((This is one in a series of played out dreams that Drystan has been having the last month or so. Each one has been increasingly strange, all of them featuring Hatman, the spirit that hangs around Hector all the time. Hatman has encroached on Drystan’s dreams, and has shown him Hector’s past, his own past before Hector was born, and disturbing visions of a future that has yet come to pass.
In the last dream, Drystan agrees to accept Hatman’s help in controlling his monstrous side that has dark deep cravings that he resists inflicting on Hector. With that acceptance, Hatman placed himself into Drystan, possessing him, unbeknownst to Drystan. After all it was all just a dream, right? Everything has been quiet since that dream, though Hatman has slowly been growing in power somewhere inside.
Many thanks to Hector for playing Hatman for me!))
Dark Victorian Mansion: The Foyer | Piano and Cello On A Stormy Night
It was dark out and the inside of the Manor was sparsely lit up. There were muffled voices coming from downstairs. Rain pattered every window and pressed heavily upon the roof overhead. The sound of piano music came from the front room. It must have been Hector. Even if it wasn't anything particularly 'wild' being played, it had his particular 'flavor.' It filled the air and danced upon the walls, mingling with the sound of thunder to make it almost sound as if there was a concert going on. The way his fingers tickled ivories there was always so much heart and soul in the music. Everything smelled damp, like maybe someone left the window or the front door open. Candles wriggle in an unseen breeze and not one, but two shadows are cast upon the floor. One is a tall man in a hat with his hand upon the pianist's shoulder. But wait, Hatman can't get beyond Dinah's Wards...can he? /'How do you feel? Shouldn't you be resting?'/ Fingers continue to move across the keys. "I'm fine. You worry too much." Hector chuckled lightly.
Drystan was halfway down the stairs already taking in the environment. Slowly with bare feet but fully dressed otherwise, he padded down the stairs, searching out the music. He stepped onto the floorboards of the first level of the manse and turned the corner to his left, after watching lightning flash into all the windows and light up the rivulets of water pouring down the shut windows. The aetherite porch lamps glowed still, but in a clouded sort of glow, the light didn't seem to make it that far. In the piano room/office he saw Hector behind the piano, plunking away at keys softly, rolling one note over the next. And in the shadows of the candle light and the glow of aetherite from the long front windows, he saw his head bent over as he played, eyes nearly closed, and the shadow of a man with his hand on his shoulder. He didn't speak out, but just stood there, listening and watching.
The storm outside continued to build to the point that it was obvious it was starting to make Hector's shoulders shake just a bit with the intensity of the thunder. Something wasn't right. In fact, more than a few something's weren't quite right. The shadows stretched up into people and Hector was there, dressed all in white...odd indeed. He didn't normally clad himself in white. It made the roundness of his belly even more prominent. Either that was one heck of a beer gut or...He suddenly stopped plucking and reached down to put a hand against his abdomen, sucking in a sharp breath. The person at his side was dressed how Drystan might. A sharp suit, gold accents and a certain bone ring upon his ring finger. However, he had no face. Where the face should be there was only shadow and upon his head sat a bowler hat. He reached down to place a hand atop of Hector's. /'I worry for good reason!'/ Hector drew in a deep breath and then gasped as the thunder shook the entire mansion. He grabbed onto the figure in the hat. "It can't be time. Not yet. I'm not ready." The figure squeezed at Hector. /'Ssshhh, it will feel like no time at all.'/ Something was definitely happening. The darkness outside had turned purple. The shadowy figure was unrolling what appeared to be a painting and Hector was getting to his feet, clutching a swollen belly. He wasn't huge, but there was definitely some pregnation going on. Neither of them seemed to notice Drystan on his bare feet watching.
