Chapter Text
The world flipped.
The sky whisked into and out of his vision, streaking past in shades of deep, endless gray and splattering rain as he was pulled over the shoulder and slammed flat on his back into the concrete.
Dream grunted with the impact, his breath knocked out of him, a knee digging into his side before he could recover with one wing pinned awkwardly beneath him. He steeled as he felt the sharp cold of a red blade press just under his jaw.
For a second, there was nothing in the air but the sound of their heavy breaths and the soft taps of raindrops against the rooftop.
“-And that’s six-four.”
Techno — otherwise known as the Ex-rank villain Prometheus — smirked lazily at him, smug as usual, and in one smooth motion pulled his crimson bladed knife away from Dream. Bursts of lemon filled his tongue, sour but not quite unpleasant, accompanied by the bitter, ever-present and unique taste of black coffee.
Rain pattered away against his mask as he huffed, staring up at the villain as their chests both rose and fell in quick but smooth motions, recovering breaths coming heavy and familiar.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dream rolled his eyes, moving his head with the motion — a habit he’d picked up after wearing the mask for so long — before pushing up against Techno’s shoulder, “now get off of me.”
“Eh…” The villain grinned a little, “what if I just like, don’t?”
Dream scowled, which prompted Techno to snort, easing up without much ceremony — for once — while sheathing his knife on his thigh before offering a hand. He accepted it without a thought, being yanked to his feet easily and in a smooth motion, wings adjusting back into their regular position. He felt rain slide off of the feathers as he rolled his shoulders back, testing the damage of the impact and mentally deeming it negligible.
He easily caught his dagger as it was thrown to him, the green blade flashing in his vision as he grabbed it out of the air by the hilt, stylized with the same color.
“Don’t look so smug, you know knives aren’t my specialty.” Dream shot the other a look, which Techno deflected with nothing more than a faux-innocent yet smug eyebrow raise.
“Just sounds like a skill issue to me.”
Dream scoffed, sending out a tendril of fear towards the other to convey his playful annoyance. Techno flinched a fraction, barely noticeable, and one of his eyes twitched, but that was the only indication of what would make others shudder and jolt or jump violently, spiking with sweetness as they did so.
That was the thing with Techno, though. Most of the time, Techno tasted like pure bitterness, with hints of ash and burn that tended to cling to his mouth in a way other people’s tastes didn’t. When he got excited — which was surprisingly rare, considering the amount of stunts the man pulled on the daily — there was a spike of either or both salt (exhilaration, confidence) or sourness (amusement, or perhaps joy). While everyone had unique tastes, Techno simply stood out due to his sheer degree of bitterness; dark, ashy, bitterness. His flavor was just so unique Dream could sense it crystal-clearly from across an entire district. To be honest, he was sure he could find Techno in his civilian identity just by taking a general flight around the city — not that he ever would.
Though, the bitterness was nice, in a way. Unlike Captain’s ability, which was almost equally as bitter, it didn’t feel prickly or oily or artificial, but more rather a natural oddity of the world; fitting in yet standing out at the same time. Focusing on only Techno’s presence was Dream’s personal (but he’d die before admitting it) anchor, a reprieve in a world filled with addicting, sweet, sweet fear.
For a minute or so, they stood in silence on the rooftop, looking down on the sectors of Essempi, as rain softly collapsed against the cement and formed small puddles of liquid glass, dripping off their hair and boots. Their figures stood stark against the grey atmosphere; one neon green, the other crimson red and gold, both colors periodically broken up by sections of tinted black.
“..So, are you gonna explain what you’re even doing here, anyways?” Dream eventually asked, “It’s not even Friday.”
“You would be correct, it’s a Wednesday.” Techno replied easily, before laughing a little at Dream’s displeased head turn towards him, a glower evident in his expression even with the mask, “Nah, nah, I’m trollin’. I’m just bored, man. The heroes have been throwin’ a bunch of random three year olds at me like, twice a day for two weeks now. I needa’ get my practice in somehow, because as ego-boostin’ as it is, destroyin’ a bunch of children is not gonna improve my PVP skills.”
“Actually, Dream, I got a really good question for you.” Techno nodded faux-seriously, “Where exactly do ya think they’re gettin’ all those children, anyway?”
Dream blinked, head swiveling around to meet the other’s ruby red eyes through his pink and red hog mask, before furrowing his brow. He cocked his head.
“-What?”
“Like,” Techno gestured vaguely with a casual hand, “I know they’ve got their whole like, it’s-not-conscription-but-it-totally-is-conscription, not-mandatory-but-actually-is program thing, but like, how do they get all those children equally willin’ to go attack an enemy that’s like, twenty times more experienced and twice as powerful? Just sayin’, are they snatchin’ the children off the streets at like, two, and then goin’, ‘These are your ABCs, kid, and these are the wonders of blind patriotism, here's your deadly weapon, now don’t disappoint the city! And uh, don’t get murdered, I guess, but that’s like priority number two’? Is that what they’re doin’?”
