>>6121535>>6121430>>6121245>>6121155>>6121143>>6121106<span class="mu-g">Your</span> hungry eyes settle upon An-Yii, in the end. You heard what she was saying earlier, even if your sister tried to make sure you wouldn’t; eavesdropping IS your pastime, after all. She’s wary of you… Fearful. Maybe this proves her fear well-founded, or maybe—just maybe-you can help settle her sleep.
(Like, you know, if you want to. DO <span class="mu-g">you</span>w ant to? You’re not sure…)
You’ve heard tell that true demons can delve into dreams, across some sort of dimension beyond the usual three-or-four-or-whatever. You have no idea how to do that, though—you’ve never even MET another demon. However, some things just come natural, like a bird knows how to migrate south. Somehow knowing it is necessary without ever having been shown or told, you step up to An-Yi and place your two-toed feet to either side of her thin, wiry body. You peer down and her troubled, yellow-green face, slowly lower into a crouch atop her, as if straddling her chest. You bend down, down, until your loose hairs dangle to tickle her face She fidgets a little, face scrunching up still furtehr.
(C-cute!)
You keep your inside thoughts where they belong, and focus, focus, focus. You stare deep into her until you feel something pop—like a banana out of its skin. It slips out of you, and into An, and then—
You’re there.
It’s instantaneous to a disorienting degree. Gravity is gone, and you are floating freely, in a whole new place. It isn’t all that odd a space, though. It honestly just looks like… the Goblin Wastes? Sort of a wobbly, hazy version, melty at the edges, but you recognize it all the same. As Zith-Zi, as Carazzi, you’ve been there before. It’s wide flat steppe, all grit and gravel and hardy scrub-brush, feels almost nostalgic. Its wide open skies and the unbroken assault of heat and cold, without clouds to keep out sun or hold in heat, leave you exposed and naked before the staring eye of the Sun.
Wait, NAKED?
You are, indeed, nude. You feel a pang of panic as you cross one leg over your unconventional anatomy, and clutch at your chest—shrunken a little from Zith-Zi’s proportions (let alone your own usual whoppers), but still sizeable enough to leave you self-conscious. Worse, your horns, your malformed little tail, your hairy ankle and thick-and-scaly thighs… It’s all just OUT there, on display! Everything that’s gross, and wrong, and TWISTED about you…
“Nnnn…”
You whine quietly, but manage not to cry, nor to cry out in fear and hatred. It helps that, when you’ve calmed down, your realize you aren’t just seeing your bare skin, but seeing THROUGH it—you’re, like, some sort of semi-solid ghost-Zi! That explains the floatiness, too, you suppose. Must be a dream thing.
“Cooolll~”
