Actions

Work Header

For you, a Paradise

Summary:

 

Just as his fingers brushed the handle the door creaked and opened on its own. Sunday made sure to steady his feathers before they betrayed a hint of his surprise, looking up to lock eyes with his own face.

 

In the chaos of the last five hours, he had completely forgotten about his lackadaisical brother.

Sunday had just returned from Dreamflux Reef, and was just at the Dewlight Pavilion to check over a few documents before meeting with the Astral Express and the Dreammaster for their 'confrontation'. He forgot to factor in his twin brother, who had been operating on the assumption that he was dead for the past three hours.

Notes:

So a bit of context: Sunday and Wonweek are twins (Wonweek younger) and both live full time in Penacony. Wonweek is a Dreamweaver in the Nightingale Family, but does most of Sunday's public appearances for him because Identicals. Sunday is still the Oak Family Head, and kept his brother out of all of his plans.

Work Text:

Sunday’s mind was in turmoil, even as he reached for the door to his study. The secrets of Dreamflux reef had admittedly shaken him. Sure, of course Gallagher was a memetic entity, he knew that already. But Dormancy? Mikhail? Robin’s survival and resolve? It was almost too much at once. It was a threat, welcome and highly encouraged, to the Order. He had barely managed to slip some time to return to the Pavillion to collect his things, fix up his appearance, before ‘confronting’ the Dreammaster. The final act, the thrilling conclusion to the show, was about to begin. The climax that had been centuries in the making had finally arrived, and Sunday would stand centre stage. He would watch as Robin stared at him with betrayal in her eyes. He swallowed thickly just to handle the thought.

 

Just as his fingers brushed the handle the door creaked and opened on its own. Sunday made sure to steady his feathers before they betrayed a hint of his surprise, looking up to lock eyes with his own face.

 

In the chaos of the last five hours, he had completely forgotten about his lackadaisical brother. 

 

Something he deeply regretted, looking at him now. Wonweek was once again dressed in Sunday’s own attire, his regular chains and feathers absent in favour of golden thorns. His halo had been changed to match Sunday’s exactly. Dark colours exchanged for pure whites. His eyes were narrowed and the beginning of a glare had already solidified on his face. He looked harrowed, and irritable in ways that the Dreamweaver had never been before. 

 

Quickly, Sunday ran through the possible reasons for his twin’s distress. On the way into the Pavillion he heard nothing about chaos in the Nightingale family, and the fiasco at the Theme Park had already been resolved before he confronted the Bloodhound. In fact, there was no reason for Wonweek to be preparing to appear as Sunday at all. All that had been scheduled in the coming hours was a single meeting between The Family Heads, which Sunday would be attending himself after the quick ‘confrontation’ quelled the Astral Express’ concerns. For all intents and purposes, Wonweek should still be wandering the streets of Golden Hour as himself, or performing minor fixes in Dreams Edge. Sunday had only been gone for a few hours-

 

Oh. Wonweek thought he had died and was preparing to masquerade as Sunday to quell the people’s unrest.

 

Sunday watched as Wonweek’s eyes widened in surprise and recognition before twisting into his typical fiery, overprotective, rage. He didn’t fight as his twin grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into the office. He cringed a little seeing the whirlwind of paper scattered across the table, of course his brother would look through his things to find any notes for the meeting, but he didn’t comment on it. He let himself be thrown into a chair as his brother’s wings flared by his face. Wonweek’s hands flexed as he retreated to the other side of the desk, but never sat in favour of standing, glaring down at him with a vengeance. The Dreamweaver loomed over him, making it clear from his body language alone that the Oak Family head was not permitted to leave.

 

“What the fuck Sunday!” Wonweek shrieked. Sunday winced, not just from the volume but the sheer distress in his brother’s tone. Use of his actual name too. Damage control it was. The Halovian had been hoping that he didn’t cross paths with his brother again. His twin knew him far too well, and at such a fragile time in his plan, he couldn’t risk interference. Robin had already been dragged into this stressful fight, he didn’t want his brother involved too.

 

“Language” he muttered quietly, more out of habit then actual scolding and got to witness the joyous occasion of his twin somehow becoming more livid then before. Wonweek slammed his hands on the desk between them, teeth bared in a snarl.

 

“I don’t particularly give a shit. Three hours ago I hear from Wood that you’ve found yourself struck dead in the hall outside, now you walk in like nothing fucking happened!” He yelled, Halo blazing with aggressive light that made Sunday’s head ache. He quickly muffled his ears with one set of wings, and called on another to shield his eyes from the harsh light. His brother was practically on fire, and it made the coiled ball of guilt that sat permanently in Sunday’s heart twist at the sight. 

 

“It’s a long story, far too long for right now, but I’m alright, and I’m back, so you do not need to continue attending to events in my place.” He gave his admittedly weak justification. It wouldn’t quell his brother’s rage, but it was all he could give. Anything more and he would grow suspicious and might even try and attend the confrontation. It was better he didn’t know what was going on, plausible deniability. Hesitating at the end, he added on a quiet, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” His brother deserved an apology at the very least.

 

Instead of blowing up again like he thought, Wonweek collapsed back into the chair behind him, reaching up to clutch his nose. He let out a shaky breath, wings wilting as he looked to Sunday, eye almost blurry and unfocused. “Just- fuck I thought I lost my brother and sister in the same week,” he groaned, voice strained with emotional pain. 

 

“I didn’t realise you were this affected.” Sunday murmered. His brother let everything around him run away like water off a ducks back. He never took anything to heart, whether praise or scoldings. Even at their homeworld, in the heart of tragedy he remained relatively unbothered. This… this was not that.

