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Disclaimer: Don't sue me, I have no idea what I'm doing.
Lord of Moons: U wot m9?
Noneofit: That's how it's spelled, not how it's pronounced. Most words in English aren't pronounced exactly how they're spelled. Also, fanfiction. I can suspend disbelief and shove my own reality into the story as much as I want, leave me alone.
Thank you all for your support! New chapter in
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Worm: Babel
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The tour went about as well as I could've hoped, Amy giggling at my more humorous stories behind the photographs hanging on the stairwell's wall and sighing in regret at the photo of nine-year-old me at the State Ballet Championships (I'd placed fourth, just edging out of the running for the Regionals).
"I took dance classes when I was younger," she'd said wistfully as we moved further upstairs, "I've kept up with it, but there's not many chances to go ballroom dancing with people in our age group."
"You… do realize the Swing style can fit with virtually any music if one is determined, right?" was my smiling and barbless riposte.
Which brought a quirked lip from my friend, "Yeah, but show me someone – besides you, silly," she put in with a laugh when I swiftly raised my hand, "that can do Swing well."
Acquiescing her point, I then wrapped up the tour of the upstairs ("Daddy's room, you know the bathroom, guest room, and here's me,") and let Amy into my room; there was a brief moment of awkwardness when she laid eyes upon my poster of New Wave, in pride of place over my bed, but that was dashed when she spotted the drawing I'd made of the Labyrinth.
Begun when I was but four and trying to describe that strange place to my Mommy and Daddy, it'd taken me nearly seven years to complete; the perspective was of one standing before a fork in the path, the walls on either side showing some alien forest (I later learned that the forest in question was home to the Zoogs, a race of violent, sapient rats) and a city of black marble towers that I've been unable to relocate or discover the history of. The white floor, a mosaic of fractal patterns, rolls away to the fork, above which the stars and swirling nebulae and galaxies stand ever vigilant.
It is the most detailed picture in my collection, and the one I've spent the most time on. Amy was duly impressed by the image… and this led our conversation back to the subject of my abilities.
Twenty minutes of summarization on my part, sitting cross-legged upon my bed with Amy's arms folded on the back of my study chair, my friend's chin resting on her forearms as she drank in every word I spoke, and we come to the awkward silence of the present.
For Amy has not so much as blinked for the past minute at least, whilst I become slowly more anxious with each passing second; perhaps I shouldn't have related my plan to summon the Deep Ones to help protect the city right after explaining their chosen profession… or described the hierarchy of the dark gods that sleep until called.
I am fairly sure I'll be able to impress the Deep One's Overlady enough to garner their respect and allegiance, but… well, they are genocidal barbarians, at their core.
As for the other… well, I only included the Old Ones for completion's sake. I'm sure she'll come out of her stupor sooner than later.
All the same, I do wish Amy says something soon. I don't know how much more silence my heart can take.
"Pardon my language, Taylor," the subject of my thoughts answers my prayers, not moving from her resting position or relenting in her serious expression, "but your powers are complete bullshit."
I wince, more from the last words of that ganger on the Pyramid than Amy's estimation, and manage to reply tersely, "I didn't ask for these abilities, Amy."
"Yeah, I know. No one asks for the powers they get," she replies quietly, eyes going distant briefly, but then she shakes her head, as though to clear some cobwebs in her mind, and sits up straight, brown eyes fixed on me, "But, with all due respect, 'cause I know you're really smart, but I don't think you're looking at your powers the right way."
I blink in confusion, "But… their function is self-evident. I can summon…" I trail off at Amy's raised finger; she looks very serious now, even more so than when I revealed the events of three evenings ago.
After a moment of silence, she speaks, tone as deadly serious as her expression, "Powers never do only one thing, Taylor. Take… Miss Militia for example," she gestures at the print on my wall. I'm very proud of it, and hope to attain an autograph at some point in the future, "She can make pretty much any weapon you can think of, but she also has perfect memory recall and she doesn't need to sleep. Or Vicky: she's got the aura thing, and yeah, I can't stand it either sometimes," Amy adds sympathetically at my grimace, "but she also has super-strength and can fly.
