~Above is Dreams aesthetic.~
Dream stood in the window of his castle, staring down towards the pit of hell, also know as, town square. That's where all the new souls fell. Dream was fortunate enough to live on a tall hill, looking directly down to the spot. He spent most of his time waiting for souls to fall, so he could swiftly go down and pick one up, then bringing them home to devour their soul.
To keep your soul replenished and at full strength, you have to eat, and to eat you must steal the souls of others. It's a simple thing, a good system, since most people get sent to hell anyways.
Dream was one of the most powerful demons in hell. Because, the worse you are in your mortal life, the more powerful you are in hell. His own power almost matched the king of the underworld, but they'd never test their strength on each other. There's quite a bit of respect that comes with earned power. He was a horrific human being, somewhat of a psychopath, as people would call him. However, he just took joy in killing people, harming people, having people beg for their life. He was sadistic in every sense of the word, but his morals still stood, which by definition, did not make him a psychopath.
Demons of all kinds often waited around the square, waiting for their next meal. Most people won't eat souls that have been here for too long, they'd rather prey on newcomers who know nothing. Dream being one of those people, but technically he could eat whoever he wanted. Most demons feared Dream, and stayed far away from him. Nobody wanted to get on his bad side.
Then, it happened. Something so painfully rare, it made Dream do a double-take. "A fallen angel." Dream whispered to himself, quickly rushing out of his large abode. "I want him." He said to himself in a harsh tone, speeding on his feet down his stone trail all the way to the pit.
He managed to get there right as the angel hit the ground. All the demons who had been hungrily waiting nearby surround the pit, eager to see who got to take the best known feast. A pure soul.
"Step away from him. He's mine." Dream shouted across the square, causing most of the demented souls to scurry off in fear. However, one stayed.
"Why do you always get the best food!? Hm? Just because you're some." The demon was cut off, screeching in his own agony when Dream snapped his fingers.
"I said." Dream started, pushing the demon to the floor. "He's mine." The world around them grew hazy and lime green shaded, this always happened when he flared up. His words were laced in venom, sending chills of fear through everyone around. The demon quickly got up and bolted it, leaving a thin trail of dust and gravel behind.
Dream looked down at the fallen angel, he wore white, soft clothing, and had two thin lines of blood soaking through the back of his shirt, exactly where his wings had been severed. For some reason, this angel still seemed to have a white glow, meaning he's much more pure than any other angel that had fallen. He couldn't of done something so bad.
The angel was sobbing heavily into the dirt, never once opening his eyes. He had curled up into a ball, laying against the rough dirt of the pit.
"Can you stand?" Dream wasn't in the mood to carry any weak, innocent, fallen angel today. Angels were rare enough as it is, and he wasn't willing to treat them like how they were in heaven. If it could walk, he would make sure it did.
No response came from the angel, only harsh sobs and gasps. Angels often cried when they fell, like babies. Beings of weakness.
Dream pulled the angel to his feet by grabbing his shoulders and lifting him up a bit, only for the angel to fall back down to his knees. It made sense really, Dream couldn't even be mad, it wasn't his fault. Their balance is off when they lose their wings, since they're use to having the ability to fly.
"No." Dream grunted, lifting the angel into his arms, he weighed almost nothing to him. This pathetic pale creature wouldn't stop crying, it was getting on Dreams shirt, ticking him off.
He carried the bleeding angel up the hill in silence, as it kept sobbing to no end. The arrival to his home came by quickly, faster than usual. He was in quite the rush.
He threw the angel onto the living room floor, making him curl up into a ball, and continue to cry even harder, the entire back of his shirt stained red.
For Dream, finding fallen angels were rare, and to find one of such innocence, such beauty, this would be his first. Most fallen angels resent their lord after hitting the ground, and often cried in anger, but him? He was in pain, physical and emotional. Dream didn't think he'd ever seen someone look so shattered, even in his mortal life.
"Well, if I am to eat such a delicate soul, I want him to be of pristine quality." Dream thought in the seclusion of his mind. The healthier a soul, the more replenishing they are. Dream has never had an issue with his hunger, he's always found somewhat pure souls to keep him at bay.
When demons get too hungry, they turn on everyone.
Dream typically kept himself private, having little to no friends. But, the people he did have, he intended to keep close.
"Listen to me, angel. You'll bleed out on my expensive floor if you do not cease the blood flow. I refuse to devour an injured soul, you'll be worth less replenishment." Dream spoke with a vile tongue, having no regard for any fear he would inflict onto the fallen angel.
All he received, was heavier sobs. The damned pure soul wasn't scared at all, just unbearably sad.
"Fine, if you insist on being such a useless weeping mess on my damn floor, I'll do it for you." No words came from the angel, not even a sound other than crying. The angel hadn't even opened his eyes yet, it almost made Dream question if the angel could even hear anything.