 

“Dont do that to me again. I already lost Robin, I can’t lose you too.” Wonweek whimpered and Sunday’s heart broke. His brother… he thought he was completely alone. He didn’t know Robin was alive, and thought he had lost his twin brother as well. No wonder he was so distraught. 

 

Gently, the Halovian reach over the table, clearing his additional wings to give his brother his undivided attention. He grabbed one of the Dreamweaver’s hands with his own and held it gently, tracing a small circle around the back with his thumb. “Wonweek… she’s alive,” he said softly, watching as his twin froze and his eyes jolted up to meet his.

 

“...what?” Wonweek whispered, and Sunday hurried to elaborate.

 

“I told you, it’s a long story I can’t divulge right now, but she’s alive and well. That’s why her body survived in Reality, she was never dead. Robin’s fine.” He explained, watching with a steadily growing smile as his brother’s wings moved from beside his eyes, to back at a resting position. His halo pulsed gently and Sunday steadily matched the feeling with his own.

 

“… she’s fine?” Wonweek asked, voice small like it had ever been before.

 

“She’s fine.” He replied, nodding with his affirmation. It was once a once in a blue moon event that he’d bring comfort to his brother. It was good to know he was capable of such a feat.

 

“Oh fuck.” the Dreamweaver laughed at that, eyes finally bright with that familiar spark before pausing, “I… I think I need a minute.” he muttered, raising his free hand to press over his heart. His breathing was still shaky, and while he never shed a tear Sunday still noticed the slight wetness by his eyes.

 

The Halovian smiled and gently squeezed the hand he held, rubbing more circles into the glove. “Take all the time you need. I could barely believe it myself and I saw her,” he chuckled, mostly to himself. Oh how his heart soared at seeing his sister alive and well once more. If anyone deserved that eternal paradise they strived for together, it would be her.

 

“Where is she? Do you know?” his twin’s voice cut through his thoughts as Sunday was suddenly reminded of the exact specifics of his situation. Wonweek could not get involved, that was a given. If he went searching for Robin, bless her soul, she would certainly tell him everything that had transpired. He would go for the kill. He couldn’t put his brother in that kind of danger. He could handle Robin, but Wonweek was a wild card he could not predict, could not protect.

 

“She’s making her rounds, but I promise you she will find you as soon as she can.” He lied flawlessly. The words lacerated his heart on the way out, but it was a necessary evil. If he brother got involved, the consequences would be catastrophic. Better for him to think that Robin was looking for him, then for him to seek her out on his own.

 

“I see… Does she know I’m here?” Wonweek asked, wings flicking a bit with his words as he leaned back in his chair. His brother’s eyes flicked across the desk, concern and worry evident. 

 

“Yes. Yes and she’ll go straight here when she searches for you.” Sunday trilled, voice lilting with his words. Steadily, he stood from his chair and made his way around the desk until he stood by his brother’s side. He knew exactly what Wonweek was about to do. He could see it in the way his wings curled, the way his muscles tensed and his eyes hardened with tempered steel.

 

“Then-” he began to sit up before Sunday flared all six of his wings and reached over to press him back down into the plush cushioning.

 

“You need to rest. Our sister is strong, she is more than capable of handling herself. Its been a stressful couple of days. Rest, I’ll take care of everything else.” He reassured his brother. Subtly he wove in hints of Harmony into his tone, accompanying the pulses with his halo. It would soothe his brother’s nerves, calm him down and make him more willing to listen. His brother’s wings settled by his ears, his eyes clouding just slightly. 

 

“Fine, but just this once. You owe me after that stunt, Sunny boy.” He relented, slumping back into the chair without resistance. Sunday’s heart twisted at the familiar address. His brother was stable enough to tease, but was it truly his own will driving it, or the manipulations of the Oak Family Head? 

 

“I understand. Apologies for the stress.” He said again, letting go of the power of Harmony before it made his throat close completely. This was unnatural, and he hated using such power on his flesh and blood. Silently, he prayed for forgiveness from Wonweek when he discovered the deception within his thoughts. The only reason his lesser control of Harmony was having any effect on the Dreamweaver was because of his inner turmoil. The second he had time for self-reflection, he would discover the ruse immediately. Sunday would have hell to pay when that happened. Masking his haste with long strokes, Sunday made his way from the desk to the doorway, 

 

Wonweek scoffed and Sunday glanced back to meet his brother’s eye. Already, he could see the fog beginning to scatter and his wings begin to curl. This peace would not last long at all. His brother’s eyes softened as soon as he met them, and the younger of the twins gave a soft trill as said the last words he ever would to Sunday: “If you see Robin while out, let her know I’m waiting for her, right?

 

“Of course.” The words tasted like ash on his tongue. Lies always were poison. At the very least, this was to protect his brother, to keep him well. Should the plan go through, his brother would stay safe in his personal paradise. He deserved that beautiful future. He turned around, stepping back out of the study and leaving behind the only person who had stood by his side regardless of anything else. Just before he finished closing the door behind him he paused, turning back around for one last look before never seeing him again.

 

Always say your goodbye’s with sincerity. “Sweet Dreams, Wonweek….” he crooned, stealing one last glance at his prosperous sibling before the oak panels of the door sealed him from sight. He stood staring at the wood for a few seconds, considering the conversation. It went as well as possible, and his brother wouldn’t have any reason to suspect something amiss. The use of Harmony may cause concern, but Sunday could always excuse it as helping his brother calm down. The plan was safe. Wonweek was safe. Everything would turn out as intended.

 

He locked the door before turning back down the corridor and exiting Dewlight Pavilion.

Series this work belongs to: