Sentinel Green 1.2

Begonia 1.2

What the hell just happened to me!?

I gasp and try to stand up, then stagger. My palms hit the pavement and that’s when I see them.

Plants. Little sprouts of grass and bright weed flowers poking up through the cracks in the road. It was the tingling, brushing sensation I’d felt when I landed on the ground. The plants have grown all around me--only around me--but I brush that thought aside for now, and focus instead on gaining my feet.

It’s like I’m on stilts, though I’ve never been on stilts before in my life. Everything is off--everything. Even my glasses have melted out of existence, though I can see fine. The only thing that feels even remotely familiar is the cracking jungle beat of sheer anxiety wreaking havoc on me. “The fuck did you do?!” I demand of the creature, my voice definitely not my own. It’s lower, rougher, and what I utter at the creature is probably best described as a snarl or a growl than anything else.

“Puchuu,” it chimes again, and that’s what I decide to call this devil-beast in my head. “That’s new. Not many wind up that way.” The comment is delivered in an offhand way. “Looks like you already used one of your coins, too!”

“You--used--you haven’t fucking explained anything,” I roar again, still not used to my voice. I clench my larger hands into fists, squaring off my stance and getting ready to charge if I have to. “Turn me back,” I demand through my teeth. Anger is my go-to reaction when fear has run its course, and something about being bigger and likely faster than my usual self just makes it worse--I feel like I can back up these threats so much more. I suck in a breath through my nose and try to keep it together.

“No can do,” the damnable thing quips. “A life for a life. You take her place--you do her job!”

“What job?” The whole calm-down thing is going swimmingly.

“So glad you asked. You are a defender of your world and mine, now--a protector of the people. You’ll fight the monstrous and evil creatures of our worlds, take assignments from me, you’ll--”

Rage boils inside me. My gold coin flickers and I spit out, “No. Fuck that--fuck you! You did this to me--you think, you really think I’m gonna do what you say!?” I sort of gloss over the rest of it--protector, something about evil--all I really know is that an enormous surge of “nope” coursed through me at the idea of taking orders from Puchuu.

Puchuu’s face is fairly simple in its construction, but I can tell that it’s startled--and offended. Good. If it won’t turn me back, that means I’ve lost everything about my life that provided it any manner of stability, and the last thing in the world I’m going to do is cooperate.

The gold coin flickers and vanishes, and I’m rewarded with the sight of Puchuu performing a perfect jaw-drop. A moment later the world around me seems to buckle and sigh, and… something… profound shifts inside me.

My body is alive. It’s bursting with thrumming energy, and--there’s something like laughter in my ears, ringing in my head--it’s childlike and pure, not derisive at all, and suddenly I’m speaking again. This time, though, it’s