/perspective shift Dream
(A/N: The other Dream)
Dream slammed his hands down onto the table. He needed to fix this. Why had the arrow curved like that? He thought he'd seen himself in the flickering light, his enchanted armor shining off of the arrowhead in a brief moment, seeming woven into a dark, vaporous shape.
And another. In Tommy's dull iron helmet, there had been the reflection of another Dream. But not him. A better him. Infused with purpose, as he was, but not like him. Full of anger that radiated off of him like a stormcloud. A god among men. The true meaning of the mask. While he had to try to direct things, it was simply who this other Dream was. A force. Dangerous, but right. The Dream, truly. How he should be. How he might have been....
Before TommyInnit. Dream growled, slamming his sword into his wooden table.
He needed more time. Tommy hadn't done his part yet. He needed more time. He took out a book. A list. A list of all he had. There were too many names there, and not enough items. There probably weren't even enough prospects for him to have true power if he had all of them. He couldn't rule if he didn't have more. Even what he had was barely worth anything without the rest.
He gave a start. He had heard something. He whipped around, nerves setting him on edge. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He shouldn't be seeing shadows in his own house. He was Dream. He was supposed to be the best. He was in control. Cool, calm, directing everything according to his plan. He was.....
Terrified.
He was terrified.
There it was, in the glass. A mirror. He stepped up to it. When had this gotten here?
He saw himself. But.... Wrong.
No, not wrong. Right. Not in the way that the one who had saved Tommy had been right.
More brutal. Not him as he should be, but him as he was.
The mask was a smirk. White paint on a black material. A front. A lie, but not a convincing one. No this man, this creature, knew that others saw it for what it was. And it enjoyed it.
He hid behind the mask. This creature hid behind white. Black behind white.
It was glowing faintly red. Blood. Death. The stink of a scavenger. Left behind to pick up the pieces of something great. His world was shattered. And so he shattered others.
Dream took off his mask, looking down at it. After seeing that revolting creature, he almost couldn't bear it. It had seemed to suffocate him. Enclosed. Trapped. He couldn't even see in it. No eye holes. Just paint. How did he go about every day blind like this? Tears sprang to his eyes.
When he looked back up at the creature, and was startled by what he saw.
It was gone. In its place stood a boy. Tall, lanky, awkward in clothes made for someone older, shuffling slightly even when standing still. A boy. A child, still. Young. Useless. Weak. Dream hated that youth. He had to stop himself from spitting at the mirror.
The mirror.
It was a mirror.
Dream saw a child in the mirror. This was him.
He looked down at the mask in his hand, and felt an overwhelming sense of disgust again. Dream was a fool's endeavor. Who was he to bring hope? What was the mask to matter? It was who he was. Not a dream, but a nightmare. A nightmare to be facing it. The smile was a lie. Then he looked over at the youth's hand. He saw a mask in its hand, too. A black mask, with white paint. A smirk. White on black. The mask of the beast.
The youth was him. It was a mirror. He loathed himself.
But the mask.
He hesitated. He hesitated, but he knew that he needed to know. He was afraid of the answer, but he needed it.
He slowly put the mask back on.
And transformed.
The beast was there again. The mask didn't have to be white, didn't have to have a black smile. What had been the Dream could become the Nightmare. Confident, smirking, standing tall, it looked at him with a look that said it knew. It knew what it wanted. It knew how to get it. And so did he. Infused with purpose, as that other thing was. As he was. As he must be. These two were not him. But they could be.
He may be a child in his parent's clothing.
But that would change.
He would become the Nightmare.
Or he would die trying.