Dream started wheezing before Techno was even finished, doubling over a little and continuing to laugh hysterically as Techno continued with a toothed grin,“It’s a legitimate question, Dream-
The other villain broke off, beginning to laugh as well.
“Ask the mayor that question the next time Zephyrus grabs him,” Dream managed in-between laughs, “I guarantee you he’ll answer with a, ‘how did you know?!’”
Techno barked a laugh, “‘How could you have possibly guessed our incredibly obvious indoctrina-I mean, trainin’ regime? Whaddaya mean, children just come pre-installed with an inherent desire for self-sacrifice, I dunno what you're talkin’ about-”
Dream laughed harder.
“You have no idea how funny that is,” he shook his head, quivering with laughter, managing a, “What the hell, man,” as Techno chuckled with him.
After the laughter had died down somewhat, Dream slid down to the roof edge, sitting down with his legs dangling off the ledge.
He drew up his hood to keep his hair from the rain and slipped his dagger into the sheath on his hip just as Techno joined him, taking a seat next to him. He didn't usually wear his hood, though he did have it for use as head protection during particularly crowded or close-ranged fights, as well as flights in dangerous weather. That was partly because he liked the feeling of the air ruffling through his hair, and partly the fact that the kids tended to grab onto it when he took them out for piggyback flights. Safety first, and all that.
“...So uh, you have any interest in joinin’ the Syndicate?” Techno asked him, only half-heartedly because he already knew the answer.
“Nope.”
“Woww, you didn't even think about it. Bruhh.”
Dream rolled his eyes. “I thought about it the first ten times you asked. I stopped the next ten.”
“-Look, it’s a good deal, alright? The heroes are annoyin’ you, so we team, demolish them, anarchy, we win these, now there's no one to annoy you, and you can live the rest of your borin’ life in peace saving cats from trees and whatever else you do all day.”
Dream huffed a skeptical breath, “Yeah, until the anarchy spills into my district and I have to spend my days keeping even more people out than I already am. Besides — and I don't care what you say Techno — I think tipping the scales is a terrible idea. The city’s fine as it is.”
Techno raised an eyebrow, “The scales are gonna tip eventually, Dream, it’s inevitable. I'm just makin’ sure it tips the right way. I mean, the government’s so corrupt, bro, it’s gotta go. And if it’s not me, it’s gonna be someone, and honestly, I’d do a better job.”
Dream shrugged. “I guess. You’re not wrong, on either account I suppose, but it doesn't really affect me, so. I kinda like, don't care?”
“Bruh.” Techno deadpanned. “Bruhhh. And I thought I was terrible.”
“What?” Dream said defensively, “Yeah, it’s too bad and all that Essempi’s government is about as clean as dirt under a shoe, but harming the balance would hurt my people. And you know I couldn't care less about Essempi — or its people.”
“What about its kids?” Techno asked without missing a beat, one eyebrow raised.
Dream stilled for a second at the words, before glancing away.
“Not my problem.” It didn't come out quite as flippant as he’d hoped.
“Uh huh.” Techno said with a knowing tone, taste mildly sour and a plenty smug, but he didn't push much. Another quality of his Dream liked; he respected other people's decisions, even if they were ones he didn't like.
“Sure, Dream. Sure. Very convincin’.”
“Don't you have information to give me?” Dream changed the subject, not at all smoothly, but he knew Techno would take it, “A spar for current events, that's the deal, isn't it?”
“Oh, yo, do I got current events for you.” Techno answered easily, nodding.
“So, first of all, there's a new Ex-rank in town.”
Dream paused, and glanced at Techno, surprise evident, “Automatic or upgrade?..Is it Shard? Punz told me Diamond District expanded north recently.”
Something glinted in Techno’s eyes, and Dream tasted the emotions on his tongue; a mildly hot spice (slight anger) and a curling, sharp, painful flavor that wasn't quite spicy, and didn't quite taste like any food he’d eaten before, the flavor of which he’d learned to associate with curiosity or intrigue. Both flavors only arose for a split second, only staying for as long as Techno’s crimson eyes held that look before disappearing just as quickly.
“Automatic.” Techno responded, and Dream’s did a mental double-take, “Dude hasn't even chosen a name yet. He’s totally new. Earned himself the main focus of attention the last few weeks ‘cause of that.”
Techno gave him a meaningful glance. “Ya know, since there hasn't been an automatic Ex-rank since like, you, so. Two years, give or take.”
“Been a real nuisance in the past week,” the other villain continued conversationally, “aside from the whole blowin’ up sectors and all that, he’s been targeting Ex-ranks especially in some sorta power play. Stole territory from Ram and Zephyrus a few weeks ago, robbed Punz like two weeks ago, and he murdered a few of my guys in Anarchy District last week. Really annoyin’, ‘cause he cut off one of the guys’ arms and took it with him, and I have no idea why.”
