Carissa
A sophisticated yet enigmatic space where patrons can unwind and enjoy crafted drinks. The lounge's decor combines elements of the underworld with modern aesthetics, creating an ambiance that is both alluring and mysterious. It's a place where individuals from all walks of life come together to share stories and experiences.
John
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Amara's heart hammered against her chest, each beat echoing in the silence of the dimly lit bar. An icy gaze looked on from beyond the confines of the bar top, Amara's jaw clenching and grip tightening around her glass in hand until liquid could be felt spilling between her fingertips, spilling over her fingers like tears of frustration. A slight sting to her skin as alcohol mixed with the cuts that had already begun to heal. A human, one that had found himself within the Champions protection, was hanging on another woman with dark intentions in his eyes. Persephone had made her intentions clear through Morpheus' lips, but letting the crimes of humanity slip by in fear of retaliation from his Queen was proving to be far more difficult than she had anticipated. Morpheus' words echoed in her head like a soothing lullaby, but Amara's fury screamed to be heard above them all. 

The girl, an innocent thing with blonde strands of hair that now fell in front of her face from being bumped into in a crowded room far too often, looked every bit of the uncomfortable victim, and Amara stood in response. She had had enough of watching the powerless be helpless against those that found themselves powerful. It was time he learned what real power could be, shadows forming all around her as they consumed the light. 
_ _

*"Amara..."* The bartender's voice cut through the fog like ice water on her unchecked temper. "What." Her voice was spoken through clenched teeth, and she looked nothing of the woman of unparalleled beauty from the blood of Eros, and every bit the beast that lurked in the darkness. Hands went up in response, an innocence to his words, and friendship in his intentions. *"Let it be..."* Every person within this bar knew who the Champions were, and though Alexios would never let behavior like this slide, Amara felt the sudden need to take care of it quickly and on her own. Justice had levels, it took time and explanations, and meanwhile more victims would be made. 

She released a slow breath, attempting to reign in the tempest raging within her, but the sight before her was like kindling to a flame. It raged within, desperate and wanting to escape like the caged animal it was, until finally she caved to the whispers. With a determined stride, she ignored the bartender's pleas and approached the unfolding scene, her presence commanding attention as she stood between the human and his prey.
_ _

"Dearest, perhaps you are blind to when a woman wants nothing to do with you, but do let me help. She is clearly not interested. Walk away." Her voice was a silken song until the last words, growled from between teeth. The underlying threat was unmistakable, as her eyes flashed with the darkness Deimos had gifted her. The human's gaze flicked up to meet hers, a glimmer of defiance shining in his eyes as a smirk placed upon his lips. A dare, as he too knew who Amara was. The former pet of fear, loyal to Alexios for as long as it suited her, and under Persephone's thumb. It was clear that he felt no threat in her presence, that he thought himself invincible for the fake niceties he placed before those in charge. 
Still Amara's gaze did not falter, the girl glancing up at Amara with relief evident in auburn eyes. *"It-... No, everything is fine. Just a simple misunderstanding." Yet she could see his grip indent into her porcelain skin, the flinch upon her face hidden quickly with a look of innocence that pained Amara to see. A flash of who she was before she had been shrouded in all that made mortals break was held within her own mind. Turning to the man once again, seeing the one who was responsible for her own misfortunes. "Walk. Away." It was no longer a threat, but a promise. 
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Darkness began to consume the three of them, the world around them vanishing as she transformed before his eyes. She was fear reincarnate. She was the monster that hid under the bed. She was darkness, and flames, and all that consumed the anxious mind. "Go." She spoke to the woman with a tilt of her head, the man releasing his death grip upon his victim to back within her shadows as he cowered like the mere mortal he was. "So, we find ourselves powerful, do we?" A laugh rang around him in all corners, an echo that sent chills down the spine of all those who heard it.

"Shall we see just how long the powerful can stand?" 

Down they cascaded, into every form of torment that played in his mind. Until the sound of his screams were a symphony of pleasure to Amara's ears. Down further, until his mind had broken and shattered. Until she was sure that no other victim could be had at his hands. Until his mind was no longer his, but hers, hers to control and manipulate in the folds of fear. 
_ _

—

It was those pleasant thoughts that crossed her mind as she nursed her bleeding nose upon the curb. The sight of his form running off, pants soaked with the evidence of his undoing. She had humiliated him, and left him with no opportunity to reclaim his ego, but she knew who he ran to. She knew who would soon show in response with demands of explanations, or perhaps he would send her back to the sleepless nights once more. Every insecurity played like a puppet on the string as he made her dance for him. 