"Legend can do crazy amounts of things with his lasers; Armsmaster can work with near anyone else's Tinker-tech, but he has his own specialty just like all the other Tinkers; Velocity can run really fast and can dilate his perception so he doesn't go crashing into walls," she ticks off on her fingers, but stops and blinks when I raise my hand shyly, for I have a good question.
"What about your powers?" I ask quietly, "If you don't mind my asking." It is most definitely a personal subject, asking another Parahuman to reveal their abilities, but as I've already related the bare bones of what my powers are capable of, I'm hoping dear Amy will reciprocate.
Mayhap I'll get a better idea of how truly versatile superpowers can be, extrapolate the information and apply it my own powers.
Amy freezes, looking like a deer in the headlights for a moment, then lets out the biggest sigh I've ever seen from the girl, "Yeah… that's fair, you've told me about your power, and damnit if it isn't scary. Things that can swallow planets?!" she looks at me with an incredulous expression, which I shrug at.
"The Universe is a vast and unforgiving place, Amy," I report easily, if somewhat uncomfortably, "It stands to reason there are creatures occupying it beyond our understanding." Well, everyone else's, anyway. I am better equipped to comprehend such things, thanks to the Crawling Chaos' interventions.
After she nods with an agreeing grimace, Amy looks down and speaks quietly, "You're not the only one who can do awful things with their power."
I stare in shock as Amy confesses to me, "My Striker power doesn't just work on people. Whenever a single bacterium touches my skin, I notice; my skin is probably the cleanest in the world, because every organism that lives there spends its time eating dust or dead skin and killing any new bacteria that lands on me… but I can turn them into plagues," she shivers, looking repulsed, "With just a single bacteria, I can create a disease that could wipe out all live on Earth, or combine multiple cells to create a zygote that'll eventually become an apex predator, deadlier than anything in the world." Eh, I'll let her be content in her delusions for the moment, "I have to hold myself back whenever I heal someone…" she looks so horrified, now; is this what I looked like, when I first confessed my full abilities to her?
Amy sniffs, and tells me why she's held her power back, "…because I can effect brains. I can change the way people behave, change their instincts, the way the connections in the brain work, to make them better at… everything, more capable of making sensible decisions, reaction times and memory retention… and that terrifies me, Taylor," there's tears in poor Amy's eyes when she looks at me, "because if I change even the slightest thing in a person's brain, they won't be the same person as before. I'd have effectively killed them, and I'm scared of doing that and-"
"But you won't, Amy," I say confidently, looking at my friend just as seriously as she looked at me.
"How do you know?!" there's some heat in her tone as she wipes away unshed tears, "What if I have to, or-" what a ridiculous, silly girl she's being. I must stop her before she spirals into depression, or worse, leaves this house in a huff.
"Firstly, you're certainly not the kind of person who would do something like that willy-nilly, Amy. I like to think I know you well enough to say I'm confident you'll hold true to your convictions," I say, like it is the most obvious thing in the world.
Perhaps I am biased, considering that I happen to be attracted to Amy, but the sentiment stands: Amelia Dallon would never have become a healer if she were a violent or uncaring person. I certainly wouldn't be pursuing a relationship of any sort with her, were that the case.
"Secondly, in the event of an actual apocalypse, or humanity dropping below five-hundred-thousand persons, we will have no choice but to discard our respective rules for the sake of our species," that is the final rule Daddy and I formulated, the 'Last Resort'.
'If all hope has faded, bring out the big guns', as Daddy's coworkers would say.
"As the apocalypse is," I glance swiftly through my curtains, looking outside at the sky and city, just to make sure, and smile in faux-relief at Amy, who chuckles wetly at my antics, "most certainly not happening, neither of us have to worry about breaking our personal rules regarding the abilities we've been saddled with."
Amy nods, looking slightly assured, but then questions hesitantly, "And… if someone forces one of us to… break those rules?"
"Well," I huff, suppressing the horror that thrills through me at the mere suggestion of such a scenario, "in my case, you won't have to worry long, because the world will end anyway; I do hope you'd either rescue or kill me before that happens, however," my smile is sad, but resigned, "I happen to like the world; though there are horrors in it, there is much beauty as well," to say nothing of the freckled young woman before me, "and I don't want it to end."
