#so her cusswords are rated E for everyone

[thesundowncrew]

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe...

For a ghoul who used to have trouble sleeping, Samhain had long mastered the methods and exercises to help him calm his mind enough to fall asleep. It was like meditating but letting go at the very end and letting oneself fall... fall... fall...

He had to keep reminding himself not to get caught up in the illusion. Not to trust whatever the creature showed him. Remember, Sam. It's just a dream. It's just a dream... a dream...

Remember the music box spirit, trapped. All alone with nothing but her thoughts and remnants of what used to be. Don't get caught up in the illusion, Sam. Don't get trapped... Don't fall... Don't... fall...

“Sammy!”

The forest air was crisp and sweet, carrying the smell of pine and earth and wildflowers. The sun was shining but it wasn't too hot, and the grass felt warm between his toes. His fingers curled, gripping bits of grass and soil in between them. He remembered this feeling... He remembered this voice...

As if he'd just woken up from a dream (Was he dreaming? He couldn't remember..) Sam's eyes fluttered open and he gave a great yawn (He must've been asleep for a while if he was yawning like that. How long had it been since he had such a nap on a day as perfect as this?)

“Sammy!”

He heard her again, this time as clear as a bell, though his eyes and head still felt heavy. It was when she got closer that Sam felt like a wave of cold water wash over his entire being, stirring himself up from his very core. Her hair. Her eyes. Her smile. Just as he remembers it...

“I heard it this time!”

Suddenly a pang of guilt stabbed him straight through his chest (But why? What was he guilty of? What had he done wrong?)

“The oldest tree! I heard it speaking.”

He grabbed at his chest. It was hurting. He couldn't breathe (This is wrong wrong wrong wrong Something's wrong...!!)

“Sammy..?”

He snaps his head towards her voice, Liore suddenly just inches away from him. Her wavy locks that always seem to fall in all the right places. Her eyes that glowed like ambers in the sunlight... “Sammy, you all right..?”

(Eyes...)

He studied her for a minute, eyes wide and unmoving. He reached out and cupped her face, with hands of flesh and skin. His thumb gently caressed her cheek, now flushed a rosy pink, and he could feel her breathe on his palm. He brushed the hair away from her eyes, earning a confused flutter of giggles from her. “Sammy, what's the matter with you?”

(Nothing. Nothing's the matter)

"Nothing. Nothing's the matter," he replied, as if on cue. Finally he smiled and Liore smiled in return, looking relieved.

Finally she tucked her hair behind her ear and offered Samhain her hand. “Wanna listen with me?”

"Sure."

-------------------

Back in Sundown, Nightshade felt restless. The moment Samhain bid her goodnight, she felt the hair on her neck stand on end.

Though the circumstances of their 'bonding' was not ideal, there were some upsides to having shared spirit essence with one another. Not only were they connected on a physical level but on an emotional and spiritual level as well. Whatever Samhain felt, Nightshade could feel it to a certain degree. And with her feline sixth senses doubling down, Nightshade could feel it now; something was definitely wrong.

"Ah fudgeknuckles..!"

“His name…? It started… with an L, I think... or maybe… a C? I don’t know… I can’t remember…”

These memories fragmented and slipped beyond her reach. The shadowy silhouettes on the stage grew fainter. Dust drifted from the curtains.

With a shiver, the spirit folded her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Weariness crept in again. Samhain spoke, but his words flitted away from her; and when a soft weight settled over her shoulders, she couldn’t quite process where it came from. The sensation seemed far away. Still, the girl pulled the blanket closer around herself on instinct, seeking any warmth and comfort it could offer.

“My mother… must be so worried…” Tears slipped down her cheeks. Heavy regret coiled in her chest where her heart once beat. The spirit leaned her forehead on her knees, her words shaky and broken. “I left her all alone… I didn’t even say goodbye…”

She didn’t notice when Samhain left. His presence had already faded from her awareness.

—

Feldmire waited outside Samhain’s door.

It had eavesdropped on the conversation at the dinner table. It heard Samhain reveal he wasn’t quite human. Moreover, it heard Maude advise Samhain to leave soon. It would scold her for this later, but for now, it had bigger concerns. Tonight was likely its last chance to ensure Samhain never left.

But how could it reach him? It ruffled its feathers as it wracked its mind for ideas, its talons scratching the wooden floor impatiently. It couldn’t squeeze its way inside. The barrier shielding his room—

— the barrier dropped.

Feld hopped backward, shocked for a moment. Then thrill washed over it. It crept closer and tapped the door with its talon, just to make sure. Yes, the barrier was gone. Gone. Feld’s eagerness and hunger kept it from questioning the reason the barrier fell. It only cared that its absence meant Feld could enter.

What marvelous timing. Feld could barely contain its excitement. Regaining its wits, it forced itself to wait a little longer. It pressed against the door. Listened as Samhain’s breathing evened into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. Then, silent as a shadow, it slithered inside, onto his bed, and sank into his mind.

How to create a dream?

It was simple, really, with enough practice (and Feld had years upon years of practice). The trick lay in letting the dreamer’s mind do most of the work. Feld simply nudged their focus toward memories laced with the delicious feeling of longing. These memories formed the main ingredients for the dream. Once the dream had formed, Feld tugged it into the perfect shape and sprinkled in other details and memories for extra flavor, like a chef preparing a lovely meal.

A meal for itself, that is.

The creature made sure the meal lasted long enough to satisfy its hunger. Of course, it was always hungry, so it never let the dreamer wake up. Simple.

This required control over their sleeping mind. After diving into Samhain’s dreams twice already, Feld brimmed with confidence in its abilities.

It couldn’t resist having a bit of fun.

—

A forest.

Sunlight flickered overhead, and birdsong drifted between the branches. A red-furred squirrel darted up a tree trunk. A breeze rustled the leaves and carried the rich smell of moss and soil.

“Sammy!”

A girl bounded toward Samhain, leaping over stones and roots with deer-like ease. Her long black hair flew out behind her. She beamed upon reaching him, her words already tumbling out. “I heard it this time! The oldest tree! I heard it speaking.” Her voice, though a bit breathless from running, rang with excitement, and her brown eyes glimmered with delight.

With another warm smile, she tucked her hair behind her ear and offered Samhain her hand — a familiar hand, dirt-smudged but free from burns. A hand just as human as his own. “Wanna listen with me?”