Dream snapped his fingers, causing rubbing alcohol, bandages, and a pile of cloths and other materials to appear on the floor in front of him. He certainly did love his immeasurable power.
"If you move you'll make this worse for both of us, so stay still." Dream warned, kneeling in front of the weeping boy. He forcefully removed the shirt off of the angel, all the while heavy sobs filled the room. Not even a single protest happened, just crying. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet.
When Dream started to pour rubbing alcohol on the deep wounds on the angels back, he hissed from the pain, trying to back away from his spot on the floor. Dream grew agitated, forcefully grabbing George's shoulders and making him sit directly in front of himself, having a better view of the wounds.
"You must of misheard me. Do not move, or I promise I will make this worse for you." Dream spoke in a stern tone, making the angel in front of him still. Fear overriding his sickly sadness, even if his sobs were still on full tilt.
Dream continued to use rubbing alcohol and cloths to dab away at the wounds. He'd never helped a fallen angel before, usually he just ate them upon arrival, but this one was enticing, a being of pure beauty, and the innocence of someone who should still be on their knees in front of the lord.
"You'll be all well once again, if you remain on my good side, and you don't move too much." Dream stated, wrapping bandages around the two deep cuts in his back. "You're quite the small one, like a fragile boy. You appear to have died young as well." Dream commented, snapping his fingers so all of the first aid contents disappeared, and the shirt was gone from sight. Dream gripped onto the angels jaw, turning his face to look at him, just to get a better look.
"Gorgeous." Dream commented out loud, not caring in the slightest. He looked to be in his early twenties, guessing he passed away due to illness. Such a young, pure soul. Dream himself was around twenty, he died to the death penalty when he was found. Some guy actually managed to slip out of Dreams chamber built in his basement, and ran off to the police before he could even notice what happened. He didn't protest his prosecution, just accepted it on the spot. Besides, he thought death was thrilling, and boy was he right.
For the first time, Dream saw George open his eyes. They were bloodshot and puffy, endless tears still plummeting to the floor beneath him.
"Oh, you've opened your eyes." Dream sounded and looked unamused. He was just focused on the hunger that was beginning to fester within him.
The angel sat with a straight back, as if engraved within his mind. Like a trained animal of sorts. It was a bit jarring to be honest, to see a poor, injured and weeping boy sit so properly. It makes you wonder how badly Christianity could treat a person.
"Well, you seem quite sad. How about I take all that away from you." Dream smiled like the devil he was, charming and horrific. "Just one quick snap and you'll be gone." Dream squatted closer to the boy, inching closer to his pale face.
"No, I must remain sad, for the lord will not forgive me if I find comfort." Dream stoped dead in his tracks, staring down at the angel in disbelief. He began hyperventilating from his spot, his chest heaving and his eyes still pouring with tears.
Oh.
"You wish to remain in pain? For the damn lord? You've gone mad." Dream scoffed, watching the angel slowly fall into large panicked sobs. "You'll pass out if you don't stop breathing like that." Dream was right, he looked as though he was about to black out before him.
Sure enough, as seconds went by, everything went silent, and the angel fell back against the floor, hitting his head in the collision.
"If only you had listened to me when you had the chance." Dream rolled his eyes, scoffing and standing up again.
Dream got an idea while starring down at the innocence.
"I haven't tried torturing an angel before." He thought to himself, a wicked smile slowly growing. "He clearly hasn't committed a sin in his life, other than one I suppose, since he's here. Wouldn't it be fun to have him commit all the sins he's never tried? It would be thrilling to force an angel of all beings to do things against their own will." Within a second dream had come to his conclusion. He'd save this angel, allow him to live in his home, and go get something else to eat. How exciting.
"Well, I suppose I don't want to leave you on my floor." Dream spoke aloud, leaning down to pick the angel up, and walking off down his darkened hallway.
He stopped in front of a old door, one he hadn't opened in a while. Inside, there was nothing. Simply a small room with concrete floors and old white walls. He hadn't had a use for this room so he never did anything with it.
Dream laid George down on the floor, not even bothering to put any kind of seating in the room. He's an angel, if he can put up with the awful lord, he can put up with a discomforting floor. Before dream turned to leave, he snapped his fingers, causing light blue, white washed jeans and a soft white jumper to appear onto the angel. He had some decency at least.
He turned away and shut the door, leaving the sleeping angel in the darkness of the small room, and Dream to still deal with his hunger. He decided to leave his home to fetch some other soul.
He was definitely going to have fun with the innocence. He planned to start slow, make the angel gain some kind of dependence on Dream for survival. It sounded like an easy task, since angels were known to trust easily. Dream was a master of manipulation, it's all he did in his mortal years. Plus, he was good at faking sweetness, and care. This would be so easy, and so damn fun.
A new thrill, finally.