The next thing I know, I'm falling. And landing. Right on my face, in the dirt. Ow. At least I didn't land on pavement or anything; I'd imagine that could have broken my nose. As it is, I count myself lucky I can't feel any blood dripping from my nostrils.
My ears twitch when I hear—wait. That doesn't seem right. My ears are twitching?
Vaguely, I can hear someone (probably an old man, judging by the sound of their voice) grumble something about, "barely even in the Grand Line," and "too old for this kind of crap." I'm not really paying much attention, because my ears moving like that, which they should not be able to do, is a little bit more concerning right now.
From a brief review of the signals being fed back to my brain, I manage to piece together that my ears are now situated quite a bit higher on my skull, and can swivel, much like an animal's.
Hold on. I think I have an idea of what's going on.
I take stock of the rest of my body. My nose feels like it's farther away from my face than it used to be. There's a lot of extra sensations off by my tailbone, which I can assume are coming from an actual tail. I've got this warm, fuzzy feeling all over, and surreptitiously rubbing two fingers together produces a sensation that I can only compare to tangling my hands in my hair. And finally...
I've kept my eyes closed for the whole thing, just to make parsing all this new information easier, but now, they flutter open unbidden, revealing green grass and the sturdy stone of a tower. The corners of my mouth tug upwards for just a moment.
A small part of me wants to leap to my feet and scream joy to the heavens, though that part is buried far beneath a mountain of introversion and anxiety. Maybe I'll indulge it some other time. Another part wants to profusely thank the reality warper, who I only now realize I never asked for a name, or even just something to call them. That, I do silently, hoping that whatever limits they have, and whatever they call themself, they can still understand just how grateful I am.
There's a prickling in the corners of my eyes as a hand taps my shoulder. "You awake?" comes the question from...about a foot and a half away, I think?
Shifting, I prop myself up on my elbows as I rub at my eyes with my knuckles. I open my mouth to respond in the affirmative, but before I can even take a breath, he mutters, "Well, that's something. Don't suppose you can tell me what the hell happened to you?"
My head swivels to face the speaker. As I'd guessed, it's an elderly man, his white beard and sideburns contrasting the brightly-colored shirt he wears. Framing the top of his head is a semi-circle of what look like flower petals, purple fading into yellow at the tips. I recognize him, though I've of course never seen him in person. His name is on the tip of my tongue, but I don't quite say it.
I almost start spilling my guts right then, but the words don't come. I've become so used to keeping everything to myself, to bottling up my emotions, my troubles, even my triumphs. It's second nature to me now, to keep secrets, even when I shouldn't.
Is this a secret I should keep?
I consider that, for a moment. Back home, if I'd tried telling anyone I'd come from another world, I'd have gotten laughed at, or told not to indulge my imagination so much. Common sense would say that yes, I should keep this a secret, because nobody will believe me. Even if they did, they'd be more likely to try and use me than help me.
But what good is common sense, on the sea where sanity goes to die?
I know that I'm on the Grand Line; he said as much in the first words I heard. I've seen, through the lens of ink on paper, that the rules this sea will not break are few and far between. And I remember reading that this man has sailed its full length, start to finish.
If I want to reach out and take my freedom, then I could do worse than trusting someone who's already grasped that freedom for himself. So I nod, and try to speak past the blockage in my throat.
In the end, I manage to squeeze out a mention of the reality warper, and the existence of a place where the five seas and the Age of Piracy are just a story.
He looks down at me, and his expression hardens. I meet his piercing gaze for a few seconds, but it's not long before I surrender and shrink away. Then, finally, he speaks.
"So, what you're trying to say is that you're from another world, and as far as you're concerned, you've just been dropped into a work of fiction," comes the pronouncement, with all the gravity of a judge passing down a death sentence.
I nod meekly, unable to look up at him. The pressure in my chest almost convinces me that I'm being crushed by his sheer presence.
"Eh, I'll buy it. Wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen," he dismisses, and the weight vanishes so suddenly I almost collapse. "You've got some kind of proof, right? Something you shouldn't know."
"Y-yeah." I've managed to beat back my anxiety somewhat, and now that I can manage to spare the attention to actually listen to the words coming out of my mouth, I discover that I...well, I actually kinda like hearing myself speak, now. Before, I'd want to cringe almost every time I opened my mouth. So I continue, and the sound of my new voice helps ease my nerves. "When you sailed with Roger, he had a terminal illness, and you were the only person who could stall it until he reached the end of the Grand Line. You don't tell anyone about that, right?"
