𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲【𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐦𝐩 𝐖𝐚𝐫】

♛88♛

tw/cw: existential themes, light blood/small break down?

I'm very serious about this guys, if any of this, even a tiny bit, makes you feel the slightest bit weird, uncomfortable, anything. Stop reading. Don't read the chapters with these warnings. I do in fact give them for a reason, and I'd hate for any of you to experience anything negative because I didn't provide good enough warnings. ♛

(Time line is a little skipped around, but it's fine :)

Did I make a canonical height for DreamXD even if it may be wrong? Yes

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Geroge was frozen where he stood. He hadn't seen Cypress in quite a while, and her overpowering height paired with the horns that curled towards her ears made anxiety creep into his bones. The woman in front of him seemed odd, changed, his eyes trailed down to the axe she fiddled with in her hands before taking a cautious step back, allowing her inside.

"I don't know who that is." He blurted out. She hummed, taking a few steps into the house, her shoulders covered by the fabric that she was typically seen wearing.

"That's odd, I seemed to have heard different." Cypress spoke, almost teasingly, tilting her head, moving herself to the small dining table with two chairs, sitting herself down in one that had a certain masked mans hoodie on it.

"Why are you here?" George muttered, moving to sit in the other chair, picking at the skin around his nails in nervousness. The woman kept eye contact with him, her newly acquired wine eyes seemed to read him like an open book.
"And.. and.. what happened to you? You look like Sch-"

"Don't. I'm aware of it. To answer your question, I don't know. But, I'm not here to talk about my appearance, I'm here to talk about the little god you've been meeting with." She snapped quickly, causing the colorblind man to almost flinch, before going quiet.

"George.." She trailed off the 'e', sounding almost like Dream would.
"I know it isn't wise to make deals with the Devil, you saw where that ended. You especially don't make deals with malevolent and calamitous gods."

"I don't know where that ended. Yesterday I was at Mexican L'manberg, or what used to be, I didn't.. know? Nothing is adding up, I don't even know if I'm here. Am I dreaming? That'd be right, yeah?" Cypress stood up, leaning across the table, reaching out and grabbing his collared shirt.

"I can assure you that you aren't dreaming George. If you would, I'm on a tight schedule. What is he like? The god people talk so much about." The british man felt his neck almost tighten, the woman was scary, somehow it scared him more to be in her grasps than the god himself. He knew she could hurt him, here at least. While he was dreaming, the god couldn't hurt his physical body.

"Scary. He isn't human, and.. he threatened people, killing them, parents, pets. He roped me into being his friend in exchange for armor, and tools. And, And I woke up, and my stuff was here- So he's real. DreamXD, he's real, he looked like Dream, kind of, and had a weird voice and-" George began rambling, going in and out of the subject.

"So he's real, I never doubted that.. but. Say, George. Do you happen to know where a man who goes by Foolish, lives? I've heard rumors before." Cypress questioned, letting go of his shirt, before sitting back down.
"Sorry, I find myself drifting into my anger more." She quickly apologized.

"Did.. Dream talk about me? In prison?"

"He did, I thought he'd talk my ear off. Eventually I got him back with my moral lessons that I doubt he'll take caution to." She answered, leaning back in her chair.

"What did you guys talk about?" George mumbled, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"You, I recited a lot of stories. Tommy, I guess. He asked me about what I heard, if I could hear it too. He already knew about one thing, but I worry he meant something else." Cypress adruptly stood up.
"Where's your bathroom?"

"Uh, down the hall, second door on the right- Are you okay? You look pale." She hastily nodded, gripping onto the chair, dragging herself to the bathroom. 

Cypress gripped onto the counter, staring down at the sink, before squinting her eyes shut. Her thoughts were overwhelming, plaguing itself with uncoherent and intangible strings of speech, different languages and dialects echoed through her own mind. She felt her chest tighten, her nails almost snapping in half at the death grip enclosed around the marble surface. Chills quickly crawled up her entire body, causing a shiver to shake itself into her bones. Above the voices, she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. The almost melodic thumping drowning out everything else.

In what seemed like forever, it finally stopped, although the halting of sounds, her ears began to ring. Glancing quickly up at the mirror, she noticed a figure standing behind her, causing the woman to move to turn around, only for her shoulders to be grabbed, stilling her movements.

"Don't turn around.." He hummed down her neck, he was a few heads taller, his back slightly hunched over so he fit in the bathroom.

"Let me go." She muttered out, keeping her eyes glued to the mirror that showed them the two figures. Cypress felt arms wrap around her shoulders, tugging her back into the beings front side.

"Come on.. the people call you a god, why are you scared?" He teased, moving his hand to grip onto her chin, dragging it upwards so it was at an odd angle, staring up into a mask, similar to Dream's, but with different engravings.

"I'm not scared.." She muttered, almost flinching when she felt a nail drag along the front of her throat.

"How strange." The being paused, before dipping his fingers into the skin of her neck, creating a thin line of peaking vermillion to sprout from the small wound. An echoed laugh filled the room as he continued to trace his fingers along her skin. Thin cuts appearing where ever he traced. It was soothing, in a way it shouldn't have been. His hands were creating patterns, she noticed. Methodical markings etching into her skin. At this point she believed she was now a canvas of the past. To the names marked into her skin, to the small tattoos and brandings from previous nations, the scars engraved into her own being. And now a god chiseling his own design into her.
"You aren't scared?... Well" He spoke again, leaning his head down back to her neck.

"You should be."