Chapter Text
┏━━ ⧼ 🌌 ⧽ ━━━━━━━━━━┓
⃟✧ ིྀ･. 𝑟𝑒𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠.
chapter twenty-two !
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┅ ࿐ ✧ ˚.⭑ ﹙❝ Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.❞﹚.
⸻Hafiz.
┅ ࿐ ✧ ˚.⭑ ━━━━━━━━━━━ .* ིྀིྀ
The silence surrounding them is unbearable, and thank God (thank you, merciful God, for saving me from this cringe, thinks Esther), the kettle begins to whistle.
Esther takes a deep breath and goes to the stove, switching off the heat.
"Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone at this time." she says, realising it's sorta silly, but she already said anyway. She stretches like an accordion to reach the shelf where the cups are. The Sandman doesn't say anything, so she tries something else. She looks over her shoulder and offers:"Tea?"
The guest doesn't say anything; he just moves a bit closer, crossing the kitchen island, until he's exactly five feet away from her, against the wall. Then he shakes his head.
"Ye sure?"
Now he nods.
Esther presses her lips together, looking a bit put off, but still takes just one cup, the Hufflepuff one, and puts it on the counter next to the kettle. Then she goes to the shelf with the box of teas, takes a red fruit tea bag and puts it in her cup. She takes the kettle and pours in the hot water, her eyes fixed on it as it slowly turns red, her mind trying to find the words to speak to this being.
When the water reaches the rim of the cup, Esther puts the kettle back on the hob and picks up the cup. Her movements are sharp, and water spills and splashes her fingers, but the adrenaline stops her from feeling irritated. She leans on the counter, looking over at Sandman.
They're just staring at each other for what feels like forever, until the girl finally exhales a sigh that's been sitting there for ages. She gets her Victorian side going, the one she uses every time she writes a poem, and starts speaking in old words, just in case.
"Ye have some explaining to do."
...
That came out worse than expected.
In the dim light of the lamp, Esther can see him raise his eyebrows, as if he's thinking 'You dare...'
"I guess we're in the same circunstance with each other, then." says the Sandman, standing up straight and looking enterily like the eldritch creature he is. "I have heard everything that has happened to you, Esther."
The girl takes a sip of her tea to stop herself from accusing him. It burns her tongue. And she didn't put honey in it.
"Is that so?" she says, a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she looks for the honey container on the tea shelf. "How?"
The Sandman hides his head in the darkness behind him. His eyes are black and have a single star as a pupil, showing that he's not an ordinary being.
Presumptuous.
"After retrieving all my tools back, I asked the Fates about what I heard from the Morning Star, about this new entity known the Defiant of Destinies. It is said this new creature defied Destiny himself by creating a spontaneous fork."
Abort mission. Abort mission. Run and hide in Destiny's maze until even he can't find you. Then follow the path with Ariadne's thread and go to Liri's painting to cross the border into her colourful kingdom. You won't be any crazier than you already are once it's safe to leave.
Red alarms start ringing inside Esther's head. But she just stirs her tea with two spoonfuls of honey.
She asks, a bit evasively: "Who's the Morning Star?" as she leaves the spoon in the sink and lifts the cup to take a sip. The Sandman, though, remains unperturbed.
"You would know him as the devil."
The tea scratches her throat. Esther coughs a couple of times as she puts her cup back on the counter, which clinks from the abruptness. With one hand on her chest, she coughs twice more.
"M' fine," she says, her voice unnecessarily raspy and with her natal accent. She glances out of the corner of her eye and sees that the Sandman has moved, enough to be three steps away from her now. "How'd ye come to that?"
"My helmet, the symbol of my authority, was in the possession of a demon." he says, and his voice causes a cotton cloud to begin to appear in the younger woman's brain. "After I got my sand back with Johanna Constantine's help, I went to look for it in hell. After getting it, the Morning Star mentioned a saying." Esther looks up and sees him staring at her, unblinking, as if analysing her every little gesture. "It seems that the Defiant did not smile upon to my path."
There's a bit of a pause, and the girl decides to play dumb, partly because she's not sure how to take the fact that, according to Sandman, the devil himself knows her, so much so that there's even a phrase in her honour. Why? She doesn't know. She just does.
"And what did these Fates tell you?"