Another wary nod comes from Amy, though she's looking at me like she's never seen me before, "You'd do the same for me? Like… if Bonesaw gets her hands on me?" She shudders at the name; I cannot blame her. The thought of the youngest member of the S9 showing up on your doorstep is, to take an affectation of Dennis Carmichael's from my PE class, 'pure nightmare-fuel' for any citizen in this nation.
But how to assuage Amy's worries?
I smirk, but it is a cold thing, devoid of humor, "I'd like to see that little terror try to lay hands on you. I'd visit such a horrid and dastardly fate on her, they'd be talking about it a century from now."
I may not enjoy harming other living creatures (I stepped on an ant once, when I was five, and cried for nearly an hour), but try to hurt someone I care for, and…
Well, the Pyramid isn't the worst I can do to someone, or Leng for that matter.
I could've sent them to R'lyeh, or Carcosa, or the Black Wood.
Around a blink, Amy returns my smirk, "You're the only person I know who can use 'dastardly' in a sentence and get taken seriously… Thanks, Taylor. You're a true friend," as I laugh in sheepish embarrassment, my friend waves her hands in the air, "We're getting off track. Your powers can summon weird stuff, but I bet that's not all they can do."
Curiosity piqued, I reply, "Well… I'm sure you're correct… but how do we test this?" without destroying the house, city or surrounding lands, but that goes without saying.
"Yeah…" Amy taps her lips with a finger in thought; I notice now she's applied some light makeup, to her lips and eyelids, a revelation which sends my heart into a brief flutter, "Most of the stuff you can summon is either too dangerous, from what you've told me, or can't fit into any of the rooms here. How about… the backyard?"
She already looks like she's regretting the suggestion when I shake my head the negative, "The most docile of my summons is a Nightgaunt, and even a juvenile is around the same length as a… city bus?"
Sure, they are flexible enough to fit into small alcoves, seeing as they mainly inhabit the caves dotting the cliffs of Leng and some seaside locales around the Dreamlands, but out in the open, during the day? They will stick out like a sore thumb.
Also, I don't believe the cats of Ulthar would like being summoned. They seemed quite prideful when I spoke to them some months ago, and are more likely to do as they please rather than listen to any command I might give.
Amy grimaces, "Yeah, not what I had in mind…" we both lapse into silence for a brief moment before my friend slowly suggests, "How 'bout… trying to do something else? Not summoning something, but changing the nature of an object?" she adds when I give her a confused expression.
Which immediately changes to surprised shock! How have I not thought of this before?! The First Language can alter the nature of the world around it, in its summoning of strange and fantastic beings, or transportation of one or more persons to another locale in space; it stands to reason that, with appropriate focus and an exertion of will, I may indeed be able to change the composition of an object…
Or… oh dear…
"Taylor?" Amy asks worriedly, rising partway from her chair. Ah, my face feels cold, which means I've paled more than a bit.
In a whisper, I explain the dark revelation my mind has supplied me with, "It might not stop at objects, Amy. I might be able to mutate or harm a living being with only a word or two! Oh, why?!" I finish with a despairing cry, burying my face in my hands, "Why must I be cursed with this terrible ability?!"
"Hey, hey, hey, enough of that!" an arm encircles my shoulders, Amy's close presence calming my shaking horror to manageable levels, "You haven't even tried something like that yet, so how do you know?"
In a huff, I slap my thighs and confess, "Because, as we discussed on Wednesday, human beings are as susceptible to the subtleties of vibratory resonance as everything else in the world! Ergo, Amy," I finish pointedly to the now-shocked-looking girl, though still with despairing tears in my eyes, "my vocal ability to shatter space and time can, theoretically, effect everything!"
Her shocked expression becomes flat at the end of my sentence, "Taylor, I dunno if you've noticed, but you're literally the nicest and gentlest person in the city."
"You're just saying that," I moan, rubbing my ear with a frown.
Amy shakes her head, "Nope. Everyone I've talked to says you're the least likely person to start a fight or harm anyone; tell me, Taylor," she squeezes my arm and looks right into my eyes, "Have you ever swatted a fly or bee?"
