Sue had no idea that it was possible to get scolded so thoroughly despite not understanding a single word.
Or that Doc had enough muscle to drag her back onto her bed, for that matter. They were none too happy about needing to do that, their annoyance shifting into worry as they examined her injury. The bandages around her leg had turned red, and the wound burned with every heartbeat—the simple act of taking the bandage off was bad enough to make Sue grit her teeth.
Doc kept their usually quiet voice up, ranting about something with enough intensity for Ember to occasionally flinch as the fox comforted her hand. Sue was glad she couldn’t understand in what precise way she was being bad-mouthed, but she still felt foul. The medic had patched her up after she got herself into trouble last time, and her needless expedition just undid a decent chunk of their efforts.
Sorry Doc, I really wish I could explain any of this to you.
Without anything else to do while being tended to, Sue dared to sneak a peek at her injured leg. The wound was large enough to stick a finger in and, much to her surprise, it wasn't even sewn shut. Its current state made her already white face go paler still imagining how bad it all must’ve looked before Doc’s help.
With the bandages discarded, the medic rushed to fetch a square of thick cloth, scooting back just in time to catch some pale blood leaking from the aggravated wound. Before Sue could wonder what they’d do to treat her self-inflicted injuries, they got to doing just that—and it wasn’t anything she could’ve expected.
Instead of preparing any natural remedy, they rested their hands next to her injury. Their touch was soft and… tingly. The sensation escaped an exact description—almost ticklish but not uncomfortable—and only intensified as the medic focused, soon enveloping her entire leg. It melted through the pain wherever it touched like it was nothing.
Doc’s hands glowing throughout this entire process gave Sue a pause, but she didn’t dare oppose any of it. Both because it’d be rather uncouth to do so while she was being healed, and because the ritual had left her so, so tired. It only took a few minutes, but she was struggling to keep her eyes open by the time the mutant healer had finished doing… well, magic.
No other words to describe it, really.
She didn’t expect to be as unsurprised by the existence of actual magic in this forest somewhere in Oz as she ended up being. But between the otherworldly fauna, her own unexplainable abilities, and a heaping dose of exhaustion, her reactions had been dulled all the way down to silence. In any normal circumstances, she would have freaked out about this ten times over—but these weren’t normal circumstances.
That, and she had Ember beside her, tirelessly comforting her.
After Doc had finished casting their spell, Sue dared to look at the aftermath. The results were very appreciated, though hardly anywhere near as flashy as the magic through which they had come about. Her wound had shrunk a fair bit, its bleeding stanched, and the surrounding swelling reduced. A quick twitch test revealed that the limb had even regained some sensation, much to her relief.
“Thanhksh, Dhoc,” Sue muttered.
The two pairs of eyes focusing on her an instant later had clued her in on her gaffe—not that she had a way of explaining what had just slipped out from underneath her skullcap. Instead, she did the second-best thing and shook her head while looking embarrassed. Thankfully, Doc and Ember got her intent soon enough, returning to whatever they’d been doing before.
What she wanted to do was take a nap, that’s for sure.
Her idle pets stroked Ember’s head, klutzy on account of all her strength suddenly being sapped. Trying to hold her yawn in was similarly awkward, some of the sound leaking out and catching Doc’s attention. To her surprise, it made them put the bowl of ointment they were holding down and walk over to her, mumbling something all the while.
Sue hadn’t gained a sudden understanding of Doc’s language in the meantime, but even she could tell they had calmed down. Her relief mixed with confusion at the medic’s words and a pinch of mild disappointment at Ember scooting off the bed soon after. Having failed to convey their intent verbally, Doc took the matter into their own hands, gently pushing down on Sue’s side, taking her off-guard. Her eyes went wide, arms raising to maintain her balance before she figured it out.
Fine, fine, I’m lying down.
After some awkward shuffling, she laid down on her left side, leaving the injured limb accessible to any further profane rituals. To her mild disappointment, she didn’t get to see what else would be done to it.
