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"Chaos? Grandparent Chaos? Is that you?" Hypnos sits up in his recliner to peer into the dreamscape, looking for the face of another god. Above him three nebulas, arranged in a triangle, swirl in almond-shaped spirals and blink down at him like distant eyes with stardust trails shaped like eyelashes. Throughout the sky, darkness twists in on itself to create an outline of sinewy limbs rising out of infinity. "Whooooa."
Hypnos builds a dream in the realm of Chaos. Grandparent-grandchild bonding ensues.
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Worthy, and unworthy. All at once, and already done.
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