No matter, she would stand by her actions. Her form curled upon the curb as she waited for him, for her Prince of Dreams. 

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𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:
Rick
"Do you feel better, my pet?"

The words came from behind her from the ethereal realm of the dream. It was as if he'd always been there, lurking like the shadows cast by wayward lights through the gloom. Her mind had danced with the devil, who was his presence, and thus, he now was looming within the realm of darkness she was born to. The question was how he had known where to find her. In this realm, his abilities were limited, yet he had managed to materialize as if he were in her father's realm. It was just the way of Morpheus, though there was one thing that her mind was slow to pick up on. 

He was here.

This was no dream. She had been sitting on the sidewalk, wide awake, and yet he was here. The entirety of their blossoming relationship had taken place in his realm. Frequent, passionate sexual encounters had left her a quivering mess in the morning for different reasons than his cruel torture sessions. Yet he was never there when her eyes opened. Just the residual feeling of his all-encompassing warmth fading from her flesh with the morning light. 

She had claimed she was no one's pet, and the way he phrased the word was not to be like he was establishing dominance over her. It left his breath as a clever turn of phrase. A term of endearment passed between two that had been intimate for weeks now. Slow, meandering steps echoed with the tap of dress shoes upon concrete. His handsome, dark visage, clad in a black three-piece suit and tie, only further paid homage to the birthright of darkness. Not a shred of color touched metal, fabric, or plastic in the entirety of what he wore. Both arms were behind his back at first, making him appear as if he was contemplating the weight of the world. 

It would have been easy for him to tell her if she was or was not in trouble, but the fact that this was a personal visit illuminated a few things. The first was that he respected her enough to gift her with his presence. Even in a fight, it was debatable whether she could finish him, but it was saying much that he would even put his constitution at risk by mingling with her. It said he was absolutely sure she would not turn her powers against him. Physically, he could snap her neck, but he did not have a tithe of his abilities in the waking world. 

The second important thing she could gleam was that she could not be in that much trouble given he had chosen to appear here and not where he could string her up and torture her without mercy. A hand slipped free from his back. There was a handkerchief there, and he brought the fabric up to the underside of her nose and gently tended to the trickle of blood. "You are quite dramatic." She could only assume he was speaking to the application of her powers. "There is no art in your design. You could have made that one suffer much more deliciously if you had any knack for showmanship." 

After a few dabs, he noted there was not much in the way of blood left. Yet, the ethereal god of dreaming took control of the situation in an instant. Her hair soon felt the snatch of his fingers from the hand that had not been tending to her. Digits dug into her thick tresses and pulled taunt, forcing her head back so she could meet his lips. The man kissed her like it was given, and there would be no resistance, even though they had never touched in this realm. Yet, she would find all was as it had been. There was no embellishing of prowess or forged electricity. The energy that coursed through him was stoked by her presence and fed into deeper passes of open lips and wanton tongue. 

The interaction was brief, but it was a confirmation. She was his, and he would not suffer any question to that. When it broke, he forced her to gaze up at him. "Bring me home tonight?" Once again, it is a half-order, half-question. The man respected enough to give her the choice, even if he was implying he knew the answer. "When the time comes, of course..
John
"I knew you would come..." But she did not, nor did she expect it to be in the waking hours of twilight's embrace. A breath, a slight indent to her skin by nail, awake. She was awake, and Morpheus was aproaching her in silent finesse from the shadows, as if a manifestation of her deepest thoughts. Her phantom of dreams. She called in her subconscious thoughts, seeking solace and reprieve, with no real expectations of answers. Silence being all she had ever been met with when it came to the Gods, but Morpheus had answered her summons with gentle allure. He had answered, and he was here in true form.

Overwhelming emotions coursed through her body and threatened to warm the icy exterior she had so carefully placed as a mask to keep all at bay. But she pushed them aside, in practiced art form, her gaze unveiling her true thoughts as they moved to take in the man she had come to know quite well over the recent weeks. Her eyes traced over his form. Roaming over him, as if remembering every detail of the dreams he had brought to her in the darkest hours. The evidence shown in the way her eyes darkened with desire, skin flushed with the very nature and memories, in a lover's trance. Watching him as he gently dabbed at the blood that had been evident in her show of power. 
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*"You are quite dramatic."* 

Fire lit in her gaze at the critical notes, never one to take criticism to her nature well, Amara found anger to be her immediate response to his words. Pulling away from his doting, there was malice in her glare and voice. "Don't presume I wish for lectures because of our entanglement, Morpheus." Yet she realized immediately that his nature was gentle, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He was caring for her, and she was responding to him as if he were her enemy.