Exhaustion knocked her out before Doc could even resume their magical handiwork.
----------------------------------------
The absence of any more religious visions was reassuring in hindsight, but Sue was too knackered to notice right away.
Her returning consciousness took its time as it pieced the surrounding stimuli together. Most of them were familiar by now, but if anything, that made them even more welcome this time around. Her hand's exploratory journey discovered a wild Ember snuggled beside her midriff. Her gentle pets were enough to stir them out of their stupor, leaving them squirming as they came to. Once they had finished waking up, they scooted over to her head—
And excitedly licked all over her face.
Sue just scrunched her features and giggled. Her eyes slowly pried themselves open, soon finding Ember’s—and realizing theirs were just as fiercely red. She mumbled, “G-ghood a-aphternoon Embher.”
They tilt their head in the cutest way when they’re confused.
Ember kept nuzzling her as she sat up; her left hand immediately returned the affection. Doc wasn’t around anymore, but a few eye-catching additions around the room offset that fact. The nightstand was occupied by another trayful of food, the selection of treats much more savory this time—and it was the less exciting of the new arrivals.
A rudimentary crutch stood leaning on the nightstand, right beside the tray. It looked about big enough for Sue to use, hopefully freeing her from having to hurt herself again just to get around.
Speaking of.
After checking her leg again, Sue found it patched up like the first time she woke up here—and then some. Doc spared no bandage in securing the injury. They even reinforced the bandages with something stiffer, making it feel almost like a cast. Running away in a cast wasn’t gonna be easy, but it was still infinitely preferable to being ratted out by the local king Martian and burned at the stake.
Trying to distract herself from that foretold future, Sue focused on the food instead. The assorted goods had her drooling. Roasted fruit and veggies, fried dumplings, and even a huge, savory pie, right in the middle. Her stomach wanted it all—despite how large her breakfast had been, she still felt like she could vacuum the entire tray up and then some. Guess her emotion radar used a decent bit of energy or something.
Who cares, it’s dinner time~!
Sue wasted no time stuffing herself with roasted goodies, now properly able to notice and then summarily dismiss their unusual flavors. The light filtering in through the window had gotten noticeably more orange, making her pause. She must’ve been really exhausted after Doc had patched her up.
Their absence was worrying, though if they were indeed a doctor as she had christened them, they were probably needed elsewhere, too. Quite a few heads around the place, and it only made sense that some of them would also need medical attention, likely stat to boot.
Now that she thought about it, Sue hoped she wasn’t taking up the only bed in this entire village. It’d be a shame for an actual… mutant to not get the treatment it needed in favor of a mutant-shaped imposter. Acknowledging that’s what she was didn’t lift her mood either. But…
It was what it was—a clusterfuck she hoped she’d soon make her way out of.
Ember soon crawled back to their rightful spot by her side, bringing Sue’s smile back as she enjoyed a fibrous, sweet... probably vegetable. Its flavor and aroma were somewhere between potatoes and carrots, tingling her tastebuds with every bite. The lil’ fox could scarcely resist sniffing the trayful of food up. Fortunately for them, Sue found enough restraint in her hunger to humor them, offering them a roasted veggie. Ember looked up at her uncertainly.
Yes, silly, go right ahead, knock yourself out.
Thankfully, a firm nod was enough to convey her message. The little one wasted no time munching on the large slice of god-knows-what, freeing Sue’s hands. Most of the treats might have long since cooled down, but their spices warmed her insides and woke her right back up.
Living the best life indeed—while I still can, at least.
As Sue wrapped up her meal, she offered more and more treats to Ember until even they started denying them. She smiled once they were both done and slid the tray away, continuing to give the lil’ fox their share of affection. What could she say? They were a godsend, both as a heater and as a companion. Hopefully, nobody else was getting worried because of their absence. If she’d interpreted the earlier drawing right, their maybe-parent was out of town, and they were free to fool around all day long.
