A rather short, human looking creature, dressed in a turquoise tunic that let out loud, metallic chinks face planted right into Herah’s thighs with a loud SMAAACK!
“Ow,” An extremely soft, childlike voice groaned out from between the artist’s legs as the black mass spat out a soft, cone shaped hat the same color of their tunic onto their head, “I hope this isn’t Lady Reese’s idea of a joke.”
The creature lifted their head and rolled onto their back to face Herah, frowning at the artist with their pudgy, freckled, and soot-stained face. After a moment, or several, their bark colored eyes widened in amazement.
At the same time, the artist took the creature in.
They were shorter than most Cendreux toddlers, only two-eight, with tan skin peaking out wherever clothing didn’t cover. Besides the turquoise hat and tunic, grey tights covered their tiny legs and ended at feet covered in what looked to be the same material as their hat and tunic. Said material reminded Herah a bit of Alex’s and Max’s weird feet, just softer and curling up and into a point where toes would be. And to top the look off, balls of white fluff sat at the tip of each “foot” and the tip top of their hat.
Cute. I’ll call you Étonnement.
“What’s a dragon doing here?” Étonnement asked, looking the artist up and down.
“What’s that?” A puzzled look crossed Herah’s face, something about the word felt familiar but the artist knew not why.
Étonnement frowned again before scrunching up their small, snubbed nose.
“You don’t know dragons? They’re….” The creature trailed off as their gaze drifted towards Alex and Max, and once their eyes landed on the pair they leaped over the couch shouting, “Ah humans!”
“Ouch.” Max said, feigning a hurt look.
“Fair.” Alex responded, shrugging.
Herah ignored the pair for a moment, her attention towards Étonnement now, or always, crouched behind her couch with their hands hidden from her view.
So weak. the artist thought, watching them shiver in fear and lock uncertain eyes. Everything about the creature, from their small size, to their fearful demeanor, to their clear confusion, all of it spoke of weakness. So adorable.
Before Herah could continue appreciating this cuteness, a stray memory struck. One of herself in a similar position: shivering, shaking, and crying. The artist growled, shoving the memory back down but holding onto the feelings it left.
Terror and weakness
I needed someone to protect me back then.
Herah reached down and plucked the creature up by the back of their tunic’s collar.
“Uh!” Étonnement shouted, flailing their hands as something disappeared from around them. The artist stored that in the back of her mind while lifting the creature to her eye level.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Étonnement frowned at Herah, staring into her eyes. The artist felt the creature search for something inside of herself for a little while or forever before smiling shyly.
“Thanks.”
Herah smiled back.
“Who and what are you?”
Étonnement placed a hand against their chest, giving a slight bow of their head while suspended.
“Owen Vulcan, I’m a gnome.”
The artist nodded, before mimicking Owen’s actions and saying,
“Herah War Hej, Cendreux.”
“Max and Alex, totally not humans.”
Herah and Owen turned back to the not humans, both giving Max, who had just spoken, an odd look. It wasn’t that the artist didn’t believe the non-human, the fact Herah did was the problem. There was no question in her mind that Max spoke the truth. But no question of truthfulness struck her mind when the sister had called herself and Alex humans earlier.
“Really?” Owen asked, their body relaxed in the artist’s grasp.
Max grinned cheekily, winking at the pair.
“Nope, I’m lying.”
“Why?” Herah asked, a small sense of betrayal and even more confusion with herself felt for both the lie and believing it so easily.
Alex became known once more by sighing, shaking his head, and covering his face with a hand.
“Please don’t questions her idiocy.”
Max turned to her brother with a frown.
“I don’t appreciate you calling me dumb.”
Alex refused to look at his sister.
“I don’t appreciate you being an idiot, yet I make do.”
“Asshole.”
The pair devolved into a light argument from there with Owen and the artist watching them go back and forth for— honestly by this point, Herah gave up trying to do anything with time. So, for however long they argued. And during their argument, the artist noticed the gnome relaxing. Whatever fear the pair inspired dissipated into amusement at their dumb argument.
“What’s going on?” Owen asked, eyes still on Max and Alex.
“An argument.” Herah stated, her voice tinged with slight amusement.
“I mean,” the gnome turned and looked up at the artist, “Why are we here? Where is here?”
