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Yawgmoth stirred a little in his sleep, mumbling some babble under his breath that hardly qualified as coherent language. His dream however, became a nightmare quickly. As such he started to sweat at the brow. His facial expression twisting. It was the same recurring dream. Unknown to Yawgmoth however, the dream was going to take a turn for the worst. In the subconscious of his mind he clicked on certain abilities, mainly, the third level of his mind manipulation technique. Hint of Insanity. The over activity produced by his by his brain made the dream more vivid and more frightening. Instead of the lab accident that made him into what he was today, the dream became something else. It became a visual storm of a weak and powerless Yawgmoth, watching as the chaos god Slaanesh took everything from him. First Crow by disemboweling her, second his remaining son Lanshor by decapitation. All the while in the dream the chaos god mocked him as he could do nothing. It became clear he was distressed as in the real world he shifted, words flying out of his mouth in his native phyrexian tongue. The realization got to him and with a sudden jerk Yawgmoth woke up. Standing to his feet Yawgmoth's jaws opened to let loose a horrible scream. The scream of a thousand demons in a torrent of violent sorrowful rage shattered the airwaves. Yawgmoth's brain had still not quite set in that it was a dream due to the unconscious activation of his mind manipulation ability. Yawgmoth's fingers curled into fists and he stood, water rolling from his crimson red eyes down his cheeks, evaporating on his skin from the heat caused by the darkness energy around him which grew so violently strong it actually began to eat away at his skin, and at the same time speed his natural regeneration cycle so it would grow new skin over parts of his body for the aura to devour again and again. His entire body shook with a powerful force that cascaded a wave of energy that obliterated the couch he had been sleeping on. Less the sawdust was left from the wake. The darkness around him hissed so violently that those sensitive to energy and mana waves would actually feel headaches and migraines from the sher pressure exerted by his powers. This, of course, all came to a sudden halt when he finally realized it had all been a dream. Almost immediately the power ceased and Yawgmoth dropped to all fours shaking, breathing heavily.

Yawgmoth shook his head in answer to the boy's question. "No" he responded. It took him a minute to gather another answer up. Standing upon shaking legs, "No we are not alright. Excuse us." Yawgmoth said, standing there in silence for a moment. Before he finally got his body to do what he wanted and explode into the thick black liquid and slither away. It was clear the dream had troubled him greatly.

Blue eyes turned to Yawgmoth, a single brow arching with curiosity. With all the things happening to him, it seemed that it had all caught up to him finally. Whatever the dream had been about must have been pretty strong for him to have left so oddly. Once he finally went, she closed her eyes slowly and sighed softly, finally lowering her gaze.

When young Reeve spoke, a small smile crossed her lips. "I say this because I speak from experience, he does not appreciate company first thing when waking normally. Tonight is an exception, I spoke too soon. You have done well, young one."

She smiled a bit more brightly and wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug. "It matters not, please forget I said anything. I wish to know how you are. Are you feeling better finally? And what is this?" she asked, pointing to the device that was on/in his chest.

Listening to him, she looked more concerned as he went on, despite the brightness in his voice as he explained. When he finished, she looked at him for a moment, in a way about like she was about to cry. The next, she forced herself to smile a bit again and she nodded her head. "Yes, a mecha-heart." she said, then smiled a bit more brightly. "Do you like such machinery?"

She looked to him with a shy smile, almost surprised that he would care to ask. "I worry for your health. And .." she paused, looking to him with a sorrowful, apologetic expression. ".. I wonder if I made you sick. Last I saw, we had lunch. Next thing .. you are sick." she stopped there, letting her words sink in, both for Reeve and for herself.