Xandir had been muttering to himself, going over the list of tasks he'd written for the day. He hadn't had to apply an Arnik for citizenship in decades, and it took him the better part of the morning to properly file Cog's paperwork. He somehow managed to turn everything in on time, much to the chagrin of their site's lead office worker. He nodded to himself as he approached the garage, a small variety of clothing folded neatly in his arms. He decided on a children's section, due to Cog's diminutive stature, and was rather curious if his odd body shape would fit to any given size particularly well. It was equally as likely that the oddly proportioned pech was in desperate need of custom clothing for anything that would properly fit him, but a baseline would help the process along greatly.

Xandir hummed as he carried the well-tailored, shadow black suit slung over one arm in the same way as a butler’s crumbing cloth. The red accents reflected the light with their velvety fabric, beautifully cut and well-reinforced. Atop the clothes - made of a lightweight, durable and rigid material derived from spider silk and carbon fibers - rested a small pile of fifteen Red drops held within a small tophat, red ribbon properly braided over its base. The brim of the headwear was rather unorthodox for what it was, being both overextended and extremely curled, but as it was a popular choice among the Dracht these days, no other options were readily available. He hoped that the juxtaposition would somehow work in Cog’s favor.

Xandir looked over the accumulated suit, ensuring the plain black hiking boots were still held firmly beneath the rest, and gave one more affirming nod. It wouldn’t take much to readjust the suit, though casual clothes would be reliant on how the suit fared with Cog’s unique physique.

“Either way,” Xandir muttered, “he’s shown exceptional promise. In fact, I’d wager he’s just started his green drop not five minutes ago.”

It was a great surprise, then, that Xandir found Cog heaving on the floor, stripped naked and fervently mopping up the various kinds of biological waste spanning the garage with what used to be his loincloth, shirt and pants.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A metaphysical wall, you say?” Xandir asked, tilting his head. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of such a thing when absorbing drops. Then again, so many people have so many unique experiences with it…”

“So it’s possibly an Arnik thing?” Cog asked, voice slightly muffled by the shower water pattering against the curtain and floors. Once Xandir made sense of the scene, he’d guided Cog to the bathhouses. The walk took a grueling twenty minutes, and they passed the janitor on his way in, after being called up by the former. Despite the shadow man hiding Cog from the cleaner, the pech still caught a glance, and the look on the poor janitor’s face made Cog want to give him a hug and an apology.

Once he wasn’t caked in his own bile, of course.

“Don’t forget to practice conservation,” Xandir added. “It’s not purely you that needs soap, and it isn’t a common commodity out here.”

“I am,” Cog said, “but it’s hard not to scrape up the brush in here. My hair is an absolute abomination of nature. How are you even supposed to get knots out of this stuff?”

“More than likely, they cut it off at the ends in nature,” Xandir said. “I still say you should have trimmed it further. Or at all.”

“Hey, I didn’t cut my hair down on my planet, and I’m not doing it here!” Cog grumbled. “It’s a matter of integrity. And pride. …Probably greediness, too.” The curtain rustled as Cog flipped his hair to the other side of his body, water cascading back into the tub beneath him. “And a bit of that mental specialness I described earlier. Besides, it’s the one cool thing going for this body.”

“I still don’t understand the appeal of long hair,” Xandir said.

“That’s because you wear a mask all over the place.”

“I see no correlation.”

“Well, I do, and I say you do you and I’ll do me.”

“Fair enough,” Xandir said, smile evident in his voice. “So, how’s the new body feeling?”

“It’s feeling… different,” Cog said. “I’ve definitely gotten taller. My best guess is four feet tall at this point? You guys use feet to measure, right?”

“Well, we typically use meters, but there’s a measurement utilizing a unit which you’d be approximately four of. We don’t call them feet, though - they’re ‘boards’.”

Cog whipped the curtain back, barely peeking past it as his head dripped with water and suds. He stared Xandir down in shock.

“You guys use meters!?” Cog said.

“We do. You have those on Earth?”

“Yep. They’re about three feet… erm, boards?”

“That seems accurate.”

“Wow,” Cog said, mind reeling as he stared at Xandir. The connections he expected to exist, and the ones he didn’t, failed to match with reality in the slightest. It was as though he were in a parallel of his own world, but also not. He blinked a few times and shook his head to remove the barrage of thoughts ebbing at him, then whipped the curtain closed again and continued to clean himself. He cleared his throat before saying, “There are a lot of similarities I didn’t expect here.”

