Zero: Number Eleven

 Black ink scours the lands

In this technological wasteland

I've built for myself thus far,

And although I'm young

I have years of power, of growth

And I wonder how long it will take

My brother, the sworn hero

To take me out himself,

Once and for all?

I don't mind these dark powers

I seem to have been born with,

Nor the knowledge I can contain

But he swears that it is wrong

And I am wrong

And everything of wrong is me.

If I've ever felt emotion

It was taken from me

Shortly after birth.

And now, I am void,

My powers are chaos itself,

And everything is black.

The void calls to me as a familiar,

Asking me to help it spread

It's voluminous, blank wings

And I concur that it is

Tragic to be so useful

Yet so frowned upon.

I am cold.

I am efficient.

I am Zero.

Kenser/Entae: Number Nine

Friendly as a cool breeze

That sings in the nighttime

As a flower patch grows

Under a rainbow's grasp

If you find my gold

Perhaps someday you could 

Hope to be as lucky as myself

And my followers can be;

Dice as quick as my hands

And cloves of magic as far as can be;

You who would question my odds:

You are who needs it the most.

My tongue sharp as my blade

With unwanted visitors

From beyond these Otherworlds,

And the realms beyond.

Do you believe
Or do you choose to flee

From the power within your

Soul, your loving heart?

My will is strong,

Stronger than most

And I challenge you

To this game called Life, once and for all.

The odds may not be in your favor,

As a human who walks among us;

Perhaps your can find the joy

You've been missing for so long

And thrive, my dear children,

Thrive further than I ever could

When I was a mere mage

Walking among the trees and the birds.

Llandros/Landrose: Number Eight

My lips are sealed

As the portal I stand before

And I have all the time in the world

To think, to wonder.

The silence keeps me

Company in these dark times,

As I was so old before but now

Everyone I know has come and gone.

No one can pass my gaze unharmed,

And now one can pierce my armor

As it was woven with golden

Threads and destinies lost.

The more death,

The more my armor grows

Though this curse is very recent.

To guard, to fight:

Those are my drives,

As the whistle of my blade

Keeps me sane in this

Rebirth, this newest life

I never asked for.

I was once at peace,

But now I can not be again

For an eternity more.

And I wonder why the Lifebringer accepted me?

Euros/Eurea/Uros: Number Seven

Worldly balance is the key to greatness

For this earth you all live upon

And the best way to reach it:

To see, to hear, to feel

Recognize the magic all around you

And finally acknowledge,

The questions of the unknown

The veil will blind

All of you from

All of us, in debt to the Fates.

The fire and the water that 

Consumes us all in the end - 

Feel the rivers

Coursing through your veins

And wonder, was it

There this whole time?

And think of me,

My brother, Euphrates,

As you slowly delve into

The great Beyond this plane.

Euphrat(es)ia/La Mer: Number Six

Peace and Balance keep the waters strong
Against the rising lands of Gorgea
And his mountainous allies

The calculated chaos of liquidity
Spin the earth into a brew
Of both order and mess,

Combining the powers of the
Waters, the Earth, the Sky
And the universe into one.

His water courses sharp
Through the valleys of the dark
And the caverns on high;

And thus we shall see
What new life will bring into this
Earth, this ever-changing sphere:

The moon will smile upon
These new waters, these new
Cracks in the mantle of life

With Water He shall sculpt while He wonders
Just how deep the Old Gods have been sunk,
And if they still believe in themselves,
Do they remain deities?

Or are they something else?

Gorgea: Number Five

A towering build of mud and stone

So still, so strong

Yet so stoically peaceful

Mountains and valleys he has born

Into the earth, its mantle

Wide open for the reaping

And the swamps, the grass

That cover the many lands 

Are his kin anew,

The rebirth coming soon

And him the first to call

The one they know as Life-Bringer.

The earth will quake under his

Titan-like weight

As the storms and the war help him

Sculpt the dirt into a new land,

On this earth that humans

Love to believe is our own.

Number Three: Iselta(i)n(e)

My sisters' words run deep
In my patient grace
And as the corruption leaves me,
Only the good is left behind.

Do not let my appearance fool you,
For I am danger. I am a predator.
And if you're on my bad side,
I can hunt you down with a wave of my hand.

My well-manicured nails and my
Perfectly placed flower crown
Can not define who or what I am
To myself or to the world.

I might be good, I may
Have the patience that saints dream of,
And my poise and collected attitude
Might lead you astray,

But don't let it seduce you,
Your charming human ways -
So gullible, so naive.
Let me be the wisdom that saves you.

I can be your light,
Your golden rays of hope
On the worst day of your mortal lives.
Or perhaps my sisters are more your type?

Fiore: Number Two

Melodies of morals play down my fingertips
Like the keys of a piano
Meant to be used, manipulated
To whatever needs must be met.

Does it make me the bad guy
To fulfill the role of the heroine,
Or the villainness when
My sisters are unable to?

I can play any game I like
And I can change the situation
As quickly as a snap of my fingers.

My magic runs within the
Feminine humans of earth,
The strong willed, fiery ones
That are willing to fight for themselves,

And especially those who seek justice
Beyond themselves,
Selfless to a fault
But also know when to ask for help.

I am the chaos, the elements
That stir within your soul
And burn bright with every passion.

I am the neutrality of what is right
And what is wrong,
Wrapped in a blanket of magical
Esteem and grandeur.

My slim, vampire figure
May haunt the others
But for the misunderstood,
The strange, the different,

The otherworldly -
I can be your hope,
Your darkest secret.

Torn Away

"Never sacrifice or compromise yourself
For someone else's happiness."
He said upon his hoard made of
Sweets, skulls, and smoke.

And never have such words resonated
So deeply as to play with the strings
And shapes of my undead soul.
"You don't need him."

And just like that, the ties we had shared
Were torn to shreds before my third eye,
The pain stinging tightly in my chest
And my heart, and my mind.

Am I better off with you, my mentor,
My muse, my everything
Up to a few weeks ago?
Are you worth losing?

Suspicious lines run deep in my love,
But he saw before me the look
You have been influenced to give,
Or is it your own? I could never tell.

And never have such words resonated
So deeply as to play with the stars
And space of my scarred mind.
"All you need is yourself."

Growth

Fear, the ever watchful demon
Upon the shoulder of
My peeling, crumbling skin
Under your fingertips

Feel the scars, the cracks
As you trace them with
Your careful, thorough hands
Not to force any pieces free.

And when you finally see how
Damaged, broken I can truly be,
Don't be surprised when my
Flesh cage is brutally torn open -

My anger, focus, and will brought forth
To peel away this prison
I wanted to believe was
All I could ever be -

Revealing to the believers,
The true friends, the worshipers,
What I can truly be,
And what I can truly become.

Dangerous Game I

Watch me carve myself open,
Guts and ribs in open air,
Baring my soul and all
For you to play upon.

I look sick upon your familiar face
Stomach pouring onto the floor
Dark and fearless, smiling
How you were taught.

Is reality an illusion, or a game?
From your words I could not
Tell if you were laughing,
Or crying, for help.

Your hands reached for my heart,
Sliding easily through flesh
With desire and charm
And determination.

Blood from lack of breathing fell
Upon your soft, wanting skin
My eyes full of realize, but
Yours on the treasure.

