You’ve xeno be kiddin me

The pain came from every direction all at once; She felt nothing but the rip and tear, heard nothing but the screams of thousands. There was nothing to see, but everything to feel. Endermites ate away at her eyes and her mind & soul and threw it all up again.

ℸ ̣ ⍑╎ᓭ ╎ᓭ ╎ℸ ̣.

(This is it.)

It only grew louder. It only tore harder. Every fold in her brain unraveled and shredded and forced itself back together again. Every millisecond that passed was an eternity of suffering. Like a flower she wilted and like a sprout she blossomed—bloom, wilt, bloom, will, bloom, wilt. It was endless, it was wretched. There were others that suffered too, unraveling at the seams and reconstructing in ways they weren’t supposed to.

╎ ꖌリᒷ∴ ╎ℸ ̣.

(I knew it.)

It was all collapsing all at once. She knew why; She knew why more than anyone else ever would ever again. She was collapsing all at once, but somehow she could still piece parts of her brain back together enough to confirm that the end was here. The end was there.

It was everywhere.

It wasn’t anywhere.

It hadn’t.

It couldn’t.

It wouldn't.

It will.

But then it all stopped.

But then she could still think.

But then somehow feeling slowly returned to her fingertips, somehow she could taste grime on her tongue again. Was that all just a dream? Was the cataclysm just a rouse of her skittish mind?

No.

∴⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ╎ᓭ ℸ ̣ ⍑╎ᓭ?

(What is this?)

Soon she could see.

∴⍑ᒷ∷ᒷ ᔑᒲ ╎?

(Where am I?)

Soon she could hear.

She tried moving her dangling limb, but to her dismay she could not. It was still, warped beyond her comprehension and draped in the sleeve of a white dress shirt. Pale, soft skin wrapped around her bones. Her talons were gone. She was stripped of her beautiful scales.

∷ᒷꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ᒲᒷ.

(Release me.)

She got up, walking around like a clockwork doll mindlessly. At least she thought she was–she felt possessed, taken ahold by some force unseen. She pressed her hands against her chest, feeling around and fidgeting with the buttons on her button-up shirt. She stared out at the horizon and touched her head of wavy hair; She did not like this. This was far beyond foreign.

╎ᓭ ℸ ̣ ⍑╎ᓭ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ 𝙹⍊ᒷ∷∴𝙹∷ꖎ↸?

(Is this the Overworld?)

It was, yes. The influx of hues she could suddenly perceive was much different than the dullness of the vision she owned before all of this. Full of color and life she never dared to see; she never needed to see. She only focused on her egg, she needed to. The last faces she saw, she cannot remember. Only a flash of light, only a scourge of pain, only the darkness.

But this moment was fresh–this moment was…

Brand new.

She was waiting for something, pacing and touching her hair. Something was happening—she felt a flood of differences fill the absence of a form, it started to get much brighter than it was before. A flash of white obscured her vision.

Then a second breath she felt.

She could see again, her chest rose and fell with every breath of life she took. She started to realize it wasn’t her breath; These were not her hands; This was not her body, neither of them were. It was invasive, disgusting. She felt spread apart and scattered across the emptiness like shards of broken glass. She could see out of four eyes at once—she had two pairs of plantigrade feet on the grass of the wood. She could feel from two pairs of hands, and she got to take a good look at herself. Everything was doubled and she felt all these senses from the world in a pair. Why? What was the purpose of this? What did she do to deserve such a fate?

||𝙹⚍ ⍑⚍ᒲᔑリᓭ.

(You humans.)

Was she met face-to-face with a twisted rendition of herself? No. With strangers–creatures unlike herself–creatures lower than herself. But she felt, touched, tasted, smelt, and heard everything that they did. There was too much to perceive, too much to gather, too much to process. A name came to mind. Jesse. New ones were fabricated at once. Resse; Gresse. They smiled at each other and she watched it from both of their eyes. She hated every second of it.

ℸ ̣ ⍑╎ᓭ ╎ᓭ リ𝙹ℸ ̣ ᒲᒷ. ꖎᒷℸ ̣ ᒲᒷ 𝙹⚍ℸ ̣.

(This is not me. Let me out.)

Her thunderous growls and roars were drowned out by fraternal affections. The two could not hear her; they could not see her; they did not feel the way she felt. The boys didn’t know anything except for the ground beneath them and her fingers that wrapped around one another. They looked at each other with a joy that she could not share. She wanted to go back to her domain, back to her hatchling that has yet to bite into a chorus fruit. She was yet to reverse the damage done by humanity and its carelessness. Now she sat between these naive, childlike newspawns and rotted in the nothingness she was confined to.

It was wrong.

It was ugly.

It was terrifying.

╎ ᔑᒲ ╎リ ⍑ᒷꖎꖎ.

(I am in hell.)

She touched her own face.

She held her own hand.

She guided herself through the fauna.

She took initiative for herself.

She soothed himself.

She found himself

She cooked for himself

He took care of himself.

He found asylum within himself.

He followed himself.

He brushed his hair.

He tended to his wounds.

He helped him off of the ground.

╎ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ ||𝙹⚍.

╎ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ ||𝙹u.

╎ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ ||ou

╎ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ᒷ you.

╎ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ e you.

╎ ⍑ᔑte you.

╎ ⍑ate you.

╎ hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

I hate you.

.I have you.

..I hove you..

…I love you…

…

…

…

…

“I love you.”