Cut Him Out in Little Stars

Part Three

There were many things Morpheus did not allow himself to think about while he was imprisoned. Clothing, for one thing. Mortals, all those suffering because of his imprisonment, dreams, nightmares, his once wonderful kingdom (he would make it wonderful again). Actually, he tried not to think about anything really, other than his revenge. Among his endless list he did not think of was a human by the name of Hob Gadling. An immortal mortal, if Hob wished himself to be, which he did.

Every century, the Lord of Dreams and Hob would meet in a tavern. They always met in the same tavern, a tavern known simply as White Tavern. They'd been meeting there since the thirteen hundreds, and Morpheus had never imagined there would be a reason why they would stop meeting, even after their fight...which he wasn't thinking about. Yet, because of his imprisonment, he'd been forced to miss their centennial meeting.

Now, with his tools returned and a gentle prompting from his sister, Dream headed to the White Tavern.

An issue to touch on first. Exactly how many years late was he? He dared not count, so neither shall we. (Though his mind reminded him constantly: thirty two. Thirty two). For him, counting the time he'd lost was as wasteful as dreaming.

Step. (Thirty-) Step. (-two.) Step. (Thirty-) Step. (-two.)

Wait... Something was wrong with the tavern! It wasn't as he fondly remembered. It looked...abandoned?

There was a fence around the building that had once been the tavern. He didn't recognize the fence, which wasn't all that weird. It had been a long time, after all. What was weird, however, was that the gate was secured with chains and through the metal links, he could see graffiti slashed across the skeleton of the tavern. Abandoned, most definitely.

The hope he hadn't realized was growing again died in his chest, along with his desire to even bother with his search.

He had turned to walk away, to head back to his kingdom and mope till a better mood came along, when something caught his eye. An odd bit of graffiti on the fence. Words, spray painted to read "new inn" with an arrow pointing down the road.

The Lord of Dreams looked at the words curiously, cautiously, exactly as you'd expect one wary of every mortal thing after a traumatic experience to do. Then he glanced around, again with an expected wariness of some sort of nefarious trap. But trap or not, what else was he supposed to do? He needed to find the immortal, like or not.

A shrug and Morpheus started walking as the arrow directed. Again, what else could he do? He was already late, far later than he dared count (thirty two), so he'd hurry up and find that blasted immortal mortal.

The Lord of Dreams didn't have to walk far. He walked farther than he expected, but the distance was nothing for an endless who needed a stretch (more than a stretch after all the time spent in that cage)(not thinking about it).

There were more clues along his path. Graffiti of varying ages splattered across walls, fences and trees. Sometimes, the clue came in a more permanent form, such as a wooden sign nailed to a tree. The most permanent sign he found was a building. A somewhat beautiful building, in its own buildingy way. A sign over its crisp white awning read the words "New Inn"

Morpheus almost walked past this building, reading the sign as simply another sign pointing him in the right direction. But it wasn't, as he realized after he had stupidly turned away. He scowled at the obviousness, at his stupidity (though he would never call it as such). Inside, however, he couldn't help the flutter in his chest that almost made him want to giddily smile (he would never).

Walking purposefully, again with a sort of caution he hated, the Lord of Dreams entered the tavern.