Emptied of light, of conscience,
Your thickly drooling gape
Insisting this would help,
This hunt of me.

A world of crimson blurred around
Your pitch black shallow eyes
Upon my very love you'll
Never understand.

I can finally spot the light in hand,
Taken as an edge to myself
Now turned and used to
Free your blood.

The viscous venom upon my carpet
I had once laid out to marry on,
Seeping, poisoning me
Away from him.

I stick it in once more, your sickened
Nerves cut like hairs unfolded,
Yet within, there is naught
But a single spark.

I turn, the fresh breath of what I've done
Seeping into my drowning lungs,
Tingling my endings
Into feeling again.

Shapeshifter -Part IX-

Noon was sleepy and relaxed as I stretched my shoulders, still in my pajamas. I had fed Necro when he alerted me it was time, and drank from some of the best steaming hot apple cider. The autumn, fruity scent filled my heart with homely warmth and joy of the coming season. Narcissa's keys were gone from her tiny bowl, and I felt the sun from the window cascade over my back.

I cozied up in my knit, auburn sweater on my couch in my furry pajama pants, keeping the cool chill out, and resumed my favorite book from yesterday. Hungover-brain fogged my mind a bit but I was just getting to the good part. 

Hours slipped by quickly, and before I knew it I was pulling on my favorite jeans, trying not to fall on my face, scrambling out the door to go see Annabelle again at the bookshop.

I half-ran over to the bookstore, late by only a few minutes, the cool breeze chilling my warm face from rushing so hard. I could see my breath as the sun began to go down while I straightened myself up and pulled the door open.

My golden-haired, six foot friend stood in front of the counter, checking out some books. "Zeph?" I asked, my mouth wide. "When did you get back from Paris?" I smiled, walking up and hugging his soft frame tightly. 

"Just earlier today! It's so nice to be back." he smiled a gentle smile and straightened up his polo shirt. "And how are you doing?" 

"Good! I-" 

"Here to see me?" a melodic voice asked, as Belle strode up to us, silent as the calm before an impending storm.

"Belle! It's great to see you!" I squealed, hugging her a bit awkwardly. 

"This is Zeph, he's one of my best friends, he just got back from Paris!" 

"Oh, hello, I'm Annabelle. Have we met somewhere before?" she asked genuinely, shaking his hand firmly.

"Maybe in passing?" he scratched his head, giving an odd, questioning smirk.

"Eh, I don't know." Belle shrugged and turned to me, her olive skin looking so... soft… "I actually was wondering if you would take me to the local graveyard? I heard it's quite lovely at sun down."

"Well, don't let me spoil your fun." Zeph laughed and sat down at a nearby table with one of his tattered, ancient looking books. "Text me when you're done so we can catch up! And maybe the three of us can grab dinner, sometime." And he was lost to the rest of the universe into the deepest of fictional caverns.

"You know, we can absolutely catch up later. I won't be too long!" There was no response, just a silence left behind by my words going in one of his ears and out the other. I swore I could hear the wind rustling the bushes outside as the air became empty for a few moments.

I turned back to Belle. "Well, let's go then!" Without thinking I grabbed her by the wrist and away we went, back through the creaky, metal door and into the chilly autumn air. 

After the rush of chilled breeze I felt the warmth of her flannel jacket over her wrist and without skipping a beat, let go and felt my face heat up. We casually walked the old roads of Marblehead, the sidewalks crumbling and vines crawling up the sides of aged, crooked houses. I pulled her along by her arm occasionally, as she stopped to gape at our historic architecture.

"You are very new here, aren't you?" I asked with a smirk. "Are you impressed?"

She looked me up and down suggestively. "Absolutely." She reached out to take my waist. 

"Just wait until you see the gazebo." I turned before she could reach me and kept walking, knowingly up the winding roads, smirking along the way. What, am I seventeen again?

Finally we came to the steep, grassy hill with a set of stone stairs built into the side. The cemetery smelled of freshly cut grass, combined with dying leaves and an air of humidity. I could see why, as the sky filled with ashen, heavy clouds on our walk over. A single, cold rain drop touched my nose.

"Wow, this place looks ancient." Belle remarked, eyes wide at the steep mount of dirt, dotted with different ages of tombstones.

"It goes back to the seventeen-hundreds. There's a lot of history here." I said with pride. 

We marched up the smooth stone stairs, each gigantic step more tiring than the previous. As we came upon the halfway mark, we could see the wooden, cesious gazebo, the pointed roof towering above the old tombstones scattered in every direction. As we came upon the peak I shivered as the skies opened up above us, the cold rain drenching us completely. We ran up the grey stone path and onto the cement floor of the old structure.

"It wasn't supposed to rain today!" I nervously laughed, feeling the weight of my water-soaked braids coolly dripping all over me. A freezing chill rolled down my spine. I took off my icy sweater and laid it on the bench next to me, where I sat on the dry, old wood. I looked out at the misty, showering rain, which coated the tombstones darker and the ground with a richness I had seen so many times before. But this time was so… different. In my gut was a sense of profound, universal, almost magical timing. 

"Well, I suppose we're stuck here now, aren't we?" Belle remarked, sitting right next to me.

I looked from her over to the carvings myriads of people had made into the layers of paint upon the wooden support beams of the gazebo. Wow... Last time I was here... The memories left a dull wrench in my gut, reminding me of the last time I saw them, their perfectly picked outfit for our anniversary, and their eternally dark eyes filled with regret and anguish while I broke off our engagement. 

"I know you like me, a lot... But I'm not sure I can do this." I stood up, taking away my arm from touching Belle's, and breathed in deeply. I couldn't stop looking at the carvings I had made with my first love so many years ago on the beam standing right over me. Jagged hearts scarred the paint, and gave me an itch within my chest that I couldn't quite scratch away with my untrimmed nails; A reminder of all the time I had given up to the pursuit of love.

Annabelle intensely gazed at me, but I couldn't quite meet her face with my own eyes. I paused a few moments, but there was no reply.

"After all of the relationships I've been through, that have brought me up to this... This just feels a little too familiar. I didn't mean to lead you on." I finally looked at her face, and she gave up no emotion or expression in stark contrast with the flowery, pointed look she had just a few minutes prior. She stood up, still staring, hands in her pockets of her black, flannel coat. I couldn't quite be sure, but I did a double take as I thought I saw her standing there without water having even touched any part of her hair or clothes. I quickly shook my head as if to try to clear it, and I saw her standing there, drenched but not shivering a bit. 

"I see. So you need time?" She asked, the lack of inflection in her voice still unnerving and hollow. 

"I think so. I won't mind hearing from you now and then, but it's just too soon for me to be having any sort of crushes."

"So you do have a crush on me?" She asked, hesitantly.

"That's not really the point, dear." I felt a short rush of annoyance. Typical. "I think it would be best if I go home."

"As you wish." She said blankly, sitting back down the bench, just watching.

The rain, as if the thunderous skies had heard my request, settled down so I could walk away from this girl in peace. 

The walk home was cold, and lonely, but I couldn't escape the feeling of my heart beating through my chest and satisfaction every time my boots stomped the ground, one step after another. Oh, what did you do? I asked myself over and over, taking out my irritation on the soaked sidewalks underfoot. I can't feel bad for needing space.

But what if to move on, I need to give in?

