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https://archiveofourown.org/works/66832231

I Must Be Someone New

19 June 2025 — 23 June 2025

Summary: He had forgotten what he was before he meet these three. Not that it mattered when he gave up his past and old name to the eldritch god that this party followed. He could only hope that he wouldn't regret it in the end.

Snippets of Ivy's journey with his new adventuring party.

AKA: A Sleep Token Fantasy AU

Word Count: 9.3k words

TW: Insects related to a scene of body horror, blood, temporary character death, the eldritch god that is Sleep

Please take care of yourself

Author’s Note: Every time my brain says, "Hey, you should make a fantasy AU for this thing you like", it usually ends up running away from me into something that's long and filled with hints of worldbuilding.

Well, I've done it again. Combine a dash of horror, plenty of a-spec musings, a few kisses (woah, where did that come from?), and you get this.

Title is from Euclid by Sleep Token.

This is me playing around with their stage personas. There's nothing related to their real identities here, and I don't intend for there to be.

Also on AO3

The AO3 version features more ramblings on the end notes

The hardest thing that came with joining a party that already had pre-established roles was figuring out what the newest member was going to do and how that would contribute to the party’s wellbeing. It wasn’t without grumbling and sighing and looks of pity.

The second hardest thing was figuring out the different quirks that each individual person had and how that contributed to the overall quirks of the party.

One such quirk had been the names.

Wait, fuck that.

It wasn’t just the names. That would be putting it lightly.

It was how the party swore before a name that was unpronounceable to the common language, instead bastardizing it to something that could be wrangled around the human tongue. It was how by swearing before that unspeakable name, their old lives were given up with nothing to look forward to but the future. It was giving up one’s childhood and memories. It was giving up one’s old name, and receiving a new one in return.

He didn’t have anything remarkable to remember. He had a stable yet aloof relationship with his parents, compounded by the fact that all his siblings had moved out of the house and only visited when prompted to. He had joined and left a few parties in the past. Had kissed a few people, had tried to woo even fewer.

He mostly wanted to belong someplace. He wanted to have a stable presence, someone to look to when times got rough and just whenever he wished to. Perhaps it was too much to ask for when his life was relatively quiet and he also yearned for excitement. What a juxtaposition his desires were!

Still, it wasn’t without a few days of musing over things did he come to a decision.

Nowadays, if he tried to remember, it would only come up fuzzy — if anything came up at all. He knew that he came from somewhere, but where that somewhere was is now lost to the void. He knew that he had joined other parties, but who the members were he couldn’t recall.

Perhaps it was for the better.

He had been asked to swear before the god as he lay on his bedroll, its eerie presence thick in the air as night fell on the camp. The campfire was only embers now, adding to the atmosphere as smoke rose and occasionally drifted towards him. He had been asked to swear before the night, before what it brought. Swear before the dreams that the darkness brought, swear before the cousin of death.

Swear before Sleep.

He swore.

He also swore rather colorfully when he felt his foot abruptly twitch as he felt as if he was falling through the depths of time and space. He could vaguely feel his feet kick out as if he was trying to get up and bolt. He could more strongly feel two of the party’s members grip his wrists and pin them to the ground as his arms threatened to start swinging wildly. There was a ringing in his ears that grew in intensity and only stopped when a long finger traced something on his face. He couldn’t see who it was in the darkness despite his eyes being wide open. He could only feel his limbs convulsing and others anchoring him down, and the cold fingertip drawing and the sticky sensation on his face afterwards.

Then, silence.

Emptiness.

Something cold caressing his cheek, something with no fingers. Whispers, all of them female, all humming together into a chorus that sounded ethereal. His mind felt quiet despite the noise.

Then, he had been shot back to the waking world.

He had barely enough time able to see and process the sore, purplish marks on his wrists before he had turned to his side and coughed up chunks of coagulated blood on the dirt. It hadn’t been a lot of blood loss, just enough to get him a bit dizzy from worry.

He wasn’t supposed to be coughing up blood, that’s all.

When his breathing had calmed and he wasn’t retching, it was only then had he realized that someone had been rubbing his back and whispering, “Sorry, it’s never fun. But, welcome Four.”

So that was his name now. Reduced to a number.

Four.

If he hadn’t just felt as if he was dying or confused or pulled into something bigger than himself, he would’ve grabbed onto that ball of anger over being objectified like that.

Instead, he laughed. It had been a pitiful-sounding one, tasting of iron in the back of his throat. He had leaned into the person who spoke to him, trying to find some sort of restraint to stop laughing. When that laughing had turned into tears streaming down his cheeks (how did it turn into that again?), someone had placed a heavy hand on his shoulder before patting it twice and saying that he should get some sleep.

Sleep.

Ha ha, very funny.

------

While there was a lot of freedom that came with a new party, there were still rigid rules that everyone followed. They were few, but they were there. Everyone in the band followed them (and yes, they called themselves a band). Some were unspoken and understood clearly enough while others were said through shaking voices and shouts of terror.

Rule one of the band: Glamours were to be dropped when the sun set.

No matter how much someone wished to remain appearing as normal as possible, the night called for Sleep’s gifts to be shown proudly. That meant skin as dark as the night, often with small shimmers sparkling throughout. That meant Sleep’s sigil on their faces, a pristine white against roughened gold and black faces. That meant tasting blood in the back of one’s throat if one disobeyed, and if they still refused, a broken circadian rhythm that slowed everyone down.

Rule two of the band: Masks on before sleeping.

“That means you too Ivy,” Three admonished, throwing a black balaclava with Sleep’s sigil painted on it. “Don’t wanna make the eldritch god mad now, do ya?”

