Return of the King ( Omake )
I wonder if the stars sign the life that is to be mine…
but night has clouded over…
No Vela No Orion…
Stumbling steps carry him from the paths of chaos and strangeness, the twilight roads, to the only place he can reach in his present state.
Once, long ago, he had been cut off from the sleeping world of men, monsters, and worlds. Odd that this second disappearance should so resemble the first in all things but the aftermath.
Mighty hunter felled by the scorpion, eternal combat..
falling only to rise again like the morning star in lesser glory…
When shall we three meet again?
It had taken seconds, and eons to find his way clear of the snares of old enemies, and hapless mortals. Fate, it seemed, is not without a sense of irony that he thought his ultimate destination was to be denied to him in favor of being caught up, once more, in this place of abiding ironies.
I know you well…
Fair is foul and foul, fair…
Beauty is truth, truth beauty…
Hover through fog and filthy air…
Or perhaps not? Perhaps he is exactly where he should be. If there was anyone left in the universe that might offer him what he was looking for, aid might just be found here after all.
Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?
A slumber did my spirit seal…
Do I wake or do I sleep?
Sprawled across the pavement before the shifting fountain, a mess of tangled cloth and limbs, Morpheus loses his battle to stay upright. The sapphire is a seething ache, demanding he rise, move, run, but he has passed the point of exhaustion, and can barely summon the will to draw the small phone he has carried so far from The City.
The attempt to call for someone, anyone who might remember him uses up the last reserve of will he had and with only a muttered entreaty to those he came a-hunting for, wherever they might be, he slides slowly to measure his length on the pavement.
“……Help…….”
((OOC: Yes, he has a phone. Remember this? ))
but night has clouded over…
No Vela No Orion…
Stumbling steps carry him from the paths of chaos and strangeness, the twilight roads, to the only place he can reach in his present state.
Once, long ago, he had been cut off from the sleeping world of men, monsters, and worlds. Odd that this second disappearance should so resemble the first in all things but the aftermath.
Mighty hunter felled by the scorpion, eternal combat..
falling only to rise again like the morning star in lesser glory…
When shall we three meet again?
It had taken seconds, and eons to find his way clear of the snares of old enemies, and hapless mortals. Fate, it seemed, is not without a sense of irony that he thought his ultimate destination was to be denied to him in favor of being caught up, once more, in this place of abiding ironies.
I know you well…
Fair is foul and foul, fair…
Beauty is truth, truth beauty…
Hover through fog and filthy air…
Or perhaps not? Perhaps he is exactly where he should be. If there was anyone left in the universe that might offer him what he was looking for, aid might just be found here after all.
Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?
A slumber did my spirit seal…
Do I wake or do I sleep?
Sprawled across the pavement before the shifting fountain, a mess of tangled cloth and limbs, Morpheus loses his battle to stay upright. The sapphire is a seething ache, demanding he rise, move, run, but he has passed the point of exhaustion, and can barely summon the will to draw the small phone he has carried so far from The City.
The attempt to call for someone, anyone who might remember him uses up the last reserve of will he had and with only a muttered entreaty to those he came a-hunting for, wherever they might be, he slides slowly to measure his length on the pavement.
“……Help…….”
((OOC: Yes, he has a phone. Remember this? ))