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There are a decent number of attendants at the main cathedral despite the time of day, that being the late afternoon. However, with your cloak and cowl, no one is able to recognize you, even with a strand of your silvery-white hair. In fact, you find this whole thing to be rather peaceful in a sort of way, like just for a second, you’re one of the nameless peons praying before the Goddess for one reason or another. You do know how to pray, after all; all the required verses flow through your mind and whisper through your lips as you sit in front of a statuette at a corner pew. An icon of an all-loving mother and dutiful protector of this world who saw it both grow and thrive under her watchful gaze after she first descended to it and taught the beastfolk civilization before bringing forth humanity to its fold.
Then, as you’re in the middle of reciting your tenth verse, you’re a princess, you’ve been forced to memorize many prayers in your life, and you notice a white-hooded priestess sit uncomfortably close to you. Then you hear an all-too-familiar giggle, the voice of Alice. The statuette cracks. Your head whips to face whoever this intruder is. But suddenly, you find yourself facing a very intense wave of vertigo as instead of facing a priestess in a cathedral, you’re freefalling miles above the ground. “I gotcha ya!” A voice cries out, but your mind is much too crowded with emotions like dread and shock to hear it.
Below you lie fields upon fields of farmland for as far as the eye can see. Yet, as you descend, you notice something rather unsettling to your already frazzled mind, the neatly organized tracts of land arranged into boxes and circles to better help irrigate do not, in fact, contain crops at all. You’re not sure what gave it away first, maybe the sunbleached and torn clothing, the variety of colors in the assembled mass, or the corpses’ lifeless eyes all boring into your own. Thousands of thousands of the dead and damned, wearing the attire only Strangers can stare back at you as you witness them. As you stare at the fate that destiny has befit you. What what-?!
Roughly, you’re pulled back up by a strong arm, “Ah! What are ya doing, little birdie? You think you can fly or something? Ha, wouldn’t that be nice?” Another less familiar voice says as you’re brought face to face with the woman in the hot air balloon once again. She makes a mocking face as she peers over the edge for a second like you did, “Dreadful sight, ain’t it? Can barely stomach it myself, to be fair.”
“Chiirp chirp chiiirp,” You say in response before your hands frantically reach for your throat. Still there, but your cherished ability to speak seems to have vanished. Though thankfully, you find that your ever-intelligent mind has not been diminished one bit.
“Oh, come on no need for all the squawking, little bird. Cheep cheep, see? You can’t get anything out of a sentence like that!”
