The two glasses clinked as Dreamcatcher placed them on the heavy oak table. He proceeded to pick up a beautiful glass decanter and lovingly pour brandy into each. One he slid across the table, the other he lifted to his lips and sipped, savoring the flavor.
“I had this vintage once in Canterlot. Must’ve cost Fancy an arm and a leg, but he was offering it at the open bar.”
“It is quite unique.” His guest replied. “We shall have to look into procuring some, someday.”
“I knew there’d be something here that you like.”
“You have indeed changed our mind about this… Alcohol. It was not as prevalent in our day.”
Dreamcatcher sat back in his seat. Across from him, sitting in an easy chair he had once tried out in a Los Pegasus furniture store, was the Princess of the Night. They were good friends, despite never having met while conscious. In dreams, however, they had whiled away many a night talking, eating, and drinking, sharing their favorite memories of food and drink long since consumed, experiences of many years ago.
“They say there’s a new princess around.” Dreamcatcher commented, though he knew it was true.
“Ugh. Yes, our sister’s protégé. Honestly, she finishes one spell - using slant rhyme, I might add, which is questionable practice when it comes to magic - and all of a sudden she’s sporting a fancy new pair of wings. As if we weren’t being ignored enough right now.”
“Not a fan?”
“No, we have no objections to Twilight, but honestly, our sister is not the most… attentive. I am beginning to remember why we became Nightmare Moon in the first place.” Luna grumbled, the last sentence somewhere between a joke and an admission.
“Oh, now don’t say that. Neglect, I always say, is the sincerest form of trust.”
A baffled look overtook the face of the Princess of the Night.
“Oh, come now. If someone doesn’t pay attention to you, it just means they think you’re capable of handling yourself.” Dreamcatcher explained, his tone only half serious.
Luna laughed. “Indeed.”
Suddenly, Dreamcatcher heard a ringing in his left ear.
“Apologies, your highness, but I do believe I will have to go.” He managed to get in, before disappearing as he woke up.
***
Dreamcatcher grumbled as he tried to escape his sheets. One foreleg made it far enough out to just miss turning off his alarm, and Dreamcatcher winced as the clock hit the floor. By the time he had disentangled himself, Dreamcatcher was ready to smash the thing to pieces.
“You,” he grumbled, looking menacingly at the clock, “just have to ruin all the fun.”
It did not respond.
***
The moon was new that night, but Dreamcatcher still moved with grace along the shadowed streets of Ponyville on his way to Sugarcube Corner. By the sparse light it merely resembled an inky splotch against the horizon, albeit an oddly shaped one. After some practiced movements with his keys he opened the door, the bell ringing lightly and the “CLOSED” sign swinging gently as he entered.
The stairs to Pinkie Pie’s room - where else but within the giant cupcake that crowned the store - were dim and calm. Pink wallpaper contrasted sharply with the pale blue starlight that shone through the one window and onto the opposite walls. Dreamcatcher ascended quietly, almost like a shadow as he slipped past the door to Pinkie’s room and sat down by her bed. Closing his eyes, he began to sing a sweet but mournful lullaby.
Soft as night and swift as shadows,
Long are the days we labor in.
Now sleep tight and dream of meadows,
And a dance to dance therein.
Pinkie stirred at the sound, but did not wake, still curled up and smiling in the traces of moonlight left, despite the new moon.
Tell me now your secret stories,
Ones long trapped within your head.
Tell me now forgotten whispers,
Ones you take unto your bed.
At this, Pinkie stirs once more, but with more purpose this time, rolling onto her back and opening her mouth slightly, one hoof dangling off the edge of the bed. Dreamcatcher notices it, but does not stop in his song, deciding it is not of particular concern. Instead he moves fluidly into the final verse.
I will draw from you these tales,
I will ask of you no more.
I will see the truth within you,
See you safe to distant shore.
As he sings this portion, soft light blooms across Pinkie’s form, before slowly drawing in toward her open mouth. There the glow brightens slightly and, as the final notes die out, forms into a single strand of apparently solid light, twisting slowly as though alive, floating through the air gently as if in water. It is no brighter than starlight, but Dreamcatcher ushers it away quickly nonetheless.