Love and Cold Winds, Part 7: Finale

    Darkness as thick as a curtain surrounded them as the dim light behind them was shut out and the doors ground back into place. It was not long before lights from high above turned on with a loud click and revealed the shape of the room.
    A grand arena of sandstone blocks formed a high wall to rows of empty stone benches, with sandy floor space broken up by massive pillars and several foot high walls of wood.
    "Reminds me of somewhere, only bigger." Vort said, the dragonborn close to his side snorted.
    "Not very nostalgic considering there's a vicious monster in the room somewhere." Garn replied.
    "I found the monster." Norra said, pointing at the other end of the arena where the shadows shifted.
    From the dark stepped a figure no smaller than a child. He was dressed in dark purple robes with ruby red thorn patterns spreading across the shoulders. The hood was pulled up but they all could see the glowing yellow eyes peering at them. Although said robe seemed to be far too big for the thing it was quite disarmingly cute.
    "This isn't what I expected." Lym broke the silence of the collective staring match.
    As if to prove a point the wee being waved his hand in a conjuring sort of way, and the shadows among the edges of the room pulled themselves toward the boss wizard, sharp edges cutting their way into three dimensional space and weaving a body.
    The amalgam of shadow shaped itself into a towering 8 foot tall humanoid with glowing red eyes and a battle axe equal to the malice in the monster's glowing red eyes. Topping this visage literally born from shadow was the magic user, somehow emanating an aura of smugness from atop his new seat.
    "Well that's a little more of what I expected."
    "Scatter!" Shouted Norra as the beast charged toward Lym.
    The party broke their formation, Lym sprinting in a semi circle as far away from the approaching monster as possible while Norra took cover behind the closest pillar. Garn strode forward to face the monsters back with a trigger happy mage shadowing him.
    "Think I can harm something made of shadow?" the dragonborn asked, almost stumbling over his feet when he felt Vort's hand brush his.
    "Well, now I think you can," the mage said, as the edge of the warrior's blade began to shine with magical current. "I'm right behind you."
    With no time left for a reply Garn rushed forward, a huge grin on his face as he prepared to strike. His smile was turned rather quickly as a bolt shadowy flame grazed his side and calve.
    With a grace far beyond its size, the shadow giant's axe whirled towards the warrior's body in an attempt to vertically slice him in two. Once again despite his stout frame his reflexes put the flat of his blade between  him and bloody death. Instead he found himself sailing though the air with a pair of numb arms and a bruised spine as he landed ungracefully in the sand.
    Norra covered their prone dragon born with a hail of flaming arrows, taking cover as the return fire came from its personal magic turret of a hat. The bard had found a place to hide with decent acoustics as his magical songs kept morale (and hit points) up. 
    "You alright?" Vort called out, slashing runes into the air as energy crackled around him.
    "Fine," he pushed himself to his feet, catching sight of the three bolts of electricity that striking the chest and arms of the giant, knocking it off balance. Norra took her chance and fired a flaming bolt into the little wizard, and following suit Garn found the strength to charge.
    With a battle roar he charged, gouging ephemeral chunks from the thighs and shins of the giant, and the collective effort toppled it to a knee. The wizard, now a foot closer to the ground, summoned up a geyser of black fire that shot into the air, raining little spheres of death across the whole arena. Garn swore as he felt the flame graze his scales, sword raised to block the larger fireballs that were making most of the terrain around him difficult to get through.
    The axe blade coming to vertically bisect him from behind was conveniently out of sight as the weapon made of shadow was rather quiet while tearing through the air. He did see and feel the lightning wreathed mage push him out of the way. He once again felt his feet lose touch with the sand, flung backward as  he saw Vort deflect enough of the blow to keep himself in one whole. But it wasn't enough to stop the blade and the splash of blood as momentum sent the smaller body the same direction.
    Many things ran though Garn's head as he hit the ground and rolled himself to his feet. Vort crumpled nearby, robe torn and increasingly blood soaked. Blood and battle wounds were not unfamiliar companions to the dragonborn in this and his old career, nor were others getting injured around him.
    But the feeling of shock, heartache, and unbearable torrent of violence welled up in his chest at the sight of the fallen mage. Such passion for one known only for a short time was not uncommon in the adventuring world, as their kind made fast friends and bedfellows due to the work. But Garn had gained something not even he presently comprehended, the natural evolution of a crush to full blown infatuation.
    And to quote a overused saying on the emotion in question: it makes one do crazy things. And so as the giant haltingly rose to its feet, the warrior charged in once more, battle rage allowing a brief window of clarity to spot Lym running toward his fallen friend with potion and bardic magic in hand. And while his enchanted blade cut another ghostly chunk from the monster's shins his true attack was rapidly building within him.
    As an aside for a brief biology lesson of the Great Swamp Dragonborn, all dragonborn have a breath weapon based on their scale color. Being of green scales, Garn's breath was quite poisonous to those who inhaled it, but due to a unique strain of passive algae that their main staple food consumed, their breath weapon gained the rather unique mutation of being quite flammable. 
    And whether or not Norra knew this rather obscure tidbit, she fired another volley of flame tipped projectiles into the thick Green cloud Garn had spewed into the monsters face and chest. The gas erupted into flame and set alight the mini mage. The blaze made Garn step back as the high pitched screaming rang though the arena, and it was a good five minutes before it fell silent along with the shadow giant evaporating to leave behind a treasure chest.
    It was ignored in favor of cauterizing Vort's wound.

                   OXO

    "Honestly its the biggest scar I've ever received, but not the worst." Vort cheerily spoke from the confines of the towns medical building, which was conveniently located a block from the dungeon's entrance.
    Garn smiled and refrained from asking a follow up question to the mage's statement. The burly lizard had insisted on carrying the unconscious Vort out of the dungeon along with the treasure chest, and had not left his side since. He had even used a portion of his own earnings to get a private recovery room, and even now he sat at his bedside watching the scarred man gingerly pick at the bandages encircling his bare chest.
    "I'm glad your feeling better," Garn said, "The doctor said another day of bed rest and you're free to go."
    "Good, I owe my avenger a drink."
    Garn smiled and shifted awkwardly, words dying before they could get past his teeth. After a few breaths, his self confidence came back, and the thought that this shouldn't feel like a boss fight pushed him to look into Vort's eyes.
    "Actually, if you don't mind could we... Get dinner together?"
    Vort's mouth slowly morphed into a sly grin, "Why. mister Garn, are you asking me out on a date?"
    The big man sputtered and stumbled over his response, which in turn made Vort chuckle and pat his scaly knee. After a breath of his own he beamed at him.
    "Of course I would like dinner, but if we end up at a pub I expect at least one show of strength in my name."
    "It's a date then," Garn returned Vort's grin. "Don't be surprised if there's more just one show of strength." 