The petals (are they actual flower petals, or just oddly-styled hair? I'd honestly believe either one) on his head bob as he nods. "That'll do it. If you know that, I'm guessing you already know my name?" Crocus gives me an expectant look, and I indicate that he's correct. "I'll skip my introduction, then. What should I call you?"
"Me? I'm, uh..." I almost give him my birth name out of long-standing habit; a name that just doesn't fit me anymore, if it ever really did. I've been waiting for a chance to be rid of it, and I'm not going to see a better chance than this. I quickly run through a few ideas in my head.
"I'm Lyn," is what I settle on.
He doesn't say anything for a few moments, and dread begins to pool in my gut. I hesitantly study his face, avoiding meeting his eyes as best I can while I try to decipher what's going on in his head. I can't shake the feeling that I've done something wrong in giving him that name even though I know I haven't, and I desperately want to find something, some sort of reaction, because not knowing what he might think is worse than whatever I might find. If I know, then no matter how bad it is, it's set in stone, and I can deal with it. If I don't...then my traitorous, treacherous mind is free to dream up something so much worse.
"Alright," he finally responds, and reaches out a hand. "Here, let me help you up."
Not...quite what I was hoping for, but I suppose I can assume neutrality for now. With some small amount of trepidation, I grasp his hand with my own black-furred one and haul myself to my feet. Once I'm upright, Crocus looks me up and down, as though evaluating something about me. Whatever he's looking for, he seems to find it, because he continues, "So, you up for a bit of a swim?" and turns to—holy hell.
Turns to walk towards shore, where Laboon is waiting.
I don't realize I'm staring until Crocus speaks up again. "Well, if I hadn't already decided to believe you, that'd probably convince me. Can't imagine anyone who'd ever seen Zunisha reacting like that when they saw Laboon."
Zunisha? Oh. Right. The elephant carrying the kingdom of Zou. Curiosity piqued, I try to use the island whale as a point of reference to imagine what it'd feel like, to see Zunisha from the surface of the sea. I'm...not even remotely successful.
I sigh, dismissing the half-formed thought from my mind, and just follow after Crocus. It's probably best I leave that sort of thing alone. There'll be plenty of time to wonder at all of that when I see it. If I see it.
A week passes. In that time, I realize that there are quite a few things that have changed about my body and overall state of being; a good number more than there appeared to be when I faceplanted on arrival.
The most blatantly obvious change that's occurred is that I'm a fox mink now, rather than human. Some people might find this off-putting. Me? Honestly, I'm pretty okay with it. I'm significantly shorter than I used to be, which is fine. I hated banging my head on things, and my height always made me stand out just that little bit more. The fur covering my body is a smooth russet, for the most part. White runs down my front from my muzzle down onwards, where a four-legged fox's underbelly would be, and the red on my arms fades into black near my hands and feet. My tail's pretty darn fluffy, and it's tipped with more white, as though someone had dunked the end in paint. My senses of smell and hearing are both quite a bit better. I'm stronger, and more athletic; I wasn't a bad swimmer before, but I definitely couldn't have matched the pace Crocus set in the water. He had pointed out, that first day, that I'm not as fit as a Zou native would be, but that's fine. New World-class strength in Paradise would be entirely too much to ask for.
I'd also been biologically male before. Not anymore. I find small reminders of this change everywhere, and they (almost) never fail to put me in good spirits. While I hadn't been entirely unhappy with my old self, the fact that everyone I met saw me as someone I just straight-up wasn't had caused me no end of anguish. I hid it, of course, bottled it up inside so nobody could see, and if I'm honest, it'd been slowly killing me for quite some time.
When the Witness (the reality warper; they'd sent a note a few days in, apologizing for forgetting the introductions) made their offer, I was afraid. Absolutely terrified. I knew I'd want to take them up on it from the moment I understood exactly what they intended, but the idea of leaving behind everything I'd ever known induced such a fear that I nearly didn't. Without their prodding, I probably wouldn't have managed to say yes, honestly. I just...didn't know whether I'd ever be able to think it was worth it, casting it all aside for the promise of a mere possibility.