The question of the second parent was subconsciously overlooked.
Before she could decide whether to give the brand spanking new crutch a spin or... go back to sleep, probably, she sensed Doc making their way back, perking her up. Soon enough, they were back, their expression lighting up at seeing Sue up and having already eaten. They wasted no time chatting Ember up as the leafy mantis followed them in.
Repeated exposure didn’t make the latter’s appearance any less weird.
Soon after, though, Sue realized the bug wasn’t paying attention to her; their gaze fixated on a spot on the floor beside them. They watched over something as they stepped in, obscured by Sue’s bed from her point of view.
What are they—
*squeak!*
Sue’s eyes went wide at the sound, her curiosity getting her to lean over the edge of the bed to see its source. The hidden newcomer waddling beside the bushbug answered a question Sue didn’t have a chance to ask herself before now—namely, what did the babies of her current species look like?
The answer was absurdly tiny and incredibly adorable.
Assuming her height hadn’t changed, the baby Martian was only around a foot tall. Size aside, they looked so similar to her new form that they had to be related somehow. The same stiff green hair, shaped like a silly bowl cut, the same porcelain white skin. They even had the same red spikes, except on their head instead of their chest.
Amusingly enough, their spikes weren’t any smaller than Sue’s, making them look way oversized for the little... creature.
Of course, that also raised the unpleasant question of how the hell these spikes moved from their heads to their chests as they grew up. Even a brief attempt at imagining the possible transitory forms left her disgusted, prompting her to banish that train of thought.
Thank god I’ve gotten past that... Martian puberty.
Snapping back to reality, the little not-her seemed to have spotted her despite the obstacle of their own hairdo. They acknowledged her with a loud, excited squeak before walking over to her bed, the oddly wide legs helping them keep their balance.
They were so much like a human infant it was uncanny. The squeaks were a dead ringer, the waddling was similar, even the excited gestures reminded her of the toddler she got to babysit a few times. But… they clearly weren’t human, and neither was Sue—not in form, at least. She had no idea whether she should be unnerved by that similarity, or whether it implied anything about the nature of this world as a whole.
Oddly enough, the little Martian had caught onto her worry. Their babbles grew quieter as they tilted their head up at her, confusion filling their teeny face.
How can a mutant be so cute?
…
Alright, that was stupid to ask with Ember right beside me.
The lil’ fox purred into her side before woofing at the infant, their squeaked response loud and excited. They kept babbling at her as they tried to reach up towards her, succeeding at nothing except being cute. Sue’s worry about whether the mantis would approve of her grabbing the baby Martian was answered quickly enough. The bushbug nanny nodded eagerly as she leaned towards the infant, even making a picking-up gesture to guide her.
Just don’t try scrambling off, lil’ one. Can’t imagine falling on your... spike would be anything but excruciating.
With shaky hands, Sue pulled the alien toddler onto the bed. They weighed, indeed, about as much as a baby. Thankfully, her arms could still handle that much. Once she’d set them down on their feet, they wasted not a moment before running over and pulling her midriff as close as they could into a hug, their touch not unlike Doc’s from when they performed their magic.
Alright, this one is adorable; can I keep them?
She wondered if this little one was related to that not-her from the drawing. If so, maybe there was the possibility of salvation through befriending the royal baby? Unlikely, but her flailing mind couldn’t resist latching onto that idea as a lifeboat. Ideally, she’d be able to ask, but... actually, hold on, maybe she could mime it out?
Sue waved to catch Doc’s attention, thinking through how to convey this alien baby being related to the alien king of the alien town. Eventually, she settled down on the most straightforward idea. She pointed at the infant attached to her stomach, then moved her hand as if writing, and finally, pointed towards the drawers.
Miraculously, Doc got her general intent.