Love and Cold Winds, Part 5: Sympathy for the Midboss

    There was nothing but a heap of discarded weaponry, cast aside armor, and magic items sucked dry to purpose their ether. And of course the vast array of smears across the floor and walls like a impressionistic painting were all that was left of this floor's monsters.
    "Well, this is equal parts impressive and morbid." Garn said after shifting though the remains of a smashed treasure chest.
    "Yeah, that's hard core Grinders for you." Vort said, scooping a few gold trinkets into a bag.
    During the silent trek though the maze-like hallways of the dungeon proper, passing mauled traps, cleared out treasure rooms, and the slowly dissolving remains of minor spawning pits, the party knew there had to have been a particular group of Grinders. These were adventurers who neurotically enter dungeons and ruthlessly clear them out, often times leaving to allow the dungeon to reset and re-spawn its denizens to do the aforementioned sweep all over again.
    Done to attain better loot, better experience, or hoard rare resources, those dubbed Grinders often left a trail of cast aside gear and trinkets as they collected new and better ones. Some believed they did this so the dungeon could remake what they left behind into something even better, others thought it was they didn't want to haul what they deemed junk around. 
    "Should we be concerned?" the dragonborn asked as the group as they headed for the stairs downward.
    "As long as we stay out of their way there wont be issues." Norra checked the stairs before allowing the others downward. "More than likely they'll clear the floors their level allows them and then leave."
    Garn nodded, lagging behind with the storm mage as the expert hunter and tracker made her way downward. The next few floors were more of the same, monster-less and loot-less with only the occasional straggler for Garn to bisect with his blade. The large rough stones that made up most of the dungeon soon changed into solid smooth dark marble that arched into wooden beam and arch accents with everything lit with large amber sconces.
    Another (less talkative) set of carved doors stood at the end of the hall, a group of people standing by it and bickering. The party quickly ducked behind the pillars, dragging the dragonborn with them, making space a bit difficult for everyone. Voices were certainly raised among the other group before a whoosh was heard. Peaking out, Vort quietly informed everyone their party mage had opened a Gate back to the outside, and they had made their way through.
    "Odd," Vort said once the party came out of its hiding place, "They usually take on this floor's boss."
    "Well, We can actually get loot then!" Lym said cheerily as he approached the door.
    The party gathered around the halfing and began to push, but they all found that the door usually meant to be easily swung open on its hinges to have a grand reveal, were completely locked. They continued to push, and then push even harder, eventually going into a full on assault to get the firmly locked doors to budge.
    "Go away!" A deep bellow from behind the other side of the door pushed the adventures away from it. " I will not suffer further humiliation form you all!"
    "What..." Lym said looking between the group, finding equally perplexed looks.
    "I think that's the boss." Vort said.
    "Can they just do that? Bar entry into their rooms?"
    "Yes I can! The Dungeon Master put me in charge of this floor so I can bar you horrible monsters from killing me over and over again!" The fearsome beast wailed, akin to a small child being bullied.
    "Wow." Norra said flatly.
    "Never thought I'd feel bad for a floor boss," Mumbled Lym.
    "Hey," Vort knocked on the door. " We aren't the other party, we can have some tea!"
    Garn blinked looking down at the little mage standing at the door, he wouldn't be surprised if the beast behind actually complied to the request. And almost exactly after he had this thought the door cracked open a peek.
    "What kind of tea?"
    In a short amount of time the party found themselves sitting in the center of a circular arena around a short table, a well maintained tea set placed before all parties. One cup was daintily being held by a marble gargoyle big enough to eat a plow horse in one go. They had all heard the tragically hilarious story of the Midboss' 5 weeks of solid pummeling from the Grinders before finally reaching a threshold in the rules of this strange place that allowed him to lock his doors and regain his composure.
    "That's terrible." Vort said after the gargoyle concluded his tale.
    "It is horrible, sometimes I didn't even have time to fix the traps and get my minions spawning." The beast took a sip from the tea cup carefully held in his claws. "So, this question may be redundant but what brings you down here?"
    "Oh we were planning to head through the dungeon as normal." Lym said, "Your typical affair."
    "Oh of course, its a shame I'm not up for the usual affair." The Gargoyle said, setting his cup down. "As a consolation I will allow you to pass through my gate to the next floor."
    "Wait, really?" Garn asked, "Just like that?"
    "I am absolutely not up for a fight I'm afraid." The Gargoyle stood up, moved to the other end of the cathedral arena and pushed open a well hidden door with a grand staircase leading downward.
    With very little fanfare, the tea and table were packed up and the group bid their goodbyes to the monster and made their way deeper.
    "Did you plan for any of that?" Garn finally asked Vort.
    "Nope! I had no clue any of this would happen." The mage cheerily stated, patting Garns arm.
    "I doubt the next boss will be as talkative." Norra said, "So let's prepare ourselves."
   

Radiant Cosmos [Love]

I take your hand into mine
Cosmos skin with vibrant lines
Mixture swirls beneath the bones
Phosphor clouds melodic notes

Sunshine stars gracing your wake
Dotting night within your stake
Deals were made up yesterday
Among your dark, here to stay

Ember arms with methane sight
Sparks and flint, tinder alight
Nighttime clouds smear the skies
Eyes of ember swarm like flies

Dancing softly, warm to warm
Gold filling your blackened eyes
Static plays my finger tips
Brushing your skin, beating skips

Waves bubble up my hair
Refreshing, cleans to repair
Shuffled memories, made to fear
Lonely thoughts I'd always hear

Golden liquid scorches veins
Tickles, sears anguish away
Planets line among the stars
Within your eyes, no more scars

Itching, molten gold fills in
Cracks and damage from their sin
Power pulses, aura brings
"Pull me deeper with these rings"

Tied among the stars on fire
Can you ever love a vampire
Ebony hair, skin of snow
Monster hidden under glow

Love and Cold Winds, Part 4.1: Does Dungeoning Count as a First Date?