Next blink, the Sandman's right in front of her. His black coat brushes against her knitted jumper, and his height makes him look like a lamppost. Esther has to tilt her head back until the back of her neck wrinkles. She sorta realises that her forehead's almost touching his chest, which explains the pain in her neck.
"Do not mock me." he says, serious. "For I am sure you are aware of the Fates, my sister, Death, Destiny and my other siblings. I know for a fact that you know about my kingdom, about Lucienne, and that, in your blood, you carry a part of my power. Do not think, for a second, that you can defy me, Defiant."
By the time he says she can't defy him and says 'Defiant' in a rough but mocking way, Esther has already decided this being is worse than Desire.
It's hard not to feel disappointed.
"Right then, Sandman." she spits, taking a long sip of her tea without breaking the eye contact. Her characteristic defiance spills from her tongue. "I'll assume then ye got my message and came to punish me for failing in freeing you or for telling you to get lost when your sister took Josephine. Or am I wrong here?"
Sandman's expression of superiority softens as his eyelids tremble and his skin relaxes, until his features come back to normal and his eyes look at her from beneath his unusually long eyelashes.
Is he giving her puppy dog eyes?
Apart from being worse than Desire, he's also bipolar? What the hell's wrong with this entity?
"You misunderstand me." he says. "No, I did not come here to punish you for either of those situations. You were the only one who was kind enough to at least try to help me, and for that, I owe you, Esther."
The way he says her name makes her shiver, not from the cold, but from something else she won't admit to.
"Ye don't owe me anythin'." she says, taking the last sip of tea and then leaving the empty cup on the sink. She moves out of Sandman's reach and heads for the door. "I failed, so any kind of ancient debt or custom of the universe that binds you as an entity doesn't apply."
She turns to look at him over her shoulder as she grabs the doorknob, clearly intending to wander around at this time of night, as she'd told her mother before wishing her good night.
"Nothing binds me." the Sandman replies, coming up to her with quiet, measured steps. "I do choose to return your kindness. You may not have given me freedom, but you gave me hope and faith, the two things that sustained me through the next years I spent in that basement. "
The girl spins around, her hands on her elbows. She's a bit surprised that he casually mentions how they met, because she didn't think this was something he would be willing to talk about. The Sandman is standing over her again, but not in the same way as a few seconds ago. He's solid, ancient, and calm, like a tree.
She thinks he's either lying or hiding something. But it doesn't matter. He can keep his secrets.
Esther lets out a sigh, puts on her slippers and opens the front door of her house, stepping out onto the porch. She turns to see him standing in the doorway.
"Walk with me, Sandman." she invites him, putting her hands in the pockets of her well-worn cotton trousers. "I'll have explanations, and so will ye. But I don't need my mum to get up to fetch a glass of water and bump into Kozmotis Pitchiner in her living room."
The Sandman's forehead gets wrinkled like an angry old man's.
"You dare…?"
"So, ye know who's Kozmotis Pitchiner, right?"
The entity falls silent, his rose-and-clover lips tighten, and his head tilts slightly, very slightly, downward. He shakes his head once.
Esther lifts one corner of her mouth in a slightly smug smile.
"Come." she says, turning around and starting to walk in the middle of the night. "There are several things to catch up on. I'll explain them to ye."
By the time she reaches the street, the Sandman is already beside her, walking at her pace, one foot in front of the other, in sync. Esther just smiles again.
They walk for a block in total silence. Only the whistling wind and the crows can be heard.
Esther walks to the little park where her mum took her to tell her about Paul's gift. It's empty, street lights shining on the dew-covered grass. She goes over to one of the swings and sits down heavily, sighing. The chain squeaks grossly, but that just calms her down. She uses her feet to push and swing, then looks over her shoulder.
The Sandman stares at her, looking like he has no idea what to do.
Esther gives him a playful smile: "I know it might not be yer usual style, but come, sit on a swing. It's like a rocking chair, but floating."
"Is this really necessary?'
"If ye'd rather stand there stiffly, that's up to ye."
Two seconds later, the Sandman sits down on the swing next to her, gesturing like a pianist with his long coat, so that it extends backwards. His long legs are like wires, but he uses them to push himself, and he swings listlessly.
