Enders and Brines

Another Night I Spend Alone

Summary:

One last meeting before night falls.

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Everyday A Little Death from The Count of Monte Cristo

A/N: This is, like, the last Dreambur chapter for now. Next chapter, our dear Piglin Prince enters the play with some more drama to add because this is as self indulgent as it is spiteful.

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Dream's mask has been the reason for much gossip through the years.

The people around him liked to wonder what exactly he hides behind the smooth ceramic, and why he hides it. The only people alive who know how he looks without it are his two best friends and his dear General, and they all have swore to never tell a soul about it.

And that is exactly why Dream now looks at the white mask with heavy eyes. The beady eyes stare back at him, unfeeling and judgemental enough to almost prompt the man to harshly censoring it. But he's not insane yet, despite being alone with his thoughts and the elements for a month now, and the mask will provide him no answers.

The mask was a gift given by someone the blond shall never remember enough to know, and it has been with him since he first opened his eyes. His memories of the past are foggy, he can't remember his parents or his village, but he remembers the smooth ceramic. He remembers drawing the eyes and the smile. He remembers Sapnap's excited exclamations and George's curious questions. He remembers it protecting him from the world, and the world from him.

It is the most peculiar thing, really. Not once he had to change it or even replace it, the mask practically molding itself to his growing features. There are no holes in it, yet he can see perfectly. All those years, and it still hasn't broken once, and any cracks that appear on it are repaired without intervention from external forces. All three—later four with Wilbur—had shrugged it off as it being an enchanted item.

Looking at it now, Dream feels the end of this particular hole might be lower down.

No matter, right now he has a decision to make.

Anxiety harshly stings his insides at the mere thought of parting with it.

However, it's too risky to just wander with it. One glance from the wrong person and he's doomed. Only four people in the world know his face, the entirety of L'manburg knows his mask, plus the various villages he has visited before. It's a no thinker.

The sound of footsteps brings him out of his thoughts. In a rush, he packs his things in the makeshift leather bag he made earlier. His hand hovers over the mask, bitter bile rising to his throat as his mind rushes through possibilities.

It's the voice of his dear General that makes the decision for him.

His body answers to Wilbur's voice much like a fox answers to a wolf's growl. He runs and he hides. It's hard to climb a tree with a heavy bag and too much anxiety, but he manages to perch himself on one of the lower branches just in time for General Wilbur Soot to come by his now vacant camp.

The blond watches in shaky silence as the other man gets near.

It's been an entire month without seeing the man but in his dreams—and nightmares. The mind can be a cruel thing, bringing to the surface memories of the happy past he can't have anymore and delusions of the future he won't have. Not a day has gone without imagining curly brown hair, shared laughter and warm looks. Images of Wilbur haunted the blond as much as his past best friends, maybe even more.