You were going to propose to the Lady Guuji, through the screen, even though she was fictional. Speaking of which, you had other ideas than doing commissions and completing expeditions, no. That information isn't relative to the writing, but to give you and idea. This all happens in first person, unless you need to actually use the characters. You only deployed parties when it came to fighting- but most of the time it was you, your beloved travellers and Paimon and your party. Ever since you found out that the characters you knew and loved became self-aware, which was probably a glitch but whatever, there were no characters for you to control only for you to chat to and walk alongside. She smiled and looked directly into your camera, you had spawned here for a reason. Wise, in a fight.Yae Miko was just chilling at the Grand Narukami Shrine when she heard the familiar sound of a certain genshin player logging in. Braids of the rest of the hair, nothing to grip. Claws though, those Atlas concerned herself with, bright and razor sharp in the unyielding light, claws like the raptor her hair feathers bespoke. What did it matter the dance of fluttering veils that curled and twisted around the figure before her, a siren’s body out of a sailor’s dream? An impossible shawl that twisted in a wind Atlas could not feel, teasing with glimpses of flesh, of filigree that circled and danced and was almost more immodest than sheer nudity might have been. Hair made half of feathers, held back by a tiara, clawed back by the same cold, gripping gold that cups the body. What did she care that the creature wore a headdress of feathers from some white bird that needed flight feathers longer than her arm? No. A grin, bloody and broken, and Atlas spat again, spittle and body fluid and rage, rolling her shoulder to loosen it and shake free her axe. Still, it was skin, covered with a fine filigree of gold that might, if one were generous, be called armor, and it was calling her out. Mother of pearl, bubble rainbow, colors without color. It was as though someone had taken the fractals that certain sea creatures made, bubbles within bubbles, figures within figures, maths so impossibly refracted that the mind began to ache to contemplate them, and etched them in the rainbow white of the inside of a shell. Atlas had been trying, before the creature spoke, to sort out what, exactly, it’s skin was made of, or at least, what it looked like it was made of. Atlas’ cerulean gaze, flickering along the impossibly effervescent skin, flesh made bubbles or bubbles made flesh, the reflective sheen of the inside of a soap bubble, but more than that. None of her business what she, it, they had once been, time to move her attention elsewhere. Atlas pulled her gaze away from where the filigree cupped the figure’s right arm and inward, covering her side, caressing it like a lover, leaving no room to question the original secondary characteristics of the body. It was easier to look at though, to trace the lines and whorls even as they curved with flesh, up, around, spiraling inward. Her eyes were drawn, pulled first to the engraving, etched, somehow, as though one could etch a bubble, could somehow score markings into the ephemeral and fill them with liquid metal. Perhaps it was the gold engraving circling the presence’s body, accenting it, that made her think the creature spoke in golden words. Echoing gold, like the sound of a cathedral, somehow, and somehow more than that. Her gaze swept the creature as it spoke, rather than try to sort out how something could speak in tones of gold. Some may even grow so large that they rely entirely on the discarded limbs of guardians that occasionally litter the mega streets of the guardian society for nutrition.Ītlas rubbed her temples, snorted another mouthful of grit, blood, saliva, and shouldered her ax. Indeterminate growers who have growth spurts after every meal, they never age and don’t stop growing unless killed by disease, predation or cannibalism. It will retain the waste from its digestion and barf it at attackers, and will only empty its cavity when it comes across a new food source. Its catch is sawed away from its source by toothy zooids inside its mouth/stomach that spin on cilia tracks, and once separated it closes both ends so that the rotating array of teeth can churn its quarry into an easily digestible sludge. When it finds a source of food it opens one of its ends to engulf a limb or scoop up viscera until its entire cavity is full. With no distinct front or back, it walks around on caterpillar-like pseudopods in search of a carcass. An organism meant to be a scavenger highly specialized for consuming limbs and organs.
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