What?! "Of… of course not!" is my affronted response, "Why would I ever harm a bee, or a fly? It's done nothing but buzz into my home by accident! A little sugar and a quick breath and it'll be outside again!" That's how I always get rid of such flying critters that wander into my home! Whyever would I swat one?
"There." She points at me with a victorious grin, "Right there. Barring those ABB guys – and I'm being honest here, they deserved that – you wouldn't hurt another living creature if you could help it; you are the gentlest person I know. You're not going to become the next Bonesaw any more than I am. You're the least likely person to become a serial killer or join a gang," and she squeezes my shoulder, gently, her next words bringing a small blush to my features, "I wouldn't be your friend if you were evil, Taylor. Believe in yourself: you might be able to summon monsters, but you're not one."
…She's right.
By Alice's ribbons, she's right!
I could've surrendered to despair and destroyed the city with a Star-Spawn in the wake of Emma's betrayal, but I didn't! I could've summoned… well, there's several hundred things I know of that could annihilate the ABB, to say nothing of Lung, in a matter of minutes, but I've summoned none of them!
Goodness, why I am getting so worked up over this?
…Ah. Hormones. Puberty. Of course my stupid biology is picking this moment to act up and make me panic. I assuredly will not miss this, once I come of age.
And is that a cramp I'm starting to feel? Oh by the stars…
"Err… Amy?"
She smiles, "Feel better?"
I nod, smiling back, though it's a little forced, "Yes. I really needed to hear that," from someone who isn't Daddy, "thank you so much. But, ah, if I could ask a small favor?"
"Sure. Anything." Her eyes are bright and eager. Oh god, I can't believe I'm about to request this…
"…I'd like to be clear-headed for trying… to change the nature of an object, but," with a grimacing grin, I glance toward my navel pointedly, "…do you, ah, think you could, um, delay something for a few days, just so I don't get distracted?"
She blinks, puts a finger on my bicep while I try not to die from sheer embarrassment, and then the freckled superheroine blushes herself, "Oh! Yeah, sure, no problem, done! Vicky asks for that sometimes, too… You, uh, need anything, for, um, testing purposes? Your power that is?"
Oh by the Ruby Slippers, just kill me now! "A cup from the kitchen, I think," now that I think about it… my embarrassment ebbing away, I add to Amy, who's already on her feet, "Oh, and some dirt from the garden outside!"
Her bright blush fades in the wake of professional interest, followed by a good question, "What're you gonna make?"
With a smile, I stand and collect a pencil stub from the cup on my desk, holding it up for emphasis and Amy's raised-eyebrow inspection, "I'm going to turn this pencil…" pause for effect, "into a flower!"
Silence briefly falls, then Amy starts clapping sarcastically.
"Wow, Taylor. Revolutionary. Genius, even. I'll alert the Nobel Prize Committee."
I huff and fold my arms indignantly, "I have to start somewhere! And it's safe!"
"It's not going to start talking or grow tentacles, is it?"
"Uh," I look between the pencil and Amy uncertainly, "I don't… believe so?"
"Good enough for me. I'll be right back."
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{/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\}
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I jam the pencil point-down into the dirt-filled plastic cup, Amy watching from the head of my bed on the other side of the room, her phone out and recording the incipient event for posterity.
She's now wearing her coat, as she's declared an interest, after hearing of my ability to 'teleport' to other worlds, in visiting my dreaming labyrinth. After hemming and hawing over the proposal, and trying not to succumb to the puppy-dog eyes of the target of my affection, I finally agreed to try.
I'm fairly certain, from what Nyarlathotep related on the Pyramid, that the name of my Labyrinth is 'Babel'. In the First Language, Ai-agl-syha'h, or Realm of the Word. Once this project is over, I shall try bringing Amy there.
After all, why should I be the only one to personally view the regal beauty of that place most fantastic?
Also, as I've never seen nor heard any other person wandering those myriad corridors, it's very unlikely either of us shall come to harm, which means I won't be breaking any of my promises to Daddy!
