Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

7

George yelps, watching as his companion hits something on the mural in the wall, and a passage opens up. Not surprising to him, but the door closing behind them wasn't welcome.
Dream grabs a lantern of sorts from the roof, and leads George down the sloping tunnel.

"This leads to the garden," He says excitedly, "I use it when I want to get out without being seen, go on a people-watching trip or something. When I wanna blend in."
They nearly tumble to the end, and Dream opens the door, almost bouncing with excitement.

George looks around the exit; it seems they're behind a wall of shrubbery. Dream leads the way, closing the panel behind them, and then they're in front of a wrought iron gate that leads out past a wall. George asks him quietly,

"Where are we?"

"Palace gardens, this gate leads out to the front of the palace. We can blend in from there." He tugs him along more, and they slip out, into the open, and then Dream breaks into a jog, holding George's hand, seemingly forgetting the other man had been hospitalized for multiple days.
George looks around them, awestruck by just how different it is- not the void of the End itself, but the architecture of the homes and shops, and of course the looming palace. He almost forgets to keep asking questions. Almost.

"...So can you tell me now?" He persists his earlier questioning. "What made you save me?"
Dream answers softly as they merge with the crowd, just two more people milling about,

"Well, I'm pretty certain you and I were supposed to meet. Like, in the special way."
George blinks a few times,

"What?"
Dream looks embarrassed, and they duck into an alley briefly as he explains seriously,

"Soulmates, George. I think we're soulmates. You drew me to you, even half dead, and when I learned your name it felt like- a puzzle piece. Like it was supposed to happen." He looks a little shy almost, as though admitting this reveals a great weakness; and in a way it does.
If George was his soulmate, the two were supposed to share a special bond, and all that. George looks away for a second to consider it all.
Names are real. This is a realm of magic. Are soulmates also real?...

He usually would have discarded it instantly. He would've laughed at it with a hint of mockery.
But after everything that happened in recent days, he doubts the validity of his skepticism. Sure, he still wasn't going to believe all those silly rumors about obsidian and turning into a Nether beast. But he also wasn't going to doubt the feeling that had gone through him when Dream called him George, or the feeling he got when calling Dream Clay.

"...how would we know? Is there a way to prove it?" Dream shrugs in response to the question,

"Finding your soulmate is supposed to be uncommon and nobody really knows how to prove it other than how you feel. How you fall in love and it's just- puzzle pieces. You work well, even with your differences. Everyone has a different account, so let's wait and see. But if I'm wrong, I still don't regret my choices, you're a pretty neat guy."
He pulls George to the other end of the alley, and points up at a building.

It's tall, two tower-like portions sprouting from it, the roof an odd shade of blue to George. He can see a fence on top of the taller tower, the shorter coming to a spire of sorts. There's stairs wrapping around the shorter tower, leading to a platform.
It feels almost more like a library, or a fantastical building than a post office. Dream opens the door, and a small bell rings to alert the woman sitting at the front desk.

George surveys the rooms- he can see the main room is some sort of archive, filing cabinets and shelves crowding the walls, papers scattered over them and packed neatly into the drawers. In the next room over though, there's a...well?
He squints, and realizes yes, it looks like a well is set into the floor of the house, a faint glow playing off the surface of the water. He stares at it in bemusement, noticing streaks of color that don't belong in water, and the longer he looks at it, the more he can see a faint shape of what seems to be a wagon, bouncing over a road.
He snaps out of it, turning to listen to Dream, who's just chatting to the receptionist while letting George space out.