They squeaked something before pulling out the drawn-on scroll from earlier—and adding to it. As the piece of charcoal whizzed around the page, Sue absentmindedly supplied the pair of tots with further affection, feeling her hand being weakly pulled all the while. She blinked at finally noticing that sensation—she hadn’t consciously moved it, and yet, it ended up right beside the lil’ not-her, much to their joy.
What’s this, intra-species magnetism or something?
Before Sue could think that idea through, Doc slid the expanded drawing in front of her. The couple of additions were immensely helpful, confirming her earlier hunches. An outline of the baby not-her, connected to the royal not-her. Beside it, Ember’s outline connected to the humanoid in a dress and large fox ears.
Guess royal kids love her. Hopefully, she’ll be anywhere near this lucky with royal adults.
A nod of acknowledgment later, Doc whisked the edited scroll away and resumed their chat with the bug creature. Sue was once more left alone with two important tykes and unable to communicate with either. Though, judging by the baby noises the lil’ Martian made, she doubted whether anyone could understand them.
As she kept petting them and they kept trying their hardest to pull her hand into a hug, Ember snuck up on them. Moments later, the fox dove in and struck, attacking the infant’s side with a flurry of licks. They immediately broke into a fit of loud, squeaky laughter, squeals turning into giggles as they flailed. Sue was too amused to intervene, laughing louder and louder at the sight. She had no idea why it was all so funny to her, but couldn’t deny the joy that bloomed within her in response.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
A couple of comments from the presumed grownups made Ember stop; the little one immediately splatted and panted as they caught their breath. The fox snuggled up to them soon after, letting the Martian tyke hug them tight. Sue only barely kept herself from swooning at the sight—she didn’t want to interrupt the adorableness before her. The lil’ Martian, however, had other plans. Her gentle pets made them look up at her as they laid on their side, before feebly trying to reach up towards her.
Do they want hugs?
Smiling at that possibility, Sue reached in to pick them up; carefully lifting them up to the side of her spike. They made it harder with their wriggling, but ultimately behaved and eased out once she was done. It didn’t take long for them to look up at her from their new position; breaking into a big smile and an even bigger squeak. Their squirming let her peek underneath their bowl cut, finding their eyes predictably red.
Just don’t start thinking I’m your actual mommy. She’s probably just on a trip.
Doc spoke towards her, though their words were likely aimed at the baby in her arms. They then took the mostly finished tray of food away, much to the tyke’s dismay, for... some reason. Guess they just wanted a bite of the leftovers. Oh well—
That’s where her train of thought would’ve ended, if not for a leftover berry suddenly becoming surrounded in a blue aura before levitating upwards, and towards the alien in her arms. She briefly caught a similar glow emanating from their eyes before it disappeared, the treat now secured in their hands. Before the little one could bite into their spoils, though, they abruptly looked up at her, confusion matching Sue’s shock at what she’d just witnessed.
Guess magic here went far, far beyond just healing touch.
As incredible as that was in its own right, even children being capable of performing it only made it all the more awe-inspiring. And prompted an incomparably more unnerving thought—if literal babies could do this, what about adults? Just how much further could that royal take it?
Was Doc’s magic touch just a tiny part of their abilities? Did they just magic all the logs of this building together? What about the bug-person-thing? They have done nothing magical so far aside from continuing to exist despite their appearance. Was magic restricted to certain species she just happened to be one of?
Why is everyone staring at me?
Sue’s sixth sense clued her into being the center of unwelcome attention. She pretended her head just hurt a bit, lowering the munching baby onto her lap as the free hand rubbed her forehead. Fortunately, the rest of the room bought her pretense, returning to whatever they were previously doing. In Ember’s case, that meant wordlessly asking her to continue petting, paws reaching for her hand.
She sure wouldn’t say no to that arrangement.
Soon after, Doc carried the tray out of the hut, the bug person staying behind this time. They walked closer to the bed and chittered something at the two creatures that presumably could understand them. Ember woofed back while the little-her squirmed, tried to squeak with a full mouth, and latched themselves onto Sue’s nearby hand.
