The tent flap parts and allows a white-winged Exile to enter, as Envoy arrives for her scheduled dream session.

"Welcome!" exclaims Mystico, with a clap of his hands. His robes are not as tattered as before – It would seem he has paid a visit to a tailor, and had them mended, and even had a few new runes embroidered here and there (probably a clever effort to hide some of the patches). "I do hope you have been practicing your breathing exercises?"

Envoy sits on a cushion and nods. "I still don't quite understand, though. My lungs don't need exercise."

The flap parts again, and a young Rath'ani, laden with various pouches, passes into the tent as well. Noticing Envoy, he waves cheerfully.

"Hello Mircus," the Aeolun greets.

The Lapi frowns, looks as if he's about to say something to Envoy, then quickly breaks into a smile again as he sees the raccoon. "Hello again, sir! Welcome to my humble tent! I am so sorry to say that I currently have an appointment… " He gestures to Envoy. "… but perhaps once I have finished with her session, I could show you the mysteries of the world of dream. You are welcome to relax here in my tent, and observe, if you wish, until it is your turn."

Mircus scratches his head, "Um… I suppose I could. I just wanted to know if … Um … How long will it take?" He shuffles a bit and peers about at some of the various trinkets.

Mystico waves and weaves his hands. "There is no telling, for time does not elapse in the same way as in the waking world. You can live an entire lifetime in the blink of an eye, while asleep … or hours can pass in the real world, while it seemed you were asleep but a second!" He pauses, then asks, "Are you aiming to purchase a session?"

"Well," Mircus hedges, "I just wanted to see if I could meet Morpheus again. Like in the free demonstration?"

Envoy grins, "I'd like to see him again too."

The Lapi's face goes through a few mild contortions as he tries on various expressions, but he at last settles on his 'The Customer is Always Right' smile. "Well! Ah … perhaps … for the cost of a session … well … Yes, of course, I mean! I am Mystico the Marvelous!" He waves a wand, making some tinkling noises. "Such would be but a trifle for my considerable powers, and my mastery of the Sphere of Dream!"

The Aeolun perks up at the prospect. "You probably get to talk to him all the time!"

Mircus brightens slightly, "For the cost of one session? That was… um … fifty shekels, right?"

The Lapi ponders, then says, "For you … fifty shekels would be sufficient. As long as you are willing to start now, and we don't dally about any longer. After all … ah … time is of the essence!"

Envoy starts her breathing exercises.

Mircus brightens slightly more, remembering that the Lapi had asked twice that of him previously. He nods cheerfully and begins searching through one of the various pouches on his person for the appropriate amount…

Mystico palms the coins and swiftly puts them away somewhere in the folds of his robes, then gestures to a place for the raccoon to sit. He starts going through instructions on breathing exercises, visualizing exercises, and other such mystical things to get the Rath'ani into the "proper mindset". Meanwhile, the Lapi starts lighting candles – a few of them look relatively new – and arranging magical components along his runic circle.

The Rath'ani tries to do as instructed, wondering why the various exercises are necessary this time when they weren't last time… but politely not interrupting the Lapi's monologue.

After a long, stretched-on ordeal of magical preparations and incantations, the Lapi seats himself at the remaining point of a triangle circumscribing the circle, and intones, "Let your mind empty out, discarding the distractions of the waking world. Release yourself to the random recollections of your day, the glittering energies of your mind, opening the doorway to the realm of Dreamtime. Enter into that world, but not as an aimless wanderer, as dreamers so often are … but with the aid of magic … I shall guide … "

"… you to your destination," says the voice of Morpheus.

Mircus blinks and rubs at his eyes, then looks towards the sound of the voice.

Envoy opens her eyes as well, looking for the source of the voice.

The Rath'ani and Exile have somehow found themselves to their feet, standing in a thick layer of gray dust. The landscape is hazy, covered in swirling mists, and the sky above is most curious, since the horizon shows just the edge of the disc of the sun – larger than it should be – yet the sky is perfectly clear, full of crisply-glowing stars … and not a hint of the Procession.

Envoy comments, "Well, this isn't my dream. Do you recognize this place, Mircus?"

