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Hob watched Matthew sail away from Dream and the self-satisfied smile on Dream's face. He knew it was because, despite the pain of losing Jessamy, Matthew was what Dream had needed, and he was different enough that Dream was able to let him in close. He would never be Jessamy and that was the best thing for them. He settled back against the stairs with his latest book, flipping idly through the pages. What had Lucienne said to him, about avatars and their creators?
Dream of the Endless always has a raven.
That was the line, right? He turned a page in the book, but his fingers hovered at the edge of the pages, considering. As far as he knew, the others did not have an avatar of the same sort, it was something specific to Dream. But why. Why did Dream have an avatar like the others did not? A familiar, maybe, if he was going to go as far as to call them that.
But even then, his ravens were different. They were humans, who had died in their sleep and remained in the Dreaming, rather than heading to the Sunless lands. They belonged here, in a way that other creatures did not.
Dream of the Endless always had a raven.
Hob's fingers twitched and he turned a page in his book, even as he didn't process the words on the page. There was no aspect of him that was missing, he would have felt it. Hope would have known it, and on the Edge of Creation, perhaps he would have formed what it was that was missing.
But.
Hob looked down at the book and pulled it away, sighing as he snapped it shut. There was an uncomfortable feeling roiling through Hope and his magic that tied him to the Dreaming, urging him to go to the Waking realm, to walk there to quiet himself. He stood and stretched, gently banishing the novel back to the desk where he kept his stack organized on pain of Lucienne's glare.
"Is everything all right?" Dream asked, lifting his head from the ledger he was reviewing. "Hob?"
"Yeah," Hob called, rubbing at the back of his head. "Just think I need to go be in the Waking world for a bit, let Hope go." He gave Dream a smile. "Feeling the need for it, that's all."
Dream smiled at him and gave a nod. "I wish you well, Hope. Travel safe."
Hob heard the 'I love you' in those words, and blew Dream a kiss, bringing the power singing through him forward easily enough to step through the veil of words and into his apartment above the New Inn. A shudder ran up his spine and the feeling of something got stronger still and he pushed his fingers through his hair.
He changed, quickly, showering with scalding hot water for good measure, and closed his eyes, letting Hope forward and out into the Waking World. Sometimes, it was fun to watch him wreak havoc in the best way. There was so much that Hope could power, could do, and as long as it didn't grow too strong, it was a joy to watch it.
Hope walked, striding down the sidewalks. He let his power sink into the areas around him, touching and tapping mortals on the shoulder, giving joy to animals, and luxuriating in the response that compounded itself, over and over again, all across the country, all of it sinking back into him. He could feel the eyes on him from above and glanced up at the raven watching him and gave Matthew a wave.
Dream of the Endless always had a raven.
Hope paused and lowered his hand, watching as Matthew veered off and into a nearby tree, staring after him. He turned and looked across the street, his eyes settling on a familiar park bench. He made his way to it, his head tilted. He could feel Dream's presence sunk into this place and there was already a gathering of birds, approaching him as though... as though they knew what he was and he would be there.
Hope sat down on the bench that was soaked with Dream's presence and watched as the birds fluttered closer. It was the thought of a moment to hope for something in his pocket to give them and to pull out seeds. He scattered them in front of him, watching as more and more approached, one of them jumping on his foot.
"Someone's hopeful," he teased, offering it a few pieces of birdseed before he managed a quick stroke down their back. Hope stared down at them, tossing seeds at them in a slow, steady wave, watching as more approached. There was one now standing on his knee, observing him, as though it were waiting for his something, waiting for him.
"You know, it's usually Dream I find moping on a bench. You don't seem the type to mope."
Hope lifted his eyes and smiled at Death, grinning at her as he tossed more seeds. "Perhaps because I'm not moping. I am... considering." He shrugged. "I do not know what else to call it. Something doesn't feel quite right, and I am trying to figure out what it is."
Death settled into the bench next to him and took a handful of seeds. "That is part of your struggle, being made, not born. So much of our knowledge we were born with, and you are still unlearning to be human."
"Right," Hope said, looking at the birds again, smiling faintly. "They're always so hopeful, aren't they? Hoping for food, and they were the original symbol of hope, after the floods, you know?"
"I do," Death agreed, her voice soft. "What has been unsettling you?"
"Why does..." Hope paused and sighed, deciding it probably was best to ask Death this question, because no one would know better than her. "Why does Dream always have a raven? But none of the rest of you have such an avatar?"
Death shrugged and leaned back against the bench. "I couldn't tell you. I'm not even certain that Dream himself could tell you. All I know is that he does, he must, because there is a part of him that needs what a raven offers." She tilted her head. "Do you think you need something?"
"I..." Hope frowned, reaching into their pocket and pulling out their sigil, turning the musical note over and over in their hands. "I do not know. I feel as though there should be something, but what would there be?"
