"It's not just any egg you understand." Cain told him with absolute sincerity. "I truly hope you like it, Jabba-gut. Something has gone so wrong in this realm, and it's been getting slowly stranger...I've tried not to...do it to you so much. I'd like you to consider your gift as a peace offering and an apology...I would like to finally bury the hatchet with you, Brother."
Abel, feeling a warm relief at hearing his brother's words, picks up his egg as it begins to hatch. He imagines what sort of new life is about to be born...both from the egg and in his own. A new era of peace between himself and his brother...a perfect atmosphere to raise a baby...whatever it is.
Cain and Able sit together and watch with all smiles as a golden baby gargoyle breaks out of it's shell and greets the world.
"rwrawk!"
"Aawww! It's...it's beautiful! Umm, I t-think I'll c-call him Irving."
The smile dies upon Cain's face. "Irving?...Irving?...IRVING?!"
Cain storms out of the room towards the kitchen, ranting at the top of his voice: "You can't call it Irving! Names for gargoyles always begin with a 'G'. Like Gazpacho--or Gorgamon--or Gladstone--or Ganymede--or--or--PFAH!!"
"B-but I like Irving." (Cain returns to the den with a tomahawk.) "...I-uh- oh no. ...oh god, please, Cain, no!...STOP IT CAIN, PLEASE!!"
The blood begins to spatter everywhere as Cain does indeed bury the hatchet...over, and over, and over.
The master of the dreaming bends the reality around him. One moment, standing in front of his ruined castle, the next, holding it...in it's entirety, within his palm. Closing his fingers around it, he reabsorbs it into himself.
"It hurts me too M'lord." said Lucien.
"Hurts, yes...Some power returns to me simply by being here, but I placed too much of myself in the tools...and they are gone."
"Stolen. Lost to me."
"The Three-In-One knows much." Lucien volunteers. "Lirth, Verthandi and Skald. If you are strong enough to summon her...?"
"Yes. Yes...I will call them. Leave me Lucien."
'The Dreaming, the Dreamscape, the Unconcious--Call it what you will--is as much a part of me as I am a part of it. For the first time since my return, for the first time in seventy years, I reach out with my substance...'
'...And I shape the world.'
'The crossroads comes from a Cambodian farmer, from his dreams of a new ox cart.'
'The Gallows comes from a young Japanese movie buff, her head roiling from a surfeit of old Hammer horror films...'
'The honey, the snakes, the crecent moon...these are easy to find.'
'The black she-lamb is more difficult, but one dances in the dreams of a child in Adelaide Austrailia. I take it to set the scene.'
'Still, the set is incomplete. Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos would come for less than this, but I need a boon, and The Three are fickle...'
'There.'
'Dully, the church bells echo and clang in the lonely darkness twelve times...Midnight.'
'The Witching Hour.'
'They come. They appear. The One who is Three. The We who are They...'
Morpheus stands before the Three-In-One. The Maiden, the All-Mother and the Crone.
"Welcome, Ladies."
"You look so thin my Darling." Declared the All-Mother. You haven't been eating properly, have you now?"
"Morpheus. It's been a long time." the Maiden said with a smile.
"Hehh! He wants something." spoke the Crone.
"Lady Atropos, you have found me out. I do want something." The Dream-King replied.
"Atropos? No." the Crone said. "Not now. You might as well call me Morrigan!"
"She's right," agreed the All-Mother, "might as well call us Tisipone, Alecto and Magera--and that takes us back, eh?"
"Might as well call us Mary, Florence and Candy." Added the Maiden.
"For me, you will always be the three graces, Ladies."
"Flatterer!" cried the Three-In-One.
"So, what should I call you?"
"I'm Cynthia." said the Maiden.
"She's Mildred. I'm Mordred." Said the Crone. "Stupid name. I ought to be Morgaine."
"It wasn't my fault." The All-Mother protested. "I just got them confused, was all."
"Witch Queen, you know of my imprisonment, of my travail, of the time that was stolen from me--"
"They have stolen time from you? What of it? You have all the time there ever was!" The Maiden said.
"They stole more than time. When I established this Realm, I created tools to administer it. My tools are lost...I need help."
"Help?" the Crone said next. "Hehee--Listen to him! Did you help us against Circe?"
"It doesn't matter. This is my realm. It has laws. Old laws. And the beings in this world conform to those laws. Just as you three obey your own laws. Could one of you exist apart from the other two? I need three answers, and You are bound by the laws to give me them."
"Aye, Me Dearie." Conceded the All-Mother. One answer then. "One answer from each of us."
"Maiden, there was a pouch of sand. It was stolen from me."
"An Englishman, John Constintine. he was the last to purchase your pouch."
"He has it still?"
"One question, one answer My Lord."
"I see. Then your question, All-Mother: My Helm--what happened to it?"
"Traded with a Demon, my Dove, many years ago. Long gone from the mortal plane."
"Which Demon?"
"One question my Honeysuckle, and one answer."
"Crone: A final question for you. My stone, my Dreamstone, my Ruby Moonstone. Who has that now?"
"Heee! Your gem passed through a mother to a son who tapped its dream magicks for his own ends...until it--and his dreams were taken away from him."
"But Where--? No. One answer only, I know. Thank you, Weird Sisters."
The Three-In-One bursts out laughing as they go on their way, fading out of the Realm.
"Hahahahaha! Did you hear that, my Sister-Self?"
"Thank You he says! You don't thank the fates, Dreamkins!"
"We haven't helped you...Your troubles are only just beginning"
'Exhaustion bites at my soul. I have answers of a sort. This will be an uphill ordeal.'
