Patricia
Half of itself having split away from the ball, where its other self writhed in its skin, while hysteria grew from it like a freshly fed mold, the lunatic godthing settled, ere upon the branches of Gaia, nothing more than a babe in its mother's arms. Wanting nothing more than to be held by Her again, to retreat back into that silken cocoon and rest once more in her presence, it laid among its unborn kin and drifted into a slumber which held an expanse so deep, it would render a mortal finished. Returning, it found itself, again and again to these branches. Hazy memories of Aphot upon these heights alongside it bled into hallucination, and then, when sleep finally did envelop it, the scene continued within its dreams.

There stood the feathered diety, all golden eyes staring, their colour seeming to grow brighter, stolen from the Stars, whom, now empty, bled away their crystal shells, bringing a light rain down among the two which stood within the expanse of Cacophony's dream.

This was a dream it had had time and time again, and always it had been the same — so why was this time so different. It knew the whole thing, memorised each small detail; it could recite what its spectral memory of its kin would say before he even said it. 
And then.
It woke up.
In a body not its own, suddenly the dream began all over again. This wasn't what happened. This wasn't how it went. 

It must have lived the dream over a dozen times since falling asleep, and each time something wasn't right. A branch was missing, the wrong thing was said, Aphot was simply void. What it meant the godthing did not know, but it became so wound up by the imperfection that it had no control over, that thereon, when suddenly all fell into an eerie, distanceless silence, Cacophony felt another presence nearing it.
Joseph
```In the midst of this surreal dreamscape, where the boundaries between past and present, memory and reality, had become as fluid as the shifting sands of time, there appeared an unexpected presence. This enigmatic figure, as elusive as a half-remembered reverie and as reassuring as the embrace of a cherished friend, emerged with an air of intrigue.

Within the expanse of this otherworldly dream, their eyes shone with a celestial quality, as if they held the very secrets of the cosmos and the mysteries of the night. These dreamy orbs, which seemed to mirror both the boundless depths of the universe and the profound quiet of slumber, remained fixed on Cacophony. It was a sight that defied the dream's own logic, a visitation that transcended the boundaries of this surreal realm.

As silence wrapped around them like a velvet shroud, this uninvited guest lingered with an aura of mystery, leaving questions in their wake. The dream itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the unfolding of a story yet to be told.```
Patricia
"You're new," The godthing stated into the empty air. Soon enough, it mustered the care to turn and face the god which dared bring this imperfection to its dream. 

"You've been waiting for an opportunity, no? Looks like you're not *Sleeping on it* Anymore, huh." Cacophony laughed to itself, and the chorus of a disembodied audience joined in, filling the silence with haughty amusement in discordant keys.

"Oh, how *Do* I do it," It humoured itself, settling into a cementedly formless seat.

"Where lies your physical form, kin? Have you been born of her yet? Or do you still only haunt?" The museish thought of an unborn merely haunting was one rather clever, it figured.
Joseph
```From the depths of the dreamer's slumber, a form emerged — a paradoxical figure, a boyish youth bearing the weight of countless lifetimes etched upon his features. His dark hair framed an ageless visage, while the persistent bags under his eyes hinted at the burdens of myriad experiences. Cloaked in attire as dark as the deepest night, he stood resolute, an embodiment of an existence that transcended mere mortal years.

Yet, his focus was an enigma, a dreamy gaze that penetrated through the very essence of the other deity, as if the presence before him were but a fleeting wisp of ephemeral night.```
Patricia
A quiet one. Very well. 

"It's rude to stare," The godthing stated, a yawn just for show and irony to his already slumbered state. 

"Have you a name? Or will you simply choose to stare on in silence to hope it shakes me so? And if I choose to wake, what be of it?"

Cacophony's lip curved into a frown, pressing creases into its cheeks and folding a line between its brows. The newborn brother of its that ere stood gave its thoughts no pause to the waves of queries. Even one seahardened would find weak knees at these prospects.
Joseph
```The boy mirrored the yawn, his body moving in the dreamy flow of languor, as if the very act of motion was a choreographed dance from the realm of slumber. His voice emerged with the same gentle, melodic quality, a soothing undertone to the dream's ambiance.

"Names... Somnus..."

As if drawn by some unspoken, ethereal force, he shifted his steps towards the other god, his words forming like the whispers of a gentle breeze in a midnight reverie.

"...Is... Your... Dream?... I'm... Sorry for interrupting... It."```
Patricia
"Somnus," The godthing repeated with the mocking of its brother's voice. "Very well. What do you know of this world, *Treespawn*?" 

It spoke the name like a slur, as though there stood no hypocrisy in shame for its kin who was no different from itself. Each passing moment apon Her branches it felt itself grow more distant, estranged, alien. No mother was She, but rude arbiter. A mock was it made, an eternal piece to stand alone in a desert where once stood ruin of *Something* That thought itself to last. She, the Sculptor, took her fame in its visage, and in years to come, may some child come to tell not of what it stood for, but what she made of it.
Joseph
```
"I... Don't... Recall... Anything," The boy whispered, a hint of puzzlement playing on his features. His dreamy gaze wandered, lost in the swirling mists of his own subconscious.

"...And who... Are... You? Are... You... Family?" His eyes refocused on Cacophony, and a perplexed curiosity gleamed in their depths, as if seeking recognition or understanding in the vast expanse of the dream.```