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[hypnagothic]

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[keepgodwaiting]

[ She counts in her head. Death, Dream, Desire, Destiny, Despair, Delirium -- Delirium? That's curious. ]

That's six.

[hypnagothic]

[ that hard expression of his makes another appearance now, the muscles bunching around his jaw briefly before loosening once more for his answer, his tone flat. ]

Destruction has abandoned his purpose.

[keepgodwaiting]

Destruction?

[ Her eyebrows go up, bemused. ]

What does "abandoned" mean, exactly?

[ Since obviously, like dreaming, mortals are fully capable of destroying on their own. ]

[hypnagothic]

That he has left his realm and ignores his responsibilities as the personification of destruction and creation, no longer directing the affairs over which he has control.

[keepgodwaiting]

And ... would things be better or worse if he was around?

[ Even as she asks it, she suspects it's a foolish question. "Better" and "worse" is a simplistic binary, and she knows it.

Still: she thinks of heat waves and cold snaps that blanket London more and more lately. Grenfell Tower. Bombs in the tube. Would the havoc humans wreak on the world around them be different if someone was there to oversee it? ]

[hypnagothic]

I cannot say. But it is obvious that what was his continues without him. As you noted earlier.

[keepgodwaiting]

Right. Yeah.

And he left centuries ago? Where'd he go?

[hypnagothic]

We know not. It was his wish that we do not enquire of him upon his leaving.

[keepgodwaiting]

Ah. Well, I can imagine how he feels. Family's complicated like that.

[hypnagothic]

Complications of family should not excuse his absence. He did not pass his mantle on so his responsibilities remain untended.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Her eyebrows go up. ]

You can pass these sorts of things on? Someone could take over your jobs?

[hypnagothic]

[ his eyes flick towards her while still facing forward, a different sort of tense now. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

--I'm not getting any ideas. Do I seem like the sort of person who wants that sort of responsibility?

[hypnagothic]

[ he keeps silent for another moment as if weighing her sincerity, and eventually his tension eases. ]

It would not only be the responsibilities he has discarded. Were he to pass his mantle, they would become Destruction.

[keepgodwaiting]

That sounds ... dramatic.

[ Maybe an understatement, there. It's like in old mythologies where someone ascends to Olympus or something. ]

Has that happened before?

[hypnagothic]

[ the silence stretches again, only the sound of their footfalls echoing in the early morning air. it goes on long enough that Johanna might think he won't answer it, but ... ]

There was one who thought to kill Despair. They succeeded, and they continue to pay for it and will do so for many millennia to come. A new facet of my sister replaced the one killed. Thus the Endless continue.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ That, somehow, chills Constantine at least as much as the revelation of how long Burgess had him trapped. Partly it's the idea of an eternity reaping the consequences of an act like that; partly it's the phrase my sister, when she was already thinking about her own family complications compared to Dream's.

(Does Cheryl think she's missing, or dead, or something? Or has she even noticed Johanna's absence? Not like they've ever been the kind of family that rings each other up every Sunday.) ]

Endlessly.

Can I ask -- no, never mind, I should ask Hob, really.

[hypnagothic]

You may ask. I may not answer.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ A crooked smile. ]

If I expected answers every time I asked you a question, Your Lordshipness, I'd be pretty disappointed.

Don't know that it's a worthwhile question to ask you, is all. You're not human. If I ask you, "Do you ever get tired" ...

[ She trails off to a shrug. ] Is that even a meaningful question to you? The way a mortal like me means it?

[hypnagothic]

[ his head tilts slightly as he looks at her, a small frown on his face. ]

I said to you earlier the manner of my capture, that I experienced a loss of strength. I suppose you might call that a tiredness.

[keepgodwaiting]

[ She shakes her head. ] See, that's not really what I mean. I mean -- of going on. Immortality. Endlessness.

[hypnagothic]

[ the frown deepens, just slightly, and the expression is similar to the one he made when Johanna realized that it was him that Burgess kept in his basement, the look he gives her just a little bit vulnerable and denying it before he turns away again. ]

... Perhaps the Prodigal did. It may have led to his leaving.

[keepgodwaiting]

He didn't say?

[ Honestly, as sympathetic as she is to Morpheus' frustration with his errant sibling, she feels some sympathy for said sibling as well. Walking away without a word except "lose my number" is a very familiar move. ]

[hypnagothic]

He did not. He would not explain before he left. Perhaps he may not have felt as you describe. As you also said, we are not human. It is not in us to change.

[ there's an odd hitch to his tone near the end, but it steadies out before he finishes. ]

[keepgodwaiting]

[ Johanna frowns. ]

What? Bullshit. I mean, you're alive, you can die. You must change. If you're influenced by us mortals at all, you'd have to.