Tumgik
#thats a lot heh. i wrote this in half asleep so its true to character lmao.
yappism · 1 year
Text
/dsmp /rp
It's one of those days. When everything is normal and usual. Like Ponk and Sam's anniversary. But George wouldn't know that naturally. For George, it's just another day of standing outside the prison far enough to let the walls tempt him. He knows Pandora, of course he does, because he knows Dream. And sometimes she feels like stepping into the middle of a forest, like the ground beneath him is breathing and trees are caressing, saying "child, my child! You're here" Like they can't wait to let him rest under their shade or share a fruit. Like a grandmother on a holiday, worrying and hovering, "George, what do you need? Is the wind too loud? Is the sun too bright?" This world sounds eerily similar to someone he's trying to forget. But in the face of such power he's nothing. So he lets the world coddle and fuss over him all it wants.
These walls feel the same as the forests but laced with such longing. Like his mere presence is hurting but his absence is way worse. So today he takes one step closer, the prison shudders in relief. George could do better than that. So he, overcome by a sudden fondness he hasn't allowed himself to feel in a long time, marches beyond the walls. He enters the portal knowing he won't end up where he needs to be. So he steps knowing full well that the white... The basalt? He's in the prison.
Now George has never seen it, yet he knows. The same way he knows where to leave little bugs so birds can find them easier or which plants are better being nipped in the bud lest they take innocent sheeps and cows as their victim. The plants don't know better, the bugs are more accepting of the cycle of life. George doesn't really do any of this because he knows but he does it and somewhere along the way the realisation is more a memory.
The same way that his palms are his own, George knows this is the prison. The prison seems to shake - relief, anticipation, love love love, anger, right there, so close, "I'm here, George" like electrocuted he becomes alert. Yes, this is where Dream, the one he's trying to forget, who made this world that so obviously adores him enough to let the forest be his, the sky, the water, everything the light touches is his and everything between the bedrock and dirt is his too.
This world that freely belonged to a mortal and its beloved maker. This prison and her resident. There's something in all this that he can't connect. Well it doesn't matter if there is a connection really. Nothing seem to matter all that much to him. Oh Sapnap maybe. And his friends, he suppose. They matter, right? right, they do. If not he wouldn't have to break-in or however he managed to come in here and instead would be in the next cell to Dream. Although he heard whispers that nobody could cell next to Dream because he was in one of those special high-security solitary confinement cells. Whatever that means. But a few things are clear, Dream is alone and probably going crazy with it. George frowns, that is if he hadn't already been crazy considering he's done... what did he do again? Oh yes, murders and uh genocide. Well they're sort of similar since there aren't many countries here.
Either way, Dream's done bad stuff and he's here now and he's probably alone and- It doesn't matter. Nothing does.
So he walks in, careful not to touch anything with his bare skin, the walls almost begging him to do so. So damn familiar, this litany of "george, please"s. And for that very reason alone he won't touch. Abstaining isn't strange to him. His indulges tend to land him right beside Dream, ergo in deep shit that neither of them can come out of safely. His wants and needs are irrelevant because giving in to those has taught him valuable life lessons - that he shouldn't infact give in.
The walls seem to know where he's needed, of course she does. Pandora is a simpering fool in his presence. Down to desperate little shudder of pleas than the imposing and magnanimous wonder that she was supposed to be.
George grits his teeth, this was supposed to be Dream's. Why would she- he knows why. He always does. Because she is Dream's that Pandora is falling over herself trying to be in step with him. He can feel her moving, breathing, crying. He reaches past the security doors that were supposed to be closed to anyone but the warden with the keys, but today was special. George is here and Pandora will be damned if she can't welcome him in. Finally, finally, George is here, she'll be damned if anything besides his own self stops him from reaching the heart of her. Ready to move walls, shape the archways just the right size for him to breeze through with ease.
And before both of them realise, too overhelmed at thoughts of what's getting nearer, George is staring at a wall of lava.
And like he knows in sleep to shift to the otherside as the sun sets, George knows Dream is right there. And Dream knows he's here too or well someone important. If the obsidian thrumming is not clue enough, the chair Sam was sitting on falling down from the force of him getting up, surely must have been.
"George?"
"Hi, Sam"
"...hi- how are you here?"
George tilts his head, "the prison let me in" and just as he says it he realises saying he broke in would have been more believable.
"The... Prison? No! how did you get past the security?"
"Like i said the prison let me in."
"George, shut up! The prison is mine and i didn't let you in. Tell me the truth, how'd you get in?"
The prison shakes, as if to physically shrug that untrue claim off of herself. The prison was not his. At this point, the prison might as well be more George's than Sam's. But both of them barely care about any of that right now. So they end up staring, george wondering how he should explain himself lest he be thrown in here and Sam, too drunk, too needy and too deep in nostalgia to be the prison guard he gave up everything to be and kick him out or issue a lockdown for breach. No, he's been steadily drinking, staring at the lava that seperates Dream from the rest of the world.
"Can I see Dream?"
At that, Sam laughs, he can't help it. Everything is so damn hilarious and he's stuck guarding something that doesn't want him. The realisation truer than any sobers him right up. He just wanted to get drunk and forget goddamnit.
"Can you visit him? Let's see, George. First, you should have messaged me so we could have fixed a time. Second, you shouldn't have just walked in there's procedures for a visit and third, why do you want to visit him? You know he's just biding his time to kill everyone and this prison is literally the only thing stopping him."
"But that's not true though, is it Sam?"