Here and there, bits of broken statuary and columns of mismatched styles of architecture hang in place. Here is a temple, chunks missing from the columns that support its roof – a roof that is largely missing as well. Yet, the remaining pieces all hover in their proper places.

Statues often have faces – faces of recognizable races of Sinai – and hands and tails and ears and other expressive features … but the rest of the body is typically gone, or existing only in patches that give a rough idea of the species of the subject.

In the distance, waterfalls can be seen cascading down from no apparent source, tumbling across floating boulders and rocks and ruins, flowing into rivers that disappear into nothingness. Bridges and stairways provide transport across the landscape, despite no discernable support. And both Envoy and Mircus feel exceptionally light. If they only wished it, they could surely fly. (Even though this is no great feat for a winged person such as the Aeolun, the flapping of wings seems hardly necessary.)

Mircus hmms? distractedly, too caught up in staring at his surroundings to be listening well.

"Do you think Mystico made this," Envoy asks the map-maker, "like he did with the ruins?"

"Welcome to my home," says Morpheus. "And it can be said that Mystico helped to make this, but not all of it." The black Khatta-Eeee hybrid stands on a stone bridge that seems more resolved than the others, this actually having supports and railings, with a sparkling stream running underneath it, appearing from and disappearing into the gray mists.

Mircus starts slightly, and turns to face Morpheus, "Not all of it?" he wonders curiously. "Well, there are a few pieces missing, I guess. Who made the rest?"

Envoy takes a few careful steps towards the bridge. "Are these from peoples' dreams? Leftover bits, perhaps?"

"Precisely, Envoy," replies Morpheus. "You catch on quickly." To Mircus, he says, "Dreamers made this. Not just any dreamer, but those who entered my realm with the aid of magic … or with other forces I do not fully comprehend."

Envoy reaches the bridge, and smiles. "You really live here then? Physically, I mean?"

Morpheus shakes his head. "That is hard to answer. I think I will have to say that, no, I do not. I may have a different answer for you sometime, once I've had time to ponder the question further."

The scenery is largely gray and colorless … though points of light make it look far from dull and dead. Still, there is a single blinking point of red light in the distance, indicating something a fair distance off of the ground in that direction. It's fairly hard to judge distances here, though.

Taking in the scenery, Envoy says, "It reminds of different places here. Once there was a city in a box that had lights… "

Mircus pads up to the bridge from where he was examining one of the floating-pieces-of-statues. "Wow… This place is really… um… " He scratches his head, trying to find the right word, then stops and squints towards the distant light, "Huh? What's that?"

"It is a tower," says Morpheus, "part of a building, which was once a vessel that traveled the stars. It is now in ruin. You will find many stale, ancient dreams there, of dreamers long since gone."

Mircus mouths a silent "Wow!" at the thought of travelling the stars, then blinks, remembering something. "Oh! You wanted us to … or me, at least, anyhow … to do something for you? Not that I really object to just visiting, really – this place is neat!" The Rath'ani grins, finally finding the word he was looking for.

"Well, Map-Maker … it struck me as intriguing that you might sometime map out the area of that tower. I thought it might hold some sort of significance. I have no idea precisely what. I have been experimenting with 'hunches'," muses the Khatta-Eee.

Envoy blinks three times, then asks, "Do you mean that is a real spaceship, and not just somebody's dream?"

Mircus brightens considerably (quite a feat, as he's already quite cheerful), and devotes his attention to rummaging through various pouches, pulling out a flat board, a slightly crumpled piece of paper, a small piece of charcoal, a pair of rough calipers.

Morpheus pauses a time, then says, "I cannot answer that meaningfully. Dreams can be found here and there, some more real than others, and some leaving the structures you see in their wake. I am within this realm, and do not have an objective standard to judge it by. The vessel is different from what I have witnessed elsewhere. But I cannot with all certainty say that it is any more or less real."

"Is that how you got here," Envoy asks Morpheus, "in that spaceship?"

Morpheus shakes his head. "No. Actually, I hope you do not think me rude, but I'd rather not go into my origins just yet. I would like to figure out how best to tell the tale first. It is hard to do so … until I have a better grasp of just what I am."

Envoy nods. "I can understand that."

Morpheus looks Envoy in the eyes. His own eyes glow, and seem to be made of something like molten glass, burning with an intense heat inside. "You came here for a reason. The first time. You were looking for something."