Some semblance of joy overcame whatever annoyance that Ivy had felt towards the sarcastic remark. He was still officially called Four, though he had adopted the nickname Ivy after an unfortunate encounter with a monstrous plant that resulted in…well, he shan't say. It had been embarrassing for everyone.

Thankfully, he still had his green thumb to make new memories over the species of evergreen plant. Positive ones.

“Don’t patronize him,” Two said, face already covered. Whatever furrow he had in his brows was gone and instead replaced with the most sad, puppy-like expression. Ivy found it very adorable, but he didn’t dare say it to the shortest band member. He saw firsthand what happened to beings that wronged him, and he wasn’t interested in being next on that list.

Rule three of the band: Masks stayed on throughout the night.

Granted, Ivy discovered this one himself, completely unprompted. One would argue that the lesson would stick to him better because of it.

It was a morbid curiosity, he had told himself as he gently pulled Two’s balaclava up over his mouth after he heard Two’s breathing sound a bit off. Sure, mouth breathing could lead to snoring and other issues later on, but breathing a bit better now sounded a lot nicer.

He expected…well, he expected Two to sleep better.

Ivy didn’t expect Two’s mouth to split open and reveal rows of sharp teeth, nor the insectoid mandibles to unfurl methodically from somewhere in his cheeks and jaw. It smelled like blood and saltwater as they unfurled, moving around as if it was a long time since they’ve been free. They reached out towards him and one gripped onto his forearm as he knelt there, unable to move.

Move, idiot.

He didn’t move. But he did scream.

Ivy’s heart jolted into his throat as he felt something hot and fleeting on his cheek, and suddenly he was awake and lying on his bedroll. His lungs were working over time as he panted and realized that he was awake because someone had slapped him.

“What did you see?” Two asked. His balaclava was fully on his face, almost as if it hadn’t just been moved. His voice, normally heavy with sleep in the mornings, was precise and clear. It wasn’t sharp to be mean, but instead sharp with an intent to understand.

“I…” Ivy placed a hand over his chest and willed his heart to slow down. “You had– Fuck, you had insect mandibles coming out of your mouth.”

Two’s hands came up to hold the sides of his own face, then they gripped Ivy’s shaking hands. “Four. Ivy. Whatever you prefer right now — ”

“Ivy.” Not Four. Whatever he could do to distance himself from whatever that was.

“Ivy. That was a nightmare.”

“It felt real.”

“That’s usually how Sleep’s dreams go. They feel unnervingly real until you wake up. You eventually find ways to distinguish between waking and dreaming, but the first few nightmares are always the roughest.” Two gently took Ivy’s hands and placed them against his cheeks, loudly breathing in and out as a silent request for the other to match his rhythm to calm his own respirations. “We all had to deal with them. Feel this, you’re awake now.”

In the light of the halfmoon and the few embers from the campfire, Ivy felt the cloth of the balaclava beneath his calloused fingers, then the curve of Two’s jaw. His fingers moved over to feel Two’s lips beneath the cloth mask, somewhat chapped yet still soft despite the rest of his face — just like Three’s face and his own — being rougher.

It was normal. No odd indents that indicated otherwise.

Ivy was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss Two, balaclava over balaclava. Perhaps it was the fading adrenaline that was leaving his system, but some sleepy part of his brain rationalized that it would confirm that he was indeed awake.

Besides, he saw the rest of the party do the same to each other. Small pecks on the lips, longer ones on the cheek or forehead. He had seen the aftermath of deeper kisses though, the most striking one in his memory being between Vessel and Two. There were adjustments of clothing (what was up with those two wearing the most low-rising pants ever? Ivy could still see Two’s magic-imbued tattoos on his lower abdomen poking through when he closed his eyes), skin shimmery akin to a blush, and Three giving a knowing grin as he had loudly said, “Now don’t let us ruin your fun. C’mon Ivy, let’s take an extra long supply run today.”

Speaking of Vessel, Ivy had sputtered upon hearing Vessel’s name at first; after all, why wasn’t his name a number like the rest of them? Then, Vessel had explained that his name was also a number: Vessel One. It was just easier to call the rest of them by the distinguishable half of their god-given names.

He didn’t exactly mind being called Four anymore (well, save for this nightmare). He just also liked being called Ivy.

He hoped that Sleep didn’t mind or care too much.

Ivy had been with this party for long enough that Vessel had extended the small kisses to himself. Chaste ones on his cheeks for when the leader was feeling extra affectionate. But the others hadn’t kissed him yet.

Then again, he hadn’t given out kisses to either of them either.

So he leaned in, hands still holding the shorter man’s face, and gave him a small kiss. Nothing serious, nothing to it.

“Why?”

“Just wanted to make sure.”

“Make sure what?” Two removed Ivy’s hands from his face. “Make sure that we wouldn’t kick you out of the band at the next town we visit?”

“What? No.” Well, maybe. “Just wanted to make sure that I was awake.”

Two chuckled. He leaned in and gave Ivy a kiss in return, this one lingering a bit longer. “You’re our fourth. We wouldn’t leave you.”

Ivy was hit with the sudden urge to just keep at it. Keep learning about these people more than he thought he knew. Also maybe keep kissing, but that was a secondary goal. “Can you sleep next to me tonight?”

“Alright.” And without a complaint, Two moved his own bedroll next to Ivy. “I’ll wake you up more gracefully next time.”

Ivy snorted. “I think I deserved the slap.”

Two shook his head endearingly and patted his bicep. “Go to sleep.”

“Can I have one more kiss? As a treat.”

The shorter man sighed, but it wasn’t one with malice behind it. “You’re going to be as bad as Three and Vess, aren’t you?” But he still leaned in and planted another kiss onto Ivy’s covered lips before setting back down and closing his eyes.

When Ivy closed his own eyes, no nightmares bothered him. It was the best sleep that he had since he joined.