"...what?"
"It's pointless to kill all of them. That's stupid, why would he do that?"
This conversation is giving him more headache than he anticipated to bear this evening. Infact, he wanted to deal with the hangover tomorrow and drink himself to a blissful numbness today. But guess that's down the drain.
"George- no. No! I'm not letting you visit. You still haven't answered my question and you still need to go through all of the steps. You can't just walk in and i still don't know how you did that by the way."
Sam pauses and looks at George. He's known that face was more trouble than what it appears to be. He was here when those lips weren't fixed in a hard line, wrought with tension and brimming with unspoken words. He was here when those shoulders used to be free of this cloak, broad and capable shoulders, coaxing others to do the dirty work for them. Reliant, vast shoulders, the skin is not dark enough and- maybe! Maybe he's way too drunk than he'd admit if he's seeing people who would rather not be anywhere near him.
"George, you need to leave."
"Sam, I'm already here. Let me see him once and for all. Then I'll never come back again."
Sam bites his lips, "Not even at the gates, looking all lost and pathetic?"
George sighs, as if this ordeal is proving to be more tiring and he wants to get it over with and go back to... wherever he disappears off to nowadays "Yes not even at the gates. Happy?"
"Very."
Then he pushes a few buttons and guides George to stand at the platform.
The walls reach their apex and George is convinced they'll shatter from the sheer force of the vibrations. Is he the only one feeling it? They keep rising and it almost sounds like a song, an inevitable and george almost rolls his eyes, probably timed to drop when dream sees him.
The lava rises and he's moving before he can breathe his next.
The cell, george is seething because cells might look luxurious in the face of this, is a box of obsidian. Nothing more nothing less. It suprisingly looks cooler on the inside if dream's ease and not sweating self is anything to go by. Dream's back is tensed, shoulders hunched and there's... Blood. little specks of them all over the walls, the floor, his god awful prison uniform. The red almost blends in with the orange or maybe there's too much red for the orange to even be seen.
The platform, if possible, picks up speed. Drunk as the day he got dumped, Sam is never the wiser for it.
Dream knows and George knows and as the barrier goes down the lava fills back in. George hastily steps into the room. Maybe it wasn't that the room was cold but Dream was too dehydrated and malnourished for his body to react to heat the same way as a normal human's does. And isn't that a slap to his face. Murders or not, while he's been gallivanting into the forest, playing with Dreamxd, sleeping away in comfort. Dream has been brought close to death's door multiple times it seems like. Death seems to hang right above his curtain of hair and George for the first time realises he's seeing Dream. He's walked right in and now he's with Dream.
In his defense, he barely feels reality at all these days. Everything is hazy and blurry at the edges. But this right here, is so clear as if the light from the lava was all it took to get his vision back.
They both say nothing and Dream is still showing his back to him, he seems shorter or well more hunched down.
"Hi, George" it feels like a whip, matching the cadence of the bubbling lava and the cell walls are silent no, waiting, George realises, they're waiting for George. They've been waiting for so long.
"Hi, Dream." It's redundant. George feels an inappropriate laugh trying to escape. How hilarious is this. How funny is that Dream looks like he's died more times than he ate a full meal and George looks like he owns this place. That somehow Pandora is his and he failed her by not taking care of her only resident.
"Did you eat?" And that's the wrong thing to say probably because Dream is suddenly reminded of his own hunger and that's not good. He's long trained himself to resolutely not think about them. There are more things that he's forbidden himself to think about. One such thing is standing before him so maybe the list is seeming more ridiculous by the second.
George sees Dream frowning and immediately wants to say he understands. That it's fine. He doesn't have to talk. But he says none of that because he wants and he indulges because it's Dream and it's pointless to fight.
"I did. I think. I don't remember well, you know me."
"Do i?" And that's also the wrong thing to say. Looks like dream can't help but fuck up things every step of the way.
He still hasn't turned and it's getting on George's nerves. "Dream turn around."
"My... Mask"
"I've seen you without it plenty times, idiot. We-" George stops. He almost said that they were past seeing each other without glasses and mask. But george knows not to say the wrong things or maybe things that makes him look weak. Because Dream is the villain now isn't he? And he should be careful. Maybe. He doesn't have all the details down but he's trying. It's hard to hide from someone who grew up trying to find you and knows all your secret hideaways and is also a great hunter who can clearly tell the difference in leaves scrunching between feet and hooves. From prey to predator.
"Okay" the next thing he knows he has a Dream, filling his view much like he always does. There's some scars and dried blood and if he could see colours he'd see dream's paler-than-healthy neck thrumming with a weak pulse. Thankfully it has been long since Quackity visited. Or maybe it's unfortunate. It's hard to guess what George would do if he saw dream like that. If he saw how Pandora sees him.
There's a heavy pause and the almost instantly a voice straight from his deepest memories says "there you are" so fondly that it was more instinctual than deliberate. And one look at George's dazed expression confirms that he didn't even realise that he said anything at all.
"There you are, Dream" now with more conviction and a hard stare. He doesn't look away from Dream's face lest he do things he will be mildly inconvenienced by, like maybe kill Sam. So he takes a deep breath and says, more softly, this time like a prayer, like a whispered secret inbetween his collarbones, straight from one of dream's desperately held memories "there you are, Dream" and relief and pain and love love love pours into this god forsaken box dispelling any rotten corner.
The three - Pandora, Dream and George, breath in such tandem that they all might as well be one heart keeping three alive.
And together they all seem to say "there you are."
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