There was a long silence before Xandir spoke again.

“What about… down there?” he asked, gesturing to his pelvis before realizing Cog couldn’t see him. The pech stopped mid-motion. When he did respond, his voice was extremely tentative.

“What do you mean.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I, well…” Xandir muttered, then took a deep breath. “Out of a fear of sounding rather crass, do you have privates now? Pech have none considering they don’t need them, though your human soul has clearly influenced your body. I won’t lie, this is purely curiosity in the moment. If you’d rather not share, I won’t push the inquiry.”

“N-no, I-” Cog stammered. He sighed heavily, then started to scrub himself again. “I think my body is trying to make one? It’s… eugh, god. It’s more like a skin tag right now? Like a really big skin tag - not to say it’s big in that way, as I have no point of reference, but more like it’s massive for a skin tag…”

“Yep. Yessir, that is enough information for me,” Xandir said, clearing his throat.

“It’s also veiny, but in like… a really weird way? like a spider web starting from the end of it, almost.”

“Cog, I don’t need more details, really. Please.”

“Heh. It kinda deforms like clay if I-”

“Yep! We’re done!” Xandir said, rubbing his eyes. He cleared his throat a couple more times, and Cog could swear he heard the shadow man gag slightly. “I’m not one for biology, and I’ve received more than my fill of an answer.”

He looked at the shower and swallowed a lump in his throat, leaning back slightly with eyes squinting in disgust.

“Far more than my fill…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Cog was fully dried off, Xandir - who was pointedly avoiding looking at Cog when undressed - passed him the suit from the other side of the curtain. He explained how to put the bizarre clothing on, which involved pins and clips instead of a zipper or buttons, and waited for a few minutes while Cog sorted through his new clothing.

“Are you sure I should put on a suit for the drops?” he asked. “I kinda just puked after doing it.”

“Yes, I’m positive. Leave the metaphysical barricade alone, and you’ll be pristine once all is said and done. I’ll make sure of that.” Xandir paused then, scratching his neck.

“I feel I should mention that, as soon as you finish inside the changing room, your drop suite’s remains will have been fully cleaned and ready to continue. You’ve reached the worst of it already; absorbing the Green drop should feel akin to the level of pain between Orange and Yellow, while the Blue will feel more like the equilibrium of Red and Orange. Purple will be a duller version of what you’d felt for Red.”

“Understood. Thanks for the warning this time,” Cog said, partly with sarcasm and partly with genuine appreciation.

“...Cog,” Xandir said. His voice was uncharacteristically flinty, which caught Cog’s attention.

“Hold on one second…” he muttered, whipping the curtain open as he began to button his jacket on. While his arms were definitely too long for the suit, the rest of him fit into it rather well. “I’ll button as I listen. This seems important.”

Xandir nodded, kneeling down to meet Cog eye-to-eye.

“When you absorb that Purple drop, before you can receive your variety of Chroma or its shape, you’ll be directly linked to the network of magic. Chroma is everywhere - in flora, fauna and the very air that all breathe. The gods themselves are fully connected to this, but only gain power over you once you feel their corresponding emotion.”

Xandir placed a firm hand on Cog’s shoulder. The pech swallowed hard, but didn’t break eye contact.

“The god that interacted with you before is going to try to commune with you again, I can guarantee it,” Xandir said, voice resigned. “The last stretch of time you need to absorb the drop suite is going to be the most mentally taxing on you, seeing as you’ll feel every emotion you’ve ever had prior. It’s when you feel that god’s emotion that it’ll make itself known, and undoubtedly attempt some sort of move upon you. You must be prepared to deny its influence. It cannot take if you do not give first, but it will make you hurt until you desire nothing but to give, if only to end the suffering. It will also offer beyond what you could possibly imagine desiring; honeyed words and glazed promises. You can’t fall for either.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Cog’s face, much to the evident surprise of Xandir, grew flinty itself. A rage flickered behind the former’s gaze, certainty radiating from malachite green eyes whose irises began to spin.

