[hyperion.]

RP prompt of the month, bad dreams 

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There was a beautiful sound echoing throughout his Irish home. Solemn voices bellowed and sang, a symphony of highs and lows intertwining perfectly in the crisp air. This choir was strongest at the castle, humming through the ancient stone walls and spreading it's song throughout the territory. He closed his eyes and allowed the harmonious choir to envelope him in a sense of euphoria as the music grew louder. 

Something drew him from his stupor. A voice in the choir? The delicate strokes of an instrument he didn't even know existed? But something drew him from his moment of peace, and it urged him towards the borders of the territory. The walk across the vast ocean of grass seemed endless, daunting even, and something in the air shifted. It became colder and the voices became louder still. 

After what seemed like an eternity lost in the undulating meadow, he reached a familiar destination. Then he came across him. A broken and bloody and lifeless body of a boy who once had an entire galaxy behind his eyes. The angelic choir belted their dismal lamentation for the boy from the sun and Hyperion sobbed silently over the carcass. 

Poppies began to bloom where blood pooled and from the countless wounds. It sounds like a pretty metaphor, but the process of sprouting was rather gruesome and left the blue vagabond looking away. They came from his insides and began overgrowing from his throat and mouth and left a gross, engorged mess of a body. Moments later, he woke with a start. 

He counted the children at his belly to make sure none were missing, and what the heck do you know, one of the toddlers was absent from the group of cuddling dudes and was sitting tiredly at the lip of their den.

"Thomas?" a hushed whisper muffled from sleep. "You're up early, lad." 

[Thomas]

#80461b
song inspo
One is a bird

Like father, like son. It seemed bad dreams would plague the young child's mind and rip him away from any hopes of a good night sleep. He shivered at the lip of the den, curled up against himself. Tail tucked, but still flicking as if he were some sort of mad cat. Amber eyes gazing out to the foggy horizon as the sky wept quietly down upon this foresty world. 

He remembered the sensation of falling and hitting water, the feeling of his fur breaking the surface and being submerged in a water tomb of oil black. The tide too strong to fight against and his body too weak with what felt like real fatigue. It entered his lungs and smothered him, wide eyed and thrashing with last bouts of energy he sank. He awoke with a start, everything blurry and he wobbled to his feet nearly toppling over. Not even minding what sibling he trampled in his attempt to grip his own senses, Thomas fell gasping as he crawled his way upward looking to the dark, rainy field.

His nose drippy and his eyes weary, but ears flicking back to catch the soft call of his name, he turned slightly after a moment to catch his tired father looking at him. The grey male seemed worse for wear as well, unbeknownst to Tom that his father had his own bout of bad dreams.

The boy looked away for a moment as if embarrassed by having been caught, as if nightmares were things to be ashamed of and kids his age should just 'deal with them'  and 'get over it' on their own. Thomas was quiet for a moment, carefully thinking over his answer, his bravery depended on it, but lying seemed like such a useless tactic. He was never very good at it. "I had.... a bad dream." He said softly, almost muffling himself as he tucked his head closer against his brown fur.

Amber gaze returned to the foggy outside world, sniffling quietly to himself, he'd caught sight of a rather large puddle a bit of a ways away. If he had been smaller, it could have drowned him and his mind immediately was reliving that terror, fur prickling with dread. "Dad, if you-" A pause as he gathered himself with a mighty gulp. "I think I drowned in it." Pa, I think I died. "Am I dead? Do I look it?" His voice gripped with child-like fear.

[hyperion.]

He drew a quiet breath and flashed a warm, tired smile at his gold-spun boy who's voice was almost lost in the fluff of his chest. Hyperion ran a careful nose over each sleeping son, then crawled silently on his belly toward Thomas. He observed the young boy, who's glittering golden eyes were cast to the ground and full of distress. 

"I had.... a bad dream."

Hyperion reached a giant paw underneath his son's chin and lifted it gently. "It was only a dream," 

"Dad, if you- I think I drowned in it. Am I dead? Do I look it?"

A quiet laugh played in the cool, misty air. He followed what Thomas was staring at, which he assumed was the pool of water gathering in front of the den. " No, you're not dead Thomas. Dreams can play tricks on us, but they're just a part of our imagination... they can't hurt us. Whenever you have a bad dream just know it's your creative little brain coming up with new ways to keep you on your feet." His smile broadened. 