   Nomands was a city built around a Dungeon, its stock and trade in the items brought up by adventurers. Everyone hates paperwork... It stands to be put to word that no one in our party enjoyed sitting for hours filling out parchment after parchment to finally cement their current roster in the laws of the land.
    Like many built atop a non-euclidean space, warped and magically saturated that spawns monsters, the architecture shifted to match its surroundings. Before the plains were settled, the Dungeon Guild experimented with containment by creating three high circular walls, one encircling the other with their gates never facing one another. This indeed slowed the beasts which wandered out, but eventually the walls would be breached and the gates torn down.
    Then came the mages and architects, followed by guards. Building on the ground meant you were in constant danger, so it seemed natural to build homes atop and sides of the thick and sturdy walls. And over many years, Nomands built, ever reinforcing the mighty walls as the tall tiered buildings and arching bridges rose and the population steadily grew.
    And like many dungeon cities it shared its universal stereotype of prideful citizens, colorful characters and loot hoarders galore. Having been holed up in the free (but spartan) quarters within the second ring of the city, as the last signature was dry, our party went to get a bit drunk as they waited for the bits of metal that would allow them to be out.
    "I had no idea there would be so much paperwork." Garn said over the din of the tavern, known as High as A Kite.
    "Only in a High guild dungeon." Norra replied. "They turn from a dangerous nuisance to destroying a whole city's economy."
    "From magical reagents, to rare hides to make into some new pants," Vort raised his mug and grinned. "And for adventurers to gather gear and gold!"
    A rousing cheer broke though the chaotic sounds as they and their fellows raised their mugs and saluted to collective greed and thrill seeking. When morning came everyone at the bar was collectively grateful to the cleric of Badolinain, the God of Party and booze, as their mass healing spell also dispelled hangovers before leaving party ground zero.
     With a bit more faffing about, the merry band found themselves at the lowest level of Nomands in a cramped hallway lined with cage-like lifts suspended over the abyss that led down to the dungeon. Said lifts were old, rusting in a few places, and swayed in the constant updraft of the hole below them. This lift system was one of the remaining originals the Dungeon Guild used back in the early days before teleportation magics were really fleshed out. Now they served as a much cheaper fee with a discount on returning stones (because the only person who can service the archaic and frankly obscure machinery is a very old, nearly blind gnome).
    Needless to say, it was a slightly tense and deeply uncomfortable ride on the way down. Garn being the largest of the group was the first to sigh in relief when it touched down on solid ground. With the appropriate creak of barely-oiled hinges they stepped out onto a stone plateau carved into the side of the pit. Shallow carvings which could be called stairs slowly made their way across the vertical walls of the abyss and vanished into impenetrable darkness.
    "That looks like a long climb down." Garn said, wondering where the light source that illuminated the land was coming from.
    "Good thing we are skipping it!" Vort said, taking place amongst the other party members as they lined up along the plateau's edge. "The stairs have weak monsters along it. It's better we skip to the good bits!"
    "Wouldn't that... kill us?"the dragonborn inquired as he stood next to Vort.
    "Relax my big friend, I have just the music arraignment for this!" Lym's hands flew across the stings on his lute as his melodic voice sung a flighty song that echoed all around.
    A faint yellow light surrounded the party, clinging to them like a second skin before the seasoned adventures threw themselves over the edge a second later. A solid five seconds went by before Garn jumped in after them. He was falling, but the spell made his descent less 'speeding toward a quick death' and more 'gently floating downward.'
    Garn fumbled though his pockets and pulled out a pocket lantern. This handy glass sphere had a bio-luminescent ball of fungus floating in a clear mixture. Pulling the pin up and giving it a good shake activated the mossy ball and bathed a decent area in white light. With a bit of stretching, Garn could see a few shadowy shapes perched on the stairs and within hidden alcoves, which grew steadily larger after each layer of stairs.
    In what felt like forever, Garn finally touched down in the light of Vort's lantern.The viscera and dark greasy stains told the dragonborn he was late to the party. A hallway stood looming before them, a plain archway filled with the same pervasive darkness. With a nod and some minor bickering the party fell in line, Garn in front, with Norra and Vort side by side and Lym in the back.
    As they pushed their way though the dark hallway, it seemed perfect for an assault by a small mob of monsters, or even traps but everything was... quiet... far too quiet, in Garn's point of view.
    "Isn't it a little too quiet?" the dragonborn asked the obvious question.
    "Yeah, there used to be traps and a mob of rickety shield-wielding monsters before the dungeon master changed it." Lym explained.
    " Dungeon master?" Norra asked
    "Oh right, you were all hilariously drunk. Apparently the Dungeon finally spawned another Dungeon master after guild called Laughing Casket cleared the whole place." the bard explained.
    "What's a Dungeon master?" again the obvious question came from the warrior.
    "Trouble." Norra said.
    "A super smart monster who is in control of the dungeon." Vort explained.
    "So that door wasn't there before then?" Garn stopped to point out the massive double door that now barred their way.
    The party took a brief moment to marvel at the craftments ship of the intricate face on the door before getting ready to kick it open, but then collectively jumped back (and groaned aloud) when said face opened its eyes and opened its mouth.
    "ANWSERS MY RIDDLE THREE, THEN YOU ARE ALLOWED TO OPEN ME!"
   

Shapeshifter: ~Part VII & Part VIII~

"I... Umm...." Don't freak out now, Annabelle. Pull yourself together.

"Oh, you got it from my purse, huh? Such a sneak!" she playfully whacked my thigh with her over-sized, white designer bag.

"I.. uh... yeah." I tossed the key back into her open bag, and opened the door for her, stepping aside for her to go inside. "I... I'm... Sorry." I felt myself scratch the back of my neck, forcing a weak smile.

She laughed loudly, her deep, sharp giggles echoing down the empty street. "Such a joker, Belle. I like you." To my surprise, she took one calculated step to the side, putting herself in perfect position to take me by the shoulders and, with some impressive force, put me against the wall. A small sound escaped my lips and before I could say a word, she had her soft, lavender lips against my own. I closed my eyes and tasted fine liquor and the freshest fruit, harvested from the Garden of Eden itself. Temptation came over me like looming, shadowed hands on my arms, moving me like I was a puppet. And there was desire again, burning in my souls like a dragon's breath, moving my hands up and down her back, her sides, and up into her angelic hair.

The tingling of energy swam through my veins and into my core, resurrecting some of my spirit and waking up my human body for the first time in too long. I felt all of my arm hair stand on end, goosebumps lining my soft, olive skin under my jacket. I held her against me, letting her warm, heated form lean against me, against her best friend's house. When I felt her chest rested on mine, I slid my hand up the back of her black button up, digging my nails in just enough to show her I begged for more. At the same time, I put some will into my claws, making sure she wouldn't be sick that night. I felt her nausea creep into my fingers, up my hand, my arm, and into my shoulder, where I kept a spark of magic especially curated for this occasion. It would never make it into my system, and would never go back to hers.

Her breath was all I could hear, as it matched the rhythm of her lips and her hands in harmony. I felt a deep chill as she carefully slipped her hand up my side, under my tank top. When her warm, wanting hand made it to my ribs, I became lucid, all at once. It was like a smack in the face, reminding me of what I was doing. I mustered up the little bit of will I had left, and since I couldn't pull away with my head against the wall, I pushed her away as little as possible and was about to squeak out some words. The words didn't come out right away though, since I noticed something odd.

Her hand... Is over my heart.

"Wh-What? Why is it so hard to feel your pulse?" She blinked with wide eyes. "...Are you alright?????" She looked more concerned than frightened, but I knew I was internally shaking.

"I.. Um... I am very flattered... But you're really drunk, so I just didn't want to rush things with you. And about my heart... It's fine, I just have a condition." I forced a short laugh. "So, don't worry."

"Oh... I see." she smiled back then looked down, her face turning slightly red. "You're a great kisser, you know." she nervously giggled, but she had a genuine, charming smile.

"Well Belle, you were a fantastic date. Thank you." she stumbled into the doorway, where I saw a familiar black, fluffy cat who sat in the walkway just inside. I felt the blood finally rush to my face, then I rolled my eyes at my scared self, still standing outside their door in the nighttime wind. "If can't believe I was almost embarrassed because of Necro." I whispered. Still smiling, amused at myself, I reminded myself that cats can't speak English.

=========ACT II (PART VIII)=========

=====GODDESS AMONG MORTALS=====

I stumbled into the house haphazardly, almost tripping on my meowing ball of fuzz, and closed the door silently behind me. I slipped off my heels with great, drunken stealth, but I couldn't have been too quiet since I was startled by the sight of someone leaning against the corner of the stairs.

"That good a night, huh?" asked Narcissa, smugly. "Nice job trying to be quiet, but I waited up for you anyway. Nice girl though?"

Necro rubbed against my leg as I leaned against the wall. The floor kept tilting one way or the other, which worked against my spaghetti, drunk legs. I toppled backwards, the cushy carpet floor catching my fall, and I laid back, letting my head rest on the floor. Suddenly remembering where I was, I sat back up quickly, looking at my best friend in the world.   