Realizing the gnome still hung in her grasp, Herah dropped Owen to her right and shrugged.
“Don’t know, Alex does.”
Hearing his name, the human broke off from his argument and turned to say,
“At least you can admit when you’re out of your depth.”
Smoke flared from the artist’s nostrils, her flame still too weak for anything more, before a growl rumbled in her throat and her fangs bared.
“I’ll break your back again.” Herah hissed out.
“Su—HURK!”
Alex keeled over, Max’s elbow buried in his gut as the sister finally glared daggers at her brother.
“Stop! Please?” Max removed her elbow and smacked Alex on the back of the head, “And just answer the fucking question.”
The artist smirked, unable to hide her glee at the sister cowing her brother.
I’ll settle for that for now.
“Yeah yeah,” Alex grunted out before leaning back up and pointing at Owen, “To answer your last question, we’re in a pocket dimension somewhere between the timecubes,” the human frowned to himself, “That’s the term I think, of our multiverse. Everyone here know what a multiverse is?”
“Yeah.” Herah answered.
“Yup. Is it infinite or finite?” Owen asked, a gleam of interest in their words.
“What are timecubes?” Max looked at the artist and gnome in alarmed confusion, “Do you two know?”
Both shook their heads. Herah never heard of such a thing but by now accepted that nonsense was the language Alex spoke, so threw it to the back of her mind for later.
I’ve done that a lot today. Today is fucking weird.
A sharp but weak craaaaaack caught the artist’s attention, causing Herah to focus on the human and notice how his index finger and thumb pointed towards Owen.
Where’d that sound come from?
“Infinite last I checked, that is subject to change.” Alex answered before turning to Max, “And don’t worry about it.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“And the why?” the artist asked, causing the human to frown and let out another sigh.
“Well, we’ve been summoned by our Maker to—”
Herah blinked.
Strings of light appeared around Alex’s lips and stabbed into them, simultaneously burning and sewing his mouth shut. His screams of pain came out muffled as strings of light appeared before his eyes then sewed and seared them shut. More strings of light appeared around the human, stabbing into his arms and legs before sewing them together and causing his body to fall face first onto and through the low table.
The artist blinked.
Heavy and strangled coughing made Herah turn to Max, finding the sister on her knees and coughing up weird flowers. One possessed distinct, red petals with a black center and the other had thin, almost white interwoven leaves with light purple edges.
“Anemones and carnations.” Max let out a confused laugh before coughing up another red flower, “Funny.”
The artist blinked.
The somehow sharp THUUUUNK of metal striking the padded floor caused Herah to turn towards Owen, the gnome staring down wide-eyed at a lump of iron. Owen raised both his head and right arm, looking long and hard at the stump his hand used to sit.
“What in the name of Lady Reese—”
Owen’s jaw fell off transforming mid drop into a lump of steel, THUUNKing to the carpet with a heavy ring.
The artist blinked.
Looking down to her own hands, Herah saw them covered in a rainbow of thick paint.
Wait—
The artist raised her hands up to her face, the closer inspection allowing Herah to see the paint wasn’t covering them.
Her hands were turning to paint.
“What the fuck!?” the artist shouted, as her left hand collapsed into a puddle right before the rest of her arm followed suit. Suddenly feeling less rigid and sturdy, Herah found her entire body beginning to collapse. Her mind knew instantly what to blame, but now why. “What’s going on with Traduire!?”
The artist blinked.
“Oh wow,” A rather gentle, masculine voice sounded out from Herah’s right, “Is this an ironically hilarious scene to witness or what?”
The artist turned towards the voice, but her eyes had already melted into paint and her nose still failed to detect a scent.
“Who-”
Herah’s lower jaw fell from her face and into the growing puddle of paint beneath her collapsing form.
“Would it not be better to get yourself together before asking any questions artist?” The voice responded, amusement tickling their words. “Though, is that even possible for you to do without help?”
The artist felt something— No Herah felt nothing— no—
The artist could not even imagine what now stood at her front, or even if it was there. Herah just knew their next words.
“Will that help appear if I give you the same love tap Jockey gave me?” The artist didn’t know why, but something about how this voice said Jockey, told Herah the title was capitalized. “Do you think sandbox will be hurt badly if my attack goes through?”
