Quoted By:
Yes, and this isn't your hair, even if you wish it was— <span class="mu-i">natural</span> ringlets? You think they're natural, not ironed in. Gods, they go all the way up to the root. Setting the 'why' aside, whose body is this? You don't know any curly-haired healthy-breasted pink-obsessed bitches, much less any you'd wake up as. Wake up as where? You don't recognize this either. You're in a chair, which is okay. Seems like a normal chair. Maybe a fancy chair. You're in a... room? Smallish room. Walls are weird. Canvas? A big tent? Who'd move all this stuff into a big tent? There really is a lot of stuff— the chair, and another chair, and a table, and a smaller table, and a wooden chest, and a wheely cart, and a cabinet, and an eye-watering number of exotic gewgaws; weird statues and relics and things. Like the tent of some old rich explorer guy. (You've risen from the chair.) Though, now that you look at them, some of those weird statues look... well, look, you'll put it like this. You've doodled those spirals in permanent marker lots of places.
That does add a little to the 'why,' though it's mostly what you were already thinking. Sure, it could be the gods, you guess, trying to teach you some half-baked lesson. They're always doing that, teaching lessons. But what do the gods care about you? Not one single tiny shit. Therefore, it stands to reason that you've been sent here (wherever this is) by the Worldbearer, the Sleeping One, Old Earthquaker, yes, It— the WYRM! Your prayers have been answered! You can't remember exactly what the prayers were right now, but they're answered. Did you pray for curly hair? You usually have waves, which are <span class="mu-i">okay,</span> but...
Well, anyways. Is the owner of this tent a servant of the WYRM? Or just somebody who knows a lot about It? You're here for some reason, you're picture positive, so maybe you better wait for tent guy to come back. Though it can't hurt to poke your head outside, right? Let's see. Ow!
(Note to self: Claudianess does not banish hangovers.)
Ow, ow, ow! It's way too bright out there— your head's pounding like crazy. After squinting and shielding your eyes, you can just about make out... another tent? More tents to the left and right, too? What is this, a summer camp? Probably more of an exploration camp, you guess, if they still have those somewhere. Gauging by the relics. Beyond the lone tent across the way is a lot of sand, and in the distance trees, and there's something very weird about all of it. Everything's ever-so-slightly blue. And the sky's all... there is no sky to speak of, really. It's a weird uniform blue up there. Like you're underwater.
(3/4)