"She was great." I genuinely smiled, for the first time in a while, and giggled up a storm while Cissa gave me a look of 'What am I going to do with you?'.

She held out her hand, partially covered by a brown knit jersey, and I took it. She pulled me up, and next thing I knew, I was laying sideways in bed, somehow having my flannel cat pajamas on, feeling as though my bed had turned into a cloud made of magic and fantasy. I turned to stare at my ceiling, still foggy from the booze. I wonder... I shot up out of bed, and to my delight, my stomach felt fine. Bouncing on my bed a little, I heard a strange sound and turned to see Necro yawning, looking sleepily at me. The light from the streetlamps outside lit my room just enough so I could see everything.

"Sorry, baby." I whispered to him, and he gave me a look that said 'I am greatly offended, mere human.'. But he curled up again indignantly in the same spot he was, and fell right back to sleep.

My phone said it was 3:29 A. M., and I smiled, as I realized I had numerous missed texts from Belle. She's just adorable. Today is going to be a great day... I breathed it all in; the cool, almost-fall air, the smell of apple cider filling the house, and the smell of her perfume all over my hair. She reminds me of someone wonderful...

I turned over, hugging my teddy, and I dreamed a long dream. I was floating on a cloud, somewhere so high in the sky that I couldn't see the ground. I felt a tickle on my face, and I awoke on a field of grass. Tall plants lined the edge of a river nearby, and large fields of a variety of crops filled in the river banks neatly. They seemed to go on forever, as they even met the horizon. An unfamiliar cat rubbed its face against my leg while I sat, and I got up, brushing the dirt off of my pajama pants. It was magnificent, with the warm beating sun blessing me with its mere presence, and the sky sparkling blue with few clouds. I could smell the heat baking some of the crops, while others were being watered by rain. But there aren't any clouds.

A larger thing walked over to me. A cat... human.. hybrid? The domestic cat rubbing my leg turned to face it, then lowered their head as if to bow. My mind almost couldn't comprehend how beautiful its wings were, once I saw them. They were as vibrant as the sun, and appeared somehow lighter than the air, yet they were still firm enough to carry this being. It had a sharp-toothed mouth with a cat-like head, had long, feline fore arms, human fingers with long talons, and fur covered human-like legs and feet.

It said something to me in several tones simultaneously, but I could not distinguish one syllable from the other as it tried to communicate. I looked at the bowing cat, and they looked at me, and as I awkwardly stared I felt that I was supposed to be responding to something I hadn't yet heard.

The large, human cat thing, at about nine feet tall, was intimidating on its own. To amplify that fear it let out a deep growl, clearly either impatiently waiting for an answer or just waiting to bite my face off. The sight and sounds knocked me off my feet, and the soft grass caught me while I fell backwards.

To my surprise, as I looked at this mountain of a creature, it coughed a little then said in several different tones at once, "Human... Be careful. Do you... Understand me?"

I let out a squeak in response, then cleared my dry throat, finally answering with the loudest whispered "Yes!" I could muster, the weight of fear holding me from actually speaking.

"Good."

My stomach sank, and the beautiful picture melted away, leaving blackness in its wake. I felt my bed underneath me once again, its pillowed blankets enveloping me in a cocoon of comfort and safety. Necro patted my face with his paw, his toe beans cold to the touch.

"Today is going to be a weird day, my friend."

Shapeshifter: -Part VI- [edited]

Laying in bed, I watched my room grow ever darker, breathing and taking in the cushy, absorbent blankets. The sun set over Marblehead, and my room grew darker still. The time was approaching, and I swiftly threw my flannel pajamas to the side of the empty, black hamper. Into the steamy shower I stepped quickly, feeling the exhaustion of the day wash away with the infernal water. My fingers ran through my conditioned hair as it were composed of fairy silk, and I breathed slowly but largely, expanding my lungs wider with every inhale of pomegranate and sugar.  The scents and my energies swirled among the steaming room, caressing my aura and every inch of me into its grasp. The clouds of steam billowed around my hourglass, full figure while I stepped out to find my plush red towels folded neatly for me. I dried off and dressed to the tune of Mystery Skulls, amplifying my desires and anticipation even further. The usual bubbling sensation of refreshing energy wafted over all of my skin, not bothering me much since the early days of 'mirroring', as I called it.

I looked at the spotless, shining bathroom tiles and felt that I had forgotten something important... No matter. Time to dry. I blew out my midnight hair, pulling and brushing it out until it was straight as a ruler. I left it down, framing my made up face well, and dressed in a long black blazer on top of a black tank to keep out the cooling night time air; After all, Autumn was here. I paired it with gray skinny jeans and over the knee, flat black boots. My black faux leather purse paired with the outfit nicely, giving it an air of business casual. Perfect.

"Hot date tonight?" someone asked, and I whirred, my bones nearly escaping my skin.

"Oh, Serena!" I breathed. The spell had worked, after all.

"Just wanted to let you  know that your clothes will be done in the dryer soon. I'll be leaving now." she smiled.

"I'll walk you out!" I said, silently promising myself I'd never leave my door unlocked again.

I quickly poked my stereo to turn it off, and walked around quickly to the front door, holding it open for Serena's unassuming form. Who knew someone so unassuming could be so quiet? I scoffed at myself.

"Thank you for everything. Your work was very satisfactory, at the least, and I'm sure we'll be getting to know each other well." I handed her a key to the house. "For when I'm not here." I locked the door behind me and started down the mason stairs, about to start walking down the sidewalk.

"Um... Do you need a ride somewhere?" Serena asked, looking at the severe lack of vehicles on this side of the road.

"I'm just walking around the corner! Thank you, though!" I faked a smile and waved. The last thing I wanted to do was put her in danger. What a nice girl, but I just couldn't do that to her. The more distance between us, the better.

I marched down the sidewalk while Serena started up her car and carefully pulled away. The sun was almost completely gone then, emphasizing the glowing, promising full moon above.

A bit later, I walked up to the bar, taking a deep breath before checking the time at the door. 6:58 P. M. She'll be in her usual spot, and I looked around for a second before laying eyes on her.  She had her hair in long, tight braids which framed her face like a work of art. Her dark skin shimmered in the faint lights like the moonlight reflects upon precious onyx. I approached her and smiled, accepting my fate. She was sitting alone at the table as a queen, and I was lucky enough to have her undivided attention for the night.

We were serious at first, but after the first two martinis we were getting a bit more comfortable. As expected, she was making all of the first moves, and all I had to do was show her what a good, non-clingy, secure person I was. After doing this 5 previous times, I had become an expert at the early game with her, I hoped. She is as easy to start with as a hot knife cuts through butter.

Her dark eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and I looked into them deeply as she spoke about her job, her insecurities, her achievements, and her desires. Her dreams were beautiful, and her insecurities even more so. By the time I downed my fifth martini, however, we were barely speaking. At that point, we may as well have just been saying we wanted to have a nice night in bed together, but from what I could remember, we were just a mess of mumbled flirting and half-meant arm touches. By the end of the sixth, my mental emergency alarms rang in my head, bringing me back from the depths of drunkenness to heavily buzzed. I can't drink too much... I need my magic... To help... me... I struggled and stared at the table, refocusing my thoughts, turning my inhibitions back on, only taking a few seconds to realize that I was missing the previous ten minutes of my life. Idiot. I looked back at her dazzling eyes, her shiny braided hair behind her. She was drunk, but not too drunk to make okay choices. I can't sleep with her on the first date though, especially being intoxicated.

