If you meet Yog-Sothoth, you’ve gone too far on the axis of comprehension; back up slowly and call for reality assistance. – RecklessPrudence
Ow. It had happened again. OW! It wasn’t getting any better with experience.
Katie looked up from her pained huddle, halfway expecting somebody yelling at her to ‘avaunt’ and calling her names. One more time. One more time, she swore, and she would start calling herself a foul shayde from out the blackest pit.
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said the glowing entity before her. He stood like a pompous martinet, like a man who knew that there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him doing whatever he wanted to do to her. And liked it that way. “It’s not as if you’re really… yourself, any more.”
And all this time, she thought she’d never meet anyone slimier than Hackmeyer. Katie levered herself into a sitting position and failed to make the world stop spinning. “Why’re you talkin’ English?”
“What?” he scoffed, “No, 'where am I’? No 'who are you’? I’m disappointed.”
“Na, I already learned there’s nae point in askin’. The grass wasn’t real. She could feel that it wasn’t real. She could also feel its reality. Having two sets of senses at once was a real pain in the arse, sometimes.
Through the True Lights, she could see a virtual leash around her neck. The other end wrapped negligently around this too-perfect man’s wrist. The glow meant something else, too. So did the flashes and flickers of something… sinister.
Something… Lovecraftian.
The truth behind this being was horrifying. And he was strong enough to block that from her awarenesses.
"Well, go on, then,” she challenged. “Introduce yerself.” She pretended a weakness that was, in reality, fading rapidly. Let her fear show through and hid her growing fury.
“I control your fate,” he said, enjoying her cowering. “I’m the one who plucked you from the edge of death to send you on your… missions… across the multiverse. I’m the one who made you what you are.”
“We apologise for the inconvenience?” she quoted.
And eye-roll that was almost camp. “And some… other associates. Honestly, their mercy is pulling me down.” A tisk and a tut. “But enough about them. You can call me God.”
Which started a hate-hate relationship that would last ten, too-long years. “Not bluidly likely,” she growled.
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