Chapter Text
Dream flew.
He could feel the currents of the air at his back, and he called to them, weaving and aiding his flight. Jessamy did not follow behind. Dream was tired, so tired, but he pushed through, desperate to make good on his promises that he had now broken.
He did not know where he was supposed to be going. He did not know if Hob would even have a new structure by now. But still he flew, towards where the remains of Hob’s old house would be. WIth the wind at his back, it took him a very short time to reach that place.
Dream alighted upon one of the bare wrecked piles, and took a breather. He felt lightheaded. He rested there for a few minutes, and then took to the sky again.
He circled, riding the current of the air, scanning the landscape. The Jewels had become the Jewels again, the wide pool of water which existed during the summer months having abated, and finally, Dream picked out a spot of tawny brown in the distance. He flew towards it, hoping beyond hope that it would be that which he wished for.
The house, when Dream approached it, was solid. The piles were higher off the ground. There was an open window, and Dream’s sleep-addled brain drove through it, landing in the center of the person’s house, startling its only occupant.
Hob was holding a cup of water, half of which had spilled across his front at Dream’s entrance.
Dream shifted back, not wanting his words to be lost in the speech of the raven.
“Um—I’m,” Hob started, his eyes swiftly averting themselves from Dream’s form. His face was turning red.
“I’m sorry,” Dream said breathlessly.
Hob’s eyes skipped over, up to Dream’s face. “Whatever do you have to be sorry for?”
“I’ve been rude, and—and you were right, about everything,” Dream said. “I am. Lonely.”
Dream stumbled forward, and he saw, slowly, how Hob stiffened as he came near. Dream stopped, holding himself back.
“I’m sorry, also, I’m afraid I am quite unwell,” Dream said, and wavered on his feet.
“I can see that,” Hob said wryly, and then seemed to steel himself. “Come, we’ll talk later. I don’t want to know how far you’ve flown. Come on.”
His hand found Dream’s bare shoulder, and it was so warm and broad that Dream nearly melted into it.
“Woah, there,” Hob said, and his voice was close to Dream’s ear. It was a pleasing voice. “Come on, sit down. It’s too cold for this. You’re going to catch your death of cold,” Hob muttered something else, something that would have been too quiet for a normal person to hear, but that Dream did, with his hearing as it was. Hob said: “So will I, of you.”
Dream’s skin burned, but he sat on the only chair in the house, and Hob tucked a blanket around him.
“I’m sorry,” Dream repeated, raising his head and brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He tugged the blanket closer around him. It smelled like citrus, and vaguely of a body that must’ve been Hob.
“Stop apologizing and let me take care of you, Morpheus.” Hob sighed. “You flew here from wherever you live, didn’t you?”
Dream’s brain had stopped working when Hob called his name. His name, which—Dream had never introduced himself.
“Yes,” Dream said dumbly. “And… You know who I am.”
Hob turned from where there was a small portion of cabinetry which served as his kitchen. He had pulled the heavy leather drape over the window Dream had flown through, plunging them into darkness and the faint glow of only one warm magelight.
“The first thing anyone told me about was you, and how you had disappeared from the Jewels,” Hob said, “but then you didn’t seem to introduce yourself, and I thought…” He shook his head, and brought Dream a cup of water. “Perhaps you didn’t want to be known.”
“You knew who I was this entire time,” Dream said, taking the cup. In the low light, Hob’s cheeks were even darker than they were before. The blanket around Dream’s shoulders was heavy.
“I… yes,” Hob admitted. He had knelt beside the chair, so there was only a scant distance Dream looked down upon him.
“And yet,” Dream murmured. He took a sip of water. His heart felt like it was going to break through his ribs, either from the flight or the churning waterwheel of his mind or from the angle at which he could watch Hob’s throat bob when he spoke. The man who had said he was kind and lonely, and been right on both counts.
“Well, you sure didn’t seem like you really wanted to be known. I’ve been around, you know. Most witches are pretty grandiose—not that you aren’t,” Hob added, waving a hand at Dream. “But they do tend to announce themselves. I like to mind my own business.”
“And so you moved to the Jewels,” Dream remarked.
“And so I moved to the Jewels,” Hob said. He inched a bit closer on his knees. “You’re shaking.”
Was he? Dream looked down at his cup, and found the water vibrating inside of it.
“I have… I just woke,” Dream said.
“Doesn’t look like you rested,” Hob said.
“I didn’t.” Dream tugs the blanket around himself a bit more. “But I had to come here. You had wanted me to, I had not come—I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Morpheus, stay a bit and rest! The piles will be fine another day,” Hob laughed. “You’re very serious.”
Dream felt cowed, and curled in on himself. Hob’s face was vibrant. He rather disliked being called by his witch’s moniker.
“I would have you not call me such. My name is Dream. Call me by my name, please,” Dream asked him, putting the cup on the tiny table beside him before he spilled it over himself.