Dream narrowed his eyes. “That's concerning,” he said, while mentally thinking about the types of warnings he’d send his district tonight, “What’s his ability? And what are the heroes doing?”
“Uh, actually no one knows exactly what his ability is. He hasn’t shown it. As for the heroes, they’re scramblin’ around like headless chickens. This guy is the whole reason for their new Ex-ranks dead or alive thing, by the way. He’s been layin’ low ever since murderin’ my guys and I think they're hopin’ to draw him out.”
Dream sighed in unconcealed annoyance, flicking a bit of water off of the stray locks of hair sticking out of his hood, “You’re kidding me. It’s too much to hope that the heroes will finally get competent enough to deal with him for us, is it?”
Techno shrugged, absent-mindedly twirling a butterfly knife that Dream had no idea where he’d gotten, “Seein’ as they've already lost Peace Sector to him, ehhhh….probably not.”
Dream stared in incredulous disbelief at the other villain, who blinked exactly once in response, “Seriously? They’ve defended that from both Ram and Zephyrus for years, and then they just lose it in three weeks to a new guy?”
“Bro, I know, it’s so lame,” Techno complained, “guy’s debut was just like ‘oh, I’m so much better than all you nerds, I’m gonna destroy you all.’ Classic cringe D-list villain speech, ya know.”
Dream shook his head, groaning. “Of course.”
“Other than that…” Techno twirled the butterfly knife once, thinking, before snapping it shut. “Crime rates are up, but not like, dramatically. You already know about Diamond District expandin’. Uh, Ram and Roulette are gonna finish their dual ownership thing for Casino District soon. Technically, it already is, they just haven’t finalized anythin’ yet.”
“About time.” Dream muttered.
“Yeah. Oh, and some mid-tier gang tried to take over Pearl Sector and got owned in like two days by the government’s new batch of patriot-ized children. It’s August, ya know, recruitin’ season again. Nothin’ important.”
He huffed in response, briefly taking the time to shake some rain out of his feathers while being careful not to splash water on the other villain beside him, “So basically, a regular week.”
“Yup.”
“...Great.”
“You know,” Techno added, a smirk coming on his face, “if you joined the Syndicate, you’d get this information automatically.”
“Still a no.”
“Eh, worth a try.”
They sit in comfortable silence again for a few minutes, the tension of the earlier fight non-existent. Techno flipped his knife idly between his fingers; Dream adjusted his wings, gently flicking water from the oil-slicked feathers.
“We’re rematching next Friday, by the way. As usual.”
“I’ll still win.” Techno shot back easily. “Like today. And last week. And the week before that-”
“One, I beat you two weeks ago, and two, today’s an off-day, alright?”
“All I’m hearin’ are excuses, so it looks I’m still winnin’ come next Friday-”
Dream moved to slap the other supervillain, who artfully ducked away from the blow. Huffing, he shifted his weight as he folded his wings tighter against his back while resisting the urge to fold his arms petulantly in front of his chest, “You say that every time.”
“That’s ‘cause I’m right. Every time.”
“You’re really not, Techno.”
Techno grinned, snapping the knife shut and tucking it away this time somewhere in his sleeve, which both made more sense and no sense at the same time. “Our scoreboard disagrees. What’s our current numbers, like twenty-oh?”
“For the record, it's more like thirteen-ten counting today, alright?”
“Still proves my point.”
“No it doesn’t!” Dream insisted, moving to swat at the other and at least this time landing the hit, if only because Techno hadn’t bothered to dodge to instead laugh at his indignation, “Every time does not equal thirteen times out of twenty-three!”
“It does now.” Techno deadpanned while still grinning at his expense. Dream didn’t think that anyone he’d ever met or will meet could rival the amount of smug amusement Techno was radiating off of his person now, and it didn’t help that he could literally taste the (sadly) pleasant sourness of the humor and the tangy afterburn of the smugness, lingering in his mouth in the way that only the piglin’s emotions and presence did. Like all things, Techno didn’t even radiate average-ly.
Dream opened his mouth to give his snarky retort, before pausing.
It was faint, at first, almost lost under the strength that was the lingering sour-tangy-amused-smug or dark-bitter-calm that Techno always gave with just being around, but as Dream honed in on the foreign flavor, it easily slid into his focus sharp and clean-like, cutting through everything else.
Ice.
Not Techno’s warm, dark confidence, or Punz’s smooth, bitter-sweet that seemed to actively contradict itself, or even the sugary-salt of Captain, but something unfamiliar. New. Sharp, cold, icy spice paired with a cutting kind of salt that tended to grab and choke your attention.
Currently, whoever it was was surprised, edged with something defensive. A careful sweetness layered beneath it — caution and alertness.
It was someone new.
New.
Dream’s gaze flicked sideways, and then he moved to stand, posture tightening by a fraction.