------

“How long until the nightmares go away?” Ivy asked as the quartet continued on their long trek on the dirt road. Dust kicked up slightly with each step they took, and even more dust kicked up when Three randomly propelled his foot upwards. He was flexible like that, and Ivy admired it.

“You had your first one last night?” Three asked, turning to look back at the newest member.

“So what if I did?”

“What was it about?”

“That’s private information.”

“Boo! Everyone shares their first Sleep-driven nightmare. Helps you cope with the trauma,” Three said as he stuck out his tongue at the end.

Ivy quickly stepped forward and snapped his teeth at the tallest man. His intent wasn’t to actually bite Three’s tongue. He just needed to give into a bit of his annoyance.

Still, Three’s eyes widened and he leaned back at the sudden aggression before leaning close once again to toe at Ivy’s personal space. “Feisty. I like you.”

“I just said to not patronize him,” Two said. His voice sounded tired again, and Ivy hoped it wasn’t from his rude awakening last night.

“That was last night, and I saw you two practically cuddling when I woke up. Ah, ah! Two, don’t deny it. You were wrapped around him like he was a body pillow.” Three turned on the balls of his feet and walked backwards for a bit to continue the conversation while moving. “What sort of nightmare was that?”

“The kind that’s none of your business,” Ivy sighed. “Look, I’m just looking for an answer so I can stop accidently waking someone up at night.”

“Depends,” Three said with a shrug. “They never really go away. You just get better at telling a dream from reality.”

“Do the masks even help?” They were slightly uncomfortable at the best, and hot and sweaty at the worst. If they were supposed to help with the nightmares, then they weren’t doing a very good job. Maybe it kicked in later, but damn, it would be nice to kick in tonight.

“The masks aren’t for nightmares,” Vessel said. He had been quiet all morning, his own face always obscured by a mask with six eyeholes, day and night. “Who told you that?”

“I assumed? We put them on at night and we’re not supposed to take them off, so I assumed they were for nightmares?” Ivy winced when the party stopped walking, gazes moving between each other and him. “They’re not, aren’t they?”

“No.” Vessel shook his head. “They’re for protection against the gods’ avatars.”

Now it was Ivy’s turn to look between his party members with confusion. “Aren’t they just, you know — ” he gestured vaguely — “a myth at most or a fantastical story?”

“No.” Vessel continued walking, and Ivy walked next to him this time. “They’re out there, and they’re hunting us.”

“Us?” Ivy’s mouth gaped and he stepped in front of Vessel to stop him from moving forward. His heart was thudding in his ears, not as powerful as last night, but it was nearing it. “Hunting us, you said. What did we do to incur their wrath?”

Vessel’s lips pressed close together as his head tilted down. The pauldron on his left shoulder glinted silver and gold in the rising sun, dotted with red gemstones. It spoke of riches and protection, something that the leader always denied having. “Two and I lived when we shouldn’t have,” he finally said in a quiet voice. His hand rested on the pommel of his sheathed sword, a long and majestic thing that Ivy had seen used to great effect, slicing down both monsters and people who refused to let the quartet travel in peace. He took a breath — breathing sounded both effortless yet very intentional for him — before he added, “Both you and Three are hunted by association with us, and it’s not your fault.”

Ivy found that hard to believe. Association was a willing thing, so therefore there had to be some responsibility associated with his decision to join this band. “It’s obviously our fault. We — ”

“It’s not your fault.” Vessel’s jaw snapped shut after he spat out that finality and he walked around Ivy in silence once again.

Ivy opened his mouth, possibly to shout or wordlessly cry out, but Three placed a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready,” he said. “He hasn’t told me either, and Two’s just as silent about the situation as Vess is. I gave up trying to pry the answer out of them.”

Ivy peeled Three’s hand off his mouth and turned to him. “What if they never tell you? What if you end up dying to the gods’ avatars never knowing why they spite you so?”

Three’s face hardened, eyes turning steely cold as he stopped walking for a moment. Then he kicked up dust on the road, leg arcing higher than Ivy had ever seen it move. “Then I better make it hard as shit for those avatars to kill us then, huh?” He said it with such conviction, teeth bared in some sort of wild grin. The rough dark skin around his mouth and jaw framed his teeth in a way that seemed otherworldly and pretty, juxtaposed with the gold on the upper half of his face.

Ivy became very aware of how his own changed face was the opposite of Three’s: his own mouth and jaw was the golden one while the upper half of his face was the original Sleep-touched black of the night from his first change. Still, nothing could really compare to Two’s almost minimalistic change, the only bits of gold being around his eyes and dripping down akin to tears.

Vessel was a whole different story. He was almost minimalistic in change save for his skin and extra flickers of movement behind those eyeholes. Ivy didn’t think about it too hard for now.

“Ivy. Earth to Four.”

Ivy snapped back to reality. “What.”

“Thought I lost ya there. You were staring at my mouth for a long time.” Three leaned forward a bit and laughed lowly, a type of laugh that originated in the depths of the throat. “Feel like sharing with the band what you were thinking of?”

“Fuck off.”

“Well well, fuck me.”

“Where and when?” Shut up, stop prattling on. Stop feeding him.

Three let out a howl of hysterics. “I really like you!”

Despite himself, Ivy’s groan broke way to a smile. He was enjoying this band of people. They were growing on him like the crawling plant of the same name. Still, that little bit of worry stayed in his stomach.

The gods’ avatars.

How far ahead was the band from them?

How much longer until they would catch up?

And how would fleeing to Arcadia save them?

