dream a little dream of me | Glowfic Constellation

This is fully unacceptable but he’s not sure how objecting works.

Objecting works like Camillo snuggling up to him among the soft furs, ankle hooked around his ankle and hand resting possessively between his legs. Or at least that's what's happening.

Anatole Sinclair

of-the-west

He’s going to forget about whatever he was thinking about and try to grind on Camillo’s hand now.

And Z will shed his boots (and grab Camillo’s too, while he’s at it) and crawl in among the furs himself to put Camillo’s cock in his mouth, as promised.

Everything in the world is good and warm and soft. Z's hot wet mouth soothes his aches, and the pretty boy's squirming warms his bed.

Every so often he twitches his fingers between the pretty thighs, and every so often he fucks into Z's mouth, and mostly he drifts, through perfect contentment, closer and closer to sleep.

Sleep here is much like it was in the last dream — perfectly dreamless, nothing but awareness that time has passed.

When he wakes up in the morning, the pretty boy is nowhere to be found, and Z is face down mumbling quietly and incoherently in his sleep, one arm draped over Camillo’s chest.

The room is filled with sleeping warriors. Occasionally someone snores.

Wow. Everything hurts. His muscles are sore in his thighs and calves and core, the deep parts of his leg throb and stab like a bitch, and the skin itches and smarts where he tore the wound back open.

Also ... apparently he's in a dream, and he has to kill someone to get out. Inconvenient how this particular dream is full of mighty warriors.

It's additionally inconvenient that he has no idea who he has to kill. The person whose dream this is, apparently, but ... how is he supposed to know? There's certainly enough sex and violence for it to be Z's dream. Or it could be Dorothy -- or any of the girls she had last night, of whom he saw three, and he definitely wasn't paying close attention. Or the blond boy, who seems like the odd one out almost as much as he is himself. Or someone completely different! Maybe not even someone at the feast last night! What if it's some random farmer he passes on the road in a week? Does he have to go around killing literally everyone he sees, just to be sure??

His leg throbs harder, matching the quick beat of his heart. Ugh. Okay, think.

The alien -- what was the alien's name. Something planty that sounded like Camillo. Camellia? Sounds wrong but whatever. Camellia said that he was in the dreams, like they were dreaming about him. That makes sense if it's someone he knows in real life, like Z or Dorothy or maybe someone else at the feast he didn't notice, and not so much sense if it's a complete stranger like the pretty boy or the Dorothy's girls. Although sometimes he has dreams about people he met like once, and maybe someone like that is out there having dreams about him and he's completely forgotten them. In which case he's back where he started.

Probably it's someone important? That one with the spaceships must have been Mal's dream, since it ended when he died, and Mal was important in it. And usually people are kind of central to their own dreams. Although again he's definitely had dreams where he was a random victim of marauding savages, or whatever, and it's not like Mal was that important in the grand scheme of the galaxy, except for the thing where he kept secretly saving it and it's not like anyone uninvolved knew about that. So it could totally still be some random farmer and this is no help at all.

Okay. For the sake of argument he might as well start by assuming it's someone he can figure out, and then if that doesn't work he always has rampant mass murder as a fallback option. That means probably someone he knows, and probably someone important, and maybe someone who's having a great time although maybe Mal just has unusually happy dreams. Z fits the first and third and kind of the second. Dorothy fits the second and third and kind of the first. Pretty boy kind of fits the second and third but not the first. No one else really stands out, at least so far.

These are the worst options for people to kill. Z sounds awful and Dorothy sounds hard. He could probably kill the pretty boy, though. Like, not that he's generally cool with murdering people, but it is just a dream.

That settled, he reaches up to scritch Z's sleepy head.

Sleepy Z mumbles in a more approving kind of way and snuggles a little closer.

So. Gotta feel out the situation, he supposes, make sure he's met everyone he's supposed to, figure out who he is and what he's supposed to be doing. Then -- assuming nothing changes -- try and kill the pretty boy first. Or get him killed. Might be easier, and better for him if it doesn't wake him up, and it worked fine on Mal. Then Dorothy and (ugh) Z. Then mass murder. He could probably take out quite a few people in their sleep, given the setup here. Although what happens if they wake up and kill him? Is whoever-it-is just stuck in this dream forever? That would suck. Maybe he should kill Z first, just to make sure that if someone's stuck in a dream forever it's someone else.

This is giving him a headache. Or maybe that's a hangover from whatever the fuck he drank last night. Could go either way.

Z sleeps. Everyone sleeps. A cold breeze blows in through a door flap that’s hanging open, and a few people huddle closer into their furs.

Ugh. Fine. He will be responsible and do some recon while everyone is asleep.

Hopefully there are some clothes near the bed. He'd really like pants in this weather.

There are some very much Z-sized clothes in the trunk at the end of the bed. Camillo’s extremely bloody pants and boots are on the floor. His shirt is fine, at least.

Camillo, who refuses to let this turn into a public nudity dream, rolls up Z's spare pants and wears his own bloodstained boots.

Before he faces the cold outside, he can scout around the room for any familiar faces.

There are a couple of women and one man sleeping here who he might recognize vaguely from a class. No one he knows better than that.

Dorothy’s not here, but her loot is piled at the end of an empty bed.

Lindsey

spitfire

…well, almost empty.

Okay. So that girl's on his hit list, but, like, third tier. And now he knows where Dorothy sleeps, which is definitely the only way he's going to have a chance at killing her.

Time to venture out into the bitter cold and see what he can see.

It snowed at some point last night, just a little.

There’s many sets of footprints from the hall to the building (or…big tent? Somewhere between the two?) where he was sleeping. There’s one that leaves there again, and continues on.

This is clearly a CLUE. He will pursue it with INTREPID DETERMINATION.

The footprints hit every building from the house to a stable, where they’re replaced by hoofprints.

Luckily, there’s a set of hoofprints coming back again, too, and then boot prints again, off in another direction through the little settlement, again checking every door.

The sun is rising, and it glints brilliantly off the distant mountains and the frosty ground.

So that's sketchy as hell, right? Admittedly it's also exactly what he's doing right now -- and probably what he would be doing even if he weren't following these very footprints -- but, also, he spent the first part of the morning plotting mass murder, so mark one down for sketchiness.

Camillo feels very clever about checking the stable to see if he can tell which horse has already been out once this morning. That way he can identify his mystery suspect later, even if he can't track them down now.