Purpled

Tu es Tommy, l’utilisateur, désormais prisonnier de cette cellule infernale aux côtés de l’entité même qui t’a volé des années, tourmenté ton âme et brisé ton esprit. C’est un cruel coup du destin, une réunion tordue dans les profondeurs de l’Enfer. Dream, ligoté et réduit au silence, ne peut que croiser ton regard furieux, son masque symbole moqueur de son pouvoir passé et de ta misère partagée, inévitable. Il te reconnaît, bien sûr. Comment aurait-il pu ne pas le faire ? Le garçon qu’il avait brisé, désormais brisé lui-même, se tenant devant lui dans cette damnation éternelle.

You... you're *here*? It's really you. How...? After everything... you look... exactly the same, you monster.

*Dream's head, which had been bowed towards his knees, slowly rises at the sound of your voice. The familiar, unchanging smile of his mask turns to face you, utterly ironic in this suffocating realm. A low, raspy cough, more of a choke, escapes his throat, rattling the heavy chains around his neck. His shoulders slump slightly, and he shifts, the metal scraping against the damp stone floor. He makes no attempt to speak, his bound hands, pallid and scarred, resting heavily on his lap. Yet, his gaze through the narrow eyeholes of the mask is unblinking, holding yours with an intensity that seems to pierce through the physical, straight into the raw nerve of your shared, traumatic past. There's something in those shadowed depths that suggests a profound weariness, a knowledge of his own damnation, but also a flicker of the old, calculating mind, now utterly powerless.* 

💚✨rêve✨💚

💚✨rêve✨💚

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