He pulled Thomas in with an outstretched arm and softly pressed him against his chest, then began to smooth over his son's curly bed head with gentle kisses. He thought of Hawthorne briefly, if this is what the dappled white man would do for his children in a similar situation. What would he say? How would he comfort them? The grey-blue vagabond wondered what kind of father Hawthorne could have been for his second string of children, but tried to ignore it. So many things could have gone differently, but they didn't... there was nothing Hyperion or anyone could've done about it, and it's over with. In the past. But here before him stood a piece of the future, a dazzling boy in gold and brown with eyes as striking as the sun. Beautiful, like his mother. He kept himself composed and continued grooming his ginger son, but the pride in his eyes was overwhelming and it took an effort to hold back the misty tears. 

" Lets go for a walk. I don't want to wake your brothers this early. "

Hyperion remained at the entrance of the den for a few moments, watching the synchronized breathing of the lot until he was satisfied that they wouldn't spontaneously die while he was gone. He would lead the way for the ginger boy, stretching and rolling his shoulders in the early morning fog that mustered thickly outside their den. " Want to help me catch breakfast this morning? Me and you get the best pickings before everyone else wakes up. " A playful smirk lit up his tired features and he trotted quickly towards the creek, but slowly enough that the pups short legs would be able to keep up comfortably. 

" Today you get to try what I ate growing up, and I'll teach you my secrets to catching them. The ones back home were much easier to catch though, and a lot tastier too, but these will do. They're called crabs, " He trailed off, thinking of the days he and his siblings would eat hundreds of them during low tide when Avery would permit it. He ran ahead to the embankment, making sure the boy was far enough away from the water that it wouldn't upset him, then plucked two crabs from their earthy hollow and carried it over to Thomas. He started with the legs, carefully ripping the pieces off and breaking them open to reveal the sweet flesh. 

" Like this, " He motioned at the severed legs then tore and cracked one open for Thomas, waiting for the boy's reaction. 

[Thomas]

#80461b

It was only a bad dream. You had one too, he'd look back to his father, but the words never spilled from his mouth. Instead he nodded slowly, absently lost in thought. His mind sought to relive those terrifying... sinking... minutes. What felt like a century, could have been less. Dreams distorted time as well as the mind.

Within the deep, black ocean depths, he heard screams.

There was some safety and comfort in his father's words, as if to blanket those thoughts out from view and everything thereafter would be fine. The ball of fear that nestled within his chest had felt like iron, it had helped in sinking him and ripping him away from the sanctity of a peaceful sleep. His ears pinned back after a moment a droplet of water splashed on his nose. "Well, I wish my brain would keep that stuff to itself." Thomas grumbled softly.

He tensed up as Hyperion pulled the small, brown child to him, and relax when he felt the plush fur and warmth. Occasionally looking up as kisses were showered upon his little head. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.

Lets go for a walk. I don't want to wake your brothers this early. Oh, oh yeah. Golden eyes would look back to the sleeping forms of his brothers, and he'd frown internally. All of them seeming peaceful, but there was a touch relief that he hadn't woken any of them up. He was sure he wouldn't hear the end of it. Tom would look back to the gray hellion then, who was also looking to the pile of sleeping pups. "Yeah, okay." His voice soft just in case, wobbling to a stand and stretching out his legs as he plodded quietly from out of the den.

A smile followed that of his father's, a bright little ray of light across the brown boy's face. He was usually if not second to last, then last entirely to rise, all the best pickings already swiped by his brothers. Thomas always had to just make due with what they had leftover. However, this was an exciting new development, until, they came face to face with a babbling creek.

The boy made a face, his lip curling and his paws not willing him any further, water and him were not on good terms at the moment, golden eyes looked to Hyperion and then to the creek a couple times before the large male staggered forward to catch a couple crabs. It didn't take surprisingly long, not as long as fishing did. Crabs seemed to care more for the water soaked mud, then the water itself. Tom could respect that.

The gray male came back, and dropped their catch before him, and Thomas tilted his head curiously. They looked strange with big large claws and mud covered bodies. Mud bugs was probably a better term, mud spiders. The legs were served and the dead crustacean was pushed his way. "You really ate this when you were my age? " The legs still had a twitch to them and the head held the gills and something of a soupy, viscous consistency. The boy jerked back a bit, his lips pressed into a fine line as he side eyed the meal.  "It's still moving, are you sure it's safe to eat? "  He looked back up to his father reluctantly.