She points a pudgy hand at the twisted reflection of the lobby mirror. This mortal, young by even humanity's standards, has been scarred repeatedly. Her dreaming heart has countless hooks in it, which I control. She will soon be mine, and then our oldest sister's, unless you think fit to stop her fall from your little realm. Dream pauses, seeming almost uncertain.
Despair smirks once more.
That is what you used to say, and look what happened to you. Despair shakes her round head, almost pityingly. Do not think of this as a game. Her brother raises an ashen eyebrow. She is hurting.