#draza

I've woken up strange.

I'm not static. I have a boundary. I have a set distance.

I feel something cold, hard, on the surface of my…skin? Riddled with bumps and cracks that let bits of my rubber skin slip into and distort around.

I try flowing. I wobble, jiggle, like molded jello. Slosh into myself. I've been trapped in containers before, but this is new to me. This is different.

It's wrong. I try not to panic but my waters begin to grow uneasy.

The light flowing through the membrane dances in my molecules and helps me understand what's around me. I see the blue sky. I see a road, the one I'm laying on. I see the smoothness of my membrane, with barely any seams or features.

Willing myself into torrents, I try to feel out the interior of my membrane. It's large. Stretchy, and I can extend it by forcing it hard enough. But there's a definite shape to the membrane. One it wants to achieve. That it needs to be.

I go with it.

A long leg gets pushed out, and then another, and then two more. A tail extends and slaps the ground, causing my whole membrane to bounce with me in it, ripples cascading up it, through my new torso, out my legs, back into my torso, down through my tail again.

This is all so new and exciting.

I slosh audibly as I stand on my four legs, the ends pressing down and flattening onto the road. I remember what I've heard of other realms, how dragons will have fingers and toes, claws, digits to push and pull and grasp things with. I'd been a part of the endless oceans of the Depths for uncounted ages, so all of this is new to me. I keep trying.

Four fingers, round and stubby, pop out of each of my four legs.

Now the hard part. When you can see with every part of yourself, and don't need the orifices other types of elemental dragons need, you don't really need a neck or a head. But I figured I might as well get one anyway.

A neck- my neck- extends from the part of the membrane opposite of my tail, and from that, a thin, round head, ridged on the sides with the horn-like protrusions that come natural to dragonkind.

I will some pockets of water to spin the other way in the front of the face, to control and collect light so I can process it more easily. Everything comes into sharp focus immediately.

This forested road is unfamiliar to me. A single sun beats down overhead. It's been making my membrane hot, and my water warm. The membrane…it's tough, perfectly clear, and my water is pure and crystalline as well, but distorts and reflects light passing through it. I am green like the leaves, brown like the trunks, black like the road. The membrane is slightly gray where it's bunched up and sticking together.

When I move, the membrane creates friction against itself, making soft squeaks and shuffling noises. I can feel, and hear all of it, vibrating through me subtly.

I cast my head this way and that. I notice things moving, creatures, in the trees and grass, but nothing on the road. These creatures lack wings and horns, so they are not dragons. The road is painted with a repetitive yellow line down its center. I'm confused by all of this for a moment but then I remember.

My wings were just harvested by a Janitor of the Department of Disposal and Donation. And I was to be sent to Lutum to rot in an eternal garbage heap forever.

But whoever sent me off did it wrong. Instead of teleporting me to Lutum, I've somehow managed to end up somewhere in the endless mortal worlds of the Grand Project. Where all the elements and intensities combined to create worlds full of life.

I try flexing my torso, moving my water, pressing against my ‘back.’ I manage only nubs. I cannot physically form wings for flight or any other purpose. I am a kobold. I am cursed by Minuo, my dracona taken from me.

“Rotten eggs…” I say, cursing to myself. I feel the wyrmish language vibrate my rubbery body. I start to wonder, am I the waters on the inside? Am I the skin? What part of me is me?

I hear a roaring noise, and worry that the Janitors are back to collect me, but turn to see a strange machine driving straight into me, slamming into my side. My body loses form for a moment, flattening around the front and sides of this screaming, honking machine as a creature inside of it also screams and maybe honks. My vision goes blurry as I rebound, bouncing off, shooting away in a slingshot repercussion into the treeline.

I feel a new type of pain I've never felt before. My membrane hurts, and I realize it truly is part of me. It's bruised in places. And punctured near my neck. I'm leaking water, and as it comes out of me, I can't feel it. It's like it ceases to be me once it passes outside of my membrane. I'd panic harder if I wasn't so dazed and nearing unconsciousness.

—-----------

I wake up later feeling strange. I try flowing. I'm trapped inside something.

I remember.

Groaning, I try to take an assessment of my situation. Focusing new eyes in my head, I can see I'm still on the side of the road. I'm a little deflated, a little less than before, but I haven't continued leaking water. In fact, I feel the presence of different water inside me. Someone or something has poured new dihydrogen oxide inside of me, mixed with minerals, chemicals, and bacteria. It's not very pure. It's almost revolting. But I can sense the tear on my neck isn't gushing anymore. Fragments of sticks and leaves float inside my waters, polluting my pureness. Seems like that's what caused the injury.

I have enough strength to shift my water, so I send my eyes from my forehead to flow down into my neck. I'm looking at the tear, feeling it at the same time. It's small, jagged, ugly, throbbing with pain. On the outside I see adhesive tapes layered over and over again, trying to keep the rear closed and the water in. I'm grateful for whoever did this.

“Oh Jesus it's awake! It's awake!”

“Oooh, it's alive? Hell yeah! I thought it was just some floatie.”

“It might still be.”

“Guys shut up, it's looking at me!”

I don't understand their words, but I can tell by their expressions that these wingless, non-dragon creatures are smart enough to use language and are probably talking about me. I form extra pairs of eyes to stare at all of them.

I'm laying in the grass on the side of the road, slumped against the tree I was thrown against. I see the vile vehicle parked up on the road, empty of creatures. The two-legged beings are huddled around me, three of them. They are deer-like, with doeful eyes, short white tails, beautiful and ornate antlers, and fluffy ears. They all look down at me over wet black noses. They are all dressed similarly in clothing that's simple and colorful.

“Heyyyy, please don't eat us,” the nearest one said.

“I don't think it can eat us when it's a water balloon like this.”

“I wanna name it!”

I put my eyes back in my head area, and let my waters settle down. I notice that my membrane hasn't lost its earlier shape. Separate from the Depths, from an ocean of currents, I seem to be just a bag of water displaced from anything remotely resembling home.

“We should name it something cool, like…Explodica!”

“What the hell is that? Why don't we ask it what it's…their name is?”

“I don't know if it can understand us.”

One of the deer-people sidled closer, waving its hoofed hand at me.

“Hello? I'm Grace. This is Mias and Theresea. What's your name?”

I try to think what the most logical thing they're trying to communicate is. Possibly names? Where I came from? Trying to shirk legal responsibility for striking me with their vehicle? Not like I could get DIRE to prosecute creatures of the Grand Project. If anything, I'm double-damned for being branded Filth and invading the GP when I shouldn't. I'm worse than dead if I get caught. At least the atmosphere is pleasant and the natives aren't hostile here. Better than the abyssal landfill of Lutum.

“My name is Wirbel. I'm a dra…kobold of the Depths, the Realm of Water. Thank you for helping me right after hurting me.”

“What’s it saying?”

“I have no clue.”

I wiggle in annoyance, causing my whole body to slosh plentifully.

“Wirbel,” I say, lifting one of my legs and touching myself with a finger. I shudder as the pieces of my membrane rub against each other. Still feels so weird.

“Oh. Grace,” the darkest-furred deer says, touching their chest. She points at the deer in the hooded outfit. “Misa.” And then the last deer, who's a snowy white color. “Theresa.”

How long did you think we could make it? How far did you think we could take it? We couldn't be bothered We didn't have time to think that far ahead

me: so i have the morning off because i worked superlate yesterday! what should I do with these extra hours???? i could clean my car a little or do some writing or pick up around the house a lil

my brain: or u could think about draza’s backstory and about how to completely make her life miserable and also about how she looks under the mask with saturnz barz on loop