Ow, my head.

I wake up, not knowing who or where I am. I think my name is Hana? Suddenly, the memories of my life up to this point flood back into me. I am Hana! And I’m an explorer!

Sweet.

Let’s see, last thing I remember is… a beautiful bird girl knocking me unconscious in a tree on a deserted island.

Well that sucks.

I sit up to look around. A cold, green pack falls from my head and into my lap. I have no clue how long that’s been there. I’m sitting on something uncomfortably soft… a couch. A weird, ugly, yellow couch, with small rabbits embroidered all over the upholstery. It looks ancient. In front of the couch is a low, light brown, wooden coffee table, with a faded pink cloth draped over it that must be at least as old as the couch. Looking around, the house is wide, with a low ceiling, and covered top to bottom in mismatched fabrics, none of which look like they were made in my lifetime. Every chair is upholstered, and has blankets and cushions. There are bookshelves, which do contain books, as well as the occasional flower in a vase, but some shelves also have folded blankets and tapestries, and each shelf is lined with a long, thin fabric. The walls and ceilings are completely covered in tapestries of varying sizes and shapes. Instead of doors or windows, a long, magenta tapestry depicting a tree with three deeper purple rings around the base hangs from what I assume is the entrance, and sheer, baby blue curtains covered in tiny, yellow embroidered flowers let the outside air in.

Realizing my head still hurts, I lay back down on my back. Above me, taking up half of the ceiling, is a giant, square tapestry. It’s divided into two equal sections, from corner to corner. One side is bright yellow, and depicts the white silhouette of a curvy, feminine figure, with slender arms and legs and three pairs of wings coming out of the center of her back. Above her head is a shiny, golden ring. She reaches down, towards the center of the piece. The other side is a deep blue, and depicts the black silhouette of a more masculine figure, with stocky arms and legs, and six tentacles coming out of the center of his back. Below his feet is a silver ring. He reaches up towards the center of the piece. Her white hand and his black hand are joined together in the middle.

Have I seen this before?

Then, I hear footsteps. Is it going to be that bird girl from earlier? I hope so. I need to tell her off. Doesn’t she know she could’ve killed me? Wait, why can’t I land on one, one planet without nearly dying anyways? I know it’s only happened twice, but that’s two out of two, which seems like too much. Anyways, I hope we can be friends after I go off on her for almost killing me. She was gorgeous. I barely remember her face, due to the head trauma, but I’m pretty sure she was a total knock-out.

“You dead yet?”

Well that seems rude. I change my mind. I really hope that pretty bird girl doesn’t have that horrible of a low, gravelly voice, or that grouchy of an attitude.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Nope,” I reply.

The steps speed up to where I am on the couch, and I’m greeted with an olive-toned face that is covered in wrinkles, with a head of wild, white frizzy hair. Across her eyes and the bridge of her nose is a thick, brown line, the same color of her wings, which have lone white feathers scattered through them and are draped over the couch. Okay, good, not pretty bird girl. But she has wings, like pretty bird girl. Maybe she’s pretty bird girl’s grandmother? I should make a good impression.

“Well stars be damned,” she says, eyes wide, and making her way to the lime green loveseat, where she plops down.

“Stars- what?” I sit up and cock my head to the side. Oh no, is she going to think I’m ignorant for not knowing her references?

She laughs, if you can even call that a laugh. It’s more like a shriek, which pierces the air so violently you expect some of the tapestries to be sliced in half.

“I don’t know either, kid. Just an old saying,” she lifts a talon-bearing leg to pull a flask off of her belt, and takes a big swig. Okay, good. This is good. She does not think I’m ignorant for not understanding her references.

Screwing the lid back onto the flask and hooking it back to her belt, her eyes fix on me again.

“You know how lucky you are to be alive?” she looks me up and down with eyes as sharp as her horrible laugh.

I groan, “I know, it happens every time.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Every time what, exactly?” she leans forward in her seat, the sharpness in her eyes growing in intensity.

Oh no, I think, she totally thinks I’m stalking her granddaughter. Oh, this is bad, this is very, very bad. Quick, tell her everything, before she thinks you’re a danger to her family and rips your heart out.

“Every time I land on a new planet,” I spit out, “Last planet I landed on, I crashed and nearly died. But a really nice monkey boy took me to a doctor, who said that I recover really fast, so he didn’t really treat me, other than letting me sleep in his clinic. Also, the monkey boy gave me a puapol. Which are really delicious! And then, when I went to have a boat made, the bubble burst and I fell. Luckily, I jumped in time, and caught myself on the railing of the dock. So, I guess I don’t have a boat. Also, apparently popping world tree bubbles is weird, by the way, but the world tree seemed impressed when I told her, and asked me to come talk to other world trees. So I’m looking for your world tree now, to say hi, and eat fruit.”

She makes a face like someone just hit her in the face with the biggest bat you’ve ever seen, so hard that she does not even have the intellectual capacity to say “ouch”.

Nailed it.

She shakes her head, as if trying to snap herself out of how she’s feeling. Then, she looks me up and down again, but this time with bewilderment.

“Are you telling the truth?”

I nod.

“Good,” she leans much further in my direction, with a death glare that sends a chill up my spine, “because if I find that you’re lying to me I will make sure that you’re dead next time, and I will see to it that everyone you’ve ever known or loved meets the same fate.”

Well, that’s terrifying. Good thing I’m not lying.

“Seela!!” she shrieks towards the window, making the curtains ripple from the force.

Almost immediately, I hear something fly through the magenta tapestry, and I whip my head around to look.

There she is- pretty bird girl.