Sue had no idea what she’d done for the little Martian to adore her so much, but she wasn’t gonna refuse it. Both because it was lovely, and because it could earn her some brownie points once their parent came knocking. Right now, though, one of those was much more important than the other.
With everyone chilling for once, the idea of naming those around her crept back into Sue’s head. The bushbug had already visited her twice, and she imagined they would do so again in the future—likely with the lil’ Martian in tow. Her brain wasted no time in providing a simple and uninspired nickname of ‘Leafy’ for the former, but the tyke proved much trickier.
The most obvious physical characteristic she could latch onto was instantly banished on account of them being an infant.
Aside from that dead end, Sue was uncertain what kind of nickname to even give them. Part of her wanted to go with an actual name with just how baby-like they were, making cutesy pet-like monikers feel... wrong. Then again, it was still an alien whose parent would want her head on a stick. Best to avoid getting attached.
‘Bowlcut’ would certainly be effective as far as limiting attachment went, but it felt... rude. Not like anyone but her would ever know, especially not the infant in question, but knowing that only helped so much. Sue soon resigned herself to the substandard name, deflated at having failed to come up with any decent nickname. It was irrational, sure, even more so with her stay here threatening to be temporary. Still, she couldn’t help but latch onto the only display of kindness she’d been given in this world, and being unable to match it was upsetting.
Trying to divert her thoughts away from that topic, she circled back around to Bowlcut’s show of baby magic. Instead of worrying about all the ways their parent would eventually mess her up, she began to wonder whether she was capable of anything like that too.
She sure didn’t feel magical, extra-sensory perception aside, and she figured those kinds of fancy powers would be noticeable. Unless… they had to be taught, explaining her inability to use them. Though, Bowlcut wasn’t much different from a year-old baby, and good luck teaching those anything.
Maybe she could do magic all along and just wasn’t aware of it? It was worth a try either way. She glanced around the room for an appropriate target, spotting the still-untouched crutch, and... realized she had no idea what to do with it.
Sue tried a few thought commands: ‘Come’, ‘Up’, ‘Fly’, ‘Get over here’, but the tool remained persistently inanimate despite her attempts to think it alive. Maybe she had to focus hard for it to work? Her eyes narrowed as she concentrated on the crutch as much as she could—but once more, nothing.
Guess she just didn’t have the touch.
Now that she thought about it, could it be that’s what the crossed-out spiral referenced? She was ‘magic deficient’, if that was even an actual term. Which, considering literal babies of this species can make things float, would definitely be a cause for concern. Only concern and not panic, though, leaving the possibility that Bowlcut’s parent would see her as just disabled and not an imposter. Unless they had access to powers wild enough to let them see through her embarrassing disguise, which didn’t feel unlikely…
Before Sue could ponder the implications of technically being doubly crippled, Doc made their way back. As they stepped in, the orange light bathing them clued her onto the lateness of the hour.
Wonder when everyone is gonna leave.
There weren’t any light sources she could see, and considering this place gave off pre-industrial vibes, the best thing they were likely to have would be candles. Candles which Doc then pulled out of the drawers, together with a pair of holders, though without anything to light them with. Unconcerned by that, they laid the candle holders around the room. Once done, they headed towards the bed with the actual candles in hand, the once-human’s eyebrow raising in response.
Sorry Doc, this spike does not double as a firestarter.
Ember begrudgingly wriggled themselves from underneath her steady supply of affection, taking Sue off guard. Their bushy tail wagged as they leaned over the edge of the bed. Doc then brought the unlit candle wicks in front of the fox’s snout, as if expecting them to spit fire.
And then Ember spat fire.
While Bowlcut’s minor act of telekinesis only left her staring in shock, the burst of flames coming from her lap warmer’s mouth made her jump and gasp, startling everyone around her. Doc stared at her for a moment before the melting wax burned their fingers, prompting them to insert the now-lit candles into their holders and blow off the brief burns.