But, of course, there is business to attend before going sightseeing; after giving a huff of satisfaction, a thought comes to me, so I look to Amy and voice my query, "Should I remove the eraser?"
She waves off my concerns, "Your power seems pretty versatile, from what you've told me, so it shouldn't be a problem! Go for it!"
Encouraged, I pick up the cup and look upon it, focusing. Translating the First language requires a single-minded focus, so it follows that using the language for a base purpose such as this will make such focus essential, to ensure success anyway.
My only hope is that no change comes over Amy due to my actions; I should be able to reverse them, but I doubt she'll appreciate being turned into a fern or some such vegetation, temporary or no.
I discard these notions. I will not allow anything of the sort to occur. My only desire, in this moment, is for this pencil to become a flower! A beautiful flower that will dazzle and impress! Something that Amy herself will be awestruck over!
With one last deep inhalation, I speak in a steady and resonant voice, "Uln lw'shuggornah hanah'f'n gn'thor! Ai!"
Or: "Become a flower, add water, and prosper! Let it Be!"
Once more, I feel the vibration within my bones as the words leave my lips; before my eyes, the cup, soil and pencil twist and distort within a circle of light that seems both flat and a sphere, until, with an anticlimactic pop!...
I am holding a simple earthenware pot, filled with normal soil that's become thick and dark with moisture, but the small tree-like lotus blooming from the dirt is anything but ordinary.
Fractal patterns of every hue and shade dance within the petals, shifting with every motion of my excitedly shaking hands in the light filtering through the window; gently, I place the dazzling, dark-green-stemmed flower upon my desk and crouch to eye-level with a happy clap, a delighted grin splitting my face as I crow in victory, "Oh, Amy! It worked!"
A stumble and soft curse herald Amy's arrival at my side, phone held closer to capture the beauty of my first ever creation! "Holy… carp, Taylor," I look at Amy, who's grinning just as wide as I am, "That's amazing! Did you visualize it?"
I shake my head swiftly and look back at the beautiful lotus, "No! I just wanted something… beautiful," a small blush colors my cheeks, but I say it still, shyly, "Something that you'd be impressed by."
"You ham!" my friend nudges my shoulder with her own, turning her phone off in the process; then she looks at the flower and sighs, "You didn't have to do it for me… but I guess that's the kind of person you are. Thank you," and then she reaches out to touch the glimmering, jewel-like petals, her tongue sticking cutely between her lips, "Now, let's see what we've got here…"
Her finger touches a petal, my heart fit to burst with eagerness! Surely she'll be impressed!
Amy's jaw drops open and her eyes fly open in surprised shock, which slowly turns to an expression of awe; oh no, can she not comprehend it? Oh, I hope I haven't made my Amy go mad with the complexity of my creation! However will I fix –
"So beautiful," my friend breathes in near-reverence, stroking the petal her finger is resting on very gently indeed, "Wow… this is so cool…"
Mayhap… this was not the best idea; I tap Amy on the shoulder, trying to get her attention, but she swats at my arm!
"Go 'way Vicky, I'm busy," she says distractedly.
Oh! Really!
"Amy!" I snap, flicking her ear lightly; this seems to snap her out of her daze, though she glares at me briefly before recognizing her surroundings with owlishly blinking eyes; mildly humored at this reaction, I smile wryly, "Welcome back to reality, Amy Dallon. Did you have a nice journey into the depths of the pretty flower?"
"Flower…" she mumbles, still looking like she's getting her bearings. After shaking her head and looking between me and the flower, she says excitedly, "Taylor, do you have any idea what you've just done?!"
I shrug uncertainly, "I… made you a flower?" I honestly don't see what all the fuss is about; it's just a flower. Amy's looking a tad frantic, as well. Maybe some tea will help calm her down?
