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[hypnagothic]

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[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.

[hypnagothic]

Perhaps. But that would require continued meetings between us.

[ is he talking about being surprised or calling her Vanessa? who knows! ]

[matermali]

You do still owe me the rest of the tale about the twins, you know. I could not leave that be, it would vex me, so of course we will meet again.

[ Even if she must track him down again. On a day where sadness can be risked, perhaps. ]

Only, you ought to be the one to offer invitation for the next time.

[hypnagothic]

[ his eyebrows raise ever-so-slightly. ]

I ought to?

[matermali]

[ She'll perk her own brow! ]

It is only fair for you to choose when and where we next meet. Or do you expect me to always be the one to ask? Then you truly would wound a woman's pride.

[hypnagothic]

If fairness were the goal, perhaps. But out of courtesy, I can decide upon our next meeting.

[matermali]

Courtesy alone?

[ She absolutely doesn't expect an answer, it's rhetorical, but she'll tease it anyway. ]

Suppose then that I will think of a story to share with you. I cannot promise it to be happy, though.

[hypnagothic]

[ expected or not, he gently ignores the tease. ]

I am accustomed to all manner of stories, but I shall look forward to your telling of one.

[matermali]

I will do my best to think of something to entertain the master of stories, then.

[ What he doesn't ignore is far more relevant to her interests. Looking forward to! Not something too many would say about Vanessa after meeting her, so of course she is delighted when they don't run for the hills, or ban her from future dinner parties...

The sunset has made quite a ways through its journey, and when Vanessa looks back she can see the orange and pink beginning to fade. ]

I forgot to look at the sunset. I may try some again at sunrise, then. I should think them to be a sweet breakfast for you and your friend, as well.

[hypnagothic]

You need not seek to impress. Perhaps you could share your favorite tale.

[ he keeps looking at her she she turns her own head, but he also turns to look towards the window as she talks about the sunset. ]

If you would have them for breakfast, I understand that the rinds would also make a an excellent tea when steeped for a time.

[matermali]

[ A favorite? That might be difficult, but worth thinking about. Even with her constant wandering and testing the barriers, there is too much free time to go mad if one doesn't have something productive to mull over.

The suggestion comes as a surprise, not for the content but that he simply offered it. Though, now she's very interested in how different it must taste when steeped. Likely much more subtle. ]

Mm, I must give it an attempt, then! I can already imagine the aroma filling the room, how delightful it must be. I have yet to find any proper tea here, so I should like to experiment with something new.

[ Tipping her head slightly, she'll be glancing from the window to the cupboard where she learned the glasses and mugs are, as if already planning out her steps for tomorrow. It rarely goes to plan due to impulse, but she does do her best to plot her days in advance. ]

I will enjoy a cup with breakfast and think fondly of you. Have you ever had tea? Or coffee?

[hypnagothic]

I have.

[ simply said with no elaboration, sorry Vanessa. ]