Not the Home I Know

Dream

[This part is written by me!]

TW: Heavy gore, non-con touching, mentions of suicide, and some heavy topics in general. 

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Dream both gained and lost something from damned cards that dictated his entire fate. He hated them, he wanted to tear them to shreds, but he also wanted to worship the cards, make sure no corner was folded, for they gave him new hope, a chance to live.

Dream's earliest memories were hazy, repressed down deep into his mind.

He knew he hadn't always been here in this cage, chained and abused. Or at least, he'd hope that was true. He yearned to believe he had parents out there who loved and missed him dearly, who were looking for him nonstop.

It gave him some hope that he would be able to escape this hellhole one day, to have a loving embrace.

The longer he was stuck here, the more that shred of hope faded. He knew he was going to be alone here forever, stuck in this cell and used as a toy to please the disgusting humans outside those iron bars. It only got worse as he matured. He had no hope. There was no point in anything anymore, and so he didn't fight against them anymore, didn't fight against the grabbing hands and vicious sneers.

And then, thanks to a card game played by his owners, he was given a gift - something to fight, protect, and live for.

The door to his cage opened as he was curled up in the corner in his holey blanket, wallowing in self-pity. He peaked out, a bit curious, watching as they tossed in a whining child.

Dream stared at the child curled into a fetal position, whimpering and shaking. He moved without thinking much, shuffling towards the feeble creature, listening as the child's breath stuttered. He looks down in pity, lightly draping his holey blanket over the small form. It wouldn't help much with the cold, but he hopes that it could be of some comfort to them.

Dream moved back to his spot against the wall, keeping his eyes on the child. He watches as the hybrid brings their knees to their chest, weakly turning their head to look at him.
In the dark, and with his mask covering his face, it was hard to make out what exactly the kid had looked up. The hybrid was a mess, all dirty and smelly, which caused his nose to wrinkle in slight disgust.

They started moving again, pushing themselves up despite the pain they were enduring. They tilted their head, and Dream shifted, mimicking their action and tilting his head in the same direction. The child tilted his head to the other side, and quietly laughing, Dream did the same.

"Are you a ghost?" the kid asks before they quickly slapped their hand over their mouth. They looked fearful now, and Dream could only wonder why, sitting up straighter and trying to look more friendly.

"No," he whispers, voice rough and quiet after months - possibly even years of it being unused. He shifted, never finding a spot comfortable enough. He gazes at the child, who was staring him down, their mouth gaping as if they had something to say. And that's when he realized what they were looking at - what they finally saw.

And Dream laughed, stretching out on his wings for the other to see. The child let out a small gasp, and in turn, Dream chuckled once more. "You can touch them," he tells them softly, watching as indecision and shock filled the child's face. He thought for a second the child would deny the offer, but instead, they slowly reached out, letting cold and rough fingers caress the scales. The kid was testing the waters, it seemed. Dream wanted to reassure them that it was okay, but then suddenly, the kid had placed both their hands against the wings.

Being so close to the child once more brought a sense of yearning and familiarity to Dream - something he hadn't felt in forever. And maybe that's why he did it. Why he shifted his mask from covering his face as the kid turned to look at him, freezing up at the sight that greeted them. And, really, Dream felt a bit bad for laughing so much at this kid's reaction, but it was the most fun and "normal'' interaction he's had, and he just wants to soak it all in while he can. So he lets himself laugh, covering his mouth with his hand.