------

“I’m glad we picked you up,” Vessel said to Ivy as the band stopped in a town for the night. The two of them had split off from Three and Two because Vessel had wanted to take Ivy shopping for something in particular. The pair found themselves in a store that sold a plethora of musical instruments and proper care products for such, the owner happily announcing that if they needed any help to just holler. Sometimes, Ivy wondered if people would treat them the same if they weren’t glamoured up. “You never told us that you could play.”

“You never asked,” Ivy replied, watching with endearment as Vessel almost immediately reached for a lute and strummed it a few times, humming a song that he wrote. “You never told me that you were so talented though. Piano, guitar, bass, singing…is there anything you can’t do?”

“Percusion. I leave Two to do that, and he is godly at it.” Vessel placed the lute back to where it belonged and smiled that blinding smile of his. The white and red mask that Ivy had first met him in had changed over the past week to feature gold and green instead, always covering his eyes but leaving his mouth free. “No wonder he makes the best crowd control and shields.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask– Woah!” Ivy caught the acoustic guitar that Vessel tossed to him by the neck, hand nearing the tuning pegs as it slid in his grasp. “Careful!”

“Try that one. Play for me, please?”

Ivy blinked a few times before grumbling for a warning next time. He adjusted the instrument in his hands before strumming the open strings a few times, making minor adjustments in tuning. Then he strummed a few chords before dissolving into plucking out individual notes. He missed this.

“Can you do anything else?”

“I can sort of sing.”

“Sort of?”

“I specialize in screaming, but I can also do pretty good clear vocals,” Ivy explained. “I performed back in my hometown a few times.” He was still focused on the guitar in his hands, plucking out something simple just for practice, just to get muscle memory working again. The calluses under his fingers rubbed against the strings in a way that felt familiar and beloved.

Ivy somewhat heard the creek of the shop’s floor beneath Vessel’s feet, not really like a heel’s click or a heavy thump, but more like someone was walking about nearly barefoot. He felt the band leader’s hand tilt his chin up, and his eyes connected with the six eyeholes. He thought he saw something flicker in each of those dark slits before Vessel leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips that was gone all too soon.

Vessel had kissed Two on the lips more times than Ivy could bother to remember, paired with adoring smiles and tight hugs (usually Two initiated the hugs). Vessel had also kissed Three on the lips, usually getting the tallest of the band to bend at the knees for him or tilting up himself after Three invaded Vessel’s personal space enough. But Vessel hadn’t kissed Ivy on the lips yet.

Until now.

“I just wanted to,” Vessel said, answering the unsaid question as he caressed Ivy’s cheek with his thumb. “You’re perfect. Sleep led us to you. I’m thankful.”

Ivy yearned to get kissed again. That small secondary goal from the nightmare with Two bubbled up to the surface once again and he pushed it down lest he started getting greedy. “Why do you do that?” he asked instead, begging his cheeks to stop warming because he was so sure that Vessel could feel it.

“Because I love them.” He said it like the answer was that simple, as if the answer was crystal clear in that simple sentence. The way that the words left his mouth sounded easy, almost as easy as he sang.

“There has to be more than that,” Ivy said as he gently removed Vessel’s hand from his face. He held it gently, allowing the leader to take it away whenever he wished.

“It’s the simplest way that I could explain it. There’s more to it than that, but it gets hard to describe and people don’t end up understanding it.” Vessel slipped his hand out of Ivy’s to pick up a small crystal attachment, a sound amplifier. He turned it over in his hands a few times before putting it down and picking up another one to repeat the process. “It’s not a strictly romantic thing, if you want to believe it. I do love them, and you’re included too. Sometimes there’s a fleeting feeling of it, as if I want to make you all my favorite colors and see it whenever you laugh. And when that happens, I want to do everything I can to make all of you laugh because laughing is good for you, but also so I can see the colors burst from all of you. But often, I can’t properly describe it myself. It’s an eldritch emotion.” Finally, he found a crystal amplifier that he liked, that blinding grin back on his face. He placed it in Ivy’s open hand and said, quite simply, “A gift.”

“Oh.” Ivy mused over the words in his head, rubbing the precious gift in his hand as he did so. “Thank you.” He stood there in silence for a breath before he added, “I think I understand what you mean.” Not all of it, but enough to know that the odd ways that the band interacted together weren’t exactly quirks, but something else. Something that made him feel welcome.

“Good,” Vessel said. “Sleep will change the instrument you pick to mold with a weapon that’ll help you in battle, along with a few easy strokes of magic.” He hopped around Ivy with that silly dance that he did when he was happy. “I’m glad you stayed with us, Ivy.”

And if the way that his name sounded in Vessel’s mouth in Vessel’s voice didn’t make Ivy’s chest constrict and his brain all light, then he was lying to himself.

It was a nice feeling.

------

“You’re doing it all wrong!” Three spat as he kicked at the back of Ivy’s knees yet again.

“Maybe because you’re not teaching me anything worthwhile!” he shouted back.

“You’re a damn guitarist, I’d expect you to be able to keep light on your feet while you play! How else are you gonna fight the gods’ avatars?”

Ivy got up from the ground with a groan and glared at Three, who sardonically grinned back. Right, the gods’ avatars. They’ve been lucky so far on their journey to Arcadia, but nothing lasts forever. Their luck was running thin as their sleep had been cut short several times by heart-pounding nightmares that resulted in screaming, sobbing, or shouted curses. Even with the masks covering their faces, their nights were quickly being spent moving along and taking small naps before someone passed out involuntarily (it’s happened before already).

“Why not just wake us up with a message or something?” Ivy had asked after he had nearly gotten caught up in a trap after his eyes had shut for a moment too long. “I don’t need all that adrenaline in my body every single night.”

“Talking is hard for Sleep.” Vessel had yawned and had stomped his feet on the ground in an effort to wake himself up. “Dreams are the best way for Sleep to communicate, so that’s why we get them. Nightmares are part of the process of seeing how much we can take as well.”