But Esther isn't stupid. She can see from his less rigid back and less pursed mouth that the short, swaying and squeaking of the swings grounds him.
They both are alike in that, it seems.
She wishes she'd brought her phone. She'd really like to send Amara a photo of her little brother, who's been scorched, trying to fit and stay on a swing made for kids. He looked regal and majestic, blending into the night and wearing a distant expression as he gazed at the houses in front of them.
"You promised explanations." says the Sandman, nodding towards her. "I must confess I am quite interested in hearkening them."
Esther raises her eyebrows.
'Did I explicitly say I "promised" them?'"
"We agreed that we both had things to explain. So, ladies first." He gestures with his hand like a Victorian gentleman.
"How Darcy of ye." she retorts.
"Did you just compare me to Jane Austen's most famous character?"
"Yes."
The Sandman's looking at her intently, making her cross her legs and pull her knees up to make herself smaller.
"What an honour you have given me. Who would that make you? Miss Elizabeth?"
Esther's eyes widen.
"It doesn't make me anyone, Sandman. Anyway, we'll have to save that for another chat. Or do you want to debate about one of the classics? We've got all night."
The Sandman nods once and looks ahead, as if he's ponderind what to say.
"The Fates told me about your accidental acquisition of a part of my power." he begins, his legs rocking him slowly. "I have to admit that I am unfamiliar with such an event, and likewise, I do not know how to address it."
"Can I just ask what your sand can do to me?" Esther says, gripping the rusty chains tightly. "I'm a bit worried it might have side effects."
"If you were an ordinary human, it would have consumed you already." the Sandman replies, his pale hands pressed together like a businessman. "Even for such a small portion of my power, it is capable of covering an entire galaxy."
Esther isn't surprised by the news.
"I figured." she says, swinging a little harder. "Then why am I not destroyed? I've been like this for nearly four years now."
"You are the Defiant." he replies, raising his head to look at her with his polar star pupil, and Esther almost believes those words are set in stone. "You are second only to Destiny in terms of power. My own destiny is malleable your hands. It is understandable that you carry both with grace."
The girl raises an eyebrow.
"I don't carry 'em with grace." she says. "Only with resignation."
The Sandman tilts his head, just like crows do.
It makes her smile a little.
"Regardless you carry my sand, it is imperative that you learn to handle it." he orders. His voice, ancient, becomes firm, leaving no room for discussion. "I can sense it wreacking havoc on your essence, and taking it from you is not an option. You know how to control your abilities as Defiant, but not completely. That kind of power is really dangerous for a mortal body. If an Endless' power gets mixed in with it, it can be lethal. If it continues any longer, I fear it will consume you in the end."
Esther puts one foot on the ground to stop herself from swaying.
"What a sophisticated way of telling me that I might actually run into Amara this time."
The Sandman frowns. "Amara?"
"Teleute, your sister." she clarifies. "When we first met, she said I could call her by that name. I got used to it and to meeting her regularly, and my life didn't come to an end. We're friends, you see."
The being's face looks thoughtful and distant, but not hard.
"I am glad to know that my sister has someone who doesn't judge her for who she is." is all he says.
They're both quiet again, and the sounds of the night are really loud.
"May I ask how we should move forward?"
The Sandman sees her like a scientist sees bacteria under a microscope.
"I would ysuggest that, from now on, you spend time in my realm." he replies, taking his time and being careful not to scare her away with a few quick words. "By being in the Dreaming, you are within my power, not just my power within you. This should keep sudden manifestations and the possibility of your perish, at bay."
"Sudden manifestations?"
"You were able to summon a biscuit and order a vehicle to run you over in my throne room." he says, all casual, as if he's commenting on the weather. "I could give you a part of my kingdom, the same as the power you wield, for you to reside in. You will have total control there, and that will prevent your demise."
For God's sake.
"Ye sound like Destiny and the Fates." she snaps irritably. The Sandman opens his mouth, but Esther stops him. "They serve me everything on silver platter, expecting me to manage on my own and not cause any more trouble, as if the tools they grant me are electric leashes to keep me contained. Ye said before, ye've never been in a situation like this, and since ye have no choice, you give in, because I'm a problem, something to be contained, to be kept at bay. This is just a temporary solution, so why don't we just let your power of Endless and my power as Defiant finish consuming me? My death may cause worse consequences, but ye all are in a strong position. You can handle it."
