Elizabeth Wilson
Stories
7
Chapters
4,267
Words
83.6 K
Comments
0
Reading
6 h, 58 m
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“It’s okay,” You tell Abigail before wrapping her in a whole lot of tentacles and bringing her closer. Hugging fixes all problems. In fact, hugging is almost as good for fixing problems as tentacles are. Maybe there’s some long lost link between tentacles and hugs? More food for thought. “D-Dreamer,” Abigail says as she fusses in your embrace. “We don’t have time for this, we need to run.” You snort. No time for hugs? What a silly summoner. If being stuck in a fleshy mortal body has…-
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You really want to visit the fleshcrafter person. It sounds like they could make Abigail better and that’s the most important thing. Maybe. You’re not sure how or why she’s making the bad sounds, or why they’re bad. Then again, finding out why shouldn’t be too hard. You bring a hand way up and touch Abigail’s cheek. It’s very soft and warm, good for snuggling, as is right and proper. “What were those noises?” you ask. Abigail makes another noise with her nose, a sort of sniffly sound…
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“We’re here for Academy things,” Abigail explains to the large shopkeeper. “You will find no better equipment for your schooling needs than in my shop, young ladies, for there is no greater expert in the manufacturing of fine equipment than Henri Ford,” the man says before sweeping into a bow that has all sorts of little flourishes of his hands. He’s surprisingly graceful for such a huge mortal. “I have a package meant just for people looking to enter the academy. It’s not my greatest…
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“What are we buying next?” you ask Abigail as you hop out of the store. There are still people panicking inside, mostly as they try to unbury the mages that were too close when you copied your new dress. Not that any of that matters because you are the proud new owner of the prettiest dress. Your entire body is covered in frills and lace except for your head and hands. Even your real body is now protected by an ablative layer made up of billions of petticoats. Anyone trying to hurt you now is in for a…
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“Where are we going?” you ask Abigail as you look away from where her hand is holding onto yours and up to her back. You find that you’re just a teensy little bit lost as Abigail leads you deeper into the city. There are lots of mortals around, with little hats on their heads and long coats to protect them from the foggy weather. You don’t have a long coat though, you only have one of Abigail’s old dresses on, and Abigail herself is still just wearing the dress she worked in without the…
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The rest of the workday passes in a strange sort of quiet. Abigail returns to her work as if nothing happened, except she keeps looking at you when she thinks you’re not paying attention. Joke’s on her, you’re always paying attention. Still, as you sweep the last of the shop and push the dust under a shelf, you’re left with enough quiet time to think things through. Abigail is really nice. She gives good hugs, is fun to cuddle, and is kind enough to share her food with you. That’s more than you…
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You stare at your summoner, at Abigail, for a few long moments. She wants to know what you are. That’s rather simple, isn’t it. You’re you. You’re the only you around and there aren’t any other yous that you know of. If there were other yous, you’d have eaten them already. “I’m me,” you tell her. “I’m the Dream That Rests Eternal In The Spaces Between Spaces, In The Moments Between Times. I like taking naps where I can’t be bothered.” The last part you add to explain because…
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You wiggle the jar filled with life juice around, the contents stirring with big gloops and glops like pudding with too much milk added in. If pudding glowed and was made of life energy. You realize that you might be hungry. Either way, Abigail said that some people took her juices out of her every month as a sort of tax, which means that if you give her this she won’t have to do that, and will therefore be happy with you. And if she’s happy with you, she will give you headpats and cuddles. Not that…
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Dusting is easy. So easy. It’s a wonder mortals have a difficult time with it. You swish-swish the broom across the wooden planks of the floor, sending bits of dust scurrying across the floor in little waves. There’s hair too, probably from one of the shelves where bundles of wolf’s fur are stacked together. They don’t taste very good, but they do have a nice texture to them. You start humming, an old song that you had once heard while travelling in the Paths that Lead to Somewhere, just a little…
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“I need to get to work,” Abigail says as she slips on an apron over her dress. The piece of clothing looks constrictive and annoying to wear. You know this because Abigail, in her infinite cruelty, forced you into a dress and it is constrictive and annoying to wear. Unlike the jacket, it does not even have the benefit of smelling like your summoner. It’s too big for you, reaching all the way down to your ankles while the waist is pinched around you by a thick belt, the only thing stopping the dress…
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