Ember looked fiery, sure, but that was supposed to just be an appearance thing, not being able to go full dragon and just breathe fire! Sue was terrified at the concept, not to say baffled at how it even worked. The lil’ fox’s puppy eyes melted through that fear rather quickly, though, especially with them looking genuinely sorry at having startled her.
It’s alright, Ember, I forgive you. Suppose this is normal for you after all... just, wow. Will have to remember not to tickle you and stay way away if you ever start sneezing.
Sue communicated her forgiveness with a couple of pets and a smile, the fox pup immediately returning to nuzzling her. Their fluff tickled against her bare skin, but she kept her giggles from escaping. Before long, Ember’s affection was cut short after Doc spoke up towards them, making them nod and dash off to the side, seemingly unbothered.
As she stared at them, confused, Leafy pulled Bowlcut over to their end of the bed, the infant immediately trying to waddle back despite being held in place. What Doc did right after explained it all, fortunately, the medic waving at her as they shook the crutch.
Time to give this thing a test drive.
She didn’t have to be gestured at twice, shifting over until her legs dangled off the bed. As Doc handed her the crutch, she examined it—it was rather crude and roughly made, but overall similar to what she had already used a few times in the past. The medic was unsure how to convey the next part of the process to her, speaking up uncertainly towards Leafy. Fortunately for them, Sue knew what she was doing—or rather what she did back in her human body, hoping the different proportions wouldn’t make this a miserable experience.
Or, at least, an even more miserable experience.
With the crutch and her good leg in position, she pushed herself off, cutting Doc off mid-word. They backed off as she tried to balance herself, taking a few attempts before succeeding—barely, but still. Now for getting around.
Curiously, Doc remained quiet while she waddled about, evidently waiting to intervene should anything happen. But, for the first time in a while, nothing did—she kept her balance and made steady progress. Relatively slow thanks to a lack of practice and the crutch taking way more effort to use than she remembered, but progress nonetheless. A couple of hobbled circles around the room later, Sue turned towards Doc and gave them a wide, triumphant smile.
They looked and felt happy, so all was well.
Their gesture toward the bed was straightforward, Sue hobbling over before sitting down and putting the crutch away. They then glanced outside, muttering something to themselves before speaking up towards the fox. Ember woofed disapprovingly in return, scrambling back to Sue’s side.
You know Doc is right, silly, it’s getting really late. It’s time to head home.
Sue gave Ember a patient smile before sending them off with a few pats. Bowlcut was next, Leafy carrying them towards her to say goodbye. The lil’ Martian tried to scramble out of their hold as Sue waved them away, giggling at their antics.
“Ghood nhight, I’ll shee yhou all thomorrow.”
The precise contents of her words might not have been understood, but she felt her intent was transferred, anyway. Bowlcut enthusiastically waved at her while being carried out, almost knocking their nanny off balance. Ember trailed them out after one last look towards her, the door creaking shut behind them.
Doc’s mumbles caught her attention, the gesture that followed straightforward. They tilted her head, closed their eyes, and mimed resting their head on a pillow. Sue wasn’t particularly exhausted just yet, but a good night’s rest would do her well, regardless. Rolling her eyes a bit, she obeyed their instructions and laid down.
Goodness, this place was comfy.
With their patient laid to bed, Doc smiled and blew the candle further away from her, plunging most of the room in a soft shade. They were about to repeat that with the other one before reminding themselves of something important—at least judging by their audible surprise and the subsequent dash out the door.
She’d never seen them move this urgently before, their soft body downright comical while running.
After calming down her giggling, Sue finally tried to chill out. Guess putting out the last candle would be left to her, but she was in no rush—the faint background light was rather comforting. Back at home, she usually slept with her laptop’s monitor turned on. It was one socially acceptable alternative for a night light, and this was another, even if less reusable.