But no matter what this uncertain future holds, I've had a burden lifted that I never really thought would leave me. I don't feel the need to hide what I look and sound like, nor do I experience the...disconnect...that I'd become all too familiar with, in the months before. And that is worth the price, ten times over.
There are also a bevy of smaller changes, which I only really notice in passing. I no longer need glasses to see properly. I like eating seafood more than I used to. Headpats are far too enjoyable (that was a slightly embarrassing discovery). You get the idea.
One of the few things that's more or less the same is my hair. I always liked my hair, even when I hated everything else, so I'm rather glad for that. It's still the sort of blonde that looks golden-brown, still tumbles down to about the bottom of my ribcage in slight waves, and it still does pretty much what it pleases. I've been giving some thought to braiding it to keep it out of my face, rather than just tying it back into a ponytail like I usually do, but Crocus claims he doesn't know how, and I certainly don't, so I suppose that'll have to wait.
As it turns out, not too much happens here, at the foot of Reverse Mountain. That, or it's just a slow week. Not a single vessel has passed by in my time here; really, the only interesting thing that happens is Laboon slamming his head against the Red Line. That's not to say I haven't been occupying myself, of course. Learning to throw a punch and take a hit seem like pretty important skills to learn if I want to go anywhere besides Twin Cape, and Crocus has been a half-decent teacher. Quoth he when I asked, "Even a doctor has to know how to hold his own out there."
Can't really argue with that. From how often I wind up eating dirt, I'd imagine he could do a little more than just "hold his own," which is all the better, or so I tell myself.
Unfortunately, there is one thing that he can't help me with, and it just so happens to be the one thing that I want to get down as quickly as possible: Electro, which turns out to be equal parts devilishly tricky and completely natural. Using it is something like flicking a switch; I issue the barest mental command and electricity wreaths my fingers, sensations of energetic warmth flickering and sparking at my skin so that my fur stands on end. Keeping it going, however...well, that's something I've not yet figured out with any consistency. It's only been a week, so I suppose I can't be too surprised by my relative lack of progress, but there's still a part of me that's disappointed. There's a lot of cool things I can think of doing with Electro, but I can't really try any of them when it only lasts a few moments. So the ideas are just stuck bouncing around in my head, which is infuriating.
I'm sitting on the north bank of the Reverse Mountain current, messing around with what is probably enough voltage to reduce your average seagull to a blackened cinder, when an odd vessel comes rocketing down towards me. Its deck is both empty and elevated; the metal railing ringing it seems thin, and weak. There are masts, but no sails visible—though admittedly, from what I know about Reverse Mountain, sails wouldn't be necessary—and the whole of its hull is a bright yellow, the structure sloping outwards so that its widest point is likely underwater.
I watch its descent with interest, and as it hurtles past me, I spot a design emblazoned in black on its side. A grinning face, with six curving T-shaped protrusions forming the fragments of a larger circle around it.
That...is not the pirate crew I was expecting to meet here.
My head swivels to follow the ship's path as it bleeds momentum, swerving and coming to a stop within a short distance of the end of the cape. It hangs motionless in the water for a few moments before I spot five figures emerging onto the deck. Three of the figures wear very light clothing. The fourth is clad in mostly dark colors, and all four of them are gathered around the largest (though not quite the tallest), covered in orange. They're all very animated, save the dark one, speaking amongst themselves as they gaze off into the distance, towards the Grand Line proper.
One of the lighter figures apparently gets bored, because he splits off from the group and ambles over towards the side of the deck closest to shore. He moves to lean against the railing when all of a sudden he straightens, shading his eyes with a hand (though I'm pretty sure he's wearing a hat, so the gesture seems pointless). Waving one arm, he turns to yell back at the others, pointing back at the lighthouse once he's attracted their attention. I look away to check in the direction he's indicating, but...there's nothing going on over there. Everything looks exactly the same as it has for the last seven days.
When I turn back, the largest of the five looks excitable enough that I'm not sure I'd have been surprised if he rocketed straight up into the air. Instead of achieving orbit, though, he dashes back below deck. This is the Heart Pirates' vessel, so that'd be...Bepo, the bear mink, right? I'm not entirely sure what's got him so...
I can feel my fur ripple as the realization sends tension crackling through my body. My left hand, resting on the ground, clenches involuntarily, leaving a set of furrows where my claws scrape the dirt.
