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clay remembers being a deity, a formless being of worship and beauty, shedding saccharine peace and protection.
he was deity born, made for greatness, paved out for him to be a good guy, he was taught — harsh hands when he failed, neglectfully empty smiles when he's accomplished exactly what they asked — to protect, to bring peace and heal at any cost.
at any cost
so to understand peace, to understand conflict and pain and war, dream requested to go and stay with the mortals, to understand — he ignores the fact he yearned so desperately for companionship beyond useless platitudes — the way humans, mortals, weak, only strong because of the blessings they were given.
the first bubbling of poison is planted in the young born, jealous elder gods who see this naïve and foolish τέκνο thinks the mortals are any kinder to susceptible souls like them who are not meant to feel past what they are made to do
so clay makes his way to the ground, blessed and cursed by the elders for his choices. he begins his journey.
clay molds and learns, blends into culture and binds his soul to others learning the wonders of,
attachments
godly beings were not meant to have attachments, but clay became cornelius, held onto cat and eventually robin and lost them in one fell swoop.
loss
anger
resignation
but he learns there is no mistake in the murderers choice of slaughter, he is brought to the admins, oldened god blessed men who thought they were more, something special.
he feels anger and loss well up in him, poison dripping like honey down his tongue tainting him.
corrupting him.
it is bitter and sweet, gossamer threads as he weaves strings of lies, so easy, even as they are blessed, he is among those who blessed them.
he learns to fight, and sees how they fight to protect.
understanding
knowledge
strength
he understands sacrifice, he understands perspective and looking at the bigger picture, to look ahead for the future, for the outcome assured.
no regards for what he will lose in doing so
he dances around friendships, fleeting feelings and love he burns and leaves in dewy soaked ashes, soiling the ground he walks upon, dirtying his hands in a way gods made others do their bidding to achieve.
until he meets them,
he meets george, who seems more deity than dream himself, uncaring and drifting through life, in need of something more, something dream can offer and maybe, maybe he'll stay.
he meets sapnap who's all spitefire, excitement and glory soaked, ready for everything so willing for his attention, the power is sickening, it burns his throat and claws at his heart for the hurt these humans feel.
what these humans brought upon themselves.
he meets wilbur, softness and neglect, he reminds dream of himself, of clay, of the naive deer that wobbled its way into the cruelty of the world. but wilbur hides sharpness, hides a buried instability that concerns the part of dream that is not yet soaked in poison and weaved into the depths of his souls pain.
alongside wilbur comes tommy, who is spitfire and determination, naive and ignorant, boastful and entirely too young, he sees disaster and beauty mar the teens future, he does not understand why tommy's company is stifling and choking, like there is something to be born between the clash of the teen entirely too carefree and deity blessed, and the deity, entirely too poisoned and human like.
pity
fear
attachments
—
dream is careful in weaving his world, making sure no reminisce of him is scattered upon the land, because to them he is nothing special.
he is dream and that is all he has to be.
but dream is strong too, he is unnerving smiles that promise protection and he is loud free laughter and soft-spoken-ness, and everything bundled into the human and non-human person he is mushed into, he crushes down his past until he cannot remember and he is blind to what he once was and was always supposed to be.
he builds and creates and loves and hates and he is as much human as those who scatter across his lands searching for protection, under unknown to them a deity who was born to protect at any cost.
who is sacrifice and selfishness all at the same time and would burn the world for sapnap and george and bad, callahan and sam, ponk and punz, alyssa too.
he does not like when his, HIS attachments are threatened, because they are his and he wants them to be safe but he can feel their hurt and he knows he is hurting them too but he knows what he will do, will be for the better.
he is sacrifice.
desperation
self-destruction
obsession
dream hates as his land is clawed out of his protection, wanting and greedy and he is poisoned and dripping in mortal need and greed, affected by the emotions he was never meant to bow to and feel.
the gods are restless.
dream is angry.
poison taints his land, like it runs his veins, like it coats his tongue and slides into his stomach as he twists around truths and lies and half-truths that will protect and lead everyone to peace.
he is protection, he is peace, he is sacrifice.
he is good and he is bad, he is grey and blue and orange and all the colors spanning the rainbows because he is not bound by morality, but bound by his actions.
