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He had failed.
Harmonious choir: the great Septimus, his gift from the gracious 'Order' fell apart, and so did Sunday's hope for an eternal paradise.
The so-called angel doesn't fight it. In one last attempt of getting help from Ena, he merely reaches out while descending to his own demise.
What sense does it have to call out to a deceased Aeon? Sunday immediately doubts himself, thoughts chaotic as if Aha the Elation tinkered with them.
At last, Sunday still dreams of THEIR return, slowly accepting the truth at the same time: his wish is not destined to be fulfilled. He will fall from grace, unable to die (this is the Dreamscape, after all). He will awaken from the dream, surrounded by those who defeated him, dragged around until they clip his entire wings off, cut apart that glorious halo, and let him die in misery. Alone.
Is he truly one of the 'mighty', or just a weak who believed to be strong?
The ever-so peaceful Dreamscape sky seemed to be holding a storm inside of it as it kept getting further and further away from Sunday's reach. Amidst cold wind, a barely noticeable warmth cut its way through.
Robin. Jumping after Sunday, his precious younger sister pulled the falling 'angel' (or a devil?) into a tight embrace, still falling.
Yes...she will be the eternal star. The star Sunday tried to outshine in an attempt to establish the Eternal dream, only to explode in a supernova and shatter to dust in the most grandiose way. The only thing he'll leave behind is destruction, the exact opposite of what THEIR belief is.
"Brother..."
Why must you sound so sad, sister? No, you must be sad. I hurt you so badly, ignored your dreams in pursuit of my own.
"The dream...is over."
Why would you still jump after me?
The warm sensation is gone once again, making Sunday realise they're probably close to crashing right into the streets of Golden Hour. He musters up all remaining mental strenght to forcefully slow down the fall, and there's pitch black before his eyes for a second - Sunday put everything into the fight already, and using the Harmonious Choir sucked energy out of him completely. Still, the two somehow ended up landing safely. Robin immediately collapsed against his chest, revealing her unconscious state. She was just as exhausted as Sunday, who could barely keep his eyes open as he scrutinized the surroundings, searching for a place safe enough to let Robin rest there. He went in the direction of the nearest bench, knees weak and powerless. Alas, he had to solve this before taking care of anything else.
Sunday laid his sister down on hard wood, positioning her in a way which ensured her wings or halo won't get damaged in any way. During this process, a hot, almost steaming dark something dropped a mere inch away from Robin's distressed, sleeping face. Blood. Sunday's blood. Black, akin to a moonless night, yet it reflects colourful light which only began returning to Golden Hour. As if he were bleeding internally, both physical suffering and mental conflict making its way out and staining the priceless Dreamscape.
It's better if we part ways. I'm sorry, sister.
Sunday raised his head to scan the surroundings for the second time, becoming a hurt animal scared of predators. And a certain 'predator' had been staring at him for some time already. Amongst awakening visitors of Penacony who were still too dazed to understand anything, far above Sunday, stood a silent figure. The notorious Doctor, Veritas Ratio. The only man who, along with his 'friend' Aventurine managed to outsmart Sunday, and the only person he was unable to read so far. Under those distant, piercing maroon eyes, he felt like some sort of a test subject under a microscope, wondering if the Doctor will make him become exactly that and examine Sunday after he gets captured and imprisoned for his crimes against the cosmos.
Much to his surprise, Ratio's stone-hard face turns away from him, disappearing from sight.
A bird with clipped wings can still fly if assisted by others and given enough time. The Doctor had offered Sunday freedom, and this fallen angel would make sure to use such a generous offer very well.
Leaving a trail of dark stains in his wake, Sunday staggered out of the busy area. Trying to find a narrow lane or something dark enough to hide him from the lights of Penacony, he realises those lights weren't even reserved for him in the first place.
If Robin saw him at this moment, she probably wouldn't believe this miserable man is her brother - or would she? Would anyone still dare accept a sinner under their wings, for he had threatened interastral peace? Does he deserve to be taken in by someone even now?
Leaning into a wall, the former Oak Family head sinks down, his body giving out. So pathetic, Sunday thinks to himself, molten gold eyes shutting. For the first time in a long while, he allows both body and mind to rest. For once, the paranoid side of him is silent.
A dream within a dream.
Sunday's mind sinks somewhere beyond the Dreamscape, a familiar feeling. He experienced it before, when "Death" stabbed him. On a contrary to his expectations, 'dying' under its claws that one time was hardly unpleasant. So was this state of mind. He felt...at peace. No worries, no pain, but not a trace of happiness either. A dulling embrace of something he couldn't grasp nor understand, lulling the devastated angel into sleep...
No.
Last second, Sunday re-directed his mind out of Dreamflux Reef in a final, desperate outburst. He couldn't allow himself to drown into that place. Not only is it bustling with those who despise the Family and especially him, that place remains a big unknown to Sunday.
Why does he continue to resist? Is it out of spite, trying to remain in control of everything, including his own life? Is it because the cage that is his mind already started conjuring a new plan?...Is he afraid?
Coward murderer cruel LIAR pathetic disabled batshit insane sadist paranoid trying to control everything coward murderer mentally ill cruel LIAR pathetic batshit insane sadist paranoid trying to control everything degenerated chicken frying in its own fat LIAR LIAR selfish son of a bitc-
WHAT AM I DOING?! Sunday screamed in his mind, failing to control the utter chaos going on inside of it. He barely even registered the change of environment, now present within the Dreamscape version of the revered hotel. I'M GOING FUCKING INSANE.
