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"You really are in for a treat, my love."

There was nothing more exciting than weaving a dream in the minds of the divine, and a daydream in the mind of the god of sleep was a special treat. She hated to admit that he was right: he did have something to offer her. The touches of power, whispers of the dreaming world beyond the reach of her power...it was a beautiful and alluring thing.

Still, she liked her world far better.

Weaving power through his mind, she drew him there, to that in between place the mortals visited in daylight dreaming, in their heart of hearts and their secret thoughts hidden from dreams. In the desert sands she danced, the high winds whipping her skirts around her ankles as she beckoned him to follow her further along that path into Amystika.

"There are treats I can promise you, my love, that you couldn't even imagine." she challenged him in return, crooking a finger to urge him closer.

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She could feel him when his spirit called to her. Only when she kissed him did she truly know him, body and soul. His darkest dreams, his most consuming fantasies...his mind and his heart bared themselves to her with that simple desire to hold onto the dream.

The simple desire was not dangerous. It was the deeper desire to tie her to the waking world that brought pain, heartache, and destruction. Those sorry souls she fed on as lustily as she did those who wanted only those things she could give...in those times, she became the dark and ugly thing which she secretly hated but couldn't help, the thing that was part of her nature.

Blood, sweat, sex, violence...all were instruments of fantasy, all were part of the illusion.

This man, however, knew dreams intimately. He was a walking human version of herself, a breed of man she favored over many, and under very few. Actors understood the temporary, the fleeting beauty of dreams and illusion. They wore them like coats, enfolded and protected until the curtain dropped and they were free to shed that skin again.

So when she bade him shut his eyes and called him inward, followed him to the deepest recesses of his mind where sleep and waking joined...when she pulled him into the realm of Amystika, she was delighted to find herself in a large, opulent theater.

Drawing back from his kiss, she looked around with interest at the stage they had been transported to, framed by lush red curtains bound by gilded rope. It was the quintessential forum for performance, the stereotypical theatrical venue in some ways...but in others, it was a dream, an ideal. It was the platform of the performer's mind, it was the place they all aspired to go.

Turning on her heel to face him, she smiled at his expression and spread her arms with a sigh.

"The desert sun wears on me...that's all we usually get here." she explained, beaming at his state. "You seem a little confused...you asked for the dream, did you not? This is where we are. The Dream. Your dream. This is The Stage...the place performers yearn to stand and take that most satisfying of bows."

Kayala moved back into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck happily. "This is your home, the home of all who crave the spotlight...you fit here. It pleases me."