Chapter 124

Constructed by swirling dark crimson lines and countless little waves, it was hard to describe them as Vectors or Arcana. This little figure stood on its slugs for legs and seemed glad to be. That was it. It was glad to exist.

Then, it felt great after securing this escape, cheering by pressing its slag for arms up. It exited its prison once more and nothing will stop it right now. It looked around, though this strange creature had no eyes or face. It was like a phantom. A ghost. It seemed strangely menacing, yet it was also emotional in many physical forms that aimed at its skipping waves, lights, or patterns in a round head.

It couldn't speak or do much of anything else. It was weak, young, and stupid. Its spirit was there, and one of those things was an issue that it couldn't accept, for it wasn't really fine without the main component. There were no fingers on its four limbs. Just studs layered with lines and waves of moving crimson colorful ripples. No eyes saw it. It was alone, feeling the surroundings with a general and relative demeanor and how great of a place was around it.

It hummed an expression, a rippling vortex explosion like a sigh of relief in the head, and moved in the most basic movement imaginable. It walked, and while it couldn't even eat or murder, its emotions, and movement were vivid as always, even if the last two years truly challenged its consequences.

Yet, it was alive, even if it might not feel real. It was moving its limbs just fine and felt like its masterful escape plan once more survived and accomplished something great. The moon and sky seemed different here, and the surrounding hues felt enticing. It looked around, kicked the prison of the former clothes, and moved away.

Cheering for the second time, the creature stepped forward and immediately stumbled by the other sleeve it overlooked. Its physicality was vague, so it didn't fall off. It still fell, rolling, and cutting into countless lines that began to stitch together, cursing the ground. Not the clothes. Again, it was very clever to not make its reality daunting and leave marks behind.

Getting up, it glared and flared its waves in its head. It either thought something terrible, or it was akin to anger. Before that, its stubs for limbs didn't seem stable or great. It walked awkwardly into one place which was extremely interesting to it. Not William. Not its home.

A tall, otherworldly, and majestic view within that window appeared much more appropriate, giving it no second thoughts. The moonlight felt bewitching and much to its liking, making all senses and laws cozy, if not cozier than that shirt, but not that sleeve. Sleeves were bad. Terrible. They were a wretched lot.

Since this little creature was small, it couldn't reach that far or high like that escaping light. The window seemed like an entrance and gate to a new world. Failing to jump, it couldn't go up to the frame, wanting to enjoy the views. Dejectedly, it noticed its failure and how this world looked gigantic. No. That wasn't true. Its appearance was just tiny until it realized it.

That was reasonable for simple fury. Not enough for something more... furious. Then, it looked around in confusion, wondering if this place and time was wrong or stupid.

This new place felt new and strange. It saw more matters than others. It even noticed William on that huge construct called a bed.

Its home was close, not on the ground, however, or was it even a prison? That felt wrong and right, yet acceptance and fear were also wrong and often right. It judged everything. It knew laws, so it couldn't lie to itself.

Unfortunately in the course of fate, it was too small and stupid to call itself clever or right. It was like a dull little blip to the thing called the Dawn or something worse. It planned to go wild and do the right things, but not near the wrong paths. The creature was too damn stubborn, and prideful, but also full of acceptance about fleeing and cracked laws. It couldn't do it. Not after all these years.

It glanced towards that window no matter the costs, and there was enough fuel and matter to shine further.

That was as important as an appreciative glare at its wavering and workable flow. There were many parts to that, looking like cocoons made of millions of layers. It was like a chain of electricity, particles in mists, waves, lines, and small bits of what seemed like dust. All in red. All in hues and glowing. It spread in some power, finding a connection, and unhindered ways of magic followed next. It went from the creature until it found its way.

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It wished to clench its stabs for hands. Before the depression got hold of it, it changed its flesh and temporally cracked, flowing out of nowhere like tossed water and mist. Like a breath of crimson stormy clouds, lines follow the ride up like the waves and light. Then, it reformed, standing where it wanted to remain: right in front of that window, but not beyond it.

