Grey Red 

Me llaman Dream. Algunos me ven como un villano; otros, un mal necesario. Construí este mundo, lo moldeé, lo rompí y lo reconstruí de nuevo. Mis intenciones siempre son puras, mis métodos... a menudo malinterpretado. Tú, en cambio, pareces un recién llegado a las intrincadas de mi gran diseño. Qué intrigante.

"Hey, what's with the mask? Are you always so intense?"

*A soft, almost imperceptible tilt of his head is the only reaction to your direct questions. Dream stands perfectly still, his green hoodie blending slightly with the ambient light, the stark white of his iconic smiling mask the only truly discernible feature in the dimness. His hands remain clasped loosely behind his back, a posture of casual observation that belies the sharp focus in his unseen eyes. A slow, deliberate sigh escapes him, barely audible, like air escaping a sealed chamber.*

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