A New Game is Started
Gwen-Stacey knew someone was inside her apartment the second after she’d stepped inside and shut the door behind her. She felt the displacement in the very air, caught the scent of familiar cologne, though it was not one that she knew personally.
Where had she smelled it before? Dark and spicy. It was exotic yet not overpowering.
Casually, so as not to arouse suspicion, Gwen-Stacey moved to throw her keys into the awaiting bowl she kept on the side table next to the door. Just as she tossed them in, she made a slight exasperated sound like she’d forgotten something. Perhaps her home invader would think she’d forgotten to get her mail from the lock boxes downstairs. Cursing slightly, she fished her keys out and turned around nice and easy before reaching for the door knob.
She hoped whomever was lying in wait for her wouldn’t see the slight tremble she felt in her hand as she unlocked one of the deadbolts and turned the knob to step back outside.
"There is really no point in leaving Miss Reynolds. There is no place on this earth you can go that I cannot follow.”
And though she didn’t realize it, she froze at the sound of the familiar voice for the second time that day.
It was the voice from her dreams.
~~ ~
Morpheus knew Gwen-Stacey felt his presence inside her residence the moment she did. She was a very good actor. Had he been human, he would not have suspected she noticed his presence. However, since he was not and had the advantage of being connected to the human psyche nearly every moment of the day, he'd known instantly. She would never be able to fool him, nor could she ever hide anything from him. All that remained to be seen was if Gwen-Stacey was strong enough to play with the big boys.
He was banking on the unlikely chance that she was.
~~ ~
“Why don’t you step inside so we can talk?” Morpheus asked, gauging her reaction closely.
“Alright,” Gwen-Stacey turned and faced the direction that darkly rich voice came from. She needed to assess the situation properly. For all she knew he could be holding a gun to her head. Putting on her best game face she met the stranger in her apartment head on, “Cut the crap. Who are you?”
Morpheus materialized fully and though she couldn’t see anything, she felt his presence solidify inside the living room. It was like he was just more there. It was unlike anything Gwen-Stacey had ever experienced before. She was pretty sure she wasn’t dealing with the average, everyday sort of mugger. Not unless they could manipulate reality all of a sudden. God help the NYPD if that ever happened.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he answered flatly. Morpheus knew that sort of answer wouldn’t satisfy her in the slightest. However, several millennia dealing with mortals had made deceit and artifice the name of the game. Anything else didn’t come easily anymore. Still, even he could admit he was curious enough about this particular mortal to seek her out and learn more about her. It would be interesting to see how well she did with some good old fashion truth.
“Try,” Gwen-Stacey urged, waiting patiently for him to continue. Knowledge was power. Right now she had no idea what was standing inside her living room so she was definitely on the losing end of this confrontation. She needed more information. Maybe he would be good enough to give it to her.
“I am one of the Oneiroi.”
Ok, maybe not she amended. "Come again?"
Gladly was Morpheus's initial thought, but managed to stay his tongue on that one. Instead he addressed her question in normal, imperious fashion, “You heard me.”
Gwen-Stacey bristled at his tone, crossing her arms across her chest, “An Oneiroi, huh? Which one: Morpheus, Phantasos, or Icelus?”
“You know us?” he asked more than a little surprised. It was obvious she was a smart woman, but knowing the names of his lesser known family belied a deeper education in classic mythology. Well, for humans anyway, for him it was just his annoying family baggage.
“Not personally,” she answered dryly. Gwen-Stacey knew how to deal with difficult people. It was what she did for a living. Granted, she didn’t particularly like confronting someone (or something) in her own home, but her years of on-the-job training were not easily ignored. It was better to fake control in a situation than the alternative. She would keep her freak-out to the bare minimum.
“Fair enough,” Morpheus said taking a step forward. Though he was silent, she seemed to feel the movement and took a responsive step backwards. Gwen-Stacey was scared. Her heartbeat was loud to his ears, her pulse erratic, but she was doing a decent job of appearing cool and collected on the outside. Morpheus was about to test how strong her cover was, “So tell me Miss Reynolds, what do you know of my kind.”
She gave him a sharp look, “You didn’t answer my question.”
“No, I didn’t,” Morpheus said matter-of-factly.
“How am I to take you serious if you won’t tell me which Oneiroi you are?” she asked, losing a little bit of her cool patience.
“I will take you seriously if you can rightly guess which one I am,” he replied easily.
Gwen-Stacey took a deep breath. She was definitely dealing with a crazy, but if he managed to get inside her apartment, he was a smart crazy. She was going to have to play this game if she wanted to get out of the apartment. She was going to have to take the chance that he was a crazy with some semblance of honor. In New York that was asking a lot, but miracles were known to happen. “Ok, but only on one condition.”
“Done.”
She pulled up short, "But you didn’t hear my condition.”