Hob’s eyes widened a fraction, and Dream noticed then that they were soft and rimmed with lashes, like a calf. “Of course.”
“I am—” Dream began, but Hob cut him off.
“Stop saying you’re sorry all the time. We’re friends, aren’t we? There’s nobody else who’d come out here and visit me,” Hob chuckled, and got up from where he was kneeling. His knee clicked as he did so.
Dream’s head was still slightly foggy, and he dumbly watched as Hob pulled some kind of bread from one of the cabinets. There was already a pot bubbling on the tiny magiced stovetop, and Hob snagged two bowls from the cabinet. They were mismatched.
“I’m afraid it’s not what I could’ve offered you. I’m still going off the savings I made when I was in Riise,” Hob explained as he set down the bowls.
“I suppose you’ve been building this in the meantime,” Dream said. He curled his fingers around the bowl, seeking its warmth.
“Yes, I did most of this over the last month,” Hob dug a spoon into his stew. Dream merely stared down at the evenly chopped roots and greens that made up the simple fare.
“I did not mean to keep away,” Dream reiterated. “I was held up.”
“I’m not offended,” Hob said, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m glad you’re here now.”
Dream halfheartedly ate, not really tasting whatever was going into his mouth, and then awakened to the reactions of his body: namely, that he was tired, and cold, and now with his hunger and thirst put aside, he could focus on those two areas.
Hob exhaled, very quietly, so softly that had Dream not been a witch and possessing transformation qualities, he would not have heard it. It was a very quiet sigh.
Dream searched Hob’s face, but he found no expression of hardship therein. Dream looked around them.
Hob’s new house was like all of them: one room, circular, with a bed and the tiny table and chair and a few cabinets. There was already a woven hanging on the wall, a bright red pattern like tiny suns. The blanket wrapped around Dream had been pulled from the mattress, exposing the pale blue sheets beneath.
“I do not wish to have intruded in such a way. I may have overreacted,” Dream began.
“Stop apologizing,” Hob said, and now he did sound tired.
Dream stood, and unwrapped the blanket from around his shoulders, laying it back on the bed. When he returned, Hob was once again avoiding looking at him.
“I’m afraid I will have to borrow some things of yours, in my haste,” Dream said.
Hob’s eyes flickered to him, and then he stood hastily, from where he had been on the floor.
“Of course, yes, forgive me,” Hob said, all in a rush as he crossed the room and threw open one of the little cabinets, reaching inside. He must’ve pulled too vigorously, because an entire pile of clothing fell out onto the floorboards, and Hob scrambled to pick them up.
“Gosh, I’m a mess,” Dream heard Hob mutter, thinking himself out of earshot. Except he wasn’t, but Dream did not have the heart to tell him such.
Hob returned with a tunic and pants that were dark in color, which Dream thought the man might’ve picked specifically for him, for which he was touched. The tunic was overlarge as Dream slid it around his shoulders, but Dream could swear he felt Hob relax as his nakedness was covered over.
The pants were too wide, but Hob found a belt and thus Dream was arrayed, barefoot inside the house which bore them both. When Hob lifted the drape over the doorway, the sky was beginning to darken. It had been a clear day, and it was an even more spectacular sunset.
Dream padded across the small space of Hob’s home and joined him at the doorway. Hob flinched for a millisecond when Dream appeared at his shoulder.
“This is what I wanted, moving out here,” Hob told him, gesturing out at the landscape in front of them.
“The lakes, or the quiet?”
“The lakes. There’s nothing more beautiful. I like people, I do. That’s why I’m close to Tarrow, but—” Hob sighs, which causes his broad chest to expand and contract. “I wanted to have a bit of space of my own.”
Dream nodded, understanding. He slid between Hob and the door-drape, and pointed out across the Jewels. Hob followed the direction of his finger.
“My house, where I live with my family, is a five day walk across, in that direction. I am at the cusp of the woods,” Dream said.
“Your family?” Hob turned to look at him.
“They are family to me,” Dream clarified.
“I see,” Hob said, a strange and wistful hopefulness in his voice.
“And you… we are friends, I think, Robert Gadling,” Dream said. “I do not think I want to disregard you any longer. And please, accept my apology. You were right to call me what I am.”
“Oh, good, and your apology is accepted. Stop making it.” Hob breathed. The sunset was turning certain parts of his hair pink. There was, Dream noted, a few silver threads mixed in at his temples.
“Not everyday I have to worry about a curse being placed on me,” Hob said, and from his tone Dream knew he was joking.
“Curses are serious business. I have only cast one in my life, when I was young and foolish, and I regret it deeply,” Dream said, before turning away to the warmth of the house. “Either way,” Dream said over his shoulder, “I would never do anything that you did not ask me to do. To do otherwise would be an invasion of your personhood.”
