It seemed a final nail to the coffin – the blue wolf did not react greatly, but Morpheus thought him displeased, possibly even distressed. Still, he was quick to answer – and to provide further information.

But it is difficult to piece together a picture when so many of the parts are yet unknown. The name Huedhaut ran with a sweet tremor, an afterimage seeming to hang in the air following its utterance, and Morpheus blinked, peering up at the wolf’s green, green eyes, thinking they were the their own type of poison, to be so bright. A warning, that resounded in his depths.

Gabriel – that brought less of a reaction, especially to know he was a moonlight creature. Had been, he correct himself automatically, a pang following the thought. There was something like disdain there – but also a bittersweet sorrow, so sharp upon his tongue Morpheus momentarily forgot the acid that coated his throat still. To know the wolf had been worshipped was not surprising – wolves by their very design were creatures of the night, and the pale moon lit the way during dark hunts. He could imagine they had despaired to lose their great god – and he wondered if there were any believers left.

Huedhaut was obviously old – and from how he had spoken, Gabriel was firmly in the past. Mortal lives passed so quickly, burnt down to wax and ruin in the blink of Morpheus’ jeweled eyes. A season for them was a second for him, a decade for them barely a nap for him.

He blinked, uncertain of where to carry the conversation. At last, he settled for a few lacking words, “I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice still ran ragged – the lining of his throat was slow to heal, would likely need a good wash of water followed by a night of dreaming. He wouldn’t need to draw upon others’ dreams – the damage was not so great that he needed additional energy for the healing process.

“But where does this leave us?” They were at an impasse, and Morpheus did not quite trust that the other would let him leave freely. It seemed like their conversation was undone, and yet he knew he could not push yet – the other one needed to process him and what he was now. And when Huedhaut, Morpheus would speak to him.

But he could not ask the questions that flooded his heart, not when the sea god was still so tremulous, stretched as tight as a raincloud about to burst.