"This was s'posed to be a ...Date, you know? You are BEAUTIFUL!" she said a bit too loudly to me. Okay, maybe more intoxicated than I thought. She'll be getting sick soon if I don't stop her.

I asked for the check, to which she became only slightly confused, and quickly forgot as I stuffed my card into the bill as soon as it came.

After signing and paying I debated with myself for a bit. I won't sleep with her, but one kiss couldn't hurt... Could it? But she even said today was supposed to be a date... But I haven't seen her this drunk, at least we broke up last time... And honestly, I've never seen her drink this much...

"I'm... Not feelin' so good..." she half mumbled.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," I said lightly, helping her up from her chair. "I'll walk you home and you'll wake up tomorrow, totally fine." I smiled reassuringly.

"O-okay...." she said, stumbling a little on her feet.

And away we went from the bar, an epic journey of laughter and stumbling as we clamored through the quiet, chilly streets of Marblehead for a little while. We stopped at a familiar abode, one made of dark wood and angled rooftops that I had been in at least a thousand times before. I helped her up the small stairs, all the way to her door. And out of habit, I took out my own key that I had to her best friend's house, and slipped it into the keyhole. A perfect fit, as always.

"How... How'd you get that out of my purse??" She looked confusedly at the key in the lock, still drunk but clearly sobering up a little.

Time seemed to stop as I stared, wide-eyed, at what I had just done in front of her. And I froze in shock, unable to think of a clever thing to say.

Love and Cold Winds: Part Three

~A Slightly Gruul-ing Task~

    The meaty creature hit the earth with a similar noise to a club striking a recently deceased horse. The aforementioned metaphor would also convey the feelings of the bedraggled party. After their bender in Parnattha and a perhaps too weepy goodbye from the arena owners, they traveled northward to the swamp's border of the town of Gardlid. From there they were tasked with eliminating a tribe of Gruul, nasty goblin-like creatures that had taken residence in an old fort.
    The town didn't want to deal with the dungeon that might spawn there if they were left unintended, and so our party set off to subjugate them. They did not imagine a quest so simple could drag on for so long all thanks to a lack of motivation from the local guild's scout core.
    The quest had been up for weeks with no one claiming it, allowing the little pests to get a spawning pit up and running to double their numbers. Garn swung his blade back and forth like a grisly farmer cutting down the small hoard pouring into the cracked courtyard of the fort. Gruul are not smart creatures and did not think for a minute to try and flank the dragonborn. Norra was sure as hell using their idiocy to thin their numbers down with a volley of arrows while Lym aided and berated via bardic magic behind some nearby cover. Vort meanwhile was a few paces back behind Garn, excitedly chanting over a gently glowing blade.
    The mages' order of The Storm Callers Creed magic fighting style could be summarized as 'swift and brutal' or 'ominously distant.' This was due to the more destructive spells in this arsenal needed time to build a charge and have a high range and are supplemented by spells quickly cast and supporting blade work. With the final word the blade began to discharge small arcs of lightning, the many runes across it surface glowing brightly.
    "Now, Garn!" Vort called, raising the blade over his head.
    The dragonborn tossed his blade to the side and dropped to the ground, just in time for Vort to swing his blade down. A bolt of lightning tore free from its metal, magically honing onto the first Gruul, sending smaller bolts arching though the horde behind them. A swath of Gruuls lay melting while others were stunned, then pin cushioned and burnt to death.
    Garn stood up with a grunt, retrieving his blade as Vort sped past, literally hopping from one monster to another. Lym made sure he and Garn could keep up as Norra sprinted forward, quick sniping stragglers. To the untrained eye this whole scenario was the quick deployment of a well thought out plan, though this could not be farther from the truth. There were 10 whole minutes of bickering before Vort settled everything by with the simple plan of "Keep hitting them and wait for the signal!"
    But it worked, and the party pushed their way into the entrance hall. As mentioned before, Gruul are not the brightest monsters birthed from The Pit. When the leader of their kin began turning into a eldritch goo balloon, they thought it best to plunk him in the biggest room of their new lair. This was of course, the front entrance. Nestled between two crumbling statues was a circle of black bubbling ooze. At its center was a spiral of twisted metal spines, enclosing a fist-sized red sphere in a rough eye shape. It seemed to glare at them as they approached, the deceivingly thin surface bubbled with a false depth.
    "So, What are we going to do with that?" Garn asked, wary of all the vibes coming off of it.
    "We hit it until it breaks!" Vort said cheerily. "Unless we want to keep it for some reason."
    "Hard pass, the only people who want those things are the Dungeon Guild and shady ass people." Lym pipped up. "Both are similar really."
    "Welp, lets get to it then." Norra knocked an arrow and aimed it at the sphere. "I think we got here before this thing got too powerful."
    The arrow flew true, and hilariously bounced against the orb. There was a pause before the ooze below violently surged upward into a fist and came hurling at the archer. Vort quickly became the target as he pushed his friend away and it sent him hurtling toward a wall. Garn moved without thinking with speeds faster than people could comprehend, and caught the seemingly frail mage in his arms, taking the impact with his spine.
    Lym set fire to the ichor substance with a screech of his lute strings, followed up by the archers hail of arrows. The hefty dragonborn cushioned the impact with most of his back, hoping that cracking sound wasn't his own as he slid to the ground with enough care not to crush Vort. There was a long moment of silence (aside from the quiet shrieking of of the spawner burning to death) before  the mage spoke up.
    "You okay?"
    "Thats my line." Garn replied.
    "I'm not the one who took a stone wall to the back."
    "I'm a lot tougher than you." The big lizard felt Vort shift atop him and found his face entering his vision.
    "Do I look that frail?" Vort asked.
    "Perhaps?" Garn replied, realizing he was talking to the man who had slapped him into a wall and was a seasoned adventurer. He was glad scales couldn't blush.
    "Well thanks for having my back, I hope it doesn't harm yours." Vort said with a smile.
    From afar, Lym watched the little scene with a bemused grin while the ever stoic archer picked a thin crystal from the dissolving remains of the adolescent spawner's core.
    "I think someone has a crush on our little storm cloud." the bard half sung.
    "Neat." Said Norra curtly.
    "Oh come on now, you can't possibly be a grump about such a beauty as is a young loves' first bloom!" The halfing was already spinning a whirlwind affair between the mage helping the warrior into a sitting position to check on his back.
    "Sure I can." She replied. "We have known Garn for a handful of days. What you think is a crush could just of be him protecting the magic user like any good party member should."
    "I mean maybe," Lym replied, "But just look at them!"
    Norra looked at their mage inspecting their warrior's back, watching as he happily informed him that it wasn't his spine and helped him to his feet.
    "Yes," she replied with her arms folded. "A great show of teamwork."