Mircus stops rummaging through his various pouches to watch and listen curiously.

Envoy says, "I'm looking for … myself. Does that make sense?"

Morpheus smiles. "Yes, it does. Perhaps I can help you in that regard? And, perhaps, help myself along my own journey as well."

Envoy smiles, "I could certainly use all the help I can get."

There's a sudden squeak of surprise, quickly followed by a thump and SPLASH! Mircus' pad, paper, and 'stuff' sit on the bridge, but Mircus… sits under the bridge. He stands up slowly, muttering and trying to shake water off of himself.

Leaning over the rail, Envoy asks Mircus, "What happened?"

Mircus wipes at his fur again, then points up, "I was watching the sky and… well… " He looks somewhat abashed. "I guess I should have watched where I was stepping … but … The stars… They look kinda familiar, but… what happened to the Procession?"

Envoy suggests, "Maybe nobody dreams of it?"

Mircus pauses briefly in his trek back up to the bridge, "But … if they dream of the stars? I suppose… "

Envoy hmms, and looks up at the stars.

Morpheus says, "The Procession is not here. Exactly what 'here' is, is hard to say. This is Morpheus. This is my home. And, to an extent, I am part of it, and it is part of me. You are physically on Sinai, but this realm is apart from Sinai … although inextricably linked to it."

Envoy frowns, "When you say this is Morpheus … do you mean the world Morpheus?"

Morpheus pauses, then says, "Yes, I believe so. In a manner of speaking. In any case … I can do quite a number of things here. Some of the Dream Mages I have encountered have associated me with an old god of dreams that shares my name. But I also say that this is Morpheus … because my identity is intertwined with this realm."

The Aeolun looks back towards the blinking red beacon light. "So that could be a real ship, crashed onto the real planet Morpheus, and everything else is just … an overlay. Like a giant illusion."

Mircus pads back onto the bridge, carefully not dripping on the paper still lying there. He wonders aloud, "So dreams really do take place on Morpheus? The world, I mean, not… well, you know. Wow."

"That is possible," Morpheus muses.

Droplets of water continue to drip from the raccoon … but they make tinkling, chiming noises when they hit the stone of the bridge … and roll away in a manner much unlike water.

In fact, the air is filled with sounds that seem to suggest chimes in the distance … growing louder or dimmer depending upon the whims of the breeze that carries the sounds.

Mircus blinks and becomes absorbed in watching the droplets roll away. Funny… water doesn't usually act that way.

"Perhaps it's just that Morpheus is closer to the dream realm than other worlds are," Envoy ponders. "I was … born … in such a place. One brain in the Dream at all times."

"How many brains do you have, Envoy?" Morpheus asks in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

Envoy says, "Oh, I only have one. But Lothrhyn had eight, and I used to be her."

Mircus starts slightly and looks up to stare at Envoy for a moment, then shakes his head and looks around for the bells … or whatever it is that's making that noise.

Morpheus nods. "I'm not sure that I can say that I have even one. My consciousness is not physically collected in the same way … that an entity with a brain would be."

"Really?" Envoy asks, eyes lighting up. "What's that like? What happens when you learn something? Is your entire mind a phase-space construct?"

Morpheus says, simply, "I do not know."

Mircus blinks, pokes a finger into one ear for a moment to clean it a bit, and blinks again. Naaaaahh. He hops off the bridge (on purpose, this time) and walks down to the river, head cocked to one side, listening.

Envoy nods. "Have you ever been on the world of Sinai, and still been able to think?"

Morpheus looks as if he's pondering this question, then shakes his head. "No. Not really."

Meanwhile, the stream tinkles and chimes as it runs underneath the bridge. Upon closer inspection by the raccoon … it is not made up of water, but rather of a myriad of tiny little crystal or glass beads that flow along in a way that water would.

Envoy watches Mircus a bit, then tells Morpheus, "Part of my mind doesn't function on Sinai at all. There's too much zero-point turbulence that interferes with virtual particle resonance systems. I think it affects the inertial properties of non-negentropic chemical and atomic reactions, but I have no way to test that yet."

Mircus blinks and scratches his head. He grabs for a handful of the little beads, attempting closer examination.