By the time she's finished her tirade, her chest hurts, not just from the air she's forced out, and the Sandman doesn't even deign to answer her. They're both quiet until the squeak of Esther's swing chain sounds louder as she gets up clumsily, her right leg cramping.
"See ye in my dreams then." she retorts, her tone feigning politeness, even though she knows she's acting like a child throwing a tantrum. But for now, she's a child, and she's already had more than her fair share of disappointments when it comes to the entity staring at her with what looks like a bloody pout. "Bonafide, valeas."
Which means 'In good faith, may you fare well' in Latin.
She might be angry, disappointed, upset and tired, but this idiot is still the Sandman, the first story she was ever told, the flesh and blood of everything she has ever believed, and she bled, prayed and waited for him. She just hopes that it was worth it and that this isn't all that he has to give.
Esther hugs her elbows, squeezing her skin as if they were folds in a sheet, and is about to take a step when her head hits something hard and firm. When she looks up, there's the Sandman, looking at her with the same pout, but now with human eyes, with blue irises.
"My apologies." he says, and his voice is even more gentle than before. Not smooth, or tempting, or making her want to fall into his arms to sleep 'till the next century. Just soft, like the drizzle covering them. "I didn't mean to make you feel the same way as the Fates made you feel."
Esther takes a sharp breath. "And how ye think that was?"
The Sandman looks up, as if he's trying to remember something.
"I seem to recall the Crone said something like 'aberration of the universe'."
"Wow. Ye even know that." the girl teases, a bitter laugh with sharp edges escaping from her nose. "They really are a bunch of gossips."
"I can't find any failure in your logic."
And then he smiles.
It's not an easy smile to spot; Esther has to focus twice to make sure that slight lift at the corners of his mouth and the wrinkles around his eyes are there, making it seem as if he had never smiled in his damn endless life, but there it is, after all. She doesn't miss the complicity that this gesture seems to seek.
An unnamed part of her thinks he looks like someone she'd share more than just smiles with.
The Defiant does her thing and smiles back, in the same way.
"So, would I have to go to your castle every time I sleep?" she asks, trying to figure out a routine.
"No." the Sandman answers, which surprises her. What else would there be to do? "You must spend time there with your body, not just your subconscious. This way, both your body and your subconscious will get used to it. There will also be an opportunity for me to teach you how to handle the sand. It is no easy task, but it is not impossible either."
Esther raises her eyebrows and narrows her eyes, her lips pressed upwards, registering the difference between this entity and the others who simply left her to her fate. She nods a little.
"Guess I'll have to go regularly, maybe once or twice a week, right?"
"You shall go to the Dreaming every day until those freckles disappear."
"What?" Esther despairs for a second, but then she covers her eyes with her hand and remembers the faint lines covering her dark circles. She also sees the freckle bracelets on her wrists, as if they were two handcuffs. "Ah. Just to be clear, what are these?"
"They are the physical manifestation of the sand." replies her companion, looking at her right wrist. "I myself had them in my early years of existence, until I could control my abilities perfectly and transfer them in the sand. They will fade away as you gain knowledge and experience."
Esther tries to imagine him with freckles, squinting her eyes and analysing his alabaster cheeks without shame. She can't.
"Is there something on my face?" the Sandman asks, expressionless. But Esther can see a slight blush on his cheekbones, which is surprising. His pale skin made the red blood she didn't think he would have stand out a little more in the dim light from the lampposts.
"No." Esther shakes her head. "I'm just trying to picture you with freckles. It's complicated.
The Sandman looks at her again, without any expression, and his cheeks are slightly more flushed, which makes the girl frown.
"Can ye entities feel cold or heat?" she asks, as she starts to walk. The Sandman follows her at a steady pace. "Your cheeks look a bit irritated. They're red."
Just then, they pass under a tree with s bit of shade. The next moment, when the light returns to illuminate his face, there's no trace of the blush.
Wait a sec-
"We do not feel like you do, we do not need food, and we do not carry blood." he says, his hands in his coat pockets, his jaw sticking out as he lifts his head to look at the stars. "But we usually try to imitate you, so as not to make you uncomfortable."