Her body slacked in defeat, the defensiveness washing away to reveal apology in sapphire eyes that met his own and left her entirely bare of her defenses. "I did not wish to attack him. He is... He is one of *Hers*, protected within the Champions rank, but he is a wolf amongst sheep..." Amara looked to the lights that danced off the windows of the club. The music vibrating against the windows and conversations of joy traveling to their ears in muffled semblance, showing no sign of what had taken place just moments ago. "There was no tact, because I responded with rage. No control, because there was no thought. I saw his hands, I saw her face, and I could stand by no longer. Then he bated me, taunted me... And all I saw was red. I wanted his suffering, and so I-"
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She was not able to finish her ramblings. Soon her hair was taken within his grasp, her head pulled to meet his own. Lips intertwining and taking her entirely by surprise. Her entire self responded to his claim upon her. Melting into a sense of familiarity. Melting into him. 

He was everything he had been within her dreams and more. For this was real, reality warping around her until it was only them. Only his breath against her lips, and his touch sending goosebumps along exposed arms. He was claiming more than just her mind now, but her physical being, and Amara found herself accepting of it. Accepting of the way he consumed her so entirely that her mind went blank of all her excuses and rants, unable to think of anything other than when he would kiss her again. 

*"Bring me home tonight?"*

The question sent a shock through her that sobered her entirely. Her eyes going wide at the implications of what this meant. To him. To her. He was asking to be just a dream no longer, but a reality. To own each other so wholly that they surpassed every realm. "Y-you wish.. Hm." For the first time in Amara's existence, she found herselt at a loss for words. She had guarded herself for the reality of torture, for mindlessness as sleep evaded her, but instead she had been met with this. With an invitation of vulnerability. 

"Yes, yes, I would very much like that." 
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Rick
Amara was a fire-made flesh. Despite being born to darkness with fear as her ally, she should have been crafted in the image of Prometheus, given the way heat could spring to her eyes at the slightest provocation. For a master puppeteer like Morpheus, it was trivial to throw her off balance. She had excuses for her imperfect tactics, and like the ever-patient deity he was, he listened to her, but none of that changed the desire to claim her lips in the waking world. For as much as he liked to claim to be beyond the temptations his fellow gods fell into, it was true that she ignited something in him he had not felt in eons. 

There was quite the satisfaction in watching her mask crack under the strain of whiplash. Pick at her, kiss her, let her take him home. Such would be their cycle. Sparking the rise in her blood pressure meant he could possibly expect that much more enthusiasm in her hips when they found their way to the bedroom, but he was in no rush to claim her body. Instead, he decided to speak his thoughts as he took her hand to lead her down the street. In a roundabout direction, he would head to either of their homes. The end location didn't matter. 

"Fear.." There was a bit of disdain in her voice. "Such a base thing. It is an inelegant tool of a brute with no panache." It was clear that he was not picking on her in this statement, but more so, the one that had gifted her with her powers. How like a new boyfriend to take shots across the bow at an ex-lover. "It has no weight without context. For example." He began, half turning his body to let his free hand move between them. "If I wanted you to know fear truly, I would build you up. I would tell you that you are my world and make you feel safe with me. I would sculpt your dreams into safe harbors and let you know nothing but joy. I would raise you up.." His hand was chopped at the air slowly in vertical steps to emphasize the build-up. Then, he removed the hand with a sudden chop.
"That is when you pull the floor and make the fall into despair that much further. It's the height of joy that makes the fear of loss that much more palpable. That victim of yours had very little heights to fall from." In this conversation, he had made something clear. They were lovers, yes, but there was still the power in this man to send her into a pit far worse than any other had before him. Maybe this way was his subtle reminder of the delicate balance of their relationship. She couldn't just torture mortals for the joy of it without evoking his queen's wrath. There was also the possibility that this meant nothing, and he wanted the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. 

They returned to their stroll, and Morpheus looked off into the distance before letting the light weight of his appeased gaze fall back on her. "Worry not, though. I agree with your results, if not in the execution, and so long as you keep your wrath to those who deserve it, I will not challenge you. Just do not think to take advantage of my fondness for you. I have a reputation to maintain. I would not have it said that Morpheus slipped in his duties because his heart felt warmth towards a complicated woman." She walked hand in hand with a dream, fingers laced while their pace was as patient as the man that set it. There was nowhere to be or anything to do. 

