Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Any other time Morpheus would be at the cave that Thanatos and Hypnos had shared when they were young and the world was young with them. There weren't any dreams then because there wasn't anyone to dream them yet.
But lately he'd returned to his father's palace and had accepted his position being more complying to the standards that were placed on him and with the return of Pasithea feeling that his guidance was needed more than ever.
The king of dreams had a very important announcement to make.
Everyone already knew. Everyone had already felt the ripple through their lands that had shaken and disorientated all of the hallucinogenic dreams whether they were at home or in between the several different planes of Cimmeri land. Everyone already knew, but their king needed to give his official word and acknowledge Hades' passing to his people.
Morpheus himself had wept within the solitary walls of his bed chamber where Phobetor laid ill in his bed. He was awaiting Zeus' aid extended to his brother by way of Iris the messenger who knew these parts as well as Hermes.
Hades' death was hard to fathom. It was the prophesy. It must have been the prophesy and while the dream god had visited gods and goddesses' dreams (the ones that had slept to dream that is) painting them pictures of children, ruination and death, it was still hard to face when it was at their gates.
It was a very sad day.
He stepped outside on his bedroom's balcony, giving his poor sickly brother Phobetor a glance over before he did so and hoping he could revive him soon.
Once Morpheus stood there in front of the terrace railing thrumming his fingers against it, something happened that hadn't happened outside of the sound proof walls of the palace that hadn't happened for a very long time. A noise, an actual real noise above the decibel of the usual whisper that may have been spoke out loud and not an imagined noise sounded from what was usually a crow less rooster. That was the sound that summoned the one thousand Oneiroi inhabitants of Dream World below the balcony.
But lately he'd returned to his father's palace and had accepted his position being more complying to the standards that were placed on him and with the return of Pasithea feeling that his guidance was needed more than ever.
The king of dreams had a very important announcement to make.
Everyone already knew. Everyone had already felt the ripple through their lands that had shaken and disorientated all of the hallucinogenic dreams whether they were at home or in between the several different planes of Cimmeri land. Everyone already knew, but their king needed to give his official word and acknowledge Hades' passing to his people.
Morpheus himself had wept within the solitary walls of his bed chamber where Phobetor laid ill in his bed. He was awaiting Zeus' aid extended to his brother by way of Iris the messenger who knew these parts as well as Hermes.
Hades' death was hard to fathom. It was the prophesy. It must have been the prophesy and while the dream god had visited gods and goddesses' dreams (the ones that had slept to dream that is) painting them pictures of children, ruination and death, it was still hard to face when it was at their gates.
It was a very sad day.
He stepped outside on his bedroom's balcony, giving his poor sickly brother Phobetor a glance over before he did so and hoping he could revive him soon.
Once Morpheus stood there in front of the terrace railing thrumming his fingers against it, something happened that hadn't happened outside of the sound proof walls of the palace that hadn't happened for a very long time. A noise, an actual real noise above the decibel of the usual whisper that may have been spoke out loud and not an imagined noise sounded from what was usually a crow less rooster. That was the sound that summoned the one thousand Oneiroi inhabitants of Dream World below the balcony.