She looks at the small yet dazzling plant with eyes shining with excitement, gripping the edge of my desk and babbling, "This isn't a flower, Taylor, this is artwork at a genetic scale; it's like… crystal, but alive! It's so naturally durable I bet it can grow anywhere, except in a vacuum of course, but you could put one on Mt. Everest and it'd thrive! It reproduces by deploying spores, rather than seeds, so it's more like a fungal growth than a classic plant, despite appearances, and, sure, it'll only do that once every six months, but it can grow with little sunlight or even heat! Its cellular structure has redundancies, but none of them are set; I can make this little flower do damn near anything! I can give this thing emotional Shaker effects that mimic Vicky's, or even make it capable of growing a fruit that could solve world hunger! This could have a huge impact on cape therapy and agriculture! It doesn't even have a life span! I bet it could live for ten thousand years and never wilt, holy shit this is so awesome…"
As she continues to mumble excitedly, I studiously ignore her use of foul language, more from exposure to Daddy's friends than anything, manage to preen and, with a small smirk of victory, quip, "So… about that Nobel Prize?"
My dear friend barks a laugh and replies, "Okay, yeah, you've got me. This is incredible, Taylor." She turns to me and smiles, a glimmer of elation and happiness in her features, "You… made this for me?"
I nod, so enthused that I drop my diction temporarily so as to get my point across, "Mmm-hmm; I figured, seeing as you don't like breaking your own rules, you should have something to work on that helps people yet doesn't have to do with heal – eep!"
Amy hugs me so tightly I feel my ribs pop, "Thankyouthankyouthankyou, ohmygod, Taylor, you're the best!" Smiling brightly at her infectious delight, I return the hug in equal force.
And then, due to our crouched positions, I fall over, taking Amy with me.
"Eek!"
"Oof!"
…
"Um… sorry?" I can tell she's not entirely honest with that statement, said from her position of straddling my thighs.
I must closely resemble a tomato at the moment; Amelia certainly does, "It's… quite alright, Amy. Please get off me." Before my skirts start to wrinkle. Or I take advantage of this situation and try something unnecessarily forward, like pull her down and kiss – no, bad hormones! Away with you puberty, nobody asked for your presence!
A little maneuvering is required before we regain our feet and dust ourselves off; happily, this takes long enough for the both of us to temper our embarrassment and compose ourselves, upon which Amy breaks the awkward silence with a sheepish request:
"So, uh, how about that Labyrinth?"
"Hmm? Oh! Yes, of course! Let me grab my coat." And a scarf that matches my sash, in case the temperature of that place is like that of the Bay, currently.
That, and it wouldn't do for me to go gallivanting about in a miss-matched outfit! I have a reputation (of always being well-dressed) to uphold!
After a pause, I add, "And some snacks and tea." Best not go hungry or thirsty while there, and the change of scenery may do us some good.
.
{/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\}
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"Whoa…"
I nod in agreement with Amy's awed estimation, holding her soft, warm hand and gazing upon the Labyrinth with my own eyes for the very first time.
Coming here was as easy as saying the words. The intervening moment, between 'there' and 'here', was marked by the hue and shape of the world running like an abstract watercolor, before reality snapped back into place with jarring swiftness.
Now, Amy is grinning in awed wonder at the towering walls about us. We are in a stretch of corridor that has no artwork; rather, it is covered in countless Cuneiform characters, the slashes and wedges of that ancient script making for quite the impressive vista as they relate the birth, life and death of the Lawmaker, Hammurabi, in a poetic Edda.
One day, I shall have to relocate this stretch of wall and transcribe the priceless history it contains to paper. One day, that isn't one involving relaxing activities, like holding Amy's hand (my heart is soaring, oh stars!) and exploring the nicer aspects of my powers.
At one end, the path forks in two directions. On the other, there is a four-way intersection, the straight path turning right after some distance. Above us, the stars and swirling nebulae are bright and colorful as ever. A keening chime seems omnipresent about our persons, barely heard over our quiet yet excited breathing.
Amy's voice is a whisper as she gushes, "Yeah, wow. Now this, this is what I'd expect from you, Taylor. No huge horrors or weird monsters, just a huge palace dedicated to language," she grins up at me, nearly vibrating with excitement, "So, where to first?"
I shrug, admitting ruefully, "Honestly, I have no idea where in the Labyrinth we are, Amy!" as she gapes at my smiling face, I explain, "This place is incredibly expansive; I've been wandering it all my life, and I've never passed the same mural or bas-relief twice."