"I wanted to thank you the other night for your help with Persephone. You allowed me to escape with her and bring her to her lover, though he acted as I expected. Like a child with no way to express himself other than anger.." The way his eyes rolled suggested that Hade's aimless retaliation had not set well with him. It was important for her to know he did not see his rulers as infallible. Thus giving her insight into how self-serving he could be. It was an important bit of information to have when playing a political game.
John
Though just as quickly that smirk fell, her face grew ashen with every pronunciation of his sentence. Searching his features for a warning within them, and feeling her body tense with the realization. She felt those walls slowly build back into place, that suffocating darkness of loneliness and realization that no one could truly be there for her the way she hoped. They lived in a realm of Gods and mortals, all claiming to live for another, but she had seen the masks drop too many times. She knew all that lay beneath was a selfish lust and drive for their own pleasures. What would that mean for her? When Morpheus tired of her the way Deimos did. Surely, she would be cast aside once more, a broken play thing begging upon the unforgiving ground. So easily the foolish girl had broken her promise to herself of 'never again' and fallen into Morpheus' arms and whispered promises in the heat of a stolen moment. 
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"I get it." Her voice was a mumble, a shaky attempt at false confidence. She had let herself fall so easily once more, her inner thoughts chastising her for daring to think anything other than the truth. He was a God. An immortal that had lived for eons before her, and held many a lover within his arms. She was a blimp compared to all that he had seen and experienced. A warm mention of stolen moments in passing. 
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*"...Because his heart felt warmth towards a complicated woman..."*
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The irony of these words coming from his lips, as he himself was his own rollercoaster Amara could not catch her breath on. One moment he lifted her, only to crash her into the cold sea of realization, and lift her once more towards the heavens. Somehow, this man toyed with her in ways that felt worse than Deimos. Deimos toyed with her, yes, but in darkness and only darkness. There was never a moment of light and warmth within those sadistic eyes, as he lived and thrived in the depths. Morpheus was both nightmares, and dreams. He was a vision of hope one moment, and despair the next. Amara losing grip on reality as he warped it around her to fit his mood. Never could she grasp the twists and turns of the ride that was her Prince of Dreams.
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"I do not think anyone would take you for such a fool, Morpheus. Not even I." There was a razor edge to her tone, a caution that refused to fall back within the heat of his lingering kiss fading upon her swollen lips. Her stubborn nature refusing to let the stone gate crash and burn so easily this time, when his threats had been made clear. "No need to thank me, it was self preservation if nothing else. A hope that the Queen would think twice on sending those to punish me when she remembers she lives because of a life I took... A life for a life." She looked off in the distance, as if in lost thought, the lights of her apartment a cozy reminder of the home she had built around her coming to vision within the distance. Her feet pausing as she realized they neared far too soon.
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"Maybe... Maybe this is not a good idea. Tonight, anyway." Her teeth grazed her lips in hesitation as eyes blue and vulnerable looked to the lamp she had left on flickered across the streets that lay between. "Morpheus, I- " She wanted to say so many things, in both anger and vulnerability. The way he stirred every emotion within her was infuriating, her gaze searching his own for the strength to speak. "What are we?" It was the simplest approach to all she had wanted to say, and a test within itself. A test, to know if her walls were meant to stay between them.
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Carroll
There was no telling if Morpheus enjoyed the game he was playing with her heart. The enigmatic god of the dreaming world seldom gave anything away by his actions. Generally, he was monotoned and moved at her side as gracefully as if he was floating amongst the sleepers. There were gentle nods or perhaps long stares, but she could no more read this one than she could read the future in the stars above. Yet, despite this, there were cracks in the mask. Little hints that she was no longer the plaything of a wrathful god. 

"I am on my own side." Morpheus began his tone with nearly a dreamy sort of lilt above the use of any bravado. These were facts. Not simple things that others could debate. "I respect Hades and Persephone. I am protected in the physical realm by their law. Do I always agree with them?" His head shook from side to side. "Unleashing the undead upon the world was childish and short-sighted. A man-child's move that shows no forethought for the moment." It sounded harsh, but after a thought, he decided to confuse her. "And yet, I do not know if I could be so aloof if something were to have happened to you. Who is to say I wouldn't lock the slumbers in nightmares?"