His head turned to the side taking in the scene, clearly an observer. This was a dream, he could feel it. The way the world felt around him, it wasn't as tangible as it should be. He could use his abilities, as he looked over and lifted the candle holder and it floated above the piano for a moment before coming to rest. It just didn't feel right. He scrunched his eyebrows together as the shadowed version of who he thought could only be himself, unfurled a canvas, and the house shook with thunder as if making time. His eyes were wide at the sight of a ...pregnant... Hector. He'd of course tried to imagine it since the idea was first introduced, but the fullness of him and his face, the way he walked even. He didn't get a good glimpse of the painting, but he stepped forward and followed, getting closer seeing that the pair made no reaction to him observing.
What occurred next was a rather rushed 'goodbye' of sorts. Something was pounding on the door. It wasn't knocking, it was something trying to get in. Hector's eyes were filled with tears as he was reminded that it wasn't just him that had to be protected. Eventually he gave in and stepped forward as the canvas was held up. It was a rather long and slender painting. Shutting his eyes tight Hector took one last breath and one last step, vanishing into the painting. Just before the shadowy figure started to roll it up, Drystan would see a small farm house in the middle of nowhere. There was plenty of foliage, a little pond for water and fishing, and a trail leading up to the house. On the trail was what appeared to be a pregnant woman in white looking back to the 'painter' one last time. But no, that was not a pregnant woman, that was Hector with all his long black hair blowing around his face. The figure quickly rolled the canvas up and slid it into a tube. The tube was capped and a lock put onto it. The lock was one Drystan would recognize, the gold of the lock that typically was around Hector's throat. A tiny key that Drystan knew to be in his possession locked the canvas up tight and then the figure proceeded to push the piano aside, slide a board in the floor up and hide the canvas away, then push the piano back into place with a heavy sigh. After a long moment of silence the shadowy figure said to Drystan over his shoulder. /'You still haven't realized, have you?'/
His eyes wandered over the painting, and a pit formed in his stomach as Hector seemingly stepped into it, and was then a part of the painting as a whole. Sealing it and locking it, it was hidden under the floorboards and then the shadow spoke to him. "I've realized I'm dreaming, and that you've decided to show me puzzling things, that seem like warnings, threats, hope?" He sighed and looked at the back of the shadowed man that was leaning on the piano, that - while no one played, the same tinkering melody played echoing in the background. He looked back at the door, the pounding of it, the rushed "escape" .."What am I to realize? I'm tired of half truths and clouded lies, windows into the possible future, scenes of Hector's past? Just be out with it, Hatman. What is at the door, what is this attempting to teach me or warn me or throw me off.." Drystan addressed him as such, even though he felt like he was speaking to himself. It was like looking into a mirror, but with the area of the face greased and unclear.
Slowly the hatted man turned a shadowy face toward the door. /'Oh that? Eh, even I cannot say. The island has still not made up its mind which way it chooses. I know where Hector came from...a place where Supernaturals were hunted to the brink of extinction, where the state of Life and Death only got worse. But that is simply history repeating itself, it might not.'/ The piano music continued to play but the mansion fell apart like a doll house. The walls tumbled down, leaving them both in an empty plane with just the piano and a full length mirror. The hatted individual walked behind the mirror and didn't walk back out. However, he could still be heard. /'Come on then. No more peering out doors or through windows. Look at the only piece of glass that matters.'/
This vast empty white of the dream world was now familiar to him and didn't give him the same dizzying feeling he had the first time he appeared here. He took a deep breath and pulled down his vest to straighten it, and watched as Hatman walked behind the mirror and then told him to come look. It took him a moment, but he made silent footsteps towards it, to come and step in front of it. He wasn't looking at it head on, he was looking at the nothing just beyond his own toes, and the golden rim of the full body mirror, and his feet reflected back at him just beyond. Slowly, he looked up, letting his eyes follow his clothing, his hands, up till he could look himself in the face.
