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He stared at the lamb with tired eyes
Not HIS lamb, not Lambert, not… them. Just a copy, a skinwalker, a figment of his mind given form and shape and a voice that tricked his mind, in a way that only dreams can achieve
The dream in the shape of a lamb stared back, eyes wide not from surprise but from… apathy, perhaps. Hard to tell when their neutral expression was that of a wide eyed newborn.
The silence was stretched over minutes, maybe hours, it was hard to tell in that place
“well” he finally took initiative, putting one foot in front of the other, staring down at them “what will it be this time? What do you have to say to me? What insightful observation will you offer me tonight?”
They looked towards the floor, frowning, processing their next words carefully
“I don’t… I don’t think I can keep doing this”
What
“I mean, what am I supposed to say? No, seriously, what can I say in this situation?” they hugged themselves “no matter how hard I try, you are way better at this than I am, it makes me feel… pointless”
They turned back and started to move away, away from him, from the dream, from any form of existence at all.
His limbs were rigid, he couldn’t move, couldn’t run, couldn’t chase after or extend his arms to stop them.
He forced himself to speak up, the sounds that came out of his mouth had no resemblance to words
“Narinder” they stopped, he kept gawking like a gutted fish “is there anything, anything at all, that I could say right now that would make you break into their room and open up?”
He closed his mouth shut and gulped down pure bile, he could lie to himself, but not to them, not right here and now.
“I already did all of what I could, what follows next… is entirely up to you” they turned back once last time, an ocean of sorrow swelling behind those white dots they had for eyes “I’m sorry”
He opened his mouth on a silent scream that never came out
And then woke up
Ichor pouring out of eyes, nose and mouth, claws extended tearing apart bedsheets and pillows alike. His eyes were wide, his mouth was dry, fur covered in cold sweat.
He stood up in the blink of an eye and… remained there, half asleep half awake, trapped between two worlds, none of which felt truly real.
There was a tornado inside his mind, neurons sparking off like fireworks in a dark sky. Breathing was a titanic task that feel beyond him.
He took a step
And then another
And then another
He killed every thought that dared to show its face, that was the only way any of this could be accomplished, trough instinct alone
He made a conscious effort to move on autopilot, to focus on having a bare mind while his body moved with a mind of its own, it wasn’t long until he found himself in front of an old wooden door that separated him from his eternal source of dread.
…
The lamb would be mad tomorrow morning, but that will be then, and this was now, and now, if he had to stop to lockpick it, he would have to form a thought, and if he such a folly, he would run off the nearest cliff and make sure to land on his head.
Without the door in the way, now the last thing that separated him from the lamb was nothing but their heavy sleep and his primal fear
…
He let out a scream.
It wasn’t a scream of fear, surprise or anger, it wasn’t a battle cry to infuse himself with courage, or a call for attention.
It was just air leaving his lungs at alarming speeds. Exactly what he needed in that moment.
The lamb woke up screaming, agitating both arms to their sides like a newborn chicken, immediately turning the crown next to their heads into an axe, then a sword, then a gauntlet then back into a sword.
“W-WHAT IS-!? nari!?” they looked to both sides, aiming their sword in all directions, ready to jump into battle regardless of the hour or place or context “what is going on!? Are we under attack?! Why are you… did you rot my fucking door?”
Alright, now the last step
It was simple
All he had to, was to say three words, words he had already said before out of order, lacking meaning.
…
“Narinder, if you wanted to sleep here so bad you could have… are you ok?”
His pupils were 2 blurry lines that moved in all directions, never staying still long enough to catch any relevant information.
His eyes were so wide they were starting to hurt, his jaw clenched like a closed bear trap, his claws digging so hard into his palms he was half an inch away from reaching bone.
He opened his mouth
…
“Nar-“
He lunged at them and bit down hard.
.
.
.
Lambert lied in bed, surrounded by darkness, torn sheets and a swarm of questions with no apparent answer.
What had been any of that? Why rot down his door? Why scream? why… attack them out of nowhere?
That wasn’t some attempt at getting the crown back, it wasn’t his usual way of asking for attention, it didn’t even feel like revenge or payback for what had happened earlier that day with the whole “boyfriend” thing.
There was nothing they would have desired more than to stay awake all night, rotating all these ideas inside their little, silly head until an answer was forced out of hiding. Unfortunately, their bed was soft and their soul was exhausted, sleep charged trough interrogatives and queries like a knife trough warm butter until it hit them square in chest.
He was waiting for them on the other side
“Hi Dream-rinder” they stood up from the ground of solid clouds and mist, seizing him up, trying to prevent what they should expect from him tonight.
“that’s a stupid name” well, it was definitely better than what they expected
“I have to call you something, and Narinder is already taken… maybe “the one who waits”? you wait for me to fall asleep Afterall”
He didn’t gift them an answer, too busy floating around them, studying them from every angle. Eyes half closed, mouth a single line.
“So, about current events” he stopped “what do you assume it could be?”
“Well, he didn’t seem sad, or angry or… he did seem afraid… but of what? He isn’t afraid of me, and his reaction to nightmares tends to be more… closed and private” they clasped their tongue against the roof of their mouth “he looked like he wanted to say something, right before he pounced on me”
“Yes?” he moved closer, moving a hand around in circle “go on?”
“Maybe… maybe he had done shrooms?”
Nari stopped dead in his tracks, closing all 3 eyes and inhaling deeply
“You think… that he was doing shrooms?” one hand was on his temple massaging his head, the other hidden behind his back
“I mean, it would explain the weird behavior” what else could it be? What else could drive anyone, let alone him, to make such a fool of himself?
“…originally, the bishops planned on executing you by taking off your brain” he turned his back on them and started to dissipate into mist “they changed their plans after speaking to you for five seconds”
They woke up before having a chance to get mad