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“Ugh,” I groaned, rolling onto my side and curling in on myself like a pillbug. “Uuuugh.”
The clothes I was wearing felt strange, definitely not the jeans and sweatshirt combo I had pulled on this morning, but my whole body ached too much for me to care. It was worse than my period cramps had ever been, so I was surprised I was even conscious. Still, curling up around my stomach did seem to help; the ringing in my ears had even begun to drop away. There wasn’t going to be any passing out for me today.
A low noise rumbled through the space around me, making me tense up like I’d just stuck a fork in a socket. I try to clap a hand over my mouth so that I don’t start hyperventilating, but then I actually catch sight of my hand and freeze.
It’s big and skeletal, like someone cut off my actual hand and stuck a giant spider to the stump of my wrist.
“What the fu-”
Ooooh shit, why does my voice sound weird. Why does my face feel different? I try to pinch myself, but then I remember that I was in a lot of pain earlier. I’ve only ever felt something resembling pain in my recurring nightmares where my teeth fall out, so I run my tongue over them. They seem fine, no cracking or wiggling or squishing.
Fuck, I hate those nightmares. Hopefully my teeth all stay in my skull.
Unfortunately, my hands still look like giant spiders when I look at them again, so it looks like it’s going to be another one of those half lucid dreams.
The ground rumbles under me again, dragging me out of my contemplations and making me pay attention to my surroundings for the first time.
It’s a giant fucking dragon.
One that I vaguely recognize, too. So it’s a Dragon Age dream then?
Damn it, no it’s not. Lying to myself is a bad idea. This is a dream in the same way the Death Star was a moon.
A wave of foreign concern washes over me, and I see the dragon tilt its head to the side like a confused dog. An ugly dog without the sense of a brain dead lemming and as friendly as it was ugly.
“Oh no,” I said, as if I had been struck. “Oh no, how are you cute?”
The dragon perked up, and I had the feeling that if it hadn’t been diligently watching me thrash on the ground like a fish out of water it would have been wagging its tail. How did this giant murder lizard give off so much puppy energy?
I’m gonna pet it.
I get up, intending to do just that, when my awful new foot hits something that skitters across the stone floor until it rests up against the dragon. That Fekkin’ Orb. The Herald or the Inquisitor or whatever they are calling the main character has obviously already gotten their hands on it, which means the plot has started.
“Well,” I said, feeling very done with this whole situation. “How do you feel about flying off to some remote corner of the world and never speaking to another person again, avoiding the entire story?”
The ugly puppy dragon croons again, because of course it does.
“Fabulous.”
Hasta la vista, storyline.