***
The light drifts aimlessly through the air of the kitchen while Dreamcatcher searches through the pantry. He sighs.
“You know,” he says, to nobody in particular, “Mr. and Ms. Cake do their best, but even they can’t seem to keep things stocked for long in the face of Pinkie Pie.”
After checking the sugar bowl, the sugar jar, the sugar bag, the backup sugar bag, and the sugar sack, he finally finds the remaining supply of sugar in the store in the backup sugar sack. He pulls out of his saddlebags a beautifully polished volumetric flask and funnel. Taking out both, he sets the funnel in the neck of the flask and carefully pours in sugar until just reaches the marked line on the neck.
Turning around, Dreamcatcher slowly approaches the floating wisp of light, now spinning in playful circles. He brings the mouth of the flask up close beneath it and, humming the same tune he used before to draw it out, urges it gently to enter.
It seems almost to understand his intent, and slowly moves down into the flask and curls up in the neck. As soon as the last of it enters, Dreamcatcher pulls a rubber stopper from his bags and quickly seals the flask. The wisp, however, does not notice, as it has already settled onto the top layer of sugar. Dreamcatcher watches as the light of the wisp fades, sinking into the sugar and causing the whole flask to glow slightly. When he decides the process is complete, he gives the flask a few shakes for good measure, removes the stopper, and pours in carefully into a jar he had previously placed on the table. He closes up the flask once again, stows it and the funnel carefully in his bags, and trots contentedly from the room. On the way out, he collects the money waiting for him on the counter and pulls out a piece of paper and pencil from his saddlebag to write a new bill.
For services rendered on the twenty-ninth night of spring, fourth year of the reign of the two sisters:
Task: The production of “double-sweet” sugar for baking purposes.
Components:
- The retrieval of a dream from Pinkie Pie - 23 bits.
- The infusion of retrieved dream into a total of 12 hooffulls of sugar, provided by the customer - 12 bits
Subtotal - 35 bits
Tax - 1.30 bits
Total - 36.30 bits
Sincerely,
Dreamcatcher
Author's Note
Not really sure where I'm going with this but I like the character and i like the atmosphere. Feeling like I lost it a bit at the end, I'll probably revise it at some point. Comments and criticism are welcomed and encouraged, doubly so for ideas on where to take it. And yes, the title is a reference to Sandman.
I’ll take from you
A tale or two
As lonely nights you… stumble through?
“It’s not bad,” said Luna, settling further into the pile of pillows she had decided to nest in that night.
“I don’t know, I’m not too sure where to go from there. I like the first verses more.” Dreamcatcher replied, waving his hoof and stepping back as the music stand he had been reading from turned to vapor and began to drift away.
“We cannot say we approve of psyche and nightly,” Luna said, resting her head on her hooves, “but otherwise it is quite good.”
“Oh come now, I think that part’s not bad. You try rhyming psyche with something and making it feel natural. You’re just annoyed because Twilight got away with friends and end.”
“We suppose. Ah well, if it works, it works.” Luna turned back to the sterling silver dessert tray between them. “What are these little white things, by the way?”
“Macaroons. Try them, they’re quite good. I don’t think they had them in your time, we import a lot of the ingredients from down south, past the buffalo territories.”
As Luna chewed on one, then two, then three macaroons, Dreamcatcher reached up, pulled a notebook from nowhere, and began reviewing the notes within.
“You know, I wonder if there aren’t any other ponies who remember how the old magi did these things.”
At this, Luna perked up, suddenly remembering something. “Mfwe mwecaw-” - Luna stopped to swallow - “apologies. We recall that certain Night Mares would have dealings with other nocturnal beings. I am uncertain if they will be willing to share the information, but there are likely some of them still living who remember some of the old lullabies.”
“You said there haven’t been Night Mares since you were imprisoned in the moon. How could there be ponies still alive after a thousand years?”
“Oh, they are vampires, of course.”
At this point, Dreamcatcher heard a ringing in his ear.