“I don’t do bribes, and if the bastard’s going to try and take me, I’ll give it a hell of a fight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the minor debacle of Cog’s partial drop suite absorption, Xandir sat at Cog’s side while the pech absorbed the remainder of the drops. Just as Xandir had forewarned, the pain was great, though not more than Cog had dealt with already. The longer duration, however, proved more of a challenge; more than once, Xandir had to rest a hand against Cog’s back and mutter gentle reminders to ensure the pech maintained his breathing technique. It took hours upon hours, but finally - well past midnight - Cog was down to his final drop. The violet glint of it shifted in the light, resembling a galaxy without stars. He swallowed hard, looking at the sphere with extreme reservation, and Xandir rested a reaffirming hand on his shoulder. Cog nodded, then closed his eyes as he threw the orb into his mouth and pulled up the timer on his interface.

He couldn’t remember how long it took him to slip into the trance in which he’d been abruptly plunged into, nor did he know how he kept his breathing technique going properly. He didn’t know how much time passed waiting for something to happen, and didn’t feel anything for a long moment. It was a silence - not as eerie as it was borderline audibly liminal - that stretched for eternity, yet didn’t last more than a fleeting moment.

Finally, the emotions came flooding in.

It was a roaring fire consuming his soul, a frigid stone weighing his essence down, and a boundless expanse of gentle breezes. It was a rapid ricocheting of raucous laughter and a tsunami of darkness that clung to him like brambles. It was a relief that cleansed him of his burdens, and a manacle that merged with the floor to prevent him from moving on. It was chaos, it was beauty, and it was him. All of it; a symphony of beautifully bittersweet eruptions, resonant echoes caressing his mind and spirit.

It was only interrupted when he felt an emotion he was all too familiar with; it felt like a slippery stone, but it was perfectly molded into a solid shape with rounded edges. It was impossible to grip and crush, for even if an individual could grasp it firmly enough, attempting to crush it would only further strengthen it; the hand that held it would rip apart from the growth it would invoke, and the solidity would remain.

It was then that a single word flicked into Cog’s mind.

Defiance.

What do you want!? Cog screamed, unable to use a body that didn’t exist in this place. He felt nothing but the perfect storm around him and this presence. There was one other… thing. Cog couldn’t properly define what it could be, but it certainly didn’t belong to the torrent of his emotions. He shook his head, refocusing on the single word as it shifted itself into an impossible, ever-fluctuating image that reminded Cog of fourth-dimensional models. It didn’t even hold a shape he knew, and he wasn’t even sure it was a shape; curved lines became straight and vice versa, before rotating on every axis both visible and not. He knew that, should he ever try to recall the shape, it would give him a migraine; here, in this nothingness filled with himself, he could at least attempt to comprehend the impossible.

Answer me, please, Cog said. His voice was calm, despite the turmoil around and within him.

As the thing before him spoke, it seemed to intensify, though not in visuality or brightness; rather, what Cog could only describe as its aura was felt in fluctuating waves, as though its presence was an audio visualizer of its voice, and Cog prepared himself the best he could for the incoming discussion.

I want you.

Sorry, but I’m already taken. Three’s a crowd, and I’ve already got me, myself and I.

Quite the backtalker.

Well, when someone starts an interaction with me by making me murder people I care about in a dream, I tend to be a bit snippy.

Could be more.

What… What are you even talking about? Who are you? That could be taken in so many ways.

Not who. What.

Okay, what are you? I’m looking for a name. Still unclear by what you meant before.

I am Defiance. You are weak.

Wow. Scathing. You don’t talk much, do you?

Words are pointless. Action is preferred.

Does that mean you want me to do something for you, or do you want me to… what, join your clergy? You’re a god, right?

I desire flesh.

Well, you’re not getting mine. Strict ‘no flesh giving’ policy.

Take me seriously.

I might, but I’m also sort of entirely unintimidated. You aren’t here in front of me, and I’m not concerned about whatever tether lasso you think you have on me. You don’t pose me any threat.

I will disagree.

With a jerking sensation akin to being thrown out of a chair, Cog felt his presence rattle about the place, a vague feeling of immense unease and intrusion permeating the area around him.

Now you see.

It took a little while for Cog to respond, rattled as he was.

W-well, disagree all you like. I’m not afraid of a bit of jostling. You’re drawn to me because of my defiance, right? Then you know I’ll fight back. Hard. I’m sick of being told what to do and when, and I think it’s high time I take the reins myself. You’re shit outta luck, pal.

Not your body. I can wait. You will tire.

Fair point, you probably can, and probably. Still, I won’t give up anything to you. At least take me out to dinner before you try and take my body.