Did he care about her or not? Was this a game to make her feel safe, then pull the rug out from beneath her? It was impossible to place, but Morpheus operated in the in-between. Perhaps he could not even tell. She claimed she "Got it," But Morpheus shook his head, doubting her but not putting a voice to it. How could she understand it if a god didn't?

Amara fluctuated in this insecurity between broken and afraid, then suddenly vicious. Morpheus tracked the mood the best he could, but he was not one used to the mortal emotions that ruled half of her thought processes. For, the touch of divinity within her was not pure. It was possible she had inherited the wreck less nature of both of her parents without any of the more sensible parts to draw from.

"Their lives were forfeited the moment they put on that armor and grabbed their weaponry. You did nothing special, Amara." His head shook. "My lady had no issue with you punishing those that asked for it. It was collateral damage or someone innocent being driven mad from your lack of proper investigation. Your shotgun approach to unleashing your abilities doesn't exactly fall into line with what she wants, and I cannot say I disagree. There are *Ways* Things are done." 

The fact that she tried to refuse to take him up to her place did not sit well with the dream lord. Had they been in his realm, he may have punished her for suggesting such a thing. That look he gave her was sharp and withering, and the snap of his neck to face her broke the languid, dream-like movements into something more nightmarish. If she hadn't been scared of the drop before that moment, then perhaps she should. 

"We have come too far to turn back now. You are right there, and if I have ventured to meet you in person, I will be going to your bed." It was said in absolutes, but he softened when she stumbled over the obvious question. There were adorable moments if one knew where to look. She was not used to being brought to heel, and she did not take to a more domineering presence gracefully. She had been walloped with the stick a few times tonight, but it was perhaps time to let her nibble on the carrot. 

"My darling.." He began in a much more gentle tone. Morpheus's gentle yet electrifying touch came to curl at her jaw, sending jolts through her system as he looked into her eyes. "We agreed to this. The first time I took you in my realm. I am yours. You are mine. If you wish to give that more conventional title, I will not stop you, but we are an item." A bit of pity entered his eyes. "You have nothing to fear to me so long as you are loyal. Do not tell me you, the champion of fear, is afraid of little ol' me? Take me upstairs. I plan to reward you thoroughly for being such a *Good girl*."
John
Amara listened to his words in her state of confusion. The ride that was Morpheus was unrelenting in her passionate feelings that rest below the surface. Did she herself blame Hades for his actions? Did she condone them or did she rebel against such actions? She was not sure she could speak on the dead that rampaged the earth when her own reactions remained uncontrolled and full of rage and flames. She had made a man within a bar piss himself and run into the shadows as fast as his legs could take him tonight, and that was for a girl she did not know. What would she do in Morpheus' name? If someone held a knife to his throat and threatened his existence while he lay there dying. A shudder ran through her physically, a shake of her head to rid herself of the dark shadows that curled around her at the image, to even think of the hell she would release upon the earth. 24 hours would seem child's play. No, as much as it inconvenienced her, she could not resent him for his response. 

*"...Their lives were forfeited the moment they put on the armor..."*

"Were they?" It was a soft whisper at his accusations, his reasoning to the lives that had been taken by her hands. Amara could not help but feel the guilt still strangling her, however. They were mortal, confused mortals that did not know the games in which the gods played. The fools were playing checkers, as the gods played chess above them, and it cost them their lives but they stood nonetheless for what they believed in. War made all believe crazy things, turn to desperate thoughts and actions. Those men were no different, and though she did not support their cause, it was a cause they believed was right. Death was perhaps too permanent for them. For their families that now missed a father, a husband, a brother. A sigh of contemplation left her and she relented to Morpheus' gaze only to find him staring at her with threat in his dark gaze. 

"Morpheus." She spoke in caution to his assured words. His own possessive nature giving way to the nightmares that forever lurked beneath the surface. 

*"...The champion of fear, is afraid of lil' ol' me..."*
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Though that was just the thing, her jaw tearing from his grasp so that she could cast her gaze down to hide the truth. She was terrified of him, but not for his nightmares, or torture tactics, but for the feelings he had so easily coaxed from her with those fingertips against her jawline. She cared. She cared for the Prince of Dreams and King of Nightmares, and she wished for it to stop. Her heart pounding within her chest at the gentle tone that blanketed her like the warmth of the sun on her skin. A solemn nod to her head as her fingers tangled within his own again. 

"Let us go upstairs..." 
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```...Fade to black. End Scene.```