For all of its rot and sickness, for all the bubbling waters glistening with the oily coatings of brine and death: there was comfort in the reaches of this world- familiarity in the bizarre shapes and contrasts: the smoothness and sharpness all the same. She appreciates it, enjoys and minds the way the rocks bend and weather: how they form into impossible creations, painted with drying and dead reef. Vents of gas pour hot air into the whole of Pangea from undersea well and volcanic fissures; but most alarming of all are the bioluminescent plants that glimmer and shine in the pitch of night. Her tentacles are wet and grotesque, quick to curl around whatever is nearest and she drags herself through crevice and cave.
Closer and closer she walks, curling the mass of tentacles behind herself forward and brushing away dirt and leaf from the porous and wet flesh: from the cold skin and all the spatters of color. “Coming to visit,” she pauses, watery breathing and sickened lungs heavy. “Or were you called by a greater purpose and reason my darling?” polite but informal, a creature of the oceans slithers forward. Step and step, the tendrils writhing and her maw parted to expose the chitinous and blackened beak. “Fear not, I am Yee-tho-rah (Yidhra), the Archon of this place… and friend to those seeking shelter and truth of the world around them.” hers is an ugly thing, impossibly shaped and ill-begotten, the twisted form of a Kraken and yet, a horse.
Brushing a paddle-tipped tentacles against her chimerical face she flits an ear and brushes away a tentacle that writhed across her barbell shaped irises and inherently strange eyes.
Yidhra
@[Dynast] my whole brain died it will be better