I manage to stay silent for a few hours before the isolation becomes maddening. I’m still as immobile. Still as terrified. I have no eyelids with which to blink, but no eyeballs to keep from drying up. No muscles with which to move, but no ache from holding the sitting position I am in, my arms opened like I’m inviting someone for a hug.
...I could really use a hug right now, in fact.
I wish I could just turn around and look at myself in the mirror.
I hesitate for a moment to call the warlock again. I’m so scared. His threat is still heavy on my mind. I can hear his footsteps in the room just above me as he seems to be walking sporadically, doing who knows what.
The thread of magic coming out of my mouth is still apparently connected to him. I mentally try to tug on it, and in fact actually see it react and tense, but it refuses to budge. It’s as if it’s stuck.
...The footsteps stop.
Did he feel that?
I hear him move towards the staircase. No no no no no I’m so scared. He’s going to tear me apart. He’s going to pull my limbs until they rip.
The expression he wears when I see him walk down the stairs is, mercifully, only one of confusion. He eyes me cautiously as he approaches. “Did you… do something?”
I throw myself into a barrage of excuses. “I-I didn’t mean to! I swear I was only trying to remove it! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
He frowns. “I knew it, dirty liar. You can remove it. Well then, you would better do so immediately.”
I try again, tugging on it with all the force of my mind. The blue magic thread resists at first, before seemingly seeping out of him… along with a dark red thing it seems embedded into. The warlock shouts in pain and I suddenly let go, the magic settling back into him.
He clutches at his abdomen, where the thread pulled, breathing heavily. “What…” he mutters. “What. By the higher beings… How dare you?”
“What did I do!?” I ask in a panic.
“You have tangled your magic in my lifestream, you absolute dolt!” He stomps over to me, snatching me off the table. “Cretin!! Buffoon!!!” he screams, throwing spittle in my face.
I’m so terrified, I start crying again.
He grits his teeth and lifts me up above his head, reeling his arm to throw me on the ground.
Survival instincts take over. “NOOO!” I scream as he swings his arm down. I see the magic thread turn from blue to pink, I do not know why… But the moment his hand comes down, he stops abruptly, not actually letting go of me. My metaphorical heart beats out of my chest.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, standing back straight again, sweat trickling on his forehead. The magic turns back to blue.
“...What kind of monster are you?” he asks in between huffs.
I’m scared again.
“How did you do that?” he continues, lifting me up to about his shoulder level, looking down on me with a concerned expression.
“What did I do? I’m sorry! If I’ve done anything, I didn’t mean to!” I tell him with a panicky tone.
He drops me back down on the table a bit too recklessly. I get turned around and fall on my side, and he swiftly walks out of the room.
I’m still just as confused. I don’t know what I did.
But I let the feelings recede for now. Because in this position, I am directly facing the mirror.
As I saw before, my hair is still there in the form of felt, cutely framing my changed face. My eyes have become two black beads embedded into my fabric, and my nose is a small, pink triangle, underneath which black thread is stitched in the shape of a feline’s mouth. Two circular white ears are topping my head.
My whole body is white with black stripes. At the bottom of my stumpy limbs, small paw pads appear to be sewn on.
Weirdly enough, the scrappy red armor I’d been wearing is still on me, only refitted as fabric and to my proportions. No sign of my helmet, but the chestpiece is there, complete with its shoulder pads.
...So this is me? The current me. Until I can find a way to turn back, if there is even one.
This will take some getting used to.