The other pirate had been pointing at me. Bepo must have gotten excited because he saw me, another mink—probably the first since he left Zou. And now...now they're sailing over here, to meet me. I can feel their eyes on me; I know they've got their expectations already and I know I won't meet them. How could I? I've only been here a week, and all I've seen of this world is this tiny speck of land. Whatever it is they think they'll find in me, it's not there.
I take a deep breath before I can get too overwhelmed, and force the thoughts down to make room in my head, crushing them until they're a dense undertone rather than an all-consuming haze. Standing, I brush the loose soil off of my hand and walk slowly towards where the Heart Pirates are going to make landfall. I suppress any nervous shivers I might have had with expertise brought about by years of practice. My tail doesn't seem to have gotten the memo, however, because its tip is twitching jerkily back and forth.
...I'll get that under control eventually.
Putting that out of my mind, I look up to see that the ship has approached the shore just ahead of me. I offer the four men standing on the deck a wave that I hope comes across as casual. One, I recognize as the Surgeon of Death himself. I can put names to Penguin and Shachi thanks to their ridiculous hats, and that's...really the extent of my knowledge of this crew. The final member, wearing the same pale boiler suit as Shachi and Penguin, has messy, poofy brown hair as well as a grey bandana over his nose and mouth. I think I've probably seen him before, but if he was named in the manga, I can't remember it.
Law acknowledges me with a shallow nod, while the other three return my gesture with varying degrees of enthusiasm. None of them say a word.
Just as the silence is starting to get awkward, the door leading below deck flies open with a rattling crash and a tearful cry of, "Eleven yeeeeears!" And then I'm tackled to the ground by several hundred pounds of sobbing bear.
I freeze, for just a moment, and he's squeezing me hard enough that I can feel bones creak. Then I register that I'm pinned, trapped, can't move. Before I really know what I'm doing, I'm trying to shove him off of me. Between his size and my lack of leverage, I'm not very successful.
Luckily, he does notice what I'm doing, because he draws away, apologizing profusely once he's no longer on top of me. Two deep breaths to calm my nerves slightly before I haul myself to my feet, and I wave off his apologies. "It's alright, you just surprised me. I...don't like being hugged very much."
"Oh. Sorry."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the bandana-sporting pirate smack his hand into his forehead.
"My name's Bepo," he offers. "How'd you end up out here?"
"Lyn," I return, "and I'm not sure. I don't quite remember how it happened." A lie, of course, but...despite Crocus' reassurances that I can trust other minks enough to tell them, that they'll accept me regardless, part of me doesn't believe that anyone else would take it as well as him. Maybe I'll tell someone eventually, but right now, the mere thought of doing so nearly leaves me a quivering mess. So I decide not to think about it.
"Well, um, what's the last thing you can remember?"
That resolution sure didn't last very long.
I feel myself go still as panic begins to well up in my gut. My mouth opens, and some sort of answer is trying to come out, but my voice is just gone.
Bepo waves his hands frantically. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to! I was just wondering! I..." He visibly wilts. "I thought it might help me figure out a way back..."
"Back?" I hear a whisper, and abruptly realize that I can speak again.
"Back to Zou. Eleven years ago, my brother left Zou, and I wanted to go with him, but when I tried to follow him, the sea took me somewhere else. I got so lost I ended up in the North Blue..."
"Oh." I shake my head. "I don't think I could help you. I've...never been to Zou."
He reels back, as though I'd physically slapped him. "What?!"
My ears and tail droop without permission. "I'm a bit of a special case," I mumble at the ground. "I know of it, and I'd like to go, but..." I trailed off, not sure what else I can say. After staring at the dirt and grass for a few more seconds, I glance back up to Bepo, who's looking over towards the ship.
"Hey, captain! Can Lyn come with us?"
Wait, what?
Bepo starts and turns to face me again. I didn't mean to say that out loud...
"Law, Shachi, and Penguin all promised they'd help me find a way back to Zou. So, I figured, since we're going there anyway, maybe we could bring you along?" He wrings his hands. His voice sounds nervous, but...also a bit hopeful. I recognize that tone. I've heard it from my own mouth often enough to know that...he wants this. He wants me to come with him, even though he's just met me.
He barely knows more than my name, and yet...he still wants me along.
"I..." There's a lump in my throat, and I can't force my words around it.
"Well," comes a drawling third voice before I can manage to say anything more, "I don't see why not. So, what do you say?"