“Good to know,” Hob remarked. He had closed the flap behind them, making sure there were no gaps, before turning back to the shadowy space.
They stared at each other for a moment, Dream in his borrowed clothes and Hob in his own.
Dream wet his lips before speaking: “The villages… I used to do work for them. Place intent on their piles. Without payment—I did this gladly. Not everyone tolerates witches of my caliber so near them. I…” He trailed off, not knowing how to continue.
“I used to live in the capital,” Hob began, sitting on the edge of his bed, leaving the chair for Dream. “Magic is everywhere there.”
“So did I. For most of my life.” Dream sunk back into the chair. “But my aptitude is rare. And I have an additional condition which is likely inherited from whoever birthed me. I will fall asleep, and may not wake for days, or weeks. Or longer.”
Hob was watching him with slightly hooded eyes. “So every night is a gamble, is what you’re saying?”
“Yes,” Dream said. He watched as Hob processed this information.
“So, you didn’t disappear from Tarrow,” Hob said.
“I never intended to,” Dream answered. “As I did not intend to leave you.”
“Ah.” Hob shifted. “Now I understand why you never wanted to stay even when I offered.”
“No, I fear I may have made an error in this sense,” Dream said. “I never explained myself, or even gave you a name. I was rude. I—”
He didn’t even get the apology out before Hob was shaking his head at him, and Dream paused.
Now, Dream’s brain had caught up with him, and Dream eyed the bed with a level of trepidation. It would be a gamble. Not just about what would happen when Dream laid down to rest, but also Hob himself.
“No, never an error. I’ve always been happy to host you—that’s one of the great parts of being in the backwaters.” Hob grins, and it's like another miniature sun in the room. “You have good hospitality rituals. They’re what saved me.”
Dream made a noise of agreement. The cities and the towns were different in that way. Even if Dream had never explicitly been able to participate in them. But he had done what he could.
“When I came back, after I woke up a few months ago, I went to Tarrow. They had hired a witch, and had a new speaker besides. That is when I learned of you,” Dream told him.
“Mmhm” Hob leaned back on the bed, settling in to listen to Dream tell his story.
“Neem was… she was rude, but she had to think of her people. And I understood that. But I was hurt as well, and you received a bit of that, when I found you,” Dream attempted to explain himself.
“I see,” Hob said.
“I was… I was not in a good place. I am sorry I did not make my intentions clearer. You might not have had to suffer as you did,” Dream said. “I never wanted you to.”
“I appreciate that,” Hob said, propping himself up and looking at Dream. “I never thought you were cruel.”
Dream hung his head, suddenly unable to meet Hob’s eyes. He had thought so. So how did that make him? He remembered then how impassioned Hob had been after losing all of his possessions in the flood season, and how much Dream had wanted to be like him.
“Thank you,” Dream said quietly. The weight of Hob’s gaze on him was heavy, and it added to how Dream was already half-falling asleep.
“Hey, oh, you flew all the way here. You must be tired,” Hob said, and Dream heard the mattress creak when Hob got off it.
“I should, yes,” Dream said.
“Are you afraid?”
“Of sleeping? After last night—the last two months? Yes,” Dream admitted.
Hob said nothing about the length of time, only rested his hand cautiously on Dream’s shoulder.
“Well, if you don’t wake up, what do I need to do?” Hob asked.
Dream looked up at him then, blinking. Hob’s face was a mask of concern. This man, Dream knew, he was good. For the asking.
“Nothing. My body stays in stasis,” Dream said, even though he wished for a moment, that there was some part of caretaking that needed to be done.
“Well, that’s one blessing, yes? You’ll take the bed,” Hob said, gesturing at it.
“I cannot. I’ll sleep on the floor. I would not steal your bed from you in case I do not wake in time,” Dream protested.
How horrible would that be, Dream falling asleep and taking up the entirety of Hob’s sleeping area? The bed was not small, but it was not overly large either.
“No, I insist,” Hob said.
They stared at each other for a moment before Dream decided. “We’ll share it.”
“Okay,” Hob said.
Dream yawned, and pointedly got up from his seat. If Hob wanted to sleep on the floor, that was his decision. But Dream had protested, and Hob had insisted, and thus Dream flipped back the covers and crawled into the bed, sliding himself towards the wall.
Hob had grabbed the magelight where it hovered above the kitchen table, and he brought it closer, so it illuminated the bed.
The sheets were soft and clean. The blanket was a steady weight. Dream held out his hand, and Hob guided the magelight into it.
All magelights worked the same way, and Dream drew the intention out of it, calming the processes which normally worked inside the tiny sun. The room was plunged into darkness. Dream could hear Hob’s breathing.
The mattress dipped as Hob set a knee onto it. There was only one pillow on the bed, and this Dream shunted off towards Hob.