By this point, both of the artist’s arms collapsed, one leg remained but shuddered readied to liquefy, and her head just barely held its solidity. But even in such a terrible and confused state, Herah understood that whatever this “love tap” was, it would finish what Alex started earlier and there was nearly no way for herself to defend.
That wouldn’t stop the artist from trying to fight back. Herah would never go down without at least throwing one punch, or kick, or some form of attack.
The artist blinked.
And a familiar presence brushed against her thoughts.
CRACK!
Herah felt all the surrounding time and space crack, her melting body separated by some vague blackness that now leaked into the room from somewhere unknown. The artist cared not for this, however, a comforting and familiar warmth engulfing her body as if restoring a missing part of herself.
It came with phantom sights locking onto her entirety, their gaze hard and unblinking. As if Herah stood under a spotlight before an invisible crowd that waited with bated breaths for her next move. An odd hum joined the buzz at the back of her head, more distinct but still ignorable. Familiar twinges of anxiety and fear shot through the artist, as they always did when this unique ability flowed throughout herself, but every other sensation became drowned out by an overwhelming sense of elation and freedom.
“Thanks Jeffery!” Herah’s determined voice called out as her body stopped its transformation, with Jeffery’s warmth dragging the paint back into place before returning it to flesh, bone, and scales. Eyes now cleared, the artist could see her savior.
A pencil about as thick as a staff, as tall as Herah, and covered in a never-fading coat of orange.
This was Jeffery, and they currently floated between their creator and what must’ve nearly ended her existence.
The entity (the artist felt that best described them) held a unique appearance. Bipedal and standing at a rather imposing height of nine-three, the entirety of their body possessed a black backdrop. Herah saw it as a backdrop because upon their skin, if it was even that, a collection of galaxies and stars slowly floated across. The figure had six arms, each limb covered in stars of increasing size, which started small and white where they connected to the torso and ended upon the palms and back of their hand’s as red giants. The being's legs displayed an asteroid belt wrapping around each of them. Their torso had two slowly drifting galaxies on it, a third emerging from the right side. Upon the face of the entity, two dark spots that the artist presumed to double as black holes and eyes, stared at Jeffery filled with amusement.
Herah knew now who stood before herself.
“Hey there Jeffery,” The entity’s soft voice once again graced the artist’s ears, a familiar yet foreign feeling coming with the words, “Did you enjoy taking the brunt of my attack?”
Herah let out a growl; flames of green spewing from her nose and mouth as her pencil’s warmth reinvigorated her flame.
“And now my artist stands before me,” The entity stared past Jeffery and at the artist, Herah feeling their eyes pierce her form, “With the assistance of herself of course.”
The artist snatched Jeffery away from the entity before leaping up, spinning around them, and slamming the giant pencil into their side.
“See you soon or in a while! ~” The figure shouted in a sing song voice before flying through one of the walls and into the blackness that surrounded the room.
“Fuck you.”
Herah fell to one knee and leaned against Jeffery, her breaths hard and heavy. Lines of soft red danced in and out of her vision, her body shrouded in what looked like a rough sketch of flickering red flames.
Looking back towards the others, the artist found inky darkness clouding her vision which Jeffery’s aura washed over and absorbed. This let her eyes see Owen now a pile of iron spread across the couch and floor, Max laughing in delirium still coughing up flowers which slowly sprouted and wrapped her body in roots, and Alex—
“What’s got you so scared? You were hot shit earlier.”
The human stood, the light that had sewn his mouth shut still in place, but all the rest of himself free. This allowed Herah a good look at his wild, terrified, and glowing white eyes, and his illuminated state from that beam of light that surrounded his body, no his essence, earlier.
That isn’t your Gift. the artist thought, focusing on the light and feeling a connection between it, the aura cloaking her being now, and her father’s freezing ability.
Sadly, once again, the truth of those things mattered not in the moment, so the pile of things for later grew a little higher.
Rising to her feet, Herah took Jeffery by their eraser and swiped straight through the light that bound Alex’s lips, giving the large pencil a twirl over her head before slamming their butt into the floor.
“You’re welcome.”
Alex looked at the artist and Jeffery with wide eyes and an agape mouth.
“What is Jeffery doing attached to you?”
