He was aware there were many of them – just like there were many of him – roaming everywhere, almost like two armies, except that was a word for something organized, something neither of them were. But this one, this one he had never heard about.
Yet he was there.
Sandy had seen the entrance to his lair. He could feel what was inside, and see it when he looked down from his cloud.
Well, he couldn’t actually see, per se, because everything was black, but it was the sort of darkness that oozed fear, and that was a dead giveaway that Pitch was in there, too. And Sandy was curious.
That was why he found himself looking down the hole in the ground that lead to the lair – if so it could be called – debating whether he should jump in, or send in an invitation. An invitation could easily get lost, or turned into nightmare sand, so he opted for the first option. Almost as if he was getting ready to jump in a pool, he hold his breath and let himself fall down, his own light shining through the darkness.
If there was someone who could survive the oppressing darkness of Pitch’s lair, that was him, and hopefully the king of nightmares would at least deign him of his presence.
“Wouldn’t trade it for the world.” That was cheesy. Smooth. Pitch shook his head and smiled, “Thank you for caring love. I can tell you’re too good for me already.” At least the man cared about him.
“Oh shush, I am barely good enough. Now up, it’s time for lunch - and don’t think I’m going to let you skip that.” Oh no, he was going to make Pitch eat something, at least until he was sure the wind wouldn’t carry it away.
Blinking several times to fully wake up, he sat up enough so that Pitch could move his legs freely and tried to tame his hair by smoothing it down with his hands. No use.
“Yes, I did. And you?”
“I had a blanket laying on one leg so yes. I was very comfortable and I think I feel a little perkier.” Pitch smiled and ran a hand down his arm, “Thank you for making me lay down for a while. I appreciate it.”
Sandy shook his head and got up, picking up the pillow from Pitch’s leg and placing it aside. “Don’t mention it. I just thought you needed at least a nap after spending most of the night awake because of me.”
He wasn’t quite sure what the question mark was for, but he said “gray!” pointing at himself.
Hoping maybe that would be answer. His name…
“anon?” what he was…
“…good?” how he was?
“you?” he returned the question.
He chuckled silently, then pointed at himself and building the shape of a man out of sand. He was the man of sand, and bowed slightly at gray in a way that meant ‘at your service’.
Pitch woke about two hours later and rubbed his face. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck. The man glances at Sandy and grinned. How cute… He ran his hands through hair and leaned over to kiss his forehead. Should he wake him? It was lunch times so probably. “Sandy? Love?”
He stirred and brought his much smaller hands up to cover his face, while curling up slightly to draw his knees closer to his chest.
“Mmmhh, wha’?” After rubbing his eyes a bit he opened them and was greeted by Pitch’s sleepy face. “You look so pretty right now.”
He snorted and raised his leg to lift Sandy up, kissing his nose then lowering him again. “Heh Thank you love…sleep well?” Pitch’s face was pink from the odd compliment, having not expected something like that from him.
Blinking several times to fully wake up, he sat up enough so that Pitch could move his legs freely and tried to tame his hair by smoothing it down with his hands. No use.
“Yes, I did. And you?”
“No…Most people fun in fear if they see me.” he sneered slightly. “you on the other hand are still here…” strange…he hadn’t really held a conversation with someone for so long with out them shrieking and backing away.
‘I suppose that has to do with the fact that I’m not good at running.’ Due to the smile he offered, it was clear he was joking, even though he spoke the truth: his shape really wasn’t made for running. Floating? Yes. Running? Eh.
Pitch could have been mean, he could have commented.
Could have put such lovely images into the other’s head, and instead simply said.
“If you say so Sandy…” He said it dryly, making it obvious it wasn’t the only thing he wanted to say, but he offered no more.
At first he only tilted his head to the left, looking up with an amused expression. ‘Please. I know you can be a little more elaborate than that.’ He was mute, not stupid, and besides that, Pitch made it clear there was something he was keeping to himself.
The stranger smirked as his head finally came into focus, appearing as a somewhat ageless man with slightly long hair”Your job? I’m guessin’ Big ol’ Nameless apointed you as my replacement.” He assumed, then the rest of him became easier to focus on. Was he wearing a vermilion chackered suit? “I’m Morpheus, the shaper of dreams, godfather of stories ‘n’ leader of the Oneiroi! Y’know they used call me the Sandman at one point.” He added the last part, stroking his chin, as if remembering fond memories.
‘Replacement?’ He looked amused. ‘I have been doing this job for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. I am no replacement.’ He knew why the other would think of him as such - he guessed it from his name. ‘I have heard of you, though. You are part of the Greek Pantheon, aren’t you?’
He nods. ‘I can assure you she is cute. She has me wrapped around her finger.’
‘She never stops growing. Right now she has taken a liking to crawl everywhere she can and greet everyone with a smile.’