I glance over to see Trafalgar Law propping himself up by his elbows on the railing, his hands casually folded in front of him and a faint smirk on his face. At some point, the others must have gone below deck, because he's alone up there.
I can sort of understand why Bepo would want me to join the crew. I'm the first of his kind he's seen in years, never mind that I've only even been a mink for a week now (not that he knows that, but still). It makes some sense that he'd want to spend time with another mink in a world of humans. But why on earth would Law approve? After all, I'm a complete stranger; I haven't even spoken more than a few sentences yet.
How can he just...extend his trust like that?
I think back, to that last night in my family's house. I can hear a voice, in the back of my mind: "It's your choice, and no one else's."
Really, I can only give one answer.
I turn to face the captain of the Heart Pirates more fully, set my jaw, and get completely thrown off when Crocus yells, "What's going on over there?"
Law's gaze shifts, and I follow it to see the aged doctor stumping over towards us from the lighthouse. Right, he's been doing an inspection; doesn't call himself a lighthouse keeper for nothing, after all.
"Why would it concern you?" the pirate calls back easily.
"Why would it concern me?" Crocus growls, and fixes Law with a steely glare.
To his credit, Law's expression doesn't change. If anything, his smirk grows minutely under the pressure from Crocus.
Tension builds and comes to a head as the wills of the two men clash...then dissipates entirely when Crocus shrugs. "I'm a curious man, is all," he states.
I raise an eyebrow at him. He meets my gaze for just a moment, a twinkle in his eye. I guess you gotta find some way to amuse yourself, in a place like this...
"I'd hope, for your safety, that you have some control over your curiosity where pirates are concerned," comes the veiled threat from Law, and I barely manage to suppress a snort of laughter.
Crocus doesn't bother hiding his own chuckle, but changes the subject. "I can make a guess about what you three were talking about. You're trying to recruit her for your pirate crew, aren't you?"
"Bepo's the one doing the recruiting," Law fractionally inclines his head towards the bear mink, "but yes."
"I tend to get a little attached to my patients, so—"
"Patient?" I interrupt, slightly confused. "I was barely even hurt."
"That's true," he admits, "but I still wound up thinking of you as a patient of mine all the same."
"So you're a doctor, then?" Law interjects, earning a nod from Crocus. The pirate captain's posture relaxes somewhat. "I see. I happen to be a somewhat competent doctor myself, so I can personally assure her health, if that's your concern."
"That is good to hear," the old man admits, "but it's not quite what I was worried about." He folds his arms resolutely. "What kind of pirate crew are you running? If you're just a bunch of reckless looters, I'm afraid I'm going to have to object. Strongly."
"Crocus," I interject quietly, and wait until he turns his head to face me before I continue, "I think I can trust them." I look him dead in the eye, desperately hoping he figures out what I'm really saying.
Fortunately, the gleam of comprehension dawns on his face, and he takes a few steps so he's standing next to me. Clapping a hand on my shoulder, he looks down at me and gently points out, "If you're going to be a part of their crew, you'll need to tell them sooner or later. You understand that, right?"
"...Yeah. I'll handle it."
"Well. If you're determined to set out to sail the Grand Line, who am I to stop you?" He lifts his hand and makes to turn away, but I grab him before he can leave.
"Wait! I need to tell you..." I trail off, trying to find the right way to word this.
"There's a certain other pirate crew that will be coming through here soon. Their captain will do something to help Laboon." My voice is lowered, to try and keep Bepo and Law from overhearing. If they do...well. I'll figure it out.
He just looks down at me, resignation heavy in his voice as he speaks. "Can't do anything for a patient that doesn't want help."
"I know. Just...trust me, okay?"
"...I'm not going to hold out hope for a hopeless case."
"It's not hopeless. Not yet."
There's something unreadable in his expression as he concedes, "I'll trust that you know what you're talking about, but I won't believe it until I see it."
I release his arm, and he turns to walk away.
He doesn't go more than a few steps before I grit my teeth, swallow my anxiety, and call after him, "Thank you for taking care of me!"
Crocus halts in his tracks, and after a moment he shoots back, "Best way you can thank me is by making a name for yourself out there. Get yourself a bounty poster, so I can see you're doing just fine. Got it?" He looks back at me over his shoulder, and I can see a smile on his lips.
