Ch. 12: George Should Be Paid For This

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DSMP!Dream POV:


"How many days do we have left?"

George paused in his breakfast, previously poking around at something he called ''black pudding''. The Brit had wrassled Dream out of his guest bed, where he had experienced a surprisingly sound sleep. George didn't particularly care, however, sitting him down to the morning meal he had made. Fried eggs and some toast, along with this bloodwurst-type item, served as their nutritional start to the day. Dream, still very groggy, had yet to touch his food, but the fading edge of sleepiness produced the serious question now asked of the brunette.

George set down his eating utensil, drumming his fingers on the table. It wouldn't take long to recall the number of days left before the ManHunt event, but the deadline was making George anxious. He had a short amount of time to make a possible victor out of a different version of Dream.

"Under three days," George finally coughed, not meeting Dream's gaze.

The other had been facedown on his pillow when George found him, scrabbling for his mask to conceal his face when he blearily realized someone else was in the room. George had shoved the visage underneath his nose, graciously not looking, only to drag the other out of bed the moment it was clipped around his face. Still, one could tell when Dream's pointed stare was being directed at them.

".....Well, that's reassuring," Dream sighed, picking up his fork to start cutting his eggs.

"Very," George shook his head. "I don't know how we're going to pull it off."

"You could sabotage the event and just let me win," Dream proposed, pointing his fork at the other.

George wrinkled his nose. "Fat chance. I almost want to see you lose, you know."

I don't want to see me lose.

"Then what's the point?" Dream was annoyed. "If you really want me to fail, then-"

"Do YOU want to fail?" George interrupted, eyeing Dream.

"....No," Dream lifted his mask slightly, showing only his mouth. "...I never do."

"Then get your head out of your arse and suck it up," George frowned. "I know this isn't the best of circumstances...and believe me, I get that you don't want to be a part of this....but you either screw it up for yourself or at least make an effort."

"You always have such a way with words," Dream cooed, taking a bite of his food.

"I'm serious about making an effort," George picked up his piece of toast, narrowing his eyes. "Are you the type to give up?"

Not by choice.

Dream remembered a time from long ago, where things seemed so far away now. Just minutes before, he had been roughly mining out caves alongside his friends. He had been building a community house and adding to everyone's growing structures. He watched as villages turned into cities, saw the population boom and the life around him change in miraculous ways. He had been attending to a flourishing rebellion and then monitoring an unstable country. He had been fighing a war, making deals with the other side and inciting trouble where he needed failure. He had destroyed his own world just like the others did first, until it all came down to one against the many. Conflict and control were the two things he required to stay on top, and he lost them through his flawed mistakes.

In that time, however, he learned lessons from experiences he'd never thought he'd revisit again. He could hear the echoes of a forgotten president's voice, the man speaking quietly with Dream with an unhinged look in his eye. The male had donned a darker side from his grief and loss, one that Dream would soon emulate to maintain a greater level of power, discussing a shaky alliance.

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