Just as she began to doze off, her attempt at sleep was interrupted by the front door creaking open again, accompanied by Doc’s panting. She groaned, exhausted, but also quite curious about what was so important as to make the composed medic break into a mad sprint—a feather.
A sizable feather for sure, eye-catchingly blue at that—but just a feather all the same, carefully placed on the nightstand. Doc looked content with themselves despite the pointlessness of their action, mumbling with satisfaction. Realizing she had stirred to look at them, Doc simply nodded at her and blew the other candle out before Sue could act to the contrary.
Oh well.
Thinking nothing of it, the medic left with some more soft-spoken utterances. Sue was left in darkness, only illuminated by the faint violet glow creeping in through the window, and... the aforementioned feather. It radiated a soft, pale shine, too weak to light up the room, but just enough to be visible in the dark.
Maybe this was their version of a night light, hah.
With little stimuli to keep her awake, Sue soon dozed off. Even her overactive worrying couldn’t withstand the gentle glow that filled her eyes, calming her by the moment. Regardless of its intended use and significance, it sure looked nice, the pleasant shade of blue soothing her mind as it warded off nightmares.
What it did not ward off, though, were more religious visions.
----------------------------------------
Here, again.
Sue warmed her hands by the fire as she realized where she was once more. Familiar guitar twanging mixed with the crackling of flames as she relaxed by the campfire, its warmth as comforting as ever despite being wholly imaginary.
Guess these dreams won’t always suck.
The sky was chock full of brilliant stars, shining as if just for her, accompanied by a splendid full moon. Even its pale light felt much warmer, much more... gentle, than its usual coldness in the waking world.
The Moon God’s voice was there, too.
To nobody’s surprise, there was precisely zero progress as far as understanding it went. It took the voice stopping for Sue to even notice it, incomprehensible words having turned into background noise. Just there, until they suddenly weren’t. The expectant silence that followed left Sue unnerved, as if somebody was waiting for her to do something.
“I’ve no idea what you’re saying. Don’t you have some other dreams to be in?” she asked, exasperation dripping from every syllable. None of this made any sense. She couldn’t take this ‘talking to a Moon God’ nonsense seriously, not even inside her own dreams. She wondered how much of this was just a figment of her imagination, and was leaning towards ‘all of it.’
Despite having just been told off, the heavenly voice kept going, urgent and insistent. Sue couldn’t help but worry—yes, this was all just a dream, but she’d rather her mind not subject her to further horrors because of something she couldn’t understand. Speaking of horrors—the other, masculine voice appeared to be mysteriously absent, though considering everything going on, it was at best a footnote.
“Y’know, if you want me to know what you’re talking about, how about you write it down or something?” Sue quipped, rolling her eyes. “Aren’t you a god or someth—”
Her follow-up was interrupted by a sheet of paper splatting right against her face. The forehead curl shielded her from the brunt of the attack as she flailed in surprise, soon grabbing and examining. A page torn out of a lined notebook, something written on it in pencil—
...
Oh for fuck’s sake.
The scribbling was too regular, too orderly to not be some kind of writing—too bad it was one completely alien to her. It was very geometric, unlike anything she’d ever seen, dozens of straight lines forming many shapes, with only some of them filled. She had no idea whether one symbol ended and the other began, making it even more daunting than it already had been.
It was kinda like Korean, in that Korean was the language she knew of that was least utterly dissimilar to it.
Half the page was taken up by a drawing of... something. Sue had no idea what it was supposed to be, but it made her think of a ghost of sorts. Its body was wispy and all black, with an hourglass-shaped... torso at its core. A couple of arms and a head were its only extremities, the latter looking like a white plume surrounded by a spiky crest, a single eye peeking out from its base.
A good contender for a sleep paralysis demon, though Sue doubted whether that was anywhere near the intent of the drawing. Given that the accompanying text was about as helpful as the sketches of dicks on the margins of her actual notebooks, her attention only had one way to go. She pointed at the eerie sketch before looking up at the Moon, asking with much less exasperation than before, “Who’s that?”