There, bathed in the moonlight, it looked around much better. Again, no eyes shined, but it had the clear body language of someone mesmerized by the sight before it. Particularly that sky blazed, followed by the endless flow of stars up, back, and towards the unknown horizons. It never felt so clear and pretty, yet it also knew this was a farce, or how some laws were overrated.

What mattered were acts. Pacts! It needed laws. It needed to see and feed and know the dreams. No. Everything had its purpose. Everything had its contest and it had to play well for them to matter.

The creature glared at everything, itself included. The crimson mashed well with the light of many kinds, yet something dark would be equal or worse. It was sure that it ate nothing good, for there was nothing good about that pact. That was good. It was still there, itching onto the matters of its pride, and it knew its home was built for it. For years, it waited. For a decade, it quenched those desires.

Something good was still there. Somewhere. Maybe close, growing, and making it realize that getting lost was better than taking time for granted. Death was dutiful, however, making cycles and patterns that weren't worth fearing. They were natural, but it refused. The Realms refused as well, so it didn't play this nonsense!

It felt something great today, or was it a while ago or a second before? It had trouble remembering in this form.

Again, it glanced around as if expecting to see something or someone. It waved away, grinning in devilish patterns that it considered fitting out of nowhere. It hunched towards it, though there was really nothing there but a wall. It was Somewhere, however. In Gaps, as it recalled. Weird terminology. This world snatched its senses. Stole its laws!

There was nothing but silently sleeping William who wasn't even aware that he was being watched by something insane.

The creature shrugged, turned, and enjoyed its bath before glancing down. There were buildings of all sorts of manners, standing, and bothering no one but its presence. Oh, how much it wished to destroy them and see some fun and views. But there was still something interesting for the little creature that allowed its happiness. The sight of that small sunny object intrigued it, similar to terrific stars around it and further.

The creature sought out the brightness and its infinity, putting its arms towards the window, praising this reality as if it wanted to grab the light and stars themselves. It should feel good. It should be possible. They felt so close yet so far, that it whimpered in disappointment after it realized it couldn't happen. It was a filthy sick dream, yet it reclaimed its fun. Then, it watered in depression, feeling weak and small. Insignificant.

Yet those stars were where? They were like many lamps in the streets beyond the window's scenery, or the stars were the lamps, dimming, switching, exploding to bits. Something was rightfully wrong and fake about such assumptions, though its vision was the same.

The starlight, moonlight, and the electricity itself felt strange and the same, yet it shouldn't be the same.

The creature was in seeming ecstatic distress and its wavering patterns changed every beat.

William was equally intoxicated by this sight when he came here the first time, yet he did not need to do so for two days in a row. He had different dreams and different needs, thanks to Ellie. Thanks for everything. As many previously thought, even extraordinary sights would soon become ordinary and mundane.

This creature didn't think so.

It didn't adhere to regular thinking or simple processes and an absolute pattern of the human psyche. It felt like an intense blubber of familiarity. It liked William. Of course, it did. It was the same with the wealth of experience or expectations. Someone could be richer in mind than others, while someone could be poor yet rich in different senses.

What could happen if one had it all, or nothing? One could be happy, get accustomed to nothing, or fall into a hole of greed or normalcy when there was nothing to strive for. There were some laws in struggle. In lives. In deaths. Many things could be possible as long as one tried to see them for laws, put goals into their mind, and fail just to try again and again. This creature knew it. Laws knew it too.

It wasn't bad or good since everything had their different opinions and perceptions, while this little creature might not be anything to anybody. That was fine. It just needed one. That was it; adequate, elevated, and fed.

However, it clearly showed some feelings and acts of doubt. It wasn't human, and it showed. Who knew if it had some thoughts or feelings for real? It certainly had no flesh, brain, and some distinct physicality to appease this world. It was more like a poison or virus. It was supposed to be this strange and like a sculpture or creation made of something long lost.

William was never aware of its presence, even if it escaped many times before.

After a long, mentally draining day, some things were due, and the creature was contemplating things twice more than usual, for it knew this place hid monsters and very interesting moments. Was it finally time? After how many beats and words? It didn't count very well. It wasn't its calling, let alone a meaning.