A combination of sleep deprivation and puzzle pieces falling together had caused Ivy to blurt out, “That’s why Sleep gave me that nightmare?”

“Probably,” Two had nonchalantly said, ignoring Three’s protests to please tell him what Ivy’s dream had been about. “To ensure that you don’t try that again.”

Well, that was ominous, but Ivy felt as if he had understood the eldritch god a bit better.

If there was someone that was still difficult to understand, it was Three. Despite the two playing similar instruments and having opposite appearances in their changed face, the two grated against each other throughout the journey like the ocean tumbling stones. Ivy knew that the two would have to end up working together in perfect harmony eventually; after all, it was expected if the quartet was to stay a quartet by the time their journey from the outskirts of flooded Eden to the similarly coastal Arcadia ended.

Still, that doesn’t mean that the process wasn’t like swallowing stones.

“Again!” Three commanded. He made an arcing movement with his right hand, bending the space in front of him as he summoned his bass guitar, the black strap covered in red question marks. A crystal amplifier appeared near the strings and pulsed once.

Twice.

On the third pulse, Ivy made a similar movement and spun out of the way as Three started to play a series of quick staccato notes. Deep rumbles resounded through the open fields, long grass vibrating with visible soundwaves as Three kept at it.

Somewhere in the back of Ivy’s mind, he realized that this was the bass part of a song that Vessel had written. The quartet had performed music for taverns — usually unglamoured for theatrics — in exchange for a free night’s stay. Sometimes, Vessel had managed to convince Sleep to bring about the eldritch god’s choir, a trio of women who had walked out of the night in dark robes and dresses and sang alongside Vessel with voices that captivated everyone. Their shapes had been accentuated by shimmering gold and pink jewelry draped on their body, and their eyes had been obscured by swatches of dusky night and curls of gold.

That was when they were glamoured.

Unglamoured, they had towered over the band, whispering and giggling dreams of the night and of music as their lower halves melted in the darkness, almost becoming one with the night. Their voices had taken more of a hypnotic charm to them, lulling the band to sleep as the smell of the ocean thickened in the air the longer they stayed unglamoured.

They were pretty and alluring, something that Ivy appreciated. But they were so far absorbed into Sleep that there was no point in pursuing anything of note with them, not that it was something that he particularly wanted at the moment. But they had allowed him to stand close to their platforms as they sang, one of them patting his head like one would a pet.

Three had teased him about it for days on end.

Speaking of Three, he was still plucking out a rapid array of magic-powered attacks at him, daring Ivy to try and miss a single step of his odd dance to avoid getting blasted off his feet. “C’mon Four!” he taunted while throwing in a few high kicks just because the bastard could. “Thought you didn’t want to die!”

Ivy bit back whatever he wanted to say — and trust him, he wanted to curse at the bassist — and instead focused on playing notes to counter his long-distance attacks. At first, he focused on playing the notes of the actual song, but then a pulse of magic hit his ankle and he barely managed to stay standing as it shuddered up his entire body, nearly causing him to roll his ankle.

To hell with this.

Ivy improvised the next part of the song, pulling out bends and harmonics and an odd chord or two. He could feel the magic that came from his playing build up, growing and spinning around him. If there was one thing that he was surprisingly good at, it was spinning around very quickly without getting dizzy easily. He twirled closer to Three, feeling the vibrations on the ground zip underneath his feet, trying to get him to fall. His own music protected him, forming some sort of surface for him to rotate upon.

Somewhere in the back of his hearing, he heard Three shout something. Whether it was encouraging or insulting didn’t register to him; the only thing that Ivy heard was the louder bass notes, meaning that he was closing the distance.

He strummed out power chords as he felt the guitar vibrate underneath his fingers, warping until he felt metal and a warmth that felt right. His arms moved on their own, adjusting themselves until he was holding his Sleep-granted weapon above his head with the intent to swing it at Three, mild annoyance mixing with adrenaline and creating anger as a deep growl erupted from his throat not unlike his screaming vocals.

The hilt of his two-sided battleaxe collided against another metal weapon with a reverberating clang. “Alright Ivy!” Three exclaimed. “Now you’re gettin’ somewhere!” The bassist put in an extra amount of force to push Ivy off-balance as he avoided getting sliced, holding aloft his own instrument-turned-weapon — a morning star — in preparation for another attack.

Ivy panted as he looked at Three, all lanky and stupidly light on his feet and always goading someone in this band and —

He dashed towards him, aimed low, and threw his weapon aside as he tackled Three around his midsection. He felt a sense of satisfaction at hearing the bassist cry out in confusion, then the two were rolling in the open field. Somewhere along the way, both their weapons disappeared (and Ivy was glad that his intuition was correct: Sleep wouldn’t let them get hurt by the gifted objects) and the guitarist had Three in a chokehold.

“Ivy, what the fu — ” He clawed at Ivy’s arm around his neck, squirming and snarling. “Let go!”

“Not until you say I win!”

“You stupid bastard, you already did!”

“Say it!”

“You won, you fucker!”

Ivy let him go and got an elbow to the stomach. He groaned and coughed and lay there, the only other noises being a pair of heavy breathing, grass whispering around them in the wind, and a bird song in the distance. As adrenaline left his body, Ivy was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to laugh. It built up in his chest and came out in small bursts of repressed snorts before it bubbled up and he was laughing like he hadn’t just tried to childishly demand that Three tell him that he won.

“Ivy, what the hell?”

He didn’t see what Three was doing, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to control his breathing and stop laughing. His laughing stopped momentarily as he felt someone roughly place themself on his stomach, slowly calming down to wheezing and at last, an exhale.

“You good?” Three asked.