“What?” Techno moved as well, giving him a questioning glance but nonetheless settling to a slightly defensive stance. “Are we fightin’ someone? Is it a hero?”
Dream didn’t answer right away, instead focused on letting the new flavor settle on his tongue. He tilted his head, before his eyes widened a fraction.
They were close.
“Not a hero,” he began carefully but quickly, “I don’t think. They’re…”
A shock of ice through his mouth. Then, stronger, stronger still — increasing proximity.
“-three o’clock. Coming. Now.” His left hand darted over to his right wrist.
The scythe appeared in a smooth materialization of black metal in his hand, the neon-green tipped blade — mirroring the colors of his wings — glinted dull in the rainy atmosphere as he tensed, wings half-spread in preparation.
Techno moved with him, drawing his sword with practiced ease. The red of the blade was accented by the hilt of black and accents of gold all throughout.
“You have gotta teach me how you do that one day.” The villain was commenting, crimson eyes glancing with intrigue at Dream’s scythe, just as a figure hopped up and onto the rooftop, movements swift but unhurried.
They landed lightly, boots barely splashing in the thin film of rainwater. Hands raised, palms outward in a clear show of non-aggression. He — because it seemed to be a man — stood eerily still, posture calm in a way that only came from someone entirely comfortable in dangerous situations. His long brown trenchcoat was semi-wet, buttoned up, and flowing gently in the rainy breeze. Similarly, he had dark brown locks of hair that were absolutely drenched, with the peculiar thing about him being that there was a section of his hair that was bright silver, something that Dream narrowed in on.
The newcomer’s flavor hit him then, like a punch in his mouth, an icy burn coupled with a sharp saltiness that felt like a shot of espresso directly to the heart, with a peculiar hint of sweetness as an aftertaste. Confident, then, and dramatic, an attention-grabber, protective, smooth, a talker, but also…insecure?
Odd. In any case, Dream made sure to thread a good amount of fear around him, watching with satisfaction as the stranger’s breath hitched when Dream tightened his ability, a fair (but not overt, for he was trying to start out subtle) amount of sweetness coming off of his person.
He wore a blue half-mask of a sheep, similar to Techno’s pink/red half-mask of a hog. Dream noticed this detail just as the man said with a faux-nervous smile, “I come in peace.”
Dream narrowed his eyes, going to let a trickle more of his ability lose when Techno took one glance at the man and groaned.
“Oh, come on,” he muttered, already sheathing his sword. “Nah, Dream, we’re chill. It’s just my annoyin' siblin’. Don’t like, stab him, or anythin’.
“...Actually, on second thought, you can stab him once. Or twice.”
“Fuck you, Prometheus.” Techno’s apparent brother replied sardonically, “And what are you-”
It was at that moment that Dream cut him off, throwing another bit of fear his way to shut him up without even thinking about the action. The man flinched violently, whatever words he was hitching in his throat as he took a step backwards, fear visibly shuddering through his figure.
“Techno, you have a sibling?” His tension bled out of him a good amount, though not all, mostly surprise overriding hostility as he turned slightly towards Techno. His scythe lowered an inch. “Why do I not know that?”
“-He calls you Techno?!” The man exclaimed from behind him, seemingly having regained his nerve in record time. Dream momentarily resisted the urge to let another good amount of fear at the stranger, due to his curiosity at where the conversation would go.
Techno, meanwhile, just stared at his apparent brother like it was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “Uh, yeah. That’s like, kinda my name, soo. Yup.”
The other guy stared.
“You told Dream your real name? Since when are you two all buddy-buddy?”
Dream redirected the instinctive bristle to just an unseen twitch of the eye as Techno shrugged. “We’re not exactly ‘buddy-buddy’. We’re just like, sparrin’ partners. Potential allies, at the most. Besides, also, who’s he gonna tell? Nobody. He’s got no friends.”
Dream gave Techno a what-the-fuck-man expression. “Dude, I have friends.”
“Oh yeah? Name three, and they can’t be under the age of twenty.”
Dream paused.
He then scoffed after a quick moment, deciding to evade the question no matter what it insinuated. “Okay, we’re not going to discuss if I have friends or not, okay, that’s not the point,” Techno’s brother behind him snorted a little, and in a fit of pettiness he let the reins loose just a little more and heard with smug satisfaction how the man choked, feeling the well of fear rise right to the degree he wanted, fearful and deeply unsettled but still in sharp mind, “the point is who the hell he is, and why the hell he’s in my district.”
Dream gave a vague hand gesture to the man standing to his right a little ways away, who was currently tasting sufficiently sweet enough to be unable to make annoying noises — such as expressing his unwanted opinion.
Techno made a ‘eh’ gesture with his shoulders. “That’s Orpheus, my twin brother. Part of the Syndicate. Ex-rank. Biggest theater nerd. As for why he’s in your district, it’s probably ‘cause he followed me. Which ain’t my fault, by the way, I said not to do that.”