It was just a mirror, right? Sure. It certainly only looked like a mirror. Drystan was looking at himself. Then slowly his image grinned at him and placed a bowler hat upon his head, winking back at him from beyond the glass. /'Hello there, Handsome. It's about time You looked at Me in the eye.'/ The space filled with a laugh and a hand reached out from inside the mirror, trying to grab Drystan and pull him into it. /'I cannot help but wonder. When all is said and done, will I become you or will you become me.'/ More laughter. It was actually not very amused. There was something sad, maddened and tired about the laughter.
"Bloody hell!" Drystan staggered backwards, batting hard at the hand that reached for him, even if it was his own. There was a tinge of the feeling of madness about his periphery, the sight of seeing himself grin, and to put on that hat.. "Neither of us need become either!" He yelled back at the mirror as it matched his movements, but the smile came back and the hand and an arm reached through and grabbed for him and caught the lapel of his vest, ringed fingers gripping tight at him and pulling him back to the face of the mirror. "All I asked was to be shown how to control... myself.." He grunted and braced his own ringed fingers on the gold frame of the mirror, his chest and face getting close enough to the glass that his breath made a soft cloud on it, but it only came out of Hatman's mouth as well, his face close to his own...his face...close to his own. "Guide me if you're me or I'm you...Arghh!" He strained to pull back harder but was whiplashed back against the hard surface that seemed fluid for Hatman smacking his chest and side of his face hard enough for it to smart.
Lovely eyes staring back at him. Or are they empty sockets? Are they bleeding? It's just Drystan staring back at himself. Or is it? After a few moments of struggling Drystan would find that he was grabbing himself by the collar and huffing and puffing into his own face. The mirror cracked down the middle and it made one side of his face look like it was smirking. The empty space was no longer vast, but instead it was that room from the first time he'd crossed dreams with Hatman. It was easier to make out now. It was Drystan's room, in the corner with the hookah and all the paintings. He was sitting in his chair and canvas laid out in front of him, hands covered in paint. /'That wasn't so hard was it? And yet for some reason it is. Even for me. We both know the truth. We are of one mind. The last piece of the puzzle will slide into place soon. Relax and let me guide you. Our family will rise. You believe in them, yes? So too believe in yourself.'/
He unhanded himself and let his hands fall to his sides as he stood in his room, watching himself at his work desk. He caught his breath and the voice was coming from him. "I believe in them, yes, but..I too believe I am capable of being the thing they need me to be, the King that was seen in prophecy." He walked over towards himself, naked feet treading upon the familiar floor. He put his hand on the back of the chair and leaned over his own shoulder to see what he was working on. His hands were covered in red,..but also oranges and bright yellows. His fingers slid along the canvas creating flames, an ancient book laid open to his right, his eyes moving across the words in the book and then his hand moved to make a line, to push the paint into place with fingertip and mind. "Okay. Yes.... I'll let you guide me, but know that Dinah will see you if you step forward in front of her. Otherwise, she cannot know or you will be gone. That might not be good for either of us, or Hector." He spoke back and forth to himself, to Hatman, and perhaps to the version of him hard at work on using ancient spellwork to create a picture. When he looked back, he could just make out the face of a young man, but it was still engulfed in too many painted flames to be clear.
A soft kiss was pressed to Drystan's lips and Hector was smiling down at him. "Hmm? Having a good dream were you? You were talking in your sleep." He chuckled and nuzzled at the eldest Windgrace's cheek and down his neck to rest against his chest. They were in Drystan's bed at the manor. It was still quite dark. Hector pulled the covers up tighter around the two of them and then pressed a kiss to Drystan's chest. "Mmm," He yawned and rubbed his cheek against Drystan before settling back down, clearly about to fall back to sleep.
Drystan took in a shuddered breath and blinked hard a few times. He reacted out of muscle memory, pulling Hector closer to him, kissing the top of his head as he nuzzled in. "Sorry love, I think I was just talking to myself." He turned his head and looked at the window, as light raindrops began to fall on the glass, and the sound of rain started pattering the roof above them, willing him and his passenger back into a more restful sleep.