"How considerate of ye." Esther teases, without malice, offering him a crooked smile. "No need with me. I've seen and lived through worse."
The Sandman stops and looks at her, his eyes shining again.
"I am aware of that, and in light of the original events, I beg you to accept my sincere apologies." he says solemnly, but Esther just frowns and blinks a few times, confused. "Because of my absence, the sleeping sickness started. Because of it, your father died. Because of his death, you went to the mansion to try to fulfil his last wish. That is why you found me, and that is why you died. All of those events have brought us to where we are today. This shouldn't have happened, especially not to you, but it did, and you must be aware that I am... sorry."
By the time he's finished speaking, he's too close. At some point, Esther saw was right in front of her. The sand inside Esther (because it can only be that) churns in her stomach like a vortex of water, wanting to return to its owner.
Still, damn thing.
"Ye forget that all of this happened because I chose it." she says, lifting her chin. She feels a bit of a shiver go through her when her crown brushes against the Sandman's jaw, but she keeps her cool. She takes a step back, hugs herself to rub her arms, and continues: "It's not yer fault. Not if I chose it.There's nothin' to apologise for."
The Sandman opens his mouth, maybe to contradict her, but Esther lifts her chin, as if defying him to say something. In the end, he stops talking and nods, sinking his jaw a little, giving himself a vampiric look that makes Esther laugh quietly inside.
How weird is this? She was expecting more of a fight. And for him to don't get too close.
"Okay." she says, and nods to her companion to follow her. They both walk down the street in the middle, because Esther likes to do that, and the Sandman, she thinks, because she is doing it. "Is there anything else you want to add for now? I'd love to chat, but I've got school tomorrow."
The Sandman doesn't say anything, but he makes a weird movement with his shoulders, and when she blinks, she feels something on her own shoulders.
Esther blinks again, and then she feels, and sees, a big piece of black fabric draped over her shoulders, covering her like a blanket, trailing slightly behind her.
When she turns to look at the Sandman, he's wearing another coat, shorter and also black, with lapels that rise up against his neck like Dracula's cape, making his jaw look even more striking. He looks at her over his nose, like he's assessing her, as if he's thinking about what he sees, whether to criticise or improve it.
"What's your coat here for?" asks Esther, tilting her head to one side, kinda suspiciously.
"You were shivering." the Sandman says, looking her straight in the eye. "What other reason could there be?"
The girl narrows her eyes, feeling a bit suspicious, but she nods and slips her arms into the sleeves, which are a bit too long for her and she has to roll them up a bit. It's nice and soft, and it's not too warm for her either, so it's perfect for cool spring nights. It's not too heavy, but it's not too light either. Esther would call it a fashion masterpiece.
"It's…" she says quietly, burying her nose in the sleeves that are piling up at her wrists. It's got that fresh-out-of-the-forest kind of smell, with a touch of woodiness and a hint of that spring breeze. "Pleasant."
The Sandman doesn't say anything, but Esther can see that his walk is more noticeable, and it looks like he's pretty satisfied. Not to mention his hands buried in the pockets of his new coat and his raised jaw. He looks like a proud black peacock.
Esther tries not to overthink what her analogy might mean.
They walk in silence, the sounds of the night filling the space between them, until they arrive right in front of Esther's house, where Oneiros, lying in the rocking chair, wags his tail, his eyes fixed on the man dressed in black. He looks back, and they both stare at each other intensely.
Esther remembers, then.
"Ah, I've got something to say." The Sandman nods towards her, spending a few last seconds glaring at his cat before looking at her attentively. "Can ye make people stop dreaming about me? Also, I don't even want to see you as a Maine Coon in my bedroom window."
Dream of the Endless is a pale being by nature, but now, surprisingly, he seems to be turning transparent. Literally. Esther can almost see his bones, or what look like bones, around his blue eyes.
"I did not mean to make you uncomfortable." he says abruptly, his voice with an urgency that fits the situation quite well, which amuses Esther. Not that she'd ever admit it, though. "Things that happen in dreams often have consequences in the Waking World, and now, especially for you, since you carry a part of my sand. And you were hit by a car and injured with glass. I had to make sure you were not hurt."