Herah tilted her head to the side and frowned at Alex.
“First my dad and now my pencil, next are you going to say you know my mom?”
“What the fuck is going on with you?” Alex asked with heavy breaths before shaking his head and looking out towards where the entity had gone, “Doesn’t matter, we’re fucked anyway.”
I know your name. the artist thought, thinking of that entity but unable to think the name or say it aloud. Something compelled Herah not to. Probably you.
The artist shook her head then looked over to Max and Owen.
Can you fix them? Herah asked Jeffery mentally before tapping the pencil’s eraser on the floor. The artist got a vision of her nodding in response, before sketchy lines reached out towards Max and Owen and restored the pair to their original states.
Dual groans left the gnome and sister, with Owen rubbing his head and Max trying but failing to do the same thanks to the roots that restricted her limbs.
“I think that drove me insane.” Max said with another groan and weary, blinking eyes. “Nope, don’t think. That definitely drove me mad.”
“I think I would’ve preferred madness alongside my transformation,” Owen placed a hand on his chest, breathing hard, “Would’ve made that much less terrifying.
“What’re you talking about?” Herah asked Alex, giving her full attention.
“For someone who knows nothing about Will or Presence, you’re doing quite well with both.” Alex responded, walking over to Max and pulling her body free of the roots.
“Is that what Jeffery’s power’s called? What you and my dad also possess?” the artist asked while offering a hand to Owen, who took it with trembling fingers and a quivering form.
“You have some of the right idea.” Alex answered, before Herah felt his will, or was it presence, radiate and his overhead light overtaking his and his sister’s bodies. It didn’t bother extending towards the artist and Owen, something which Herah felt grateful for.
Don’t need that invading me again.
The artist nodded, feeling as Jeffery’s will, Herah felt confident now that’s what the aura was called, retracted its hold over Max and focused their attention on keeping Owen together.
“Why did you say we’re fucked anyway?”
“Because,” Alex’s voice stunk of distress, “You don’t fight against Makers, at least, you don’t fight against your own. Victory is impossible.”
The artist took a moment to realize that her senses were back to normal, or whatever about the room that threw them off no longer afflicted Herah. Distance became proper, time felt right, the scents of everything in the room filled her nose, sounds no longer warped, the air held a taste, and her skin felt the small draft filling the space.
Thanks again, Jeffery.
The artist got back an image of herself giving a thumbs up.
“What the fuck is a Maker?” Max asked, now the most exhausted person in the room.
“Could be me.”
Herah instinctively stabbed towards the familiar yet alien voice that sounded from her right. One of the entity’s hands caught Jeffery by the tip with their thumb and middle-finger, halting the pencil’s momentum with a jolt.
“My artist can combat me, my soothsayer can barely stand before me, and my liar and binder can’t hardly even look at me.” The entity’s gentle voice carried joy, filled with pleasure, and dripped excitement. “Could today truly be so great?”
“Who and what the ash are you?” the artist growled, not out of ignorance but out of an understanding. Herah couldn’t name this entity until it named itself, some grand law beyond reality dictated it so.
The entity vanished, though a quick turnaround revealed them to be on the other side of the room. Here, the artist saw the entity standing with its bottom set of arms hanging from its side, the center pair playing rock-paper-scissors against each other, one of the top set waving at Herah and the other arm working as the referee for the middle two. The entity’s eyes held a sort of mischievous curiosity to them that felt eerily welcoming. Like the artist gazed at one of her ancestors, a rather ancient one at that.
A regal and eternal ancestor.
“I have been given many names. Your people” The entity pointed at Herah with one hand, “named me Bois D’Allumage, his,” Bois D’Allumage pointed at Owen with another hand, causing the artist to make a mental update for the gnome, “Named me Scimoc, and theirs,” Scimoc used two other hands to point at Alex and Max, “Named me many of things, a few the names of my siblings. But the name I gave myself, my personal favorite, is what you shall call me.”
The entity used all of their hands to point towards themself.
“Call me Norwe, and who am I?”
Norwe made another dramatic pause, using all of their hands to cover their face before bringing them away and winking at Herah. Space gas appeared and took the shape of a mouth, their expression set in a lazy grin as they did equally lazy jazz hands.
“The creator of your universe, that’s who.”