This might've been the first time Sunday ever swore.
Anyone else watching Sunday might wonder how in the Aeons does he still have the energy to occupy his brain with so many thoughts all at once. Distorted, illogical rooms of the Reverie serve as a good mirror to Sunday's inner state itself.
So did a certain being which had arrived to the lobby right after Sunday. From a massive bundle of purple smoke emerged a creature which caused him much trouble while he arranged the festival: Memory zone meme, Something Unto Death, mostly known as 'Death' alone. With its arrival comes an instant horror, as it's nothing but a direct personification of a human's 'fear of death'. With demonic, bright eyes all over its dark body, it seems like this thing was made specifically to kill, even though it's nothing but a means of transportation for the residents of Dreamflux Reef. Nevertheless, its countless claws which grab a body without mercy before impaling it, strange wings serving as blades, spikes around the center eye, and the overall shape resembling some sort of a contorted snake...Or so is it supposed to be.
Because, right now, Sunday didn't feel the smallest trace of fear. Sure, he might get forced into Dormancy again. But he doesn't care. No one will miss him if Sunday dies, never to be seen again.
You madman, what about Robin? Do you no longer care about her, too?
The meme still didn't notice him (how could that even happen, given how many eyes it has?), curling up into a creepy ball like some overgrown cat just a few inches above the ground "Ga...lla..." its sounds were far from resembling human language, yet Sunday was still able to deduct it for some reason. "Gher..."
It shrieks this series of syllables over and over again, quieter each time. Gallagher. The critter was calling out to Gallagher.
Right. The History Fictionologist's avatar, 'Gallagher' must be gone by now. He had completed his task, unlike Sunday. And Dormancy is the one suffering, most likely the only one suffering due to his disappearance. It had lost its master, wandering about like a lost dog. A bit too large and creepy dog, sure, but that doesn't change the situation. You have lost the only one you cared about, the one who raised you and gave you a role. The one who made you fly from the nest.
Sunday took a hesitant step forward, which happened to be a movement that made Dormancy finally notice him. It immediately shifts with ease and seemingly becomes way larger, ready to attack as the largest eye stares directly at Sunday. Yet the clawed limbs shake, akin to hands of a freaked out human. You're confused, you don't know what to do anymore. You wonder whether this whole life was a dirty lie, whether you were just used as a tool to be discarded.
"Had I failed in overseeing the Dreamscape, if beings like you exist?" Sunday promised an unending, everlasting paradise, but does it really exist? The Sweet Dreams troupe, memory zone memes grown out of accumulated negative emotions...is a place with such things really a priceless treasure? Or merely a deception to lure in helpless people who want to escape from life?
'Dormancy' continued to stare at him, neither knowing what to do (if it were a human, this would be one hell of an awkward moment). It let out a particularly inaudible call out to Gallagher, falling silent. Its entire body slumped.
Sunday's mind had made a painful conclusion: a true paradise is unreachable. The thought alone hurts his entire existence like nothing before, a suffocating feeling. You're helpless, pathetic. The winged man reached out for the second time today, petting the dull side of a talon near Death's central eye. It shook violently, then clasped Sunday's torso with those massive claws and held tight. It refused to let go, tightening the grasp whenever he tried to touch it again and loosened up only when Sunday stopped his movement. "I'm sorry."
No response. He took a step back in defeat, head lowered. Has he ever bowed to anyone (or anything) before this? Probably not. And Dormancy probably doesn't understand these gestures, anyway.
It floated back to Sunday. A paradise doesn't exist. The poor creature made way around him, using all of its hands to hold the Halovian in place once again. Then it snuggled up to him, causing Sunday to lose balance and collapse under its weight. Yet, both fallen to the ground, it still clinged onto him like a lifeline.
A paradise doesn't exist.
Sunday may have fallen from the skies to the ground, but this meme had fallen from the ground to the very bottom.
A paradise doesn't exist.
Yet here they are, comforting each other in the weirdest way possible. A fallen angel and the 'monster', who ends up getting caressed by him.
A paradise doesn't exist.
It hurts, but he's content with the truth. As pathetic as this situation is, Sunday doesn't feel sad, although the tears streaming down his face contradict this claim. "I'm sorry", he kept repeating as if the sentence became a chant to some god unknown.
Sinners are to be punished. He is the current prime example of a sinner to the cosmos. He should die.
But what would Dormancy do after getting betrayed not once, but twice?
"I'm sorry." Sunday repeated at last, leaning against hard, dark skin resembling ebony wood.
"I'll have them find someone to take care of you once I get caught," he promised, in hopes the meme understood human language. Sunday moved around for a bit until it realised he wanted to stand up, and let him go. "Thank you, 'Death'."
A shame such a gentle, loyal beast must suffer so much. It still followed Sunday around as he traversed the Dreamscape version of the Reverie, occasionally serving as support when his legs gave out. Yet as the one hotel room kept getting closer and closer, it gradually grew more desperate, knowing what was about to happen. Ghastly hands tugged at Sunday's sleeves, urging him not to leave. Alas, Sunday didn't listen. He ignored it until the two reached the door to his room, one of the most luxurious ones in here. I never deserved it, not even this chamber. He turned around to cradle Dormancy, and it seemed to be crying just as much as he did. Most likely even more.
"Please stay close to this area. If I fail to protect you, you may curse and hate me as much as you can. I'd deserve it."
With one last tiny hug (or something similar to it), Sunday went for the hotel room, took a single large inhale, and laid down into the pool.
For a return to Reality.