.
.
.
it is a shame that the people he chose, see the world in colors of black and white.
it is a shame that he represents sacrifice and protection. two things that should never be used and combined together for a goal, his tenacity and determination to complete it is overwhelming and all consuming to the point he is his goal.
he is nothing but his goal.
he is nothing but a villain now.
because if there is one thing dream had learnt down with the mortals, swimming upstream against the struggles of life, it is that the one thing that unites and brings peace is,
pain
so he will hurt them, even when it feels like his insides are being torn apart, he will shove himself away, even when he feels like he cannot go on.
because he must and he will be the villain to unite them, to bring them together at last.
and of course. he is a god. a deity amongst men, so it as simple as being a little cruel before he is the scapegoat, the ultimate big bad to defeat.
so he was swiftly locked away, mind shattered, breaking even further, if that was possible. so he reminisced of the good he saw in humans, a kind smile, helping and caring hands.
he remembers the admins and the way they shattered his trust in the machinations of the world.
it was because of the neglect, of the hate and the pain that tore clay apart from the seams and repurposed him into dream.
he remembers cold voices, uncaring but curious, he was nothing but a tool to the world and now he was nothing but a means to an end.
.
.
.
that was okay, he was not blind to what these means
but was he blind? he seemed to have forgotten he was cared for before he forced himself into this role, that he is still loved and doing this, too much pain will destroy what he protected
But that is neither here nor there
It was unexpected, surprising even, dream had brought wilbur back to life, effectively shortening his stay in the haunting prison walls.
they were on there way to let dream know of the brilliant news, that he could get help and heal and once again be a family-
but alas they had been living with a mortally blind god all along
[Dream was killed by intentional game design]
dream is not the only person who had broken in these lands.
nor was he done being broken. the gods were not pleased.
dreams tale, clays tale, cornelius's tale, protection and peace and desperation.
none of them were pleasant tales, one told of a man that was entirely too godlike he was a god, a deity that was entirely too human he may have been human for how he was, a man who was ripped from the seams of this world only to return once again, and twice after that, and then the story of what was safe and calmed and what ruined and destroyed.
he was considered a fallen deity.
but deities were never meant to stay gone forever.
—
they were all old now, healing of wounds left from blessed and sacrificial lands, benevolent and lovely, ruined by a deity hellbent on unity from what he thought he understood, and humanity filled with want, greed and silky love that was blessed upon them that they took and crushed until it was crumpled like fine silk.
unbeknownst to them, the city, country men, turned into a village, and a deity made its way down the streets, smiling peacefully at the plant life that thrived, the lack of blood and pain that permeated the air like his once—land.
his sharp and shattered juniper eyes scan over the land, footsteps soft and imperceptible, he sees white goggles, warm brown eyes and laughs that made dream well up with emotions, sharp black, dark eyes and a bandana flowing in the wind, accompanying the soft smell of baking permeating the air, the sound of friendly sparring mixed in with the quiet melody the flowed like water over the land.
clad in a soft white tee-shirt, over top a long and flowing jacket, not unlike the guitarists own brown and dirtied jacket, speaking of tales of horror and hatred, legs clad in soft white wrap and loose black sweats, feet bare but unmarred.
juniper meets warm brown that spoke of a time on the throne long forgotten, dark black that flickered with a forgotten fire, tired brown that knew life and death better than almost anyone, alert red that had been used by life like a tool found peace, shocked ocean that glimmered unlike the grey they were far ago, forest green that were too mature even for growing up all these years, soft blades of grass green that filled with nothing less than a mothers love, brown eyes that were sweet and soft like baking that melted in your mouth.
fleeting whispers of rambunctious laughter, jokes and scars, the fine taste of wine, grey feathers, roses, gunpowder, ender cries, weapons well used, all sorts of whispers of family were left around.
a soft smile, long time named elusive, greeted them with a pair of soft juniper eyes.
he was home.