[color=#2E2C2C][i]Hi, welcome to S̵͠Ķ͞R̴̴A̕GH̶̡̡NÀP̨͟H͡͝G̨͞H̛'s Sleeping God Emporium, we make 'em, you wake 'em. How can I help you?

Oh, you're on a budget today? Anything particular on your mind?

Well, maybe I can interest you in some thunder slingers? Or this new solar disc we've acquired, very fine...

Alright, we'll keep looking. I'm sure we'll find something to match your taste and budget.

The forest walker? She's... No, alright. How about-

Oh, [/i]that[i] old thing?

Yeah. Pretty beaten up, if I'm honest with ya.

No, not sure, really. Custom model, never been claimed.

She's been in the shop forever. I was starting to think we'd have to... y'know.[/i][/color]

[i][color=#424141]Tell you what, I'll give you a discount for her.[/color] [color=#2e2c2c]Eighty gottsmarks and she's yours.[/color]

[color=#424141]Pleasure doin' business with ya...[/color][/i]

[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/adb01259-53a5-4c37-8dd0-07d9259d9823.png[/img][/center]

A shapeless thing was launched into the world on a wind.

With bones made of putty, the deity splattered on the wall of the Architect's manor and dripped, like jelly, into a puddle on the floor. There she lay, under a sheet of clean-flowing water, slowly resolving herself one gangly joint at a time, one jutting elbow, knee or knuckle, one saggy melted fold of skin, into a figure.

She sat up, skinny as a reed. Her black hair writhed like thick rubbery strands of kelp, shedding sheets of pure water over her naked frame. Her mouth hung open. She blinked. Her eyelids flapped over yawning sockets, pink, raw, and dripping with interstitial fluids.

Slowly slowly, with the grind of a thousand little splinters snapping past each other, a dense packing of wooden skewers emerged from her sockets, dripping, bloody wet and fresh.

She clutched herself with mismatched hands- eight fingers on the left, seven on the right, and no consensus number of knuckles, each finger perching tense and rigid on her skin like a spider's leg. She felt herself, and found cold- the coldness of the water that lay upon her, but also the firmness beneath, the maze-like bone, the stretch of skin, the squelch of a heartbeat, the warmth. She began to cough. She coughed from deep in her belly, her body heaving from its single cavity, and, eventually, retched up a sheet of silk.

Grabbing the dress and clutching it in both hands like an animal that knew not what to do with its prey, the creature stood up on shaking legs, and looked with blinded eyes. It saw the arch of the vast ceiling, the stone of the columns and walls. It saw the water still raging around its shins. Its mouth tried to form a word with its outsized tongue.

[colour=wheat]"W... w..."[/colour]

It saw the dais that lay before it, and the back of the Architect, watching her with a turned-away face, and grew still. What was left of a word fell from its mouth like a teetering droplet lost by accident from a glass.

[colour=wheat]"...wuh."[/colour]

There it stood, a being of little glory, but a being nonetheless. It stood there, and waited.