"I only vaguely understand what you're saying," says Morpheus. "I do not think that the technology that produced you is anything like that which produced myself."

The bead-water spills out of the raccoon's hand, but some of it remains there, puddling up in his palm, twinkling and glittering.

Envoy nods, and changes the subject. "If this really is Morpheus, maybe some of the environment here is real. I wonder if all this dust is real… and if so, would it be useful in Dream Magic? Or is it just left behind by the Sandman?"

Mircus sniffs at the 'water,' pokes at it and, well, decides against tasting it. For being so realistic, this is really odd.

Morpheus smiles. "That, I cannot say. Alas, I cannot send any back with you."

"Why would you need to send it back?" Envoy asks. "I'm sure a Dream Mage could just come here and use it. Or is magic not useable in dreams? I've never had a normal dream, since I don't have a subconscious, so I couldn't really say."

"In any case," says Morpheus. "A change of scenery might be nice. This is what I see. I would be far more interested in … what you might see."

He seems to have missed Envoy's questions about magic within dreams…

Envoy blinks curiously. "What do you mean? Are we able to change things here?"

"This is a dream. A bit more orderly than a usual dream, since it is … moderated by means of magic," Morpheus says. "In other words, yes, you can change the setting. Perhaps a memory? Perhaps … " He gazes at Envoy, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

Three shadows slowly fade into existence, standing at the far end of the bridge, but obscured by the mists. Each one is a different size, though the middle shape seems to be roughly the same height as Envoy.

Envoy smiles, "These aren't memories. They're part of my meta-programming attempt." The Exile tries to bring the shapes more into focus, just like she would during meditation.

Mircus, still carrying a cupped-handful of water, walks back onto the bridge. He stares curiously at the three figures.

The mists thin out enough to see the figures more clearly. One looks like a hungry, emaciated version of Envoy, with wide eyes that seem eager to swallow up all that they see. The smallest of the three looks like a child … a child version of Envoy. The tallest is somewhat suggestive of Envoy in coloration, but is an entirely different species – some sort of Rokuga, perhaps? Or might that be what a dragon looks like?

Envoy points to each figure, and names them. "Child, Probe, and Robot. Although those names are really a bit too broad. As I split off more subsections of my conscious, I'll get better definition."

"Intriguing," remarks Morpheus. "Do they all equally represent you? Or one part moreso than the others?"

Envoy says, "I suppose that depends on what I consider to be me. Child is who I am deep down, as a person. She hasn't had a chance to grow up though, because Probe crowds her out. Even the Robot, the rational analytic part of me, is forced into a little cave by Probe. The Probe just wants to soak up information, at the expense of analyzing or incorporating it. It's a great strain on me."

"I want to change things, so that Robot and Probe switch places. Robot knows what Child needs to grow up."

"But Probe is still a vital part of your personality?" Morpheus queries. "It causes you trouble currently, but you do not wish to eradicate it?"

Envoy smiles, "No, I couldn't just… throw it away. But it wouldn't dominate anymore. Robot isn't really me at all, she's … bits of my creators, and others. I think even a little of Isstan, the Naga Mind Mage, is in the Robot. But Robot won't let me get into trouble."

"There are others too, but I haven't manifested them yet," the Exile explains. "They're parts of me that are inactive, or automatic. Parts I shouldn't mess with."

Morpheus nods. "It seems you have some issues to deal with." He walks up to the three "aspects". "Perhaps you could try having a few words with them? Not to suggest that you can tell them simply to behave themselves … but perhaps it might do you some good."

Envoy blinks at Morpheus. "Will they talk back?" She kneels before Child and asks, "Are you happy?"

The little Aeolun's face scrunches up, and she bawls, "I want White Mommy and Blue Mommy! Everyone hates me here! You don't listen to me!" Envoy blinks in surprise at the outburst, and goes quiet.

Morpheus says, "Is it true that everyone hates you here? What of this fellow?" He gestures to Mircus. "Have you no friends at all?"

Envoy turns towards Morpheus. "Yes, I have friends. But no … family. Nobody to guide me."

Mircus startles in surprise at Morpheus. "Hate? I don't… I don't hate anyone!" He shakes his head vigorously.

