The Furies are at home in the mirror

[MalfGuy2]

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"We float adrift in a tornado of jumbledness."

"The limbic system, The Narrator, has stopped responding for the moment..."

"The perfect opportunity to do a little re-organizing."

"What of our physical self? We're just a lame, sitting duck on the shore."

"In more ways than one."

"I know what'll make our great 'disco ball' come back."

"Go on, Demesne. Give them your old spot. Stay right here, with us. With the REAL kings of this world."

"Might as well see what happens. Maybe we'll jostle awake with a better idea."

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The sound of seagulls and coastal breezes permeates the surroundings. Lightly muffled.

You haphazardly raise a wing at a twenty-eight-degree angle, sand pouring off to reveal your halfway-pancaked form stuck in the shoreline.

...Wait a minute. Since when was I over here?

"Since I put you there."

But only i'm supposed to have that power.

No matter. I suppose that makes us easier to categorize.

Getting a little smarter. More efficient.

"Now, where's that next high of ours going to be..?"
"Where it always comes from."
"But now, we can kind of fly around for short distances. How convenient."
"A sub-tropic locale greets dithered eyes, and the morning coastal fog."
"Nature is neither beautiful, nor ugly..."
"It just is."
"Nature."

As much as you want to stop to take in the view, that's not why we came up here.

Our wingbeats curve us towards the southeast, spying a black-and-grey blob on the ground.

Either more apes, or more prey - It mattered little.

"Something to throw ourselves at."
"Something beautiful is going to happen."

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"Hello?"

The blob is timid. Person-shaped.

"Not obvious prey."

"We should run away and go back to looking..."

"...What even are you? One of those Magical Beast thingies?"

You try to move your mouth, but find it oddly quiet. Timid. Shy.

"We should boast of ourselves first. That might help."

"Let freedom ring."

"Are you okay? You going to attack me, or what?"

"Can we get this over with?"

It was one of the spectating apes from a while back, when we were still throwing shiny pebbles at everything.

You can tell by the timing of their gait, the way they turn to look at you.

"Attention builds."

"Merp?"

Is all you can initially manage out of your mouth.

"What is this? Some kind of..."

"The thoughts of the gulls, of the salamanders, cascading entropy;"

"Now on our tongue."

"Merp? What?"

"...Y'know, i'm supposed to fight Demons and Monsters like you, but..."

"But?"

"Will you be my Spirit Bond?"

This sounded like a personal question, but we have little context for it.

"Like the way our shadow doubles up on our spells sometimes?"

"Deputized."

"I know it sounds weird."

"But i've been meaning to have some extra firepower with all the Monsters roaming around right now."

The person-shape is requesting our help in one way or another.

Your neck reflexively coils back a solid half-meter or so.

"Yeah, baby! We'll be unstoppable together!"

"Spirit-Bond, Spirit-Bond..."

The words sound guttural & too sophisticated for full enunciation from you, but it gets the point across.

Finally, he introduces himself with an outstretched hand, met by you awkwardly putting your face near it,

"While we're walking back to my desert home,"

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"I'm Lore."

"What do you call yourself..?"

"Kynod."

"Demesne."

"Le Principiere."

"The zenith of all Monster-kind, baby!"

"The Divine Storm."

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"Kynodisme."