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[hypnagothic]

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[matermali]

[ With both hands now resting in her lap, she considers what it would mean for Morpheus to 'not respond well'. A cold shoulder? A demand for silence? Was the poor man punished?

Is he going to punish her?

Well, she'll lean into it. ]

Lonely souls often recognize one another...and it can be painful to be seen.

[ She looks to her hands while letting out the tiniest of shrugs, as though there can be no helping it. ]

Or else why would we remain lonely?

[hypnagothic]

[ there's the faintest huff of breath through his nose with a slow blink of his eyes, gently scoffing. ]

I do not imagine him to be a lonely soul. Quite the opposite, in fact.

[matermali]

[ With a minute tilt of her head, she looks back to him and wonders again at how old his friend must be. She can still recall what had earlier been alluded to. If he is anything like Morpheus, then no matter the character, he must have known loneliness at some point. ]

For how long have you known him? Beyond 'quite some time', I mean.

[hypnagothic]

For a number of years.

[ the barest smirk. ]

I will allow him to illuminate you on the details, if he wishes to provide them.

[matermali]

[ That only gets her to perk up a little. ]

Is that an invitation for me to meet your friend?

[hypnagothic]

You would likely invite yourself to do so if I did not.

[matermali]

[ He isn't wrong. Once she had the name, it was only a matter of time. ]

How could I resist the opportunity to ask after the adventures you two must have had?

[hypnagothic]

[ another soft little huff, almost the beginning of a chuckle. ]

I fear you may be disappointed on that front.

[matermali]

Disappointed in something that involves you?

[ A playful squint accompanies her gentle headshake. ]

Impossible.

[hypnagothic]

We shall see.

[matermali]

An adventure is not always a mad dash through chaos.

[ Though, that type does have usually bring brilliant stories. ]

Sometimes it can be a quiet discovery.

[hypnagothic]

I may be the Prince of Stories, but I will leave that story for his telling.

[matermali]

Then I must request a different story from you in the future.

[ Which does remind her, ]

I never did hear what happened to Yama and Yami. Did they manage to discover everything?

[ The journey they had set out on sounded so tantalizing. To experience everything the world had to offer was what she had always yearned for, from its sweetness to its most bitter—to swallow the night, crawl through the sand, and sink into the sea.

But of course, something must have gone wrong for them. It always does. ]

[hypnagothic]

Would you like to hear the rest of the tale now?

[matermali]

[ She had been the one to bring it up, but now that he's offering, she thinks that one ought to wait for the future as well. ]

Mm... No, I am worried it will make me sad.

[ No doubt there will be plenty opportunity for sad things in the future. ]

Are there any stories that don't carry a sadness?

[ A question that isn't a question at all. ]

[hypnagothic]

[ he nods to her decision to wait for the rest of the tale. ]

Oh yes, there are countless.

[matermali]

[ Scoff! ]

I don't believe it.

[ Perhaps there are many that sound nice, she muses, but there is always an element of something...else. ]

Even in the happiest of tales there must something sad, however miniscule. Some sort of...struggle. Perhaps only so small that few notice it where it hides, that forgotten sadness.

[hypnagothic]

That is a very human outlook. Not all creatures and entities find hardship pleasing.

[matermali]

Well. I am human.

[ Or something that looks like it, but the disillusionment is all her own. ]

The day you can share a story that has never known sadness, I may kiss you for the delight of it.

[ Which should be nothing new by now, but in this case it's a gentle jest. She would be surprised if he could find her such a story, however. ]

[hypnagothic]

I could share one such story at this moment.

[matermali]

[ The quick response gets a short chuckle as she sets down her glass, grinning and shaking her head incredulously. ]

Well then, how can I refuse? I am usually one for a good surprise.

[hypnagothic]

Very well ...

[ Morpheus starts to softly speak, his voice is steady and confident, painting the scenes in the story with his low pitch and deep tones. he words keeps a slow and even tempo even during the more urgent beats of the tale's plot, but it never feels plodding or painful, and there's just ... something about the way he speaks that makes the listener feel as if they themselves were there in the story, the scenes and characters fully formed in their imaginings as if they could merely turn there heads and see it all lying before them.

And true to his word, he tells her a story that has no sad elements in it, only joy and celebration of all life in its glory. it's very obviously not a human story, the words and names of things completely foreign, the world fantastical by human standards but still somehow believable by him telling of it, speaking as if it's a place he's actually been to, walked the paths and swam in the rivers he describes.

it's not a terribly long tale, maybe 10 minutes have passed since he began speaking, and the ending sounds as if there could be more to it if he only kept going. ]

[matermali]

[ As lovely as it is, the fact that so much of it is foreign beyond measure only proves how impossible it is for humans to escape sadness. What good are these stories to the people who do suffer? There is still sadness in every human story, and that is all that matters in the day-to-day. That is what's important to her.

At least she does momentarily enjoy the fantasy of it, eagerly propping her chin against her palm and watching intently while he talks. By the end, her gaze has sharpened more in contemplation, but if anything makes her think it's worth appreciation. His time alone accounts for most of that fondness, of course.

Straightening back up, she'll give a few soundless claps against her palm in tiny applause. He cheated utterly, which she can respect. ]

Lovely.

[ What she understood, at least. ]

You must stop proving me wrong, Morpheus. My pride will wither.

[hypnagothic]

[ he gives the barest nod in acknowledgment of the applause. ]

I find that unlikely, lady.

[matermali]

You seem so certain about me. I may surprise you yet.

[ Although, any surprises left are likely no good, so better they stay where they are. ]

I quite like it when you call me Vanessa, you know.