***
“Vampires. Sure. And she never mentioned this before because....?”
***
It had been several nights since then. Mist seemed to glow softly from the light of the moon high overhead. A waxing crescent, it gave just enough light to make out gray details in the darkness. Dreamcatcher stood at the edge of a rooftop, looking out over ponyville, waiting.
At the edge of his hearing, he heard a whisper of something move in the shadows. Softly, to himself, he hummed a haunting tune, and the night seemed to shimmer into light in his eyes. He looked around - in every house he could see the glimmer of ponies dreaming, and, on rare occasions, the subtle, duller light of minds still awake at this late hour. In the direction he thought he heard movement, however, he saw something strange - almost like the inverse of a dreaming mind, this shape seemed to suck in light rather than emit it, a void in his senses that unnerved and intrigued him. He dropped to the ground nearby.
“Good evening.”
The figure shifted. “Heya, babe.”
“He, him, and his, please.” Dreamcatcher replied automatically.
“Oh, okay. Cool.” There was a pause. “So, uh… what’re you doing here?”
“Looking for someone like you, actually.”
“What, like, someone who stays up late? ‘Cause in that case I know an awesome club that-” she began, but Dreamcatcher cut her off.
“No. I am looking for a member of the Blood Moon Clan.”
There was silence as the figure seemed to take a moment to process this, and then:
“How do you know that name?”
“Notes from a researcher named Trail Blazer. They’re a little over a millennium old by now, but I figured immortals didn’t tend to change their traditions much.”
The figure stepped out of the shadows, finally revealing herself. Her coat was a pure white, but her hair was a mess of shades of electric blue and she wore gaudy purple sunglasses, even now in the middle of the night, likely to hide the unnaturally red irises many vampires possessed.
“And who are you?” She asked.
“My name is Dreamcatcher, and I am the first Night Mare in a thousand years.”
The vampire cocked her head, puzzled. “What do you mean, you’re a nightmare?”
Dreamcatcher sighed. “That’s not encouraging.”
***
The two were walking down yet another side street when Dreamcatcher spoke up again.
“You’ve really never heard of the Night Mares?”
“Look man, I don’t know a ton about the old culture. Never really appealed to me, ya know? I’m only about a century old, and I don’t tend to associate with the clans. You’re lucky I even remember where they’re based.”
“I didn’t get the sense that you were a traditionalist.”
“Hell yeah, man, I’m as non-traditional as it gets. DJ PON-3, coming to your local nightclub and all over the airwaves.”
“You’re a DJ? I’ve - oh, you’re the one who was in all the papers for that show with the cellist, right? I read that name as pone-three for the longest time before I realized what you meant.”
“Yeah, lotta people do that. I’m considering switching back to just Vinyl Scratch, it’s been long enough that almost nopony will connect the dots.”
“So, you’re a DJ by night, vampire by… also night? Where do you find the time?”
“Octavia lets me feed on her some of the time, and Fluttershy raises chickens for a reason - she’s not technically part of any clan so she lets anyone feed, provided they’re civil and never harm the animals permanently.”
“Fluttershy? I never would have guessed.”
“Yeah, she hides it well, but she’s got a vicious gaze - her friends call it “the stare.” she passes it off as a strange quirk, but it’s obviously vampire trance magic. Anyways, you still haven’t told me who you are. How’d you notice me? How’d you know I was a vampire? Have you been following me? Because if so, not cool, man.”
“No, you were just the first vampire I detected. Your dreaming is… different from everyone else’s, sort of, well, vampiric. It draws in thought instead of expelling it, if that makes any sense.”
“None at all. But whatever, you can explain later. We’re here.” She said, stopping in front of a nondescript door in the side of an alleyway. Leaning in, she whispered, “The feast of the Blood Moon begins at midnight.”
The door creaked slowly open, apparently on its own, to reveal a large, ornate foyer, of the type one would find in a tudor, or perhaps gothic, mansion.
“I certainly wasn’t expecting that.” Dreamcatcher commented.