“Are you sure?” Hob asked for a third time.
“It seems that you are the one who is uncomfortable,” Dream replied.
“I’m not… uncomfortable,” Hob said.
Hob laid down. He must’ve been nearly falling off the edge of the mattress. Dream was pressed nearly to the wall. There was almost a comical amount of space between them.
“I do not bite, despite my appearance,” Dream said.
Hob huffed out a laugh, and Dream could feel his breath on him. “I am aware.”
“Mm. Then, goodnight,” Dream said, turning over and pulling the blanket with him.
“Goodnight, Dream,” came Hob’s voice, low and quiet in the dark.
Framed by a wall on one side and a warmth on the other, it was mere moments before Dream slipped away into sleep.
⬙
Dream woke to an empty bed. He had not had any dreams he remembered upon waking, which meant his rest had been normal and he had not overstayed himself.
He burrowed further into the pillow, breathing deeply of the heady floral scent, before his mind caught up to him. This was not his home.
Dream sat swiftly up. Hob was sitting at his table, and he turned around when he noticed Dream had woken.
“Good morning,” Hob said. He was wearing a different shirt than the other day, and he held a cup of something steaming in his hand.
“‘Morning,” Dream said, calming himself. He hadn’t slept longer. He was okay. It was okay.
“You want something to eat, or are you going to work your magic on the piles and then leave?” Hob asked, and there was an edge of humor in his voice. His eyes positively twinkled.
“I… am not hungry. I usually am not. But I might—” Dream swung his legs out of the bed. “I will join you.”
“There’s hot water on the stovetop,” Hob told him.
Hob left Dream to fiddle around the two cabinets that functioned as Hob’s kitchen, pulling out a mug and a teabag and pouring the steaming water inside. Dream leaned against the tiny cabinet, blowing over the surface of the mug and watching as Hob consumed an entire plate of pastries.
They didn’t make any conversation. When Hob finished eating, Dream went outside and down to the piles.
These were properly done: maybe up to chest height, and they were further from the river now. They had had some treatments put on them, Dream could feel as he ran his fingers over them.
It had been a long time since Dream had had to lay out his intentions in the air, and he belatedly realized he had brought nothing to make a mark with.
“Do you have a pen? Or a knife?” Dream turned from where he was hunched over.
Hob had bent down to look at him. “A pen, no. But I have a knife. Give me a moment.”
Hob returned with two options: a tiny paring knife and a more hefty blade. Dream chose the tiny knife.
“I would come and do this with a better tool, but then, I am here now.” Dream shrugged.
The air came to him, as it always did, and Dream felt the current become paper-thin, and wrap around the surface of one of the piles. He held it there, and with the knife in his one hand, he scored a line down the surface of the wood, fixing it at the top with wavy lines.
Like a dried reed. Or a straw. Dream stepped back, and when he put his hand forward again, he felt the tiny give of the barrier before his hand was able to touch the wood.
“Come here,” Dream said to Hob.
Hob looked confused, but he did as Dream asked.
“Try to touch it,” Dream said, gesturing at the pile.
Hob reached out his hand, and his confusion grew greater when his fingers almost-not-quite reached the wood.
“That is what I do,” Dream explained.
Hob followed the grain of the wood down to the soil, and then he looked back up at Dream. His lashes stood out stark in his face.
“Y—This is amazing,” Hob said, glancing back down. “And—what are you actually doing?”
“Fixing the air around the wood.” Dream shrugged.
“Stop shrugging, it’s cool,” Hob said. He went to the next pile, and then spun around back to Dream.
“I need to do each one individually,” Dream explained.
Hob grew subdued at that. “And you did them, for Tarrow? All of them?”
“Yes,” Dream said, cocking his head in Hob’s direction as he moved onto the next one.
“That… is a lot of work. I’ll fucking sock Neem the next time I see her,” Hob said vehemently.
“You will not!” Dream exclaimed, losing his hold on the air. “I do not want animosity between my house and the village.”
“Alright.” Hob holds up his hands as if to placate Dream.
Hob hung around while Dream finished the other dozen or so piles. The earth beneath his bare feet was cold, and the knife was not the best choice to use. The hold would be strong, but it would not last very long. Dream had long disliked the use of knives.
He handed the knife back to Hob when he had finished.
“It is not as well-done as I could have done if I had brought all my things with me,” Dream admitted.
“You did it, though, didn’t you? I couldn’t have,” Hob said, ducking out and stretching up. Dream followed behind him.
“Well, then you’ll have to come back, won’t you?” Hob said, leaning against one of the piles. His face was smug.
“Yes, I suppose I will,” Dream said, a smile tugging at him.
“Then I’ll look forward to it,” Hob said, and matched him with a smile of his own.
Dream looked upon him, and felt, for the first time in a long time, that he didn’t want to return home, or to his own bed.