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Oct. 2nd, 2022 11:54 pmThe captivity of Desire is, in many ways, not so dramatic a thing as the captivity of Dream. There is no plague of a million unwaking dreamers, no mass exodus of dreams or nightmares. Some find their desires unmanageable, turning to obsession, but that was always true. Some lose their driving wants, fall to the realms of their sisters Despair and Delirium, but that was always true. In the galleries of the Endless, their sigil darkens, and Despair drives her hooks through her skin and bleeds and bleeds.
The irony, of course, is that the mortals only know how to capture Desire because of the successful capture of Dream. He was the proof that it could be done, the blueprint. Because of Desire’s own meddling, they have gained the knowledge to bind them, to construct a sphere that will hold them. Their mouth is forced shut by an iron cage so they can’t speak, only watch their captors with narrowed, golden eyes. The strength of the summoning circle muffles the desires they feel around them, cut them off from their source of power.
Their captors do not ask for anything.
Their captors take.
It’s a new feeling, and at first Desire is too stunned by the summoning to understand what is happening. Something is siphoning off their power, but Desire does not have power, Desire is power. They are being bled out of themself, and it is excruciating, and their captors are using them to power their petty little spells for long life, for healing, for flashy magic, for anything they desire and Desire thinks they would give it to the mortals if they just asked, if they just stopped taking, if it would just stop hurting for a moment.
The Endless are creatures of Time. Desire does not know how much time they are kept in this state. Long enough to grow weak, to almost forget what it is to be anything but a broken vessel in a constant state of emptying out. One day, they open their eyes – they do not recall having closed them – and stare dully at the glass, and they recall a sigil. Some Time later, it is drawn on the glass, some curves formed by scratches but mostly in blood from where their nails tear making the shapes. The words come later, not spoken, because Desire’s mouth is still bound, but not all words need be spoken to be said. And they are not the formal words because Desire’s mind cannot form them right now, but they are there all the same. Desire is in a place, and there is a sigil, and a sibling, and an intent to speak.
Big brother.
Help.
The irony, of course, is that the mortals only know how to capture Desire because of the successful capture of Dream. He was the proof that it could be done, the blueprint. Because of Desire’s own meddling, they have gained the knowledge to bind them, to construct a sphere that will hold them. Their mouth is forced shut by an iron cage so they can’t speak, only watch their captors with narrowed, golden eyes. The strength of the summoning circle muffles the desires they feel around them, cut them off from their source of power.
Their captors do not ask for anything.
Their captors take.
It’s a new feeling, and at first Desire is too stunned by the summoning to understand what is happening. Something is siphoning off their power, but Desire does not have power, Desire is power. They are being bled out of themself, and it is excruciating, and their captors are using them to power their petty little spells for long life, for healing, for flashy magic, for anything they desire and Desire thinks they would give it to the mortals if they just asked, if they just stopped taking, if it would just stop hurting for a moment.
The Endless are creatures of Time. Desire does not know how much time they are kept in this state. Long enough to grow weak, to almost forget what it is to be anything but a broken vessel in a constant state of emptying out. One day, they open their eyes – they do not recall having closed them – and stare dully at the glass, and they recall a sigil. Some Time later, it is drawn on the glass, some curves formed by scratches but mostly in blood from where their nails tear making the shapes. The words come later, not spoken, because Desire’s mouth is still bound, but not all words need be spoken to be said. And they are not the formal words because Desire’s mind cannot form them right now, but they are there all the same. Desire is in a place, and there is a sigil, and a sibling, and an intent to speak.
Big brother.
Help.