Dream stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, uh. Did I mention that he never listens to the rules? Like a nerd.”
“...You never listen to the rules.”
“Yeah, but at least when I do it, it’s ‘cause I’ve got a purpose. When Orpheus does it, it’s ‘cause he’s just bein’ annoyin’.”
Orpheus scoffed. “I wouldn’t have followed you if you weren’t being suspicious as hell. Why are you sneaking out in the pouring rain at 4 AM in the morning?”
“Uh, newsflash, bro: ya didn’t have ta’ follow me. Ya coulda’ just, like, stayed home. Like a normal person.”
“You snuck out to fight Dream! Dream! When the fuck did you know Dream?” Orpheus threw his hands up in the air. Dream blinked, though he didn’t outwardly react. Was it really that surprising?
“First of all,” Techno defended in an offended manner, stepping forward as if to get his point across, “I didn’t ‘sneak out’, alright, that implies I wasn’t allowed to, which I both am, and also wouldn’t have cared if I wasn’t. Second of all, I told you bro, he’s a sparrin’ partner. Possible ally at best. Not my fault your PVP skills are subpar. At best.”
Orpheus let out a short laugh, rolling his eyes and seemingly going to retort before noticing Dream’s assessing gaze on him, attention sliding away from Techno and settling, instead, squarely on Dream.
They studied each other for a fleeting moment, Dream taking extra care to pay attention to the ever mixed, changing flavor of emotions in his mouth.
He stayed still as Orpheus strolled forward to stand in front of him, giving him a once over with a flick of his eyes, posture not necessarily hostile but most certainly not friendly, erring on the side of looming. Dream let loose a trickle more of fear and watched with buried satisfaction as the other villain twitched in response. Primarily fear slipped into Dream’s analysis of the other's emotions, but it was strongly undercut with hostility and annoyance. So he supposed Orpheus didn't appreciate his ability, then.
Well, Dream mused, it’s not my fault you can't handle a bit of fear.
“So,” Orpheus said, voice very definitively cooler now and impressively steady, “you’re the great Dream I always hear about. Say, I expected you to be taller,” he gave him another once over.
…Huh. That was actually correct, wasn’t it? Standing at a solid 6'3, tall for a baseline human but especially tall for his avian nature — which tended to be naturally lighter and smaller in body stature — Dream wasn’t quite used to being called short, at least not anymore, but Orpheus indeed had at least a good two inches on him. He was even taller than Techno, who was already 6’4 without boots.
Still. Who the hell did this guy think he was?
Dream turned to face him, letting his scythe melt back into his wrist with an unnoticeable flick of his arms. He tilted his head slightly.
“Say, I didn’t know you existed until five seconds ago, so I haven’t had time to build up any expectations. Though, consider me unimpressed nonetheless.”
Techno coughed.
“Did I mention you’re not welcome?” He continued, letting a bit of a smile come on his face, “Because you’re not. Wanted, that is. You’d impress me a lot if you would just turn around and go back the way you came.” He yanked a little harder on the tendrils of his ability he had wrapped around the man, letting another trickle of fear loose.
Orpheus didn’t react as outwardly as before, but Dream felt the incline of sweetness in his mouth all the same, the classic tell. It paid to be an empath and a supervillain, it seemed.
“That’s funny,” the other villain replied smoothly, recovering fairly well for as much sweet Dream was tasting at the moment, “I don’t remember asking for your approval. Bitch.”
-Okay. Well. Fuck you, too.
Techno beat him to the retort, groaning, “Y’all, chill, bro. Genuinely, there is absolutely no reason why you guys should be doin’ this. Especially you, Orpheus, it was your choice to follow me. You could just like, turn around, and I’ll be back before like, ten.”
“Since when did you know Dream?” Orpheus asked again in lieu of answering. Dream swallowed an annoyed huff to instead give an unimpressed stare, flaring the edges of his wings a bit in a subconscious effort to make them look more imposing.
Techno shrugged. “I dunno, bro, it’s been a while. Also, why’re you so interested? Dream ain’t that interestin’, ya know. He’s honestly one of the more borin’ people I know.”
“Only you could say that, Tech.” Orpheus rolled his head with his eyes, a familiar gesture to Dream, and then turned back to him as quick as a whip, “Most people describe him a little…differently.”
Dream didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, well, most people that try to describe me can’t often get a very clear visual. For various reasons, of course.” And he flows just a trickle more power through the threads of fear he’s wrapped around Orpheus; for purely absent-minded, non-intentional reasons. Obviously.
He has to fight the urge to grin when sweetness blooms sharply on his tongue, icy and all Orpheus, edged with salted adrenaline. Outwardly, Orpheus' breath suddenly caught, his entire body jolting violently, and before he seemed to realize what he was doing, he'd already stumbled back a step, arms instinctively darting into a defensive position.