My head bobs in a nod, and I can feel a fierce grin spreading across my face. "Count on it."
The lighthouse keeper keeps walking, then, and I turn back to face the submarine, riding high on a strange boost of self-assurance. "If you'll have me, I'll sail with you. Captain."
Law's confident smirk hits me full force. "Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Lyn."
A cry comes from within the ship. "Pose is ready, Captain! We've got our heading!"
I hear Law mumble something before a blue-tinted field expands to envelop me. He utters another word under his breath, and the next moment I find myself standing next to him. Bepo dashes ahead while I recover from having been moved so abruptly, throwing open the doorway and thundering down the stairs. Law proceeds more calmly, and I move to follow.
He stops suddenly, blocking the entry. I halt a few feet away, mildly confused.
"You're hiding something about your past."
A nervous shiver threatens to overtake my hands.
Law—no, the captain turns to face me, expression flat.
"I don't care what your reasons are for concealing it from Bepo, but whatever it is you didn't tell him, I need to know. If taking you on is going to result in complications later down the line, I refuse to be caught off guard by them."
I clench my hands into fists to stop the shaking. My claws dig themselves into my palms just enough to hurt, but not enough to draw blood. "It won't come up. Ever."
His eyes flick down, attracted by the slight movement. "Maybe it won't. I can't take that on faith. If you don't want to tell everyone else, I won't make you, but before we move on from the next island, you either tell me, or you're gone. There's no room in my crew for a pirate who refuses to trust her captain. Understand?"
I nod sharply. "I understand."
Law inclines his head. "Good." The corner of his mouth ticks upward. "Now, let's see where we're going, shall we?"
The dark doctor descends into his ship.
"Of course, captain," I murmur to myself with a faint smile, and I follow after.
~X~
I watch as the Polar Tang submerges, leaving a rapidly-vanishing wake pointing towards one of the first islands in the Grand Line. Even I'm not quite sure yet where they'll wind up, but that's part of the fun of this whole thing, isn't it?
...There's no response. I know you're there, Witness. I know you're still watching, and I know you heard that. If you're anything like how I imagine you, you won't look away for a second. So please don't pretend that you're not.
"...Why bother holding a conversation with me? After all, I am, as far as you're concerned, just a figment of your imagination. Talking to yourself is hardly productive."
Unless you're me, I reply blithely.
I get the impression of a shaking head. They didn't seem to appreciate my little attempt at humor. "I can't tell you anything you don't know yourself."
So what? I knew it, yes, but I still needed to hear it, even if it was just from you.
"And that, I would imagine, is beginning to cross into the realm of another disorder. Not terribly helpful for improving one's mental health."
I'd hardly be a good writer if I weren't a little bit unhinged, I think. Besides, I'm not looking to solve all my problems. I just want to...find a way to live with myself.
"Aren't we all," comes the bitter response.
There's not much I can say to that. Everyone has their own problems, and I suppose I must have touched on one of theirs. So I let silence reign for a time. But not forever. I'm conflicted, have been since I first started writing this, and I want an outside opinion. No, wait, that's a bad way to phrase that. I want to talk about it.
I'm not quite like that, in real life. I never have been, honestly. So...isn't calling Lyn me, just a flat-out lie? Sure, she's similar to me, and I'm using my own responses as a baseline for hers. But that doesn't mean she is me, does it.
"A lie, you say. Isn't that what you're doing here? You're lying to everyone who's reading this; after all, that's what telling a story is. It's lying so boldly that everyone starts to believe it, even if only for a moment. And as with all the best lies, this one you're telling right now is built around a core of truth. Is Lyn you? No, she isn't, but the thing that really separates Lyn from Cici is choice. She's making the choices you want to. What's stopping you from making those choices yourself?"
...Hang on, did you crib that whole thing from a book?
"I already said, I can't tell you anything you don't know yourself."
Point. Still...like I already said, I needed to hear it, even if it's not telling me anything new.
"...It is harder to believe something when you're the one saying it. Though this whole situation certainly defies all logic on that front," they mutter to themself.
Hey, whatever works.
And it does, I reflect as the Witness moves on, bemusement suffusing their presence. It really, truly does work, somehow, even if only just a little. Who'd have thought. I chuckle at the absurdity of my own mental state and tap my finger against the period key, an odd sense of fulfillment bringing a smile to my lips.