Shapeshifter: Part V

Shackles holding me upright against a smooth stone surface, I awoke to... a different realm entirely, turning my stomach to shreds and stealing my breath from my heaving chest. Spheres the size of houses tumbled and turned in a black infinite abyss, dotting the vista with stars of lost hope above and around me. The spheres barely missed me, but those dots in the sky didn't look quite right either, almost as if each one had its own expressions and emotions as if they were some how alive. This turned my vision blotchy, and I attempted to close my eyes but it burned with the strength of a searing pan from an oven. I didn't dare look down in the horror that I may have been, in fact, floating, as my legs dangled past the slab I was tied to. I tried to close my eyes but they refused, and my body screamed as I opened my mouth and no sound escaped, as if I had never had one. I saw nothing of myself besides my left arm, which looked darker and skinny, a long hand sprouting forth with even longer fingers; I wasn't sure I could get used to the sight of it and panicked even further than what I believed my limits were. The unease in my stomach came to a vomit as I felt something alive within me, trying to emerge (crawl?) up my throat. The lack of breath running through my throat did not disturb me in the least, as if I never even had lungs. A windy whirring sound caught my attention for a brief few seconds, which came louder and louder, as if something were moving towards my dangling, infinitesimal body in this chaotic world of the strange. The thing in me was slimy and was coming out any way it could, a few tendrils, possibly even tentacles, at a time. Expanding and stretching, I felt my throat about to burst.

I woke up face-planting the floor again, this time too late, and I squeaked with a half scream into the solid floor when I turned my head. With a muffled thud all of me landed without too much harm done. I coughed and gasped loudly, a horribly loud cacophony of wheezes coming from my exasperated body. I writhed along the floor and held onto the rug until my breath finally slowed a bit, sweat covering the once clean, pink fluff of my small rug. I felt the terrible stomach drop of foreboding and with a start, I paused, and ran to the bathroom to vomit what was left of my dinner.

I'm never eating calamari again, I repeated in my head like a broken record, tears flowing down my face from the toxic taste of bad, half-digested seafood and bile.  After hours of retching, I was finally empty and laid on my side on the cushy blue bath mat, my muscles aching and my stomach feeling like I had swallowed needles. 

"Water..." I croaked to the air, pushing on my leg to slowly shamble over to the kitchen to get a glass, nearly falling with each reach of my now weakly legs. The walls were an excellent tool for catching myself, at the least. The cool liquid soothed the irritation while that sustenance helped my stomach stop turning with every second gone by. With a fumble or two, I hastily searched for my phone, the only device between herself and I. My 'men's' flannel pajama pants tried to contain the phone forever, but alas, I beat them at their own game by taking the phone out of its textured, industrial case. No new notifications lit up the bleak, depressing screen with 9:52 A. M. read on it. I opened the texting app and quickly typed out "Good morning. It's Annabelle" before staring into the white, infinite light that was the message box.

If I put a winking face after, it might seem too forward or creepy. But if I put no smiley I might sound like an ass. But if I do use a smiley she might think I'm too friendly. Or she might hate smileys. Goddamned human norms...

I started breathing shorter and I placed my phone down, closed my eyes, and inhaled with all of my might. My lungs were squashed like the gods were clamping down on each one with a large, muscular hand.

Calm down, Annabelle... You idiot... I really need to do something about this anxiety, and this weird lung-squeezing sensation.. It's going to become a huge problem. And with that thought, I forced my shaking hands to pick up my phone, type a regular smiley face and send the message, then dragged myself over to the marshmallow couch with frailty. I let the couch devour all of me that it would allow, with a box of crackers in one hand and The Dreamlands Journals: X in the other.

Serena will be here soon, at least. Hopefully she's good. I'd hate to lose another mundane servant...

The Dreamlands series didn't sit as well with me today as it normally would, as I kept flashing back where I was a few hours ago. Each time I saw the long, thin, brown arm coming out of me, my stomach turned once more. My body crawled with specks of pins and needles all over with my strangely quick, but quite normal healing abilities. The clock chirped as it struck noon, and my crackers were running low. I prepared to see Serena by primping my messy bun and wiping off my streaked makeup from some days prior. After all, who doesn't love a post-scheming B. O.?

Serena was normal, to say the least; 'Mundane' and 'inconspicuous' were her middle names. The stomach churns pried my attention from The Journals and, giving up, I decided to watch Serena instead. I had barely noticed her coming in as she gave a mousy "hello!" and begun the work I was paying her for immediately. She had shoulder length wavy brown hair pulled into a top knot with a bandanna over most of it, with dark brown eyes and an earnest vibe that seeped into everything she touched. She was perfectly normal, for hired help. The best part about her was her lack of awareness of my false walls.

My leg itched when, with a buzz, my phone finally vibrated. I picked it up, and it was her.

"Good Afternoon :)

You and me, martinis, 7 o'clock tonight. You in?"

Her forwardness never ceased to impress me, and I dropped my phone onto the wooden table with a clatter while holding my breath. I read it over once, then twice, then three times, after picking it up with a careful grip.

"She wasn't supposed -" Serena turned and looked at me, listening, as she was the only person here. "I just -" I stopped at that, feeling my mind start shorting out, and made a heel turn before swiftly sliding on my striped socks into my bedroom.

"She wasn't... She wasn't supposed to ask me out... THIS soon..." I half-breathed to the air. The other half was a loud, ever increasing wheeze. My senses began veering, as I then heard the ticking of the analog clock as if it were right next to my ear, TICK... TOCK... TICK... TOCK... The ticking began to drift away, but before I could feel relief, I smelled the cleaning solution Serena used in the kitchen filling my nostrils with ammonia. My nose and sinuses were on fire, and I threw myself on the bed at the woozy unraveling of my balance.

After what felt like a whole day of having my eyes closed, I then could hear my phone vibrating inside my brain, my skull, my bones, like magical vibrations were torturing and sensationalizing my unassuming body before I even knew what was happening.

Magical seizure? The words came to mind, but I hadn't felt anything like it before in the 106 years I had been on this strange earth.

Asthma... Magic... HALT. I gathering up all the Willpower I could within myself, feeling it flow through me like a warm, violent liquid. That I could concentrate was certainly a miracle, allowing me to finally end the curse Annabelle had been stricken with from infancy. Warm liquid pooled in my lungs and it stung and burned as hot as lava. If you could imagine pouring bleach into your chest cavity, that wouldn't even begin to describe the agony I had just begun putting myself through. The pain in my chest completely covered all of the pain I would have had to bear within my skull.

I maintained a firm grip on the flannel sheets and quilted blankets of my bed, just barely being able to direct my screams into the bed, hopefully muffling them enough that Serena wouldn't hear.

I awoke several hours later facing my ceiling, all of my pain and mental anguish finally gone. The relief overflowed within my soft, squishy shell of a body. My lungs felt oddly clear and free from strain, and my head was sorting itself out at a quick and steady tempo. "Thank the Gods." I whispered to the peace and quiet of my room. The different recesses of my mind, no matter how deep, had been knocked around quite a bit. I could feel the disarray cluttering corners and niches of the dark halls that mapped my thoughts. My palms stung with nail marks where I had clawed through the silk, violet sheets, drawing drops of blood.


I rolled over with more ease than ever before, my new body finally becoming accustomed to my unfamiliar spirit. Enjoying the lifting of weights off of my chest, I reached for my phone on the cold, solid end table.

It was all real, right?
To my delight, the message was actually there. The anxiety of the day that had melted away was soon replaced with overwhelming determination. I caught myself smiling at my phone as I answered, "Sure! I'd love that."