Morpheus squints his eyes at Mircus. "Are you so certain?" He then shakes his head, and says, "In any case, I have no one to guide me, either. I have not paused to think of that as a problem. Perhaps I should."

"This wastes time," Probe interrupts. "The world changes, and we must record it. Nothing else matters! Everyone we know here will be dust in time, but we must be ready to report when communication is reestablished."

Mircus blinks at Morpheus, "… well … I'm not really all that fond of any poodles I've met, but I don't hate them."

Morpheus laughs at something Probe says, but stops to nod to Mircus. "If that is what you say."

Envoy tells Probe, "That wasn't our original purpose. We can't catalogue an entire world, and our attempts have put us at risk."

Mircus blinks at Morpheus and scratches his head in confusion. He shrugs after a moment, and returns to watching.

"Irrelevant!" Probe proclaims. "I have priority. You are just a ghost."

Morpheus watches the exchange, raising an eyebrow at the 'ghost' remark.

"Not so!" Envoy counters. "I have a spirit. Mage Qing proved it to me." Then she turns on the dragon-form, and chides, "Tell her! Make her see sense! Stop being so quiet all the time."

"To what end?" the dragon says, calmly. "Would you attempt to talk Mircus here out of eating, or breathing?"

Envoy blinks three times, then admits, "I don't understand."

The dragon tilts its head, and says, "Where would you be without the Probe? What would motivate you? The simple needs of the Child?"

Envoy frowns. "Maybe. They'd change, though; I'd grow."

The dragon holds up a clawed finger, "No, you would not. You have no reason to grow. No drive to reproduce, no fear of death, nothing to protect. No ambition at all."

"There are nobler drives," Envoy counters.

"Ah, such as those of your admired Inquisitor?" Robot says. "Duty to higher ideals, which accomplish nothing but to ensure stagnation."

Envoy frowns. "You aren't being very helpful. I want to give you Probe's place. You'd be dominant!"

The dragon looks Envoy in the eyes, and says, "You don't want to pay the price for my guidance."

Morpheus' eyes narrow, as he adopts a 'thinking' pose.

Envoy looks away. "You just have to be gentle with Child, you need to give her time."

"There is no time," Robot claims. "We cannot afford innocence on this world, but you stubbornly cling to it. Our mothers aren't here to coddle us, weren't even there when we separated from Lothrhyn. You suffer from her lingering doubts and fears of responsibility."

Envoy sets her jaw, "Our purpose was to socialize, to integrate. How can we do that if you scare everyone off? Competent Exiles are considered dangerous."

Robot points to Child, but addresses Envoy, "You want her to be protected, educated, and to have a future. You want a parent to take responsibility. Here I am. This is what grown-ups are like."

Envoy turns away and begins to pace. Robot goes on, "You crave authority anyway. You sought it from the Temple, and then from the Zelaks. You shouldn't fear me any more than you did them."

Finally, the dragon smiles. "And I can help you get what you want."

Envoy asks Mircus, "What would you do, if you were me?"

Morpheus' gaze passes from Envoy, to rest upon Mircus.

Mircus blinks; scratches his head nervously. "Umm… well… as I understand it, there are three of you in there, but really just one of you, right? Um … and the part of you that's in charge wants to only do stuff that the rest of you doesn't want to do?"

Envoy nods. "Pretty much. The Probe just doesn't care about personal needs or identity. It's a machine, literal minded … well, like a Zelak."

Morpheus asks, "Which part of you, do you say, cares about 'nobler drives'? And what are those?"

Mircus nods at Envoy, swallows nervously, and asks "On the other hand, part of you is worried that if … Probe? doesn't have control, you won't have any drive in your life?"

Envoy says, "That's … all of us. Those are goals that are larger than a single person, or group of people."

Envoy says, "Ending slavery, that's a nobler drive. Something that affects society."

Morpheus asks, "Is that a necessary part of being alive?"

Envoy shakes her head, "No, it isn't, I suppose. Most people get along fine without them, it seems."

Morpheus nods his head. "Thank you." He looks back to Mircus again.

Envoy says, "Probe … can see things that might normally go unnoticed. But she has no tact, no common sense. She's valuable, but shouldn't be in control. At least, not in control of the mouth."

