Can't Say

Epilogue: Luna

      An unknown amount of time had passed since you became Zalgo's wife. His territory had no sense of day nor night, and you weren't allowed to go outside of the cavernous labyrinth. The sassy demon lord was at least kind enough to give you necessities and comfort, but your loneliness was never tended to. Occasionally, Zalgo would have tea parties with you, chatting away with sincere interest, but you were often left alone in your room, separate from his own - if Zalgo even had one. With no way to count the days gone by, you began to record the amount of times you slept, etching them into a stony wall in your room. Each tally was small, just in case you ended up with years and years of them. Zalgo didn't seem to care. If anything, he found your mental development to be intriguing, despite its negative outcome.
      Sleeping soon became your favorite time, not only because it was a way to forget about your cage, but because of a dream that would occur here and there. It was something like a repeating dream, but as you were able to return and recall things during it, new things would happen. Honestly, you would have been perfectly fine if the dream repeated exactly the same each time, but were thankful that it changed as though it weren't a dream at all.
      The setting was a simple landscape of desert sand, pale and shimmering in the full moon light. The starry, black sky hung thick above, brushed by soft waves of galaxies. There was always a white, wooden gazebo that you stood in, not yet daring to explore the desert that stretched in every direction. You didn't need to, though. Someone else was always there with you, standing under the gazebo's canopy. He was always just as confused as you were, at first, unsure if things were as real as they felt.
      You would try to speak out, but this realm was strange in the fact that it had no sound - not even your voice. You could feel your vocal cords vibrate in your attempts, but not matter how much you screamed, only silence remained. Eventually, you gave in and accepted it, counting your blessings of at least being able to see and touch him - your master. Slenderman's lack of a humanoid mouth made it much more difficult to communicate, since only he was able to read your lips, and he lacked any for you to decipher. 
      For the first many dreams, you spent their entirety searching each other by touch, unable to accept the vividness. Any sign, any oddity, that may signify that the Slenderman before you was just an animated sense of nostalgia that your lonely imagination created. Yet, your master was just as suspicious and tender as you, inspecting every hair on your head, every pore on your skin, and every thread on your clothes. The white, silken nightgown that draped over your curves glowed in the moonlight, matching Slenderman's starch flesh. You could see a tint of pink on his cheeks each time the dream began, and his sights rested on your delicate form.
      Eventually, you couldn't bare the limitation of your voice any longer, choosing to mouth your feelings to Slenderman with exaggerated contortions on your trembling lips. "I love you," they said. Then you waited, eyes searching, for his response.
      For several, long seconds, Slenderman froze, his head tilted down to you. He lifted it, looking out in all direction to remind himself of your surroundings; to remind himself that only the two of you existed in this strange realm. A hesitation, and he then returned to the former position: staring at you. His hands traced over your torso, sliding around and up your back. He pulled you against his body, creating a warm embrace. You rested your head on him, just barely reaching his chest, and returned the hug with a racing heart pounding against your ribs. Slenderman's weight fell, gently pulling you down with him, as he dropped to his knees. His lanky form hunched over you, burying his lacking face into the crook of your neck. Was he, dare you say, crying? Was Slenderman capable of such things? His much larger form quaked with misery against your body. All you could do was hold him, savoring the mild warmth that radiated from your master. Though he couldn't mouth the words that you had longed to hear, to witness Slenderman admit to you, the sight of him mourning his inability to do so was enough for you.
      The dreams that followed were calm. The two of you had accepted the dream as it was, grateful to spend the time together, even if, perhaps, it wasn't real at all. Sometimes, you would dance together in the gazebo, eventually daring to venture onto the sand. The cool, shimmering grains splashed around as you and Slenderman twirled and swayed in time with a song that wasn't there. Something about being in the open terrain of endless sand felt freeing. The moon and its accompanying night sky were eternal, never fading to daylight. There was always a cool, faint breeze caressing your skin. While no words could be audibly shared, you and Slenderman learned to better communicate with gestures of passion. Your heart fluttered with every new touch by your master.
      Unfortunately, for an unknown reason as mysterious as the dream's causation, it would end just as either of you tried to kiss or experiment with greater passion. Not once were you able to feel his lips pressed against your own, nor could you feel the sensation of him exploring the parts of your body that had only been seen long before the war. His bony hands that had brutally killed so many could only brush so much of your skin, leaving trails of goosebumps that chased his fingertips, before you would abruptly wake to the chamber of stone that was your room.
      You would lay there, in the lush bed that Zalgo had provided for you, inhaling the luxurious scents of perfumes that he often gifted, and stare at the canopy of sheer lace that draped around your bed frame. And despite everything that Zalgo had given you, a void weighed heavy in your heart, only able to be filled when you dreamed of the one thing you couldn't have.