Ivy opened his eyes and looked at Three, who had laid his head down on his stomach and was idly looking at him with an interested yet bored expression. That expression changed slightly when they made eye contact, becoming a bit more contemplative. “What?” Ivy asked.

“Nothing,” Three replied. “You’ve got guts, you know that?”

“Only because you forced me.”

“Nah, besides that. I do that with everyone.” Three dismissed Ivy’s claim with a wave of his hand and added, “You’ve got guts. Really.”

“You? Being honest? Did you hit your head on the way down or something?”

Three let out a sharp “HAH!” and sat up, pulling Ivy up with him. “My head’s fine.” He leaned closer to the guitarist and suddenly gave him a small kiss on the nose. “Mostly,” he murmured, barely loud enough to be heard even if all other noise suddenly stopped.

Ivy, on the other hand, could only hear blood rushing through his ears. “Three — ”

“Look at that, Vess and Two might be looking for us soon,” Three said as he quickly got up and started making his way back to the town, “and we’ve still got to look like we weren't just sparing before performing tonight — ”

Ivy scrambled to his feet and chased Three down, spinning him around and yanking on his shirt so he was face to face with the taller musician. “You missed, you piece of shit,” he breathed.

Three grinned his signature grin, hair some odd mix of red, white, and black. It matched his personality, Ivy realized. Black like the night and his sharp tongue, red like blood and spilt vulnerability, and white like effortless playing. Three leaned in again, head tilted and mouth slightly open. His grin was no longer on his face as he paused. Waiting for Ivy to move. “So?” he whispered.

“I thought you hated me,” Ivy found himself confessing instead, courage slinking away. “You’re not that easy to get along with.”

“Nah, I was just trying to see if you’d stay,” Three whispered, sounding uncharacteristically bashful. “You sounded pretty hesitant when you heard about the gods’ avatars, and the last thing we needed was a deserter that Sleep imprinted on. You would’ve easily been hunted down, and…” He forcefully exhaled, as if revealing this hurt him more than nearly getting choked out just minutes earlier. “It would’ve haunted us. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“There are better ways to see if someone would stay.”

“I know, I know.” Three pulled back, eyes already looking away as he huffed out a quiet complaint. “No need to rub it in. I’ve already gotten chewed out by Two and Vess about it for a while now. They withheld kisses from me every time they noticed.”

Ivy felt a bubble of laughter burst up within him and he only giggled harder when Three had the audacity to look embarrassed. “Was that it? Was that all they needed to do?”

“Fuck you Ivy,” Three sputtered. “They also withheld — ”

Ivy yanked him back down before his mind could back out and slammed their faces together. Someone’s lip split and Ivy tasted iron. He felt Three’s fingers gripping on the hood of his robe as they looked for hair to latch onto, felt hot exhales melting with his own. The bassist smelled of sweat, something that Ivy recognized as Sleep’s attempt to have a physical presence in this plane of existence, and something that was distinctly Three.

Ivy pulled back, and Three still followed him. He let the bassist place his lips against his neck, eliciting a shiver and a rush of goosebumps up his arms. A breathy noise passed through Ivy’s mouth as Three’s lips leisurely traveled up his neck, stopping just below his earlobe. Three nipped at the lobe, then whispered, “This okay with you?”

On all the gods that ever existed, Three could be soft. The guitarist wanted to chase that and hold onto it like it would disappear if he didn’t touch it at least once.

Ivy swallowed — it tasted like blood from his split lip — and nodded. “Yes.” Some indecent noise crawled its way out from his throat as Three went back to kissing at his neck, aiming at spots where his pulse thumped. He hissed when Three nipped at the skin, his tongue darting out a few seconds later. “Second thought — ”

“Yeah?” Three murmured.

“We need to head back soon.” Ivy’s head felt like it was full of cotton when Three pulled his head back and– Was that a pout he saw? He let a lazy grin grow on his face as he tugged Three closer to him and planted a kiss on his nose. “I like it better when you’re like this.”

“Oh, shut up Ivy,” Three said back, but it had none of the snark that he had from before. Just leisurely provocation and something in his eyes that Ivy hadn’t noticed before. Behind all the sarcasm was some level of truth, some level of wanting others to be there.

Ivy slowly licked at his split lip while looking directly at Three, marveling at how the bassist’s eyes watched the movement like a predator. “You’re staring.”

“You started it.”

“I love you.” The words felt weird coming out of Ivy’s mouth, like saying it would cause whatever floated between the two to shatter. He had mouthed it to himself a few times in the quiet of the night, sometimes looking at Vessel, sometimes looking at Two. It was a delicate thing, that statement. An odd thing to say.

Three pressed a kiss to Ivy’s head, gentle and soft. “I did first.”

“When?”

“When I heard you play at that tavern a while back. Our first group performance with you.”

Something in Ivy’s stomach twisted and turned, grappling onto words he could say and which ones in which order he should say it in. “Asshole, you only tell me now?” was what ended up coming out.

“Give me a break. We all started sleeping less because of the gods’ avatars chasing us, and you had this glare on your face every time I tried talking — ”

“Because everything you said sounded stupid.”

“And this back and forth is what I love with us.” Three grinned at Ivy before it softened. “I love you too.”

And Ivy didn’t know what it was about that docile admission that made his chest grow tight from affection, similar yet different from the affection he felt for Two and Vessel, but it grew and grew until he wanted to do nothing more than shout it for the world to hear, gods’ avatars be damned.

“I love you more.”

“Then I love you most.”

The casual competition continued the entire way back to the inn.

------

Ivy had been to a beach before. It wasn’t a traditional sandy one by an ocean by any means; it was near a large lake that battered its shore with waves, creating rounded stones that made it difficult to walk on without slipping and gashing open one’s knees or elbows. He should know; he’s done it a few times, watching his blood mix with the water lapping at the shore as he lay there thinking, Not again.