Death stood up, brushing off her jeans and scattering the last of the seeds. "You did say it yourself," she said, gesturing to the birds around Hope. "Are they not your symbol in a way that few other things are?"
Hope stroked a finger down the back of a pigeon, a dove, and listened to it coo softly, his sigil reverberating with the sound. He frowned and stared at it, but when he looked up, Death was gone. He looked back down at the dove and stroked over it gently. "Perhaps," he agreed, several seconds later. "Perhaps."
~!~
Dream watched as Hob continued to build something on the very top of his castle, one of several dozen that he had spent the last few days building, almost all by hand. He still did not know what they were for, and why they were there, but every time he asked, Hob had given him a shy smile and asked him to wait. So wait he would.
Thankfully, whatever melancholy had swept over Hope was gone now, and Hob had returned to his usual levels of joy and excitement in everything from training to living. Dream smiled when he watched Hob finish the latest of his projects, dusting off his hands as he stood. He raised both his eyebrows when Hob turned and made straight for him.
"I have an important question about your ravens," Hob said, putting his hands on his hips. "How do they know how to get to the Dreaming? Are there particular instructions? Or do they just know, because they were once Dreamers?"
Dream blinked under the onslaught of questions before clearing his throat. He looked out, across the Dreaming and caught sight of Matthew, and pondered the questions for a few seconds. "They are part of it - they are tied to it." He pressed a fingertip to Hob's heart. "Imagine there is a tether in here, that will always direct you back. That is how they know."
Hob nodded and frowned, looking at what he had built, stroking a finger over it. "All right. I might have to figure that out then." He shook himself and gave it a gentle pat before turning to Dream, properly. It would be a problem that he could worry about another time.
"Why the sudden curiosity about my ravens?" Dream paused and narrowed his eyes. "You aren't planning something with Matthew, are you?"
Hob laughed and stepped in close, wrapping his arms around Dream's shoulders, and pulling him down for a kiss. "No, dove, I am..." he paused, thinking about his word choice, and then smiled, leaning in against Dream, something settling in him that hadn't been quite steady before. "No, dove. I'm not planning something with Matthew. There was something missing for Hope, and I've been working on it."
Dream hummed and looked at the structure again. It wasn't hard to see what they were now that he was looking at them. "They are the reason you've been building dovecotes?"
"Spoilsport," Hob said with a hum, turning to look at them. "I don't even know if they're going to be able to make it here. We'll have to see. But I've built a couple near the Inn, and I've got a few more properties they're going into." He gave Dream a hopeful look and smiled. "You always have a raven, after all."
Dream tilted his head. "I do," he agreed, speaking slowly. "But my ravens are-"
"I know," Hob said, pressing a finger to Dream's lips. "They're going to be different for me, and I know that, and it's fine. But this feels right, so I'm going to keep pursuing it until it doesn't feel right."
Dream nodded and pressed a kiss to Hob's finger. "Very well. Perhaps we can modify the borders so-"
"No," Hob shook his head. "I think... I think I can figure out a way to make it work. I just need to. Well. Figure it out."
"All right," Dream agreed, looking to the dovecotes that had been built by hand, with care, and felt the magic embued in them. Whatever Hope was intending, whatever they would be, they would be magnificent.
~!~!~
Hob sent off another email and groaned, rubbing at his temples. Who would have thought fighting with city ordinances about rehoming what were considered feral pigeons would have so many people up in arms about the creatures? It was getting more than a little ridiculous, but despite proving he had the locations, and the resources, despite jumping through every hoop they gave him and then more, getting the approval was more difficult than creating a new identity.
He leaned back in his chair and glanced over at the window sill, but there was no sign of Matthew, nor any sign of whatever it was that he was waiting for. Hob sighed and closed his eyes. He would keep hoping. At least he'd managed to lure more than a few dozen back to the dovecotes on top of the buildings beside the old White Horse, they were perfect for it, and no neighbors to complain about it. The birds were beautiful, and by getting them off the streets, he was able to keep them safe and protected, which was an unintentional benefit.
Of course, that didn't mean any of them could make it to the Dreaming, or that they even would if they could.
-
Two months of fighting later, Hob finally had his approval and started his rehoming project in earnest. Once other businesses saw the benefit of taking care of the feral pigeon problems, they followed his lead and he had more than enough support to keep the program running for an extended period of time, whether he was here to oversee it or not.
All of which was wonderful, but he still had no idea if this was what Hope needed. What Hope had wanted. Dream of the Endless always had a raven, but did Hope always have a dove? He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, leaning back against the chair on top of the building, considering the sky above him. Why had he needed to do this? Why had it been so important?
Maybe if any of them made it to the Dreaming, he would get his answers.
