Chapter Text
The Warden sneers at the monitor in his office, he’s not in the mood to even bother for the commotion the prisoner is making in his cell, by this point he wonders how the hell inmate is able to shout and scream in his cell thinking that someone will listen, the Warden has long muted the audio that is coming from the solitary, the man inside it did not deserve to be heard, not after all the lies that are spouted and still being made currently.
“He’s going to tire himself out later,” he grumbles, leaving his office to depart for the hotel he is helped in the making of, the kid, that is Tommy, is recovering alright from the past year’s torment. He closes the door to the office, locking it, and made himself out of Pandora’s Box, at this point everything inside is now automated giving so much time free and effort unburdened to the Warden. Speaking of burdens, he sees the blonde young man outside the prison waiting for him.
“Hey, Sam!” Tommy calls, smiling widely, the older man went to the blond, ever since the prison became fully functional, the two bonded to the new project. The young blond has shared his story with Sam, finding comfort in finally being able to have someone that he can talk to about things. The warden also helped in finding a somewhat closure between him and Dream. Making it up to himself that the man inside the prison will not ever change, and it’s better to move on, and moving on is what Tommy is doing right now, starting with the hotel.
The creeper hybrid that is Sam, opened his hand to Tommy, a sign of invitation. Tommy took it and the two headed for the hill where the hotel is.
Dream slumped on the obsidian floor, throat dry like a desert and the heat from being in front of a lava curtain inside a room that is virtually black cooking him alive. He doesn’t know how long he has been inside this damned room, doesn’t know how much time has passed since he woke up -since that night when he was knocked out cold. He wishes that whoever put him here at least gave him a small window to see what is outside, just to know what biome he is in, just to see what’s outside.
Miserably, he looks at the framed clock in one of the obsidian walls the round thing is long broken not showing if the day has long passed nor if the night has arrived but the machinery inside of it is still ticking much to the annoyance of Dream. He’s afraid he is starting to get used to the loneliness inside the obsidian room, falling into a cycle of shouting for help, getting exhausted of it, maybe eat the raw potato -it is not like he has any other options, falling asleep and waking up in cold sweat from said sleep -there are nightmares that plague his sleep that he refuses to remember they are too terrible and there’s no way he did that. A potato popped out the dispenser stuck in the obsidian walls, he leaves the root crop on the floor despite his stomach’s protesting gurgles.
“Someone, please,” Dream rasps.
Just as the Warden predicted, the prisoner has piped down. It only took more than a week of ignoring to turn on the audio that is connected to the mics in the cell, it’s not like he would ever turn it on again, the monitors are enough to see what is happening inside. The prisoner sat by the wall in the middle of the pool and the lava curtain, finding solace between two liquids, the temperatures inside can be harsh after all. He couldn’t forget the first day the week-long ruckus happened.
He was awoken to the shouts from the inmate, shouts of call, acting like he doesn’t know where he is, which what the warden found annoying, how dare this- act like he is innocent. For the years that passed by, the wars that have set in the world have long eradicated innocence to the population of them. At first, the warden just ignored the pleas and muted the audio thinking that the villain inside is just tugging on the frail strings that he once had, but it continued the next day, and the next, and the next, at this point the warden decided to just record it, maybe he’ll review it if he had the time to. And currently seeing the prisoner curled by the pool of water, Warden opens the files and deletes them immediately, it’s just filled with crap and malicious acting, glad to see that the monster inside hasn’t changed one bit, the warden leaves the office, it has been a long day for him, maybe he’ll take a short break, have either Bad or Ponk sit on the monitor rooms, he trusts his redstone to be formidable despite absence. The warden’s day ends as he locks the monitor room, ready to get back to his base.
The lava on his left burns hot, the water on his left is too wet for comfort, the crying obsidian that drips to his body is cold to touch too cold for relief. With only himself and the ticking clock as a company, the thought inside Dream’s mind fills the void of having nothing else, alongside it are the nightmares that plague his sleep, the sleep that he very much tries to avoid. Every time exhaustion claims him, he dreams of massacre and bombardment, murders and manipulation, he had to admit Tommy is one heck of a headache, but dreaming of driving the younger boy to self-harm and suicide is something Dream couldn’t swallow to do, after all, he is still the one who welcomed the hyper blond, no matter the thievery and chaos that ensues with Tommy in the middle of it Dream acknowledges that the kid’s heart is in the good.
Dream curls to himself, he’s starting to think that no one will come for him here, rescue is not coming, no one’s coming for him, no one will know or, let him know how is he, why is he.
A shiver crawled on his bony spines, a black smoke, darker than the obsidian around him looms above his weakened vessel. And Dream lost hope that night, as no one will come for a sinner.