He’s always wanted to go to a traditional beach in his lifetime. The closest one to his hometown would be the beaches of Eden. Eden was famous for lush greenery, rich farmlands, and its clean beaches. Eden was a bustling city with wide swatches of rural areas that were protected by its people, welcoming all who entered.

Ivy remembered the devastating news that had been delivered to his hometown: Eden had been flooded by the rising tides overnight. There were no survivors.

Shortly after the news broke, other whispers followed. Rumors of the gods’ avatars being spotted near Eden before it was flooded, circling around as if waiting for something. Then came the rumors of the people living in Eden deserving it somehow. Perhaps they didn’t worship the gods enough, or they had somehow wronged the deities.

People became afraid to talk about Eden, what it was and what it had become. People who used to live in Eden started denying their birthplace, saying that it was gone and buried. Their ties were taken by the ocean and by the gods themselves.

Deep down, Ivy still wished that he could’ve gotten to see Eden’s beaches.

He never told anyone.

So when he woke up on pristine white sands, feeling simultaneously refreshed like no other while being sore in places that had no right being sore, he wondered if he was either drunk or high or some ungodly combination of both. Oh gods, what happened recently…?

Ivy slowly sat up and looked around. To his left and right were stretches of endless white sand, clear blue water lapping at the edges. In front of him was a large body of water with gentle waves crashing to shore and not a hint of white foam. It smelled like salt, each wave bringing about a fresh burst of the scent. He stood up and turned around. Behind him were grey stone walls with branches bursting forth from cracks, pink flowers blooming from the plants and falling delicately on the sand below.

Idly, he started to walk.

The beach seemed to stretch on forever, never ceasing no matter how long he walked. He did this for either minutes or hours before he stopped. High in the sky sat the moon, clear as day despite it being bright out. From the lower half of the moon waved strange tendrils that curled ominously.

He stared at it for a moment longer then immediately turned his gaze back down to the ground. Nope, he wasn’t about to deal with a lunar anomaly today.

Ivy looked at his hands, then pinched himself. Ow, that hurt. Okay, so he wasn’t dreaming.

Where was he?

He spun around as abrupt panic burst forth in his chest.

Where were the others? Where was Vessel? Two? Three?

The water reached up to his ankles, tugging with more force than he remembered. Something in his gut told him to follow it, but his head told him it was stupid. Remember what happened to the people who lived in Eden, don’t fall victim to the same thing that killed everyone there.

But something in his chest urged him to step deeper into the water. Let it threaten to drag him under and away, but somehow he knew that it wouldn’t do that.

He slowly stepped forward, deeper into the ocean, until the water swirled around his knees. The bright sky cracked and split as a trio of women — Sleep’s choir — stepped forth from the darkness. They levitated above the water in shapeless robes, head bowed slightly and their hands hidden in their dark robe sleeves. They floated towards Ivy and encircled him, singing wordless songs as they did so.

Then, the choir raised their hands in unison. With them, the water rapidly rose until Ivy was fighting to find the surface, limbs flailing to try to find the bright sky. Something squeezed at his chest and he exhaled, bubbles freeing themselves from his mouth and dispersing every which way.

Oh fuck, he was going to drown.

Please, he didn’t want to die just yet.

Between flashes of light and encroaching darkness, surrounded by a trio of women singing, he heard something. It tickled in the back of his mind, akin to insects crawling on bare skin or what he imagined the faint shimmer of his night-black skin to feel like deep within.

He followed its command.

“Are you Death?” he asked. Water flooded into his mouth, and while he choked and coughed at the sensation, it never reached his lungs. Instead, he still breathed normally as if he wasn’t underwater. Air filled him, and air left him. Only the persistent taste of salt remained.

I AM ITS SIMPLIFIED COUSIN.

“Sleep.”

All at once, it was silent.

Ivy washed up on the white sandy shores, soaking wet but breathing. He turned to his side and coughed out of instinct. He looked around him, trying to find the source of the voice. It was hard to describe what it sounded like, coming from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. “I…where am I?”

DREAMING.

“Where are the others?”

WAITING.

That was helpful. Ivy kept that thought to himself before he asked, “What happened?”

He shouldn’t have asked too much of the eldritch god. Instantly, he felt himself kneel over as pain wreaked through his body. His clothes felt sticky and warm, and upon further inspection, he found that it was because they were soaking through with blood. He heard shouts of terror and of fear. He distinctly heard Vessel’s screams as they were imbued with magic, along with the metallic shwing of Vessel’s sword as it clashed against something strong. He felt the ground rumble beneath his body with Two’s drums and Three’s bass, the rhythm duo working in harmony.

He remembered Two summoning a pair of drumsticks, twirling them around his fingers as he sat down in midair and started hammering them on solid air. The sounds had reverberated as clear as they would on normal drums, forming solid shields around the others and himself. “Whatever you do,” he had said as he stared forward at the incoming threat, “do not let them near me. I make your shields, so if they get me, then you have no extra protection.”

The air had felt thick with anticipation as an avatar of one of the gods crept forward. It didn’t obey the natural laws of color and lighting, instead remaining a distinct flat beige with dark lines that defined its existence. It moved forward leisurely, as if it were taking a stroll in the countryside instead of hunting the band down.

Ivy thought that he took Two’s reminder a bit too seriously.

“Oh.”

Just like that, he was back on the sandy shores of the dream. No blood, no wounds, just a dull ache. “Oh. Oh shit. Fuck. I…I have to head back.” Ivy scrambled to his feet and was prepared to…well, he didn’t know what he would’ve done.

MY FOURTH.