Mm, fear. Wonderfully sweet, with the aftertaste of iron, similar to the metallicness of blood. It was like an indulgence, an addicting, guilty pleasure that didn’t feel dissimilar to alcohol.
Damn, the taste was so satisfying.
“Stop doing that.” Orpheus snapped, tensing as another wave of sweetness flooded Dream’s mouth, as narcotic and bloody as fear always was. The taller straightened sharply, visibly forcing composure back into place with the ease of a familiar action, but hiding outward tells of emotion was useless against him; he could still taste Orpheus’ buried terror, sharp, icy and instinctive as it was.
And genuine, too. Dream felt his mouth twitch underneath the mask.
For all of his confidence and sharp words, Orpheus was actually afraid of him.
(He would never admit it to anyone, but the realization actually gave him mixed emotions.)
Visibly, only the right edge of Dream’s mouth widened slightly, but Orpheus noticed it immediately anyway. His expression darkened into a scowl, eyes narrowing. A cut of spice subsequently flared in his mouth in response.
“I said, stop that. Wi-Withdraw your ability.”
Orpheus’ voice pitched strangely on the last few words, confusingly almost — they hit dizzily, like a sudden, disorienting concussion, sliding through the rain like a hypnotic song, rich and oddly resonant in a way that didn’t sound entirely human. The command curled around Dream’s mind before he could even begin to register it, wrapping soft whispers of silk around his thoughts and then squeezing.
For one brief, horrifying moment, Dream’s mind blanked.
His power ripped backward instantly.
Dream physically stumbled a bit, the fear that had been carefully threaded around Orpheus violently torn off and shoved back into him all at once, painfully recoiling through his chest and head hard enough to leave him abruptly breathless. He’d ripped it all off without even meaning to, dragging his ability back behind the floodgates with his own hands as his body obeyed someone else’s mind, and it was painful. His ability was meant to exist perpetually around him like an aura, a shield, perhaps not always (deliberately) weaponised but eternally existing, not forcefully ripped off the world all at once against his will. He was blind without his empathy guiding him, he was powerless without his fear-
Withdraw your ability, he said. And Dream did. Unwillingly. Holy shit, he’d known Orpheus was capable of ‘siren song’, but he hadn’t anticipated—holy shit, holy shit-
And then, just as abruptly, the strings snapped back into his control all at once. He stepped back just once to keep himself from staggering again, vision swimming as the emotions flooded back in.
Salty exhilaration struck his tongue first, sharp and electric. Smug, sour satisfaction followed right behind it, cold and curling in that way that Dream was learning to recognize as distinctly Orpheus. Beneath that sat Techno’s familiar bitterness, dark except for bits of momentary surprise and curiosity.
As soon as his vision cleared up, he was greeted with Orpheus’ annoying ass smirk.
Not even attempting to hide it, either. The fucker looked, in fact, very pleased himself, eyes bright with satisfaction obvious enough that a even a non-empath could have seen it right away.
Fiery, hot anger snapped in his chest, and he tasted spice and salt undercurrented with burning, poisonous acidity — the unique mark of his own emotions — as he flared his wings wide and imposing, showing off his neon green primaries and secondaries. His fingers twitched as they urged to curl into fists.
“No one tells me what to do.” Dream hissed, stalking towards Orpheus, who straightened and regarded him coldly as he did so. “No one.”
“Yeah, well guess what, I just did.” Orpheus replied smoothly with a narrowed gaze, “Deal with it.”
He didn’t need to be provoked a third time.
Dream lunged.
“Woah, woah woah woah.” Techno suddenly stepped forward and caught him, grunting just a little as he held him back from Orpheus, who had flinched and drawn his sword, “Chill, man, chill. Orpheus, quit antagonizin’ the guy. Dream, chill.”
“I’m just saying the facts.” Orpheus said defensively, shooting a glare at Dream.
“How about you spare us from any more,” he snarled, relaxing but pushing away the hand Techno used to stop him, “or better yet, just shut up.”
“Make me.” Orpheus bared his teeth.
“I will.”
“Alright, alright, girls, you're both pretty, alright?” Techno drawled, before chuckling as both Dream and Orpheus sent him equally scathing glares at the same time, fire fanning hot in Dream’s mouth as he did so, contrasted with Techno's ever-calm, ever-present bitterness.
“How about we all just chill, alright, we’re alll on the same side here. Certified Hero Haters, trademarked, alright? Let's just allll chill.”
“I’m chill, it’s Dream that's being a bitch.”
“Say that again and I will make sure you never speak again.” Dream threatened lowly.
Orpheus bared his teeth. “Try me, bitch.”
Dream growled as Techno caught him again, strong arms locking around his shoulders and dragging him back half a step across the slick rooftop.
“Bro, what did I just say, Wilbur?” Techno barked, somewhere between exasperated and slightly amused. “We were literally havin’ a peaceful, friendly interaction before you appeared and ruined it.”