Okay, Esther doesn't see any flaws in his logic.
"And ye thought the best way to do that was to take the form of a cat that looks like a stuffed animal and show up at my window as if ye were one?"
"I do not think you would have appreciated me appearing, as you see me, in the middle of the night, on your private chambers."
The girl wants to laugh at the way he says 'private chambers,' as if her room, which is less than five square metres in size, with peeling paint and centuries-old furniture brought from her childhood home in Ireland, were the chambers of a queen or something.
"Yer right about that." she says, despite herself. "But don't even think about denying it, even in my semi-conscious state, ye enjoyed it when I scratched yer ears and kissed yer forehead."
Ay.
The Sandman's face changes into something ancient and honestly scary; his eyes go completely black, and his jaw lines and rise above the lapels of his coat. Esther doesn't bat an eyelid.
"Are you suggesting I took pleasure in such a... such a... vulgar act?" he asks, as if the girl in front of him is just an average person who's not friend of death. "As if a creature such as me needed... affection."
The Defiant really does live up to her name; she smiles with her cheeks all raised, which confuses the Sandman, but then she opens her mouth and says something that makes Destiny raise his eyebrows under his hood as he reads the italicised words being written in his book:
"Ye look quite pretty denying that I'm right with trick questions that have a common answer, which we both know very well is yes, Sandman."
Carajo.
What she actually said was: 'Ye look quite petty.'
But never mind. If she's honest with herself, she'll also admit that he looked pretty cute with that scolded baby pout, like, cute in an irritating way. Seriously, he Endless? He's a spoilt boy who'd rather deny something he clearly enjoyed because, God forbid, his pride is as fragile as a porcelain jug.
But between her and God, she's loving his dry face right now; the blackness that were his eyes had become these tiny dots, his mouth was still open, looking all angry, and then, his pale face was covered with a thin layer of blush that was almost invisible, but still noticeable.
Dear God, he really is pretty. Look at him squirming like a worm in salt.
Esther smiles mischievously at him once more, then folds her ring-adorned hands in a negotiation gesture.
"Well, since we're done here, I'm off to sleep. Don't wanna see you lurking around like a cat-like stalker. I'll catch up with you tomorrow in your kingdom as soon as I can. I'll use the Portal between Kingdoms." The girl starts to leave, walking backwards towards her porch. The Sandman's stunned gaze follows her like a hawk. She says goodbye with the following words, because she can, because she wants to and because she feels like it: "Now, bonafide valeas, buachaill álainn."
It's a pretty long goodbye, but it's necessary. It's made up of two parts, the first part being 'bonafide, valeas', which is Latin for 'in good faith, you fare well' and the second part is 'buachaill álainn', which is Irish for 'pretty boy'.
Esther picks up her cat without waiting for a response. The cat meows annoyedly and digs its claws into her forearm, but she is so pleased with herself that she doesn't even feel it. Then she enters her house and turns to see the Sandman staring at her, squinting his eyes and surely planning to make her regret it.
"Oh, and Kozmotis Pitchiner is a literal representation of the ruler of nightmares in a series of books called "The Guardians of Childhood'." she adds, before opening the screen door to her house with one hand, while holding Oneiros with the other. "Ye should read 'em. Ye'll love 'em."
Esther goes into her house and closes the door quickly without even thinking, but then she realises that the Sandman was standing right behind her.
"Wai...!"
Esther doesn't wait, though. She slams the door in his face and hisses with pity when she hears a sharp thud against the wood of the door and a silent cry of pain.
Oh, shoot. So it looks like he's not made of sand, then.
And she slammed the door right in his face.
And he slammed into that same door.
And he probably broke his nose.
She immediately lets go of her cat, who lands on its feet on the floor, and grabs her coat with one hand as she opens the door again, with a quick apology ready to say.
There's nothing there.
Just a little golden mound of sand that the wind blows away.
Esther follows the trail of sand with her eyes, which practically flies through the air, playing and creating a fluid illusion until it disappears, just like Sandy's sand in the books and film 'Rise of the Guardians.'
The girl shakes her head and looks up at the moon, which is a bit further away and looking half full.
"Honestly, I don't even feel sorry."
And she goes back into her house, feeling pretty good about herself and her talent for leaving entities in bad positions.