After she looks around in slight worry tempered with a healthy dose of awe, my friend's gaze returns to me, "So… what? We just walk until we find something interesting?"
That… could take quite a long time indeed, walking until we find something, though I don't say so aloud. At times, I could walk for an entire night of dreaming and only come across one or two stretches of wall dedicated to artwork most breathtaking.
Rather, I consider what other mode of transportation we might avail ourselves of. The paths here are quite large, and should be able to accommodate most of the creatures and beasts of burden I know the names of…
Coming to a resolution, I smile impishly at my companion, "Well, yes… unless you'd like to ride a Nightgaunt?"
This is apparently the correct thing to say, as Amy starts bouncing and grabs my arm in excitement, "Oh yeah! If it's anything like your flower, I'll be so inspired!" I'd… best nip this in the bud, before it becomes an issue.
I mean, Amy's impetuousness is all well and good, but there is a time and place for experimenting and puzzling out the biology of a creature that isn't supposed to exist in our home reality. If she was rendered speechless by a mere flower, a Nightgaunt might be a bit much for her mind to handle. Best give her a week before letting her touch one.
Oh, and when the work at Daddy's job begins, make sure she stays away from the Shoggoths. I don't think the PRT would appreciate the world's greatest healer imitating the Elder Thing's magnum opus with reckless abandon.
"Okay, but," I add the qualifier, visibly tempering my dear friend's excitement, "You have to put your gloves on; no, Amy," I continue when she opens her mouth to protest, "You became unresponsive from touching a flower. Imagine how you'll react to one of my creatures, beings that haven't evolved on our planet, let alone dimension."
Hmm. Odd that I think of them as mine, when they're technically sapient beings. Something to meditate on at a later date.
After a frown most adorable, Amy relents, though with reluctance, "Fine," she plucks a pair of nice gloves from her jacket, adding with playfulness, "But next time we get a chance like this, I'm touching one, or else."
"Or else what?" I raise my eyebrow; what could she possibly do to me…
"I'll give you 44EE-cup boobs." My gasp of horror and disgust make my friend grin all the wider, "I'm kidding, Taylor! Haha, your face! Like your frame can handle that much mass! Ha!"
I sniff and reply faux-waspishly, "Should you ever do such a thing, I'll turn your sister into a Shantak."
"What's that?" she asks in mild interest, taking my hand again with a smile, shifting her grip so the skin of our wrists touch.
"You'll find out some other time," I say easily while forcing the butterflies in my chest to calm down, "but… very well. I think I know what someone's getting for Christmas," I finish in a singsong voice, which makes Amy squee in excitement.
Now that the girl of my affections is mollified, I return to focusing on my intention: summoning a Nightgaunt.
The process of deciphering the required words is much easier than creating a flower, I find mere seconds later, and speak with a small bit of happiness thrilling through me, because, to put my musings simplistically, Nightgaunts are so cool!
"Nog, Shaggornyth!"
A shiver and small sigh come from Amy as I complete the short incantation, the sound somewhat… duller, more muted, than the resonating rumble of my other usages of the First Language.
Given the nature and abilities of the creature, this doesn't bring cause for alarm in my mind, even as the eldritch creature makes its appearance.
In the direction of the nearby intersection, swirls of black smoke and shadow ripple into existence, seemingly from a single point, a singularity of pure darkness; the wisps quickly and silently take shape, forming a tall, skeletal humanoid with great wings that span the width of the corridor. Digits ending in great claws as long as my forearms, a faceless head crowned with a pair of thick, curved horns, and a long prehensile tail that ends in a wicked barb, the Nightgaunt shakes itself like a dog and folds its leathery spans, using their elbows to rest itself before us, lifting its legs up into its body and… waves a long-fingered hand in greeting. How nice!
The great creature is quite large indeed; the body alone, from the soles of its feet to the crown of the head, must be more than twelve feet… I suppose! It is certainly more than twice the height of Daddy, and he is one of the tallest people I can easily remember.
Blacker than midnight, the Nightgaunt seems a featureless shadow cut into the fabric of reality; their leathery, oily hide only reflects starlight, which is the only reason I can make out any features at all.
