Alex does not know where she is.

Not exactly a surprise, she’s always had a poor sense of direction. But there’s getting lost in the city, with its myriad of alleyways and streets, all segmented into vertical slices, creating endless nightmares to any self-respecting city planner, and then there’s whatever the fuck this is. She’s seen deserts, in movies and shows and sometimes on the news, she’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to be purple. Yet here she stands, a little speck on an endless mass of purple sand, it smells faintly of citrus.

It’s not even the weirdest thing about this place, that honour goes to the sky.

There is a scar on the horizon, like shattered glass, the sky is a perfectly normal blue until it simply breaks, revealing a land that cannot be. A land where the flesh is soil and things of many limbs, asymmetrical and wrong, are spawned from it, pushing through the flesh-soil as they are born. They scurry and fight and die and feed, some have mouths with which to eat, those that don’t simply jab one of their misshapen limbs and absorb the biomass. They slip between mounds of flesh, ever hunting, ever feeding-

And then they stop.

As one they turn to look at her.

Hello, they say with words that cannot be language, you’re not supposed to be here.

She lets out a huff “well excuse me, Mr.alien beyond comprehension, if i could control my dreams, I wouldn’t have chosen to be sent here to have a conversation with some lazy attempt at eldritch vibes” because, as Alex has expertly concluded, she must be, in matter of fact, dreaming.

Oh we’re nothing so complex as that, it replies with something that might be a chuckle, we appreciate the flattery though, and the lack of screaming, and crying.Proper communication is a novelty for one such as us.

“Maybe invest in some skin, and vocal cords, and tone down the hive mind shit” she says “all the weirdness isn’t doing you any favours”

In response she gets the mental impression of a shrug, we are what we are. We have as much control over our form as you do, child. Besides, we are fond of our nature, it is strong, and strength is often a necessity in our world.

She tilts her head at that “Yeah, that’s fair” she replies “I’ve got to be strong too, so i guess we have that in common, although from the looks of it you go for the more violent interpretation”

Strength is strength, child, any amount in any flavour is commendable.

“Yeah but so many of my problems could be solved if I could just cap a bitch when they start being…well, a bitch”

Cap a bitch, the eldritch horror echoes, your slang intrigues me child, where are you from?

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With that question, the bigger things of flesh that have so far been still and silent, quiver in anticipation. A thing with legs like pikes and a bulbous head covered in eyes attached to a neck that is too thin takes a step towards her, making its way to the window between. It is stopped by something that might be categorized as a centipede with arms for legs and a month the size of a bus, it chomps down and the pike thing goes limp. Alex stares at them with barely contained disgust, but the dream-thing has been polite so far, it would be rude to be openly apprehensive at this point.

“Arthas” she says

It doesn’t respond, she waits, tapping her foot against the purple dunes, watching the flesh things. A few more have returned to their never ending hunt, a thing with bones for blades cuts through the tendons and muscle of something serpentine before it is swallowed whole.

Interestingly, they don’t attack the ones that remain staring.

She wonders how she can see from so far away, by all rights they should just be dots. Probably some funky dream logic.

Interesting, it says, so much technology, yet so little progress. This is your home? My condolences child, though that does beg the question of how exactly you got here.

She gets the distinct impression that if it had a chin, it would be rubbing it in contemplation, trying to puzzle out some great mystery.

“It’s a dream” she says “I go to whatever place my brain makes up, and apparently have conversations with things that cannot be”

Yes, yes, we know you believe you are dreaming. To a certain extent you’re not even wrong, but this place is very real, and coming here isn’t something someone from your world should be capable of.

Alex raises an eyebrow “Sure”, she says diplomatically, though she does give herself a pinch just in case, and is vindicated when no pain arises. Although this does get an amused chuckle from the hive.

That’s not how…no, as entertaining as this conversation has been, some things should not be spoken. Says the flesh amalgam, although there is a hint of regret in its ‘voice’, Alex wonders if she can push the answers out of it if she tries hard enough.

“C’mon, no one needs to know, promise I won’t tell if you don’t”

There are rules, child, some can be twisted but none can be broken. If we do, something much scarier than us will take issue with both of us, you do not want to meet them.

She pouts at that, piquing her curiosity just to leave her out to dry is just rude, interspecies communication being no exception. Her reaction causes the being of many to outright laugh, causing her to scowl, which, to her chagrin, makes it laugh even harder.

We like you, it says while still laughing, somehow, although your audacity is a product of misconception, it takes a certain person to be so brazen with their discontent in front of one such as we. Tell you what, meetings like this are rare for us, rarer still are the ones that don’t outright flee or do something foolish because of our appearance, how would you like a gift?

That seemed oddly tantalizing for an offer from a dream monster. She has nothing to lose anyway, none of this is real, after all.

“I’ll take it, oh great flesh…thing? You don’t happen to have a name do you?” she asks

We do, and someday you will know it, but that is not today. The gift will guide you so that someday you may ‘cap a bitch’ without worry for the consequences. It cannot make you like us but we guessed that you’d prefer your humanity.

She nods at that “you guessed correctly”

Just a few caveats though.Firstly, avoid cybernetic enhancements as much as possible. Secondly, although rare in your world, there are those who will see our mark and come to their own…conclusions, mostly violence. With that I believe our conversation has come to its end, goodbye, little Alex.

Before she could muster a farewell of her own, it would only be polite, Alex is beset by a crushing kind of pain. As though everything that she is is being pulled to the centre of her being. She tries to scream, but all that comes out is a whimper, wave after wave of pain assault her, and she realises that some time between then and now she has collapsed onto the citrusy purple sand, she sticks out her tongue and licks it.

Huh, tastes like mangos.

And then she is gone.