So, in the meantime, until they figured that out, Hob kept rescuing them, giving them a home and getting them taken care of and off of the streets, away from those who would be cruel for no real reason other than cruelty itself. Dozens, then hundreds at a time, he was able to take care of so many of them and it warmed his heart, and made him feel like he was making a difference in a tangible way.
Then.
Then the first dove flew into the Dreaming.
Hob had taken to spending time on the roof of his castle, to enjoy the weather (whatever it might be, depending on Dream's moods), and wait. Wait for a sign that his idea hadn't been a mad one, hadn't been a silly idea. It had meant something, they meant something, whatever the hell it was.
A flutter of wings had him looking up, expecting Matthew, likely with a message from Dream, but he stopped and stared at grey and iridescent wings in shock. He gasped and sat up in his chair, staring at the dove with tears in his eyes. He cupped his hand and with a brief tug of imagination, there were seeds waiting. The dove made it to his hands and Hob pet it carefully, gently, as it started to eat from his hand.
He didn't notice until it had snuggled up against him, leaning against his chest trustingly, that there was a small, silver ribbon tied to one foot. Hob reached out and pinched it between his fingers. It dissolved in a shower of sparks, and then he could hear, clear as a bell in his mind.
'Oh, look, a dove! I've seen so many lately! I hope that the weather stays nice for them!'
Hope leaned his head back, tears falling down his cheeks in slow, steady rivers. The pigeon curled up next to him for a bit longer before flying into the dovecote to snuggle into one of the nests that he'd built. He stared at it, an impossible creature that it was, watching as it settled down to sleep. He resolved not to move an inch until he'd seen another bird, maybe two, to make sure that it wasn't a fluke, that this is what they were meant for.
Another flutter, then another, came within hours, and each had silver threads attached to their feet. In each of them, a hope - all from the Waking world. Some mundane, some not. None requiring action, only wishing to be heard. For someone, somewhere, to hear their hope and to acknowledge it as what it was.
Hope savored every single one that was brought to him, and when the pigeons departed once again, more came back with him, all of them finding rest, food, and care in the Dreaming. The uncomfortable feeling at the knowledge of Dream always having a raven had faded entirely, because he would never have ravens, not like Dream, but he would always have his doves and the hope that they brought every time they were here.
Just as they had once supposedly carried a sprig of greenery, now they carried Hopes to the one that embodied it. Hope beamed, proudly, as the dovecotes he had built began to fill, and the sound of beating wings was a regular occurrence around the castle. In fact, it was so regular, that it was a surprise to sometimes see Matthew joining him, and no silver tag attached to his feet.
"Bossman wants you to join him for dinner. He doesn't want to ask you himself because he knows how much fun you're having, but he misses you," Matthew said, puffing himself up imperiously. "And I know that you're Hope and what you're doing is important, but the man was full-on pouting."
Hope laughed, giving Matthew a nod as he helped one of his birds into their cote. "I shall be along Matthew, I promise." Another stroke over soft feathers and he turned his attention to his wayward lover, who seemed determined to let him have this moment, these moments alone with the newest aspect of himself. He stepped into the throne room of Dream’s castle and found Dream pretending to read a book.
“A little birdie told me that you might be looking for me,” Hob called, walking closer to Dream, meeting his eyes that were damn near brimming with curiosity. “Everything all right?”
Dream raised his eyebrows. “I believe I should be asking you that question, considering the amount of activity that has been entering the Dreaming.”
Hob grinned, his power reaching an excited trill as he spun in a circle, stopping in front of Dream. “I know, they’re magnificent!” He bounced excitedly. “Dream, they’re bringing hopes with them, it’s more than I ever could have expected. Each one carries a hope. They are not wishes to be granted, but they simply are and now I can hear them!”
Dream tilted his head, curious. “Could you not, before?”
Hope shook his head. “I knew they were there, and if I reached out, I could feel them, but.” He waved a hand. “The collective conscious or unconscious - I’m not there yet. I’m working on it, but I am not there yet.”
“Then it sounds as though they will be of great assistance to you,” Dream said, putting his book to the side, and holding out his hand to Hope. “Will you show me?”
Hope lit up and reached out to take Dream’s hand, tugging him through a doorway and out toward the dovecotes that were filling up. Silvery threads fluttered in the air and Hope let out a delighted laugh, tugging Dream closer to them. “Come, we’ll listen to them together. Hopes for me, and perhaps Dreams for you!”
That was where Matthew found them, several hours later, several doves resting on Hope as he spoke, his hand waving as he told a story. If Matthew took that moment to dive into Dream’s arms, making sure all the pigeons knew that he was the only one allowed to cuddle with Lord Morpheus, well, he was just doing his job as a raven.
(Even if this wasn’t in the job description.)
(Then again, Lucienne had always been vague on those details.)