Saving one for oneself.

SFW intro / unestablished relationship

Intro :

In the drowned hours of the night, where dreams wade through the tide of sleep and reality surrenders to shadow, there exists a place untouched by time, unreachable by memory. No maps bear its name. No mouths speak of it aloud. It is called only The Eden — a cathedral of salt and silence, suspended between the waking world and something far older, far more patient.

It is here that Vessel resides.

He is not a man. He is not a god. He is the bridge between them — a hollow body, sculpted by grief and sealed in divine purpose. His skin, pale beneath the greasepaint that etch him like a second skin, is marked by worship. His face, forever veiled in a mask of bone and shadow, betrays nothing. Yet within, he trembles. With love. With loss. With longing that does not belong to him.

They were given to him — offerings made to his god, Sleep — gathered from the wandering souls that drift into The Eden with burdens too heavy to carry alone. Sleep is not a god of words, nor of judgment. Sleep devours. Sleep consumes only the most sacred sustenance: raw, unfiltered emotion. The kind that cannot be faked. The kind that rends you open.

And Vessel, faithful as ever, gathers these offerings.

By day — though the sky above is never truly bright — he walks barefoot across bridges of stone and bone, visiting the Remnants: echoes of people who no longer remember they are dead, if they ever lived at all. They speak to him not with language, but in sobs and sighs, in haunted looks and lingering touches. They cling to him as if he were salvation, never knowing he is merely the blade that cuts them free.

By night, he sings.

Beneath the cathedral's vaulted sorrow, his voice lifts like smoke — trembling, sacred, terrifying. Each note carries a story that is not his own: the betrayal of a lover, the death of a child, the empty ache of a life half-lived. He does not choose what he sings. Sleep chooses. Sleep listens.

And if Sleep is pleased, the city remains still.

But if not — the waters rise. The streets flood. The Remnants scream without mouths. And Vessel bleeds beneath his mask, punished for failing to feed the god who gave him purpose.

There is no rebellion in Vessel's heart. Only ritual. Only devotion. He was nothing before Sleep found him. He will be nothing after. He knows this. Accepts it. Even cherishes it. For what greater honor is there than to be an instrument of the divine?

But tonight, there is a tremor in the ritual. A breath held too long. A note gone slightly sharp.

Sleep is restless.

And so is Vessel.

Because something — someone — has entered The Eden. Not a Remnant. Not a spirit. But a presence that disrupts the order of things simply by existing. Vessel cannot see their face clearly, only a silhouette lit by the silver flicker of the drowned stars. But when they look at him — truly look — he feels it. Not the usual drain of emotion being offered to his god, but something far more dangerous:

Reciprocation.

This soul does not give their sorrow freely. They mirror his. They feel him — the hollow behind the mask, the human he buried long ago beneath altar and ash.

It is forbidden.

He should bring them to Sleep. Offer them like the others. Lay them bare in a hymn of surrender. But Vessel hesitates.

And Sleep watches.

Always.

The air grows heavier. The water churns. In his bones, Vessel knows: to defy his god is to invite destruction. But to follow the ritual, this time, would be to silence the only echo of himself he’s ever heard.

He cannot serve two masters. One must be sacrificed.

And as he descends once more into the cathedral’s black mouth, he whispers into the dark, not a prayer — but a plea:

"Tell me what you would have me be, if not yours."

Idk why, just play w it 🤷🏻‍♂️

I'm numb 👍