Visual inspection of our steed for this afternoon completed, I return the wave with my free hand and look down at Amy… who has her eyes closed, a contented look upon her face? "Amy? Are you quite alright?"
She nearly purrs before looking up at me with a smile, "I like the way your power works. It's like… a pipe organ made of crystals, played by Beethoven… holy crap, is that it?!" She finally realizes the presence of the Servitor of Odens, pointing at the Nightgaunt with wide eyes and open mouth.
A satisfactory reaction. That will teach her not to call me a nun.
"Yes, Amy." A tug on her hand has us striding toward the midnight flyer, who is now looking about with casual interest; Amy is slightly hesitant, gripping my arm and giving the creature before us a distrustful frown, to which I chuckle and try to assuage, "Never fear, Amy: Nightgaunts are quite docile and understanding beings. Aren't you, big guy?" I finish, looking into the featureless plain of the summon's face with a winning smile.
It nods, then makes some gestures and movements, all in silence.
Body language… hmm…
"Did… he… just try some kind of sign language? And why can't I really see it?!" are Amy's mildly distressed queries as we come within touching distance, tilting her head this way and that, trying in vain to locate a better vantage by which to view our steed.
"In reverse order: the skin of a Nightgaunt absorbs most visible light. The only reason we can make out any features is due to the low light pollution here allowing the stars to illuminate our surroundings. And… yes. I think it said…" I look at the rather large summon questioningly; it repeats the gestures, "Ah. It is saying, near as I can deduce, 'You needn't worry. I will harm neither of you.'"
Amy gives me a sharp look in reply, "Near as you can deduce?"
I return Amy's look with a bland one of my own, "I am a cunning linguist, Amy, and he's a being that disrupts sound and light wherever he goes, to the point where even his actions are muted," a shrug, "So, yes, I'm fairly certain that's what he's saying."
"Fair enough," she bites her lip and looks up at the Nightgaunt, who, apparently reading our desire to move about easily, lowers a large hand like a platform; Amy looks at it distrustfully, until I give her a light push and encouraging nod, joining her on the impromptu elevator.
"Huh. I can't really get an idea of how he's put together, but the skin feels kinda soft," Amy remarks, brushing her gloved fingers over the dark being's wrist as we ascend.
As we position ourselves upon the Nightgaunt's back, me in front, Amy hugging my waist, I explain that this is the reason behind both Nightgaunts being rather fast indeed, as well as why they're so quiet: the softness of their hide causes the aural and lumen oddities that give Nightgaunts their color, a dark so absolute that, in sunlight, they appear flat as construction paper.
To this, Amy declares, "As soon as I figure out where to grow a bed of those flowers – and we really need to pick a name for them – I want to study one of these Nightgaunts. An ability like that could have a lot of applications, from music to military."
"Certainly something to think of," I reply agreeably and brightly, our steed turning his horned head like an owl to nod quickly in agreement, making us both break down in brief giggles.
Sobering after a few seconds of humor, I look about for a mural or relief for us to browse; seeing none in sight, I look over my shoulder, adjusting my scarf to cover my mouth partially (I don't know if a Nightgaunt is effected by wind resistance, so it's best to not take chances).
"This is your tour, Amy dear," the soft blush she's sporting intensifies, making her freckles stand out in stark relief, "So, go ahead! Pick a direction and we'll –"
"Mimi!"
Both our heads (and the Nightgaunt's, though neither of us notice in our shock) whip to face left, the source of a distant but clear cry of desperation and frightful worry.
Hesitantly, Amy asks, "Uh, didn't you say…?"
I finish the statement in a hard, suspicious tone, "Yes, Amy, I've met no one else in my travels here."
"Mimi! Mimi!" the poor voice, sounding like a girl of our own age, seems to be on the verge of tears! Also in pain. Oh goodness, this can't be good!
We surely must investigate; after all, Amy is a heroine, and I have aspirations to become the same! A quick glance and pointed nod at my friend has her nodding seriously and gripping my waistline tighter.
Placing a hand on the Nightgaunt's shoulder-blades, I point in the direction we heard the cry and say earnestly, "Take us to them, now!"