“Techno!” Orpheus — or Wilbur, apparently — exclaimed, eyes wide, a shock of fear and surprise suddenly making a reappearance, “You can’t just say my name when we’re in the field!”
“Bro, I already said Dream has no friends, there’s no one he’s gonna tell-”
“You can’t be sure!”
“Eh, I’m like, ninety-two percent sure. Maybe even ninety-three. Statistically, that’s pretty good.”
Techno’s annoying, insufferable twin brother made a frustrated noise, shoving Techno’s arm away when he tried to block him from Dream, stalking right back up to Dream with a dangerous sneer.
“You know what? Fine. Fine.” Orpheus snarled, the rain catching in his damp, dark curls as he stood up to his full height, angling his head down to try and loom over Dream, “I think I was wrong about you, actually.”
Dream tilted his head mockingly. “Oh?”
“I thought you were disciplined, at least.” Orpheus continued sharply. “Dangerous, sure, but at least for a damn reason. Calculated. Instead, you’re just an egotistical bastard who just can’t stand five seconds not being the most powerful person in the room.”
The sweetness in the air accented with anger as he continued, voice cutting with adrenaline and spiking, salty emotion with every word, disgustingly spicy yet cold.“You love it when people are afraid of you, hell, you revel in it, and the second someone pushes back, you just lose your fucking mind. You’re obsessed with power and control, that’s the kind of fucker you are.”
Techno huffed, genuinely getting at least the slightest bit annoyed now, if the pins-and-needles prickling in Dream’s mouth was anything to go by, “Wilbur, bro-”
“No, I’m onto something here.” Orpheus cut him off, which made Techno frown slightly, “Little Dreamie over here lives on causing fear and making everyone cower underneath him, and frankly, it’s fucking pathetic. He needs everyone to be terrified of him because that’s the only thing that makes him feel powerful, and that seems to be the only personality trait he has.”
Quietly, Techno groaned. Dream, meanwhile, went very still.
Jeez, he scoffed inwardly, I just met you ten minutes ago. You’ve got some strong opinions, haven’t you?
After so much practice controlling his expressions, as well as the added benefit of having only his mouth visible, it’s quite easy for him to slip on an eerie grin, flashing his teeth as he did so in an experienced manner.
He tastes it instantly; the sudden, slight fear. He always does.
Dream stepped forward calculatingly, flexing his wings outward as rain slid from black feathers, ends tipped toxin green, so bright they almost looked like they were gleaming in the dim atmosphere clouded with dull blacks and greys. It’s on purpose, obviously. He knows just how unnatural they look.
“You know what I think?” Dream said slowly, volume just a bit softer than conversational, voice smooth as velvet and twice as suffocating, “I think you’ve spent your whole life performing. Not because you’re actually anything special, but so no one notices just how damn terrified you are underneath it all.”
The icy sweetness seems to itself recoil, the bloody salted taste of surprise and fear combined in some unholy combination making itself present as the new undertaste. Physically, Orpheus’ eyes widened, instinctively stiffening at the words with his eyes narrowing in anger, but he doesn’t move to open his mouth, which Dream takes as an (unintentional, obviously, though he didn't care either way) invitation to continue.
“You wear your fake confidence like some shield. And sure, it might work for everyone else, but I think you forget,” Dream’s smirk widened into an almost maniac-looking grin, “that I can taste your fear.”
“And let me tell you; it’s very, very sweet.”
The words sit for a minute. Dream lets his grin last, about as genuine as he can make it, before Orpheus opens his mouth. His heart leaps suddenly as he does so, the tell-tale acidic burn of his own emotions accompanying the spike of blood-slicked sugar on his tongue, but Orpheus only snaps, “Fuck you.”
Dream lets himself act a bit smug. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”
It was at that moment Techno stepped between them again with the air of an exhausted man, rolling his eyes at them both.
“Ookay, alright, we’re done psychoanalyzin’ each other’s deepest, darkest insecurities, alright, we’re gonna-”
“Oh come on!” Orpheus expression twisted as he hissed towards to his brother through his teeth, “He’s a self-righteous, power-obsessed asshole, I don’t know why the fuck you even like him at all-”
“Come on, Wilbur, be chill,” Techno said, waving him off with an unbothered hand.
“-No, I’m not gonna be ‘chill’, Techno, because he’s “powerful” and loves to weaponize that little fact-”
“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.” Dream shot back, pissed. It wasn't like he asked for his powers, did he? And he’d be a fucking idiot not to utilize the resources at his disposal.
Besides, he wasn't the one calling names — you didn't see him calling Orpheus a manipulator, did you? Who’s the real asshole here, huh?
“Oh, and what exactly are you, then?” Orpheus questioned sardonically.
He doesn’t prevent his grin from turning ugly.
Wrong question, buddy.
“Well, a monster, of course.” he answered easily, like simple logic, accenting his words with another flash of his teeth.