“Yeah, they’re kinda tacky that way. Always trying to impress the guests.” She replied, before turning to enter. “C’mon in, we won’t bite.”
Dreamcatcher looked at her for a moment.
“Not much of a sense of humor, huh? Ah well. Hurry up!” Vinyl called, already inside.
The foyer was enormous, too large to fit realistically in the space that must have been afforded it based on the adjoining buildings. Two large staircases led up to the second floor on either side of the room, flanking a massive pair of doors emblazoned with a crescent moon made of red jade. A massive chandelier hung overhead. Two or perhaps three dozen candles shone their light through dangling crystals, scattering illumination throughout the room in a beautiful, if irregular, pattern.
“C’mon, you’re gonna want to talk to one of the elders. They were all around before Luna’s exile, they’ll know-”
“Dame Scratch.” Came a voice from behind them, formal and precise.
“Oh, buck.” Vinyl said.
“Here about another consort, I presume? You have not notified the council of any developments with-”
“I am nopony’s consort.” Replied Dreamcatcher, bile in his voice.
“Madame, if you are going to be troublesome, I will have to ask you to-”
Dreamcatcher whistled a piercing note, and the pony, clearly a butler of some sort given his dress and bearing, snapped to attention, immediately silent, his eyes fixed on a point perhaps a yard directly in front of him and his face fixed in a mask of terror.
“I am here on important business. I will be addressed as a stallion, and I will not be dismissed as some mare’s plaything. All this you could have learned easily if you had bothered to do your bucking job and greet visitors without deciding to be a stuck up prick about it. You will go to the council, you will tell them that a Night Mare is here to speak with them, and then you will not let me see you again. Is this understood?”
Still otherwise frozen, the butler nodded.
“Good.” Dreamcatcher said, before turning away and letting the butler loose to try and maintain balance on shaking legs. He gaped, openmouthed, at Dreamcatcher for a moment, before promptly running off.
“Whoa, dude, that was incredible! How did- what was- what did- why-” Vinyl’s stammering was interrupted.
“Is he gone?”
Vinyl looked around. “Yeah man, he bolted as soon as he could.”
“Good.” Dreamcatcher managed, and then collapsed.
***
“That was reckless.” Said Luna, taking a sip of herbal tea.
“Oh, but you should have seen the look on his face. Man, it sure is nice being a practitioner of an art so old nopony knows how to defend against it.”
“We would recommend caution nonetheless. You must not get complacent, and you must certainly be careful with the power you wield, lest it become feared once again, as it was in the wake of our exile.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m coming to in a moment, see you at dawn.”
***
“Vinyl?”
Dreamcatcher looked around - he had been carried, presumably by Vinyl, to a couch in what looked like a waiting room. There were no other ponies around.
“Dude! You’re up! Oh man, I was worried for a second. What happened?”
“I used my abilities to pull that pony’s darkest nightmare to the forefront of his mind and consume him in it. For that moment, I appeared to be the embodiment of the thing he most feared.”
“That is so metal.”
“It took a lot out of me, I’m afraid. Was I out long?”
“Nah, a butler hasn’t even come back yet. But man, was that awesome. Can I bring you along every time I come here? That jerk acts like that all the time with me.”
“I’m afraid that might not be-” Dreamcatcher started, but a voice interjected in their conversation.
“Would the Night Mare and Dame Scratch please follow me to the council chambers?”
This was another butler, announcing this to the whole room despite it being empty save for the two ponies. This seemed to be a formality, done either because that was the norm among the vampires here or because this butler had already heard word of what happened to the other.
“But of course,” Dreamcatcher replied, working his way to his feet. “Dame Scratch?” He said, offering his forehoof to Vinyl jokingly.
“Hey, so you do have a sense of humor,” Vinyl replied, taking the proffered hoof and following the butler into the chamber beyond.
Author's Note
Part 2, and a cliffhanger! Ho boy. And yes, I suppose I'm reusing the pun from the title, but this time it's in the original German! That makes it classy, I guess. I know these aren't the longest chapters, but I wanted to put this out and see people's reaction. Again, comments and criticism are welcome.
