Delta had a knack for confusing people. It was easy enough for all of his kind, but he took particular pride in messing with the dreamers’ minds. Easy as it was, doing it properly felt like somewhat of an art. Juxtaposition lacking symmetry only covered the basics; Delta loved to dig a little deeper and conjure up people and places long not recalled, purely to bring them into focus coupled with something recent and deliciously, randomly unrelated. Delta did it for the hell of it.
Maya could be called his sister, since we need to apply our common frames of reference to make sense of the unknown, but any common ground was mostly uncharted. Her greatest pleasure lay in bringing happiness, preferably picking carefully from the pool of recent experience, and then associating any current event with a strong sense of pleasure from the past. She’d never know for sure, but she strongly suspected they’d wake up smiling.
The one they called Tordorf, who refused to go by a name, was mostly a silent wanderer. Rarely intervening, he tended to scour the dreamscape looking for patterns, endlessly searching for root similarities but mostly marvelling at infinite peculiarities. If he did take an active approach, he never made it personal.
Baily was the most playful of them all, relentlessly trying to break through the veil – and never fearing the consequences.
They were dreams, but the dreamers would hardly ever know.