Orpheus blinked incredulously, taken aback, before he recovered, hissing, adrenaline and anger skyrocketing.
He opened his mouth, voice already beginning to shift into that awful, hypnotic cadence-
Acidic fear shot into his mouth — his own, wasn’t that comforting — as he reacted without thought, wings flaring wide. He lunged as his scythe materialized into his hand, snapping his fear threads taut in his mental grip while simultaneously preparing to let fear rocket through them without restraint.
He didn't get the chance to actually do anything, though, before Techno moved.
“Ohhhkay. We’re leavin’, like now. Right now, actually.”
He used his body as a shield against Dream while clamping a hand over Orpheus’ mouth before the command could form, the other arm hooking around his shoulders and physically dragging his brother backwards across the rooftop.
Once they were mostly away from Dream, he relaxed marginally and, with a raised eyebrow from Techno, shrugged as calmly as he could muster and unsummoned his scythe.
“Mmph-Techno!” Orpheus exclaimed, muffled, “Don’t you-lemme-”
“Uhh, nope, nah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You-”
“See ya, Dream!” Techno called over Orpheus’ still-muffled protests, “Promise I’ll make sure he stays home next time! Actually, no promises, really, I take that back, but I’ll try marginally hard to accomplish that. Uh, look out for that new Ex-rank dude, everythin’ else is normal, seeya’ Friday.”
Dream watched the two disappear into the rain, Techno half-dragging his still-arguing brother over the rooftop edge, tracking them even as both their figures vanished into the dark skyline of a rainy Essempi until their flavors crossed over Dream District’s border.
After confirming they had indeed left, he slowly flexed his fingers, listening to the soft pattering of the rain against the concrete, the sound blanketing all others.
His thoughts, naturally, drifted to the sickening pull of his own ability being ripped back into himself against his will; the blankness in his head, the loss of control. It sent a shiver crawling unsettingly down his spine. He hated just the mere memory of it.
That was an evident problem.
Orpheus, Orpheus. Can’t kill him, Techno’ll get mad, probably. Can’t do anything about him specifically, really, it’d be way too much work. But maybe…what about….
Exhaling smoothly, he stretched his influence out in thin spider webs, feeling the locations of the living organisms around him with where their emotions were emitting from. With this technique, he could sense as far as from one end of his district to the other, although he couldn’t affect anything and only feel the surface level of otherwise complex emotions — unless it was fear, which he was more sensitive to.
There were two cats in the building underneath him, and multiple mice, but no people nearby at all. Satisfied, he reached over with his left hand and tugged his right sleeve over his wrist, adjusting the armor plate as he did so.
Two runes glowed faintly against pale skin.
They sat in the center of the underside of his wrist, carved in thick brush strokes colored with dim green and bright purple, lit only slightly. The enchantment pulsed softly on his skin, responding instinctively to his attention. It was the reason his weapons could vanish and reappear at will, folded into enchanted space rather than physically carried. One of his prided creations, if semi-secret.
The first rune translated roughly to Store, with an added clause of until desired; the second to Remove Effect, with an added clause of from desired object. Together, they formed the phrase Store desired object until desired Removal of (previous) Effect.
Dream stared at them for a moment, thinking about all the others he had painted with painful precision on his skin, with the awareness that even the slightest mistake could result in life-threatening consequences.
Their locations had been meticulously planned out — or at least, most of them. His backup melee weapon, his axe, was stored in his left palm, underneath his glove. On the base of his back, the front of his thighs, and his ankles were all also backup storage runes, with mostly knives hidden in them, but currently one sword as well. Along with two storage runes was Protection carved into both his forearms. He had two runes acting as a phrase under his jugular designed to temporarily numb pain, and another three word phrase on the base of the back of his neck. That one was an experimental enchantment, designed for an emergency teleport to a predetermined location, but it didn’t do well over its intended long distance range; he’d painted it anyway, however. Inventing teleportation with runes, no matter how crude or impractical, was still a feat he intended to exploit.
Most people, if he knew even half of what he’d carved onto himself, would probably call him ‘fucking insane’.
He couldn’t really blame them. Runes were dangerous enough on paper. Most enchanters refused to place even proven, stable, common ones — like Protection, Unbreaking, and Power — on living things, mostly because runes tended to break the moment they were painted onto biological material, and the added risk if you messed up. On an object, the worst case scenario was it breaking. On a living animal, or even human, the worst case scenario was the magic tearing the flesh apart by the seams, or in other words, instant, painful, death.
Though, unlike most enchanters, he was actually fluent in Enchantment, and unlike most enchanters, he wasn't directly affecting his actual body, just using it as an apparatus. So the risk factor was reduced — not erased, but significantly reduced.
Withdraw your ability.
He pursed his lips while thoughts swirled in his mind, glancing at the glowing language on his wrists before pulling his sleeves back down.
Resistance? Remove Effect? Protection, maybe?
Dream hummed.