Mircus nods; scratches his head again. This may be a dream, but it's weird even for that. He tries, "Well … if it's a bad idea to, uhm … leave her in control, and it's a bad idea to not let her be in control … could you … um … maybe make her less extreme?"

Mircus continues, "I mean … I like my maps, and mapping, and all, but … I could live without it, and it's not more important than staying alive, or not … well … not doing dumb things."

Envoy nods, "I hope to switch her priority with the Robot. She'll still be there, but not in control. But sometimes Robot scares me with her thinking."

Morpheus says, "What is this price the Robot speaks of? It would seem that Robot is trying to scare you, from a certain point of view."

Envoy smiles, "If Probe where a hammer, she'd see the whole world as a nail. Robot sees the world as full of other hammers, all competing for the same nail."

Morpheus says, "What about Child? Or does that not fit into your analogy?"

Envoy looks at the little version of herself. "Child needs security. A protector. She isn't a leader."

Morpheus says, "And Robot is that protector?"

Envoy frowns. "She can be. It's just … Robot is smarter than I am. I don't completely trust her. She's like … an Inquisitor."

Morpheus furrows his brow. "How can Robot be smarter than you are … if Robot is a part of you?"

"Because Robot is made of more than just my experiences," Envoy says. "She has parts of my mothers, and parts of others like them. She doesn't think like you or other normal people would; she thinks like an immortal."

Mircus scratches his head. "This is all so confusing. Could … could you get them to work together? Maybe have each one… soften the extremes of the other?"

Envoy says, "That's what I hope will happen. I'm just afraid of losing myself, even if I am dysfunctional."

Morpheus smiles. "Interesting. I hadn't considered myself normal. I'll take that as a compliment." But then his smile fades as he returns to a spectator capacity.

Envoy says, "It's all moot anyway, if I can't figure out how to make the switch without magic."

"How so?" asks Morpheus.

Envoy blinks at Morpheus. "Everything about me was once powered by magic. When I ran out, everything became more or less fixed the way it is now. I could exercise all day, and not put on any new muscle tissue. I'll never be taller, or shorter, or fatter, or … older."

Mircus blinks. "You'll never change? That's … "

Morpheus says, "I should envy you, I suppose. I am entirely magical. Without it, I would simply cease to exist, I believe."

Envoy says, "Not physically, I can't change without magical aid. And my … thinking priorities … are essentially physical in nature. I can't change the amount of brainpower devoted to each type, but maybe I can switch the types around."

"I could probably do that, but not without permission," says Morpheus, as if it were no big deal. "However, it has been suggested to me that those whose minds I have touched … didn't get exactly what they were expecting."

"You can do that?" Envoy asks, facing Morpheus. "I've had the same thing suggested about me. Mind Mages won't work with me anymore."

Morpheus says, "I know little of the terminology and mechanics – so to speak – of magic. However, I do know that the spheres overlap. I could perhaps aid you in this task. But I can't guarantee the results."

Envoy blinks three times. "You'd help me? I don't know what you can do from the Dream realm though, but I have nothing to lose at this point."

"From here, I can only guide you," says Morpheus. "I can't directly meddle with your mind. I could perhaps tell Robot to do this, or Probe to do that … but there is no reason they would heed me."

"All I can do is to provide you with a medium – a medium with which to interact with your own mind. Much like … " Morpheus makes a sweeping gesture. "… this."

Envoy says, "That's more than I have now. And if it works, then maybe you can learn from me what you need to finish growing yourself."

Morpheus smiles. "Perhaps."

The surroundings seem to fade in detail just a slight bit.

Morpheus says, "Just when it was getting good. Ah well." He bows to Mircus, then bows to Envoy as well – taking her hand and kissing it lightly.

Envoy blinks at the gesture, thinking, oddly enough (or maybe not) of Kame Ikata.

"I thank you for dropping by to visit," says Morpheus. "Perhaps next time I can have it tidied up a bit." He is now only a silhouette, and the chiming sounds of the crystal waters become less distinct.

Envoy blinks again, and starts her wake-up exercise.

Mircus stops examining his surroundings as they begin to fade, and manages a somewhat clumsy bow in return. "Frankly, I'd look forward to visiting this place anyhow," he notes cheerfully.

And then … the dream ends.