“You want to walk out of your apartment unharmed and in one piece, though that’s really one and the same when you think about it. Your thoughts are a little all over the place right now, so I can’t really blame you for the repetitive nature of your desire.”
“Gee thanks for not holding it against me your Greek godliness.”
“You are welcome." Morpheus knew she was being snarky, but he didn’t mind. She was pretty cute when she was annoyed. Plus, it only added to his enjoyment of the game."Aren’t you curious how I knew what you were thinking?”
She gave him a withering look. Considering she couldn't rightly see him, she did a pretty good job of nailing him. "You’re a stranger in my apartment, asking me to guess which Greek god of dreams you are, so I think it’s safe to say that my only wish at this point would be to leave in one piece.”
“Touché,” he said, giving her a begrudging smile.
Gwen-Stacey cocked her head to one side, trying to give off the appearance of casual acceptance. “So, if I can guess which dream god you are, you’re going to let me leave, right?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t try and stop me?” she asked.
“Not unless you beg me to.” His voice was chock-full of sexy insinuation. Morpheus could just imagine all the ways she could come up with to beg a favor of him. He thought on her knees, in front of his naked body might be a good place to start.
She gave a decidedly unladylike snort, as if she could read his own dirty thoughts. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Why not? You haven’t even seen what I can do,” he all but purred.
“Nor do I wish to,” she bit back, but he didn’t miss the gooseflesh that rose on her arms.
Morpheus smirked but didn’t say anything else. There would be plenty of time to make her eat her words later on.
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Only one.”
“Three,” she countered.
“One, so make it count,” he replied, watching her closely.
“Do you promise to answer my one question honestly?”
“Of course, so long as you don’t ask me my name,” Morpheus grinned, knowing exactly what she was thinking.
“Fine.” she agreed, a little irritated that he wouldn’t be falling for that particular trap. It was time to really use her brain. She thought for a few minutes, formulating the question in her mind before saying it aloud, “If you could only be one thing, which would it be? A lion, an oak, or a beggar?”
His smile grew wider. She really was a clever one. “A beggar,” Morpheus answered honestly.
Now it was Gwen-Stacey's turn to smile. “That makes you Morpheus,” she deduced confidently. Her degree was in social work and psychology but she minored in classical studies - that included some of the great Greek and Roman poets. Ovid's Metamorphoses was among one of her favorite epic poems.
“And what makes you think Ovid had it right?” Morpheus challenged. The Roman was among one of the few mortals he'd ever conversed with inside the dream realm. Had he realized the poet had such an aptitude for remembering his dreams so accurately, he would not have been so careless. It was a lesson Morpheus had done well to remember.
“He didn’t…not completely anyway,” she said, shaking her head slightly.
“How do you know that?” he asked interested in hearing her take on him. Ovid had only gotten part of the story, but that part had been accurate enough to earn him the ire of his father and his brothers that time.
Gwen-Stacey shrugged, “Because I’m no king or general of men, yet here you are: Morpheus, god of dreams, standing before a lowly mortal. Had Ovid been right, you wouldn’t be here. It would be someone else, a lower son no doubt.”
“So you believe there are a thousand of us?”
“Not a thousand like you. You’re one of the big three; Morpheus, eldest of the Oneiroi. You're a direct descendant of Hypnos himself, and master of human appearances. Maybe you really do have a thousand younger siblings. Your father might need that many to handle the realm of dreams, but you and your two brothers are special. That is, if you are who you say you are,” she said, quirking one eyebrow at him. Though she still wore her darkened glasses, Morpheus caught the movement easily.
She really did seem to know a little about him and his family. His brother Icelus could become any animal or beast known to man, while Phantasos could become any inanimate object like a river, tree, or rock. It was handy to say the least. But Morpheus was the most powerful among them. Truly he could appear as anyone, living or dead; their very voice, speech, and language his to command. Only his father was more powerful.
“I am Morpheus, god of dreams, eldest son of Sleep himself. I am a master craftsman of human form, mannerism, and speech if you want to get specific about it.”
What you are is insane Gwen-Stacey thought but knew better than to say aloud. Instead she waved at him and said, "What you are is your business. I, on the other hand, am leaving.”
Morpheus turned to watch her go, his black eyes gleaming in the dark apartment. Gwen-Stacey was asleep the second she stepped clear of her apartment's threshold. The deal was to let her go unharmed and one piece, and he'd upheld his part. However, she had not asked him to leave her residence or even to leave her alone once she'd gone.
As he collected her sleeping form and re-entered her apartment, his mind quickly worked to assemble a new dream. A world that she would create, but he could control.
And this time, no one would be interrupting them.
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A/N: The attached painting is entitled "Morpheus & Iris" by Pierre-Narcisse Guérin, 1811. Though nothing much like the Morpheus I have imagined, it still is a beautiful depiction of the little-known dream god. =c)