Chapter Text
A humble manor house, nestled out of the way of all big cities, had been Sleep’s abode of choosing for their Vessels, once they were all gathered. With its stony foundations deeply rooted in ancient, unmarred soil, rich with ideas buried beneath the surface, Sleep dearly hoped it would assist their First with his song writing. Although he carried his portable typewriter around everywhere he went, the worms with a taste for the human mind began to make their home inside his skull.
The day the four arrived, Sleep was curled about Vessel’s shoulders like a lingering spring breeze. Warm, but still with a cool bite. Despite that, they noticed Vessel’s lips twitch into a small smile as the sun peered out from behind the clouds, bathing his face in golden light. His three sets of eyes (one of his gifts from Sleep), took in every little detail, from the birdsong in the trees, the grass swaying in the fields spilling out towards the horizon, even the reactions painted on the faces of his fellow Vessels. Pleased, Sleep departed from his shoulders and looped around II, III, and IV’s a couple of times, before sweeping towards their new refuge.
Inside, it was dark. As soon as the group entered the hall, the sunlight was denied entry into the house, adding a chill to the air. The spruce panelling didn’t help the cause either. It didn’t take III long to start lamenting to the others about the lack of Wi-Fi. He pretended to sway from side to side in the hall, holding a hand over his forehead. II just rolled his eyes, but the display was alarming enough to have IV running over in a panic, afraid the bassist was about to keel over in a pile of gangly limbs.
Sleep bobbed a breathy chuckle at the scene and left them to it. They found Vessel had already gone upstairs and trailed themselves across his shoulders once more, sensing the anxiety that threatened to engulf him as it liked to do whenever it saw fit. It pained Sleep greatly to see any one of their Vessels distressed; the many followers of Sleep Token had many views on the god, but Sleep was a benevolent deity. After a whisper of words were exchanged between them, Sleep guided Vessel back downstairs to the grounding, loving touch of his bandmates. II, their dear Second, ever the perceptive one, sent a silent murmur of thanks to Sleep, and began making plans for setting up the hearty lunch he’d made sure to prepare the night before, then tackle the bulk of the unpacking afterwards.
Meanwhile, Sleep skimmed across the plains of their new home, stretching the very fibres of their ever-shifting being as far as the furthest acres that were now under their ownership. Full of the offerings and adoration of all who embraced their message, Sleep let the air support them and turned onto their back, allowing the sunlight to shine over the glass-like down that forever coated all their forms. Refracting one thousand colours, Sleep’s impression of a mouth smiled, and they glided down to land in a small, secluded meadow not far from the house.
In a guise resembling a human, they reached down and touched the blades of grass, catching the ice-cold dew on their sharp nails. The ground was clean and shaded, untouched by corrupt hands. Satisfaction hummed through Sleep, and they rose once more. Yes. Their yew would grow very nicely here, and their Vessels would enjoy a little bimonthly trek through the woodland and over the couple of fields. Sleep was not a household god like many others. While their presence was often noted by the lighting and extinguishing of candles by a mysterious hand, their “altar” took the appearance of an old yew tree. Wherever Sleep went, their tree was guaranteed to follow. It had been a withered husk of its former self when Vessel first stooped in worship; now, it was a towering creation of nature, with smooth needles and blood-red berries that were to die for.
They returned just before dusk, slipping through the front door disguised as an errant breeze while IV was drawing the heavy iron bolt shut. Whether or not he noticed was up for debate. Unless Sleep deliberately exerted themselves to hide their presence, Vessel could immediately sense if the god was present. II, III, and IV didn’t have quite the same level of connection to them as of yet, but sometimes they were able to identify the extra presence in the room as Sleep.
They had made significant progress with the unpacking, although much of their equipment was still in the second removal van that wouldn’t be arriving until the next morning. II appeared to be the most at home, sitting on the navy blue, velvet sofa in the lounge and sipping a cup of yerba mate tea. A book was open on his lap. IV was nestled close and reading alongside him.
At the other end of the sofa, III was sprawled out, one long leg thrown over IV’s shins, the other correctly placed on the floor. An empty beef and tomato Pot Noodle cup stood on the side table next to him. He was focused intently on playing a video game on his… device. Sleep tended to forget the name, but it brought such joy to their Third that they occasionally sourced something appropriate and addressed it anonymously on special occasions.
Vessel’s absence caused a moment of concern, until Sleep heard the floorboards creak above them. A few minutes later, their First appeared in the doorway. Being the closest, III stretched his head over the armrest and grinned, turning off his game and making grabby hands towards Vessel. IV yelped as legs suddenly wrapped around his ankles and yanked him into III’s arms. His complaints were hushed when Vessel chuckled and sat down in the space between him and II, who closed the book with an apologetic glance at IV, before leaning into Vessel’s solid build with a sigh of contentment.
Watching them, peace found Sleep and eased some of the prickles of the day’s events. They had never been fond of uprooting themselves and their Vessels. The rituals were familiar to all of them and Sleep thrived under the crowds of devoted worshippers, drinking more than their fill of offerings on those nights. In this sense, it was more uprooting themselves to move to a new, different place that though Sleep personally sought out ahead of time, it still caused them the infuriating feeling of worry. To their relief though, it seemed the kinks in the moving were beginning to iron out. Seeing their Vessels embracing each other in the still barebones, draughty lounge made Sleep’s soul swell with pride and love. Their power as a god had finally been restored thanks to these four individuals, united by character, music, and prayers to one whose name cannot be formed by the human tongue.
Outside, the horizon had swallowed the sun. Sleep gathered themselves to depart to their yew tree; even gods needed rest, although in Sleep’s case, they had spent much of their energy today assuring that their Vessels arrived at their new home without issue. As a result, weariness tugged at their airy body, threatening to tear them apart, and while Sleep would mourn the loss of scouring the new ground by night, the cedar wood-scented hollow protected by the twisted branches beckoned them enticingly.
They noticed Vessel raise his head to look at them. His six eyes, all a rich, copper brown apart from the lone blue eye on his middle set, blinked gratefully at Sleep. II rose from the sofa, hooking his thumb around the handle of his empty mug. He ruffled III’s hair playfully and grabbed his empty Pot Noodle cup on his way out. There was an energetic spring in his step, which confused Sleep. It was nearly midnight. III grabbed his gaming device and switched it on, angling the screen so that IV could see. Vessel picked up the book II was reading and flicked through the pages. His head was bent low, as if he were refusing to look at the darkness pressed against the single-glazed glass of the windows. Sleep gazed at them. Were they not weighed down by exhaustion after the long day?
Gliding through the doorway, Sleep made their way towards the stairs, only to pause when II reappeared. His mug was refilled with yerba mate tea and under his arm was a stack of stern-looking documents. Sleep trailed him upstairs to the bedroom II had claimed as his and remained floating outside when he closed the door behind him. Innocuous doors couldn’t stop a god, but Sleep had learnt that mortals enjoyed their personal space and so left II to whatever he was doing and swept themselves upwards through the fireplace downstairs.
The sweet-scented night air greeted Sleep as they soared into the air in the guise like that of a nightingale. They couldn’t shake off the odd feeling that there was something not quite right with their Vessels. All of them were night-owls, that they had come to understand, but never had Sleep witnessed a seemingly collective reluctance to retire to their rooms.
Either something was amiss, or they were becoming far too invested in the nuances of human beings. Sleep decided to believe it was the latter as they made for their yew tree altar. The morning of a new day would balance things out once more. How could it not?