The darkness of the furthest reaches of the Void was akin to remaining within a dream. One could see nothing for as far as the eye could see except for what they envisioned around them. For recreational purposes, he had changed landscapes around him by picturing it as this interstice of reality fed off thought and will. Did he view himself a god? Certainly not, as anyone could alter the Void as they wished so long as they traveled far enough into it.
It was for this reason, he feared nothing while here in the Void. His magic fed off of it in much the same manner as the Void used his thoughts to provide itself structure. One of his favorite pastimes was imagining fairytales, writing down those he liked. As a means of providing happiness to others, he intended to have his works copied and sold for children and adults alike. To that end, he often made two copies of each story. Those meant for children were frequently devoid of some of the details such as the visceral combat provided in his longer prose for adults.
Then, of course, he also was compiling other works such as instruction manuals for adventurers, visiting locales across the world to discover the flora and fauna. Those had been completed a few months ago with a heavy focus on Canelux, but recently, he had finished his work on the Void. It was perhaps appropriate that he was the foremost unknown expert within this realm of fleeting reality since he had dwelt here for so long. That masterpiece consisted of nearly a hundred pages describing the ins and outs, temporal dilation, travel methods, denizens, and hypotheses on the concept of alternate realities. (See Rumination on Perceptive Reality for his foreword and synopsis).
For the life of him, however, Icarus at last felt a great wave of exhaustion wash over him as the continuous effort to develop the perfect fairytale had hit a snag for days on end. Thinking for a moment of a bed, one appeared before him and he laid down in it, thinking tomorrow would be the day his story would progress. Within moments, he fell asleep and he dreamt of a book opening so vividly, an external observer would have witnessed his dream become real. It was as though two white-gloved hands lifted a book the size of a man and flipped to the first page.
From out of the page, Icarus’ wolf emerged, dressed in a white rabbit’s fur. Even he would not have believed it if he had been awake. Yet, the wolf walked on two legs, hopping along with a rabbit costume, top hat and coat, checking his pocket watch. ”Oh goodness, look at the time! I’m late! I’m late for a very important date!” he exclaimed, running forth from the book to find the other player in this fairytale.
Naturally, every fairytale requires a heroine for every hero, and such, Icarus’ sub-conscious was sending the wolf-rabbit-butler out to find one that was near and dear to him. A few short hours and the wolf emerged from a portal, staring the fair maiden in the face and hopping around, excited. ”Come quickly, my fair lady! My master wishes to bestow a kingdom upon you and needs you now!” he called, checking his watch once more.