The second page hitting her face that imagined night did not startle her any less.
She grabbed the sheet of paper with an annoyed grunt before glaring at the moonlit sky, snarling out, “You don’t have to toss it in my fucking face, you know!?”
The mighty lunar deity mumbled what Sue presumed to be an apology. She grumbled, flipped the page over, and examined the... mostly solid blackness. The only part not filled in with solid color was a shaded circle at the center, the fine details revealing it to be the Moon. Was that spooky ghost-looking thing... the sky dimmer Satan... deity?
No, these two don’t deserve nicknames. They can figure something out if they’re so up and mighty.
“Alright, if that’s supposed to be the spooky one, then what the hell are you, and why did you even bring this all up to begin with?” she asked, equal parts annoyed and curious.
To Sue’s relief, the response didn’t slap her in the face this time. Instead, it took a much more civilized route of spontaneously manifesting on her lap while she wasn’t looking, in the form of a tiny bundle of pages. The topmost one seemed to contain the answer to her first question, a drawing depicting a—
…
…
Actually, scratch that. This one gets a nickname, after all.
Moon God is Duck now.
It was very hard to deny the similarity between the object of the sketch and the bread munchers of her local ponds. The only actual differences were the tusks on the sides of its head, a curved horn, and its wings looking like flimsy, translucent arcs—somehow. It even had a third such arc on its back, larger than the other two. Judging by its location, the only purpose it might have had was providing the divine entity with a speed boost while flying or swimming around.
Duck goes nyooom.
After finally easing out her laughter, Sue could examine the rest of the scribbles. Duck kept talking all the while, but she didn’t have it in her to care about their unamused words. The second page depicted a rudimentary comic, its plot all too familiar.
The first panel featured a human with a backpack on a forest trail. An arrow connected it towards the only other defined panel, showing a Martian lying unconscious in the mud. Next to the arrow was none other than the Sky Dimmer Satan himself, together with some more geometrical writing. The implication was obvious, making her ask, “Wait, did that other guy bring me here and cause all this?”
Duck responded with a raised tone, contributing precious nothing towards making all this any more understandable. Sue’s head tilted as she tried to figure out whether that meant ‘yes’ or ‘no’, arriving nowhere. Weirder still, the celestial voice sounded similarly uncertain, mumbling before quieting out and… sighing.
“Guess I’m not the only one confused for once, eh, Duck?” Sue chuckled. The lunar deity answered with some more mumbles in a raised, almost apologetic voice—or at least, that’s how it felt. But why would it—
Suddenly, a migraine.
Sue grunted, the sudden pain no less uncomfortable than the real stuff that occasionally ruined her days. Her free hand reached up to clasp her head, trying and failing to banish the sensation of a rusted knife drilling into her head. She shouted, “H-hey, what the—stop, STOP THIS!”
The subsuming pain made it difficult to make out Ducks response, the serene sensations of her brain frying itself eclipsing everything else. A roll of nausea surged through her body—and then it and the pain stopped as abruptly as they had started.
Sue was dazed, achy, and really, really pissed at all the nonsense taking place inside her head. She glared at the imagined celestial body, getting up from her seat, and shouted, “You know what, fuck this and fuck you! Get the hell out of my dreams you—whatever the fuck you are!”
Surprisingly, but not at all unwantedly, her indignation had an effect.
A strong wind kicked up out of nowhere, fierce and loud enough to eclipse Duck’s pleading. Sue didn’t care—she was fed up with all this, with having no idea what was happening, with this torment inside her own mind.
Before Sue knew it, the dream once more came undone in front of her own eyes; pieces of landscape fell into a colorless void. As if to spite her one last time, the page slipped out of her grasp and slammed into her face once more. She wanted nothing more than to just tear the stupid thing apart and was about to do so before spotting a detail that wasn’t there before; the rest of the dream dissipating moments later—
There was a question mark next to the drawing of the ghost Satan now.