“Sleep?” Four. Right. He was still the fourth. A number. “Do you know if they miss me?”

WAKE UP.

------

It was early morning. The sun crept through light curtains which billowed with a slight breeze that smelt of fresh rain. Well, it would’ve if the first scent that assaulted Ivy’s nose wasn’t the sharp sting of medicinal-grade alcohol, a mixture of medicinal plants, and a few spellcasting components for resurrection. He quietly groaned, wincing at how the action brought about a fresh wave of aching pain all over.

Something shifted next to him, and it was only then did Ivy realize that someone was sleeping nearby. He blinked away sleep and willed his eyes to focus. He found himself in a healing ward, somewhere in a town probably. It was on the smaller side, but the supplies were fresh and clean. There were a few unoccupied beds in the same room as he was, yet the person sleeping next to him lay his head on his bed while the rest of him sat in a chair.

“Vessel?” he croaked out.

The singer jolted awake, gaze automatically focused on the guitarist. His mouth dropped open for a long minute, and in that minute Ivy noticed that Vessel wasn’t wearing his mask. Six wide, watery eyes blinked back at him in awe. The most human-appearing pair was the middle one, which was the first to let tears fall. Vessel let out a loud cry that sounded like a mix between a sob and a laugh before his face lowered onto the white sheets of Ivy’s bed. One of his hands latched onto Ivy’s and gripped it like he was scared that Ivy would disappear.

The door to the small patient room was soon kicked open by a foot connected to a long leg, rapidly followed by “IVY!”

Ivy barely had time to react before he was tackled, all the air leaving his lungs and then some. He could barely wheeze out “Get off” to the intruder (no, he wasn’t an intruder, just an occasional prick) before he heard a choked “Shut up Ivy, let me have this.”

Someone else had crawled onto his bed and simply sat at the foot, patting at his leg as he said, “Let him breathe Three.”

“Fuck off Two, he can learn to breathe again while I hug the shit out of him. It’s called multitasking.” Three buried his face in the crook of Ivy’s neck and just stayed there. His uneven breath tickled and Ivy soon asked that he move off for a minute. Three’s response was to plant a small kiss there, linger for a bit more, then move away. He definitely wasn’t trying not to cry, he proclaimed as he pulled up a chair to sit next to Ivy.

Two moved to rub Vessel on the back, who was still sobbing. “Vess.” His own voice cracked and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. Ivy could see how shiny Two’s own eyes were, but he didn’t point it out. “Vess, Ivy’s awake.”

“I know.” And when Vessel lifted his head from soaking a portion of Ivy’s blanket with tears and loud sobs, Ivy somehow knew what happened.

Still, he asked. “I died, didn’t I?”

“You fucking asshole, yes you did!” Three spat out. “You had to go and play hero in front of one of the gods’ avatars, you piece of shit.” He jabbed a finger against Ivy’s sternum and muttered a quiet apology when the guitarist winced. “You’re glad that Two threw one of his drumsticks at mach fuck towards the head of that avatar.”

Ivy vaguely remembered that. A blur as a stick rushed past, quickly turning into a heavy hammer as it smashed into the skull of the avatar. It had been a bit funny at the moment, but it had probably been the blood loss talking.

“Did he get his drumstick back?”

“Did I– Of course I got my drumstick back.” Two let out an exasperated sigh as he summoned the pair of sticks in his hand before letting them disappear once again. “They’re from Sleep.”

“Oh. I forgot that.”

Two let out another groan before he draped himself across Ivy’s legs, belly up. “I should thank you for protecting me, but do not do that again. Hey.” He snapped his fingers and Ivy’s gaze moved from the exposed, inked skin between Two’s shirt and pants (gods, Two and Vessel and their stupid low-rise pants) back to Two’s eyes. “You just woke up from being resurrected, can you focus on what I’m saying and not my tattoos?”

Ivy’s skin shimmered and he looked down at his lap. “I just died, can I not admire all of you upon waking?”

It wasn’t a big request by any means. It was more of a lackluster retort by Ivy’s standards. Perhaps it was a quiet admission to something as well, something that he’d been musing over as the quartet traveled further from Eden and closer to Arcadia. He knew that they were still a long ways away from their end goal, but he wanted to be honest. He wanted that stable presence as they all ran from the gods’ avatars. He wanted those wholehearted moments of quiet amongst the excitement. He wanted —

The hand that Vessel had been gripping was suddenly freed. In exchange, Ivy found himself locked in a kiss with the singer, one that tasted of salty tears. It was a longer kiss than Vessel usually gave, but it felt even longer with how Vessel kept Ivy close to him even when their lips weren’t touching. Foreheads pressed together, sharing the same breath. “You are ours in the end, so won't you fall for us?” he sang, voice wobbly but words still clear as day.

Oh.

“Yeah,” he exhaled. “Of course.”

Vessel wrapped himself around Ivy’s arm with a giggle that sounded like he would continue crying at any given moment, face nuzzling against his bicep and all six of those eyes looking up at Ivy like he hung the stars. Three took it upon himself to resume latching onto Ivy and burying his face in the crook of his neck, murmuring something about making Ivy lose all coherent thought the second Three could. Two simply lay on Ivy’s chest and stared at his face in silence, eventually tracing small shapes with the tip of his finger as his ear lay over the place where Ivy’s heart beat.

As for Ivy, he simply closed his eyes and let the band love him quietly in the excitement of the world. Against the gods’ avatars from Eden to Arcadia, he’d sing and perform and follow all of them.

He was their fourth, after all.

He was their Ivy.

#Ima Writes #original writing #writing #my writing #sleep token #iv #vessel #ii #iii #the espera #sleep #tw: death #tw: blood #tw: body horror #tw: insects #ao3

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