chapter Seventeen: Sickly and Dreaming~

"What in Cronus' name happened to you?"

I scowl at the Titan, wishing that he was shorter so that we could see eye-to-eye without him having to look down at me. Atlas' height used to be a great comfort to me and being held by or even simply near him gave the perfect illusion of safety – not that it was much of an illusion if one considers how powerful he is – but now, I find it irritating. If he was shorter, perhaps I would miss him less.

"Nothing of concern to you," I sneer, intentionally taking a step back to create some distance so I need not bend my neck as far to look at his face.

Atlas looks confused by my declaration, but makes no move to follow. From the way his hands twitch, though, I know he wants to. "Your health is of concern to me, Aστερ μου," he says, watching me with barely-concealed unease at my no doubt sickly appearance.

Instead of informing him of my unexplained illness – his annoyingly open expression makes it hard to not simply tell him everything – I cross my arms and look around the room rather than into his worried golden eyes. "What am I doing here?" I ask after a moment, unsure of where here is.

We appear to be in a white-walled sitting room that reminds me greatly of the temple that was once on Othrys. However, it is not a room I recognize from my many visits to Atlas' home and, since any place used inside a dream connection must be real, in the past or present, I am rather curious as to where we are. The room looks like was built before I was in the statue, but all the furniture is new.

There are grey couches in the middle of the room that could easily be mistaken for beds, and the pillows are golden and shiny. Between the couches is a low black table with candle decorations. The floor is white marble, but a great deal of it is covered in ornate grey and gold rugs. On the far side of the room is a giant window looking out over a sunny courtyard. There is a door, but the handle is blurred when I look directly at it, which suggests leaving is not an option unless I wake up.

"We need to talk," Atlas informs me, and I fight the urge to make some sort of sarcastic comment at his statement of the obvious. I may not wish to speak with him, especially now that it is clear that the sexual dream I had of him a few weeks ago was not merely a dream, but he needs to understand that I do not wish to be continuously pulled into dream conversations.

"Then speak," I reply coolly, wondering if I should take a seat or remain standing. Which one is more rebellious?

However, I quickly realize that defiance is not all that important when the room starts to spin. I had not thought it was possible for an ailment to appear inside a dream, but I suppose this is no normal dream and it is possible I am cursed. Left with no choice, I sit on the couch, pretending to make myself comfortable while I really just need something supporting my back to avoid falling on my face.

Atlas reluctantly sits on the couch across from me, though he looks far less comfortable. "You are in danger," he warns cryptically. As if I am not already aware of the threats to my life and freedom. "Are you in a safe place?"

"Yes," I answer, just as vaguely. He will likely assume that, if I claim to be safe, I have gone to Faerie, and I am not going to correct that assumption. "Is that all you wished to talk about? I have important things to do."

Like vomiting into the toilet...

"No," he says immediately, and then pauses to frown at me, as if confused by something. "Are you angry with me for leaving you without release last time?"