No more discussion. Let us begin.

Before Cog could respond, a severe and repetitive pain resounded within the emptiness. He cried out as his emotions were, one by one, struck with what felt like metallic whips. They were countless and relentless, and each new emotion that arose received its own violent attack. Every time more pain stacked atop Cog, he felt his presence tense further, as though being pulled taut. It was the most perverse and intimate violation he’d ever felt.

Despite this, he stood strong.

When the god began to pound his being with even more intense blows, Cog cried aloud - unbeknownst to him, both within his mind and in the real world - but still did not yield. When it felt like cattle prods cooking his flesh, he held on; when he felt an ulcer in his spirit, he didn’t even reconsider. The time that Defiance took to nearly tear Cog apart only to let him snap back together like a rubber band, smash him about like a hammer and deform him like a ball of clay wore heavily on his psyche. He felt flashbacks to his childhood with his ‘step-monsters’, nights spent in the garage, missing out on supper half the time…

Not… going… to give you… shit! Cog bellowed, the ocean of himself raising that unconquerable mass of smooth solidity to the surface and letting it grow. I paid my… my dues in full! Not gonna let… anyone down… again!

You’ll surrender, eventually, came Defiance’s response, and the onslaught picked up its pace once more.

Every feeling Cog recalled added more strain underneath the abuse, something akin to metaphysical welts already sprouting from each. The unknown within Cog shook and rattled, but did not release from its position. It was as though there was a massive weight holding it down, and Cog feared that, should he get past this, the purple drop wouldn’t fully absorb due to not recalling each of his emotions in turn.

Then, the unexpected happened once again.

The something deep within him pushed against the weight, just enough for Cog to notice what was holding it down.

It was him. He himself was suppressing the ‘emotion’, and it was somehow pushing itself against his restraints.

Realizing this, Cog desperately tried to release the bondings, whatever they might be, though this was made significantly more difficult due to the ongoing lashings; they were gaining more fervor by the second, and Cog could swear one or two emotions were close to “popping”, whatever that might do.

He soon realized that a sort of non-existent “hand” of his was actively pushing back the presence; despite knowing what this likely was now and not knowing if he should, Cog spent considerable time that could have been mere milliseconds or vast eons on deciding his course of action; after much deliberation, undoing the bindings and hoping for the best, he pushed back against the onslaught with renewed focus. He absently wondered how the hell Xandir expected him to succeed, when Cog felt the weight he pushed against begin to shift.

What? Cog asked.

What? Defiance asked.

Mine, the presence said.

Even the roiling feelings stilled as the new voice - that inner voice - made itself heard. The mighty blows of Defiance halted, and the process of the Purple drop began again. This new presence had no form, no shape, no basis; and yet, it stood strong against the god threatening Cog’s very soul.

He felt the presence observing the situation, non-existent eyes scanning the metaphysical landscape, and it felt as though years passed in the time it took to absorb everything in. A certain level of understanding spread across the nothingness, easing into Cog’s essence of being, and he felt the weight lift even further from him.

Finally, the Inner Voice spoke again.

Mine, it declared once again. Its sound, feel and essence were all irritatingly familiar to him, but the exact feeling wasn’t properly formed within the space quite yet.

Cog felt the solid, smooth and indomitable shape get held by an unseen force, which proceeded to encompass it. It was as though a part of him was being given the most intimate hug he’d ever experienced, and a connection he didn’t realize existed was cut off. It felt like static electricity zapping his soul for a split second; then, all at once, the form of Defiance began to flicker and shutter, before winking out entirely. All that remained was a single, slowly fading sound of indignant rage from the entity.

How..? Cog whisper-spoke.

His eyes flew open in wild panic, and three windows greeted him, backlit by the barest hint of early morning light. He saw a prepared Clanker with Braune, Olga and Noelle sitting in the back, the driver’s seat available for Xandir. The rest of the group kept a seat open for Cog himself, and as he approached the vehicle, he read whatever the system had for him.

The first window, as Xandir would explain to him later, was, in and of itself, concerning.

[Please select your Chroma type:

Selection(s) available: Ether

Chroma type selected: Ether.]

The other two alerts made his gut sink even further with every word he read.

[Congratulations! You have contacted your alternate Arnik soul! Amalgam will have slightly increased potency! Soul instability percentage: 15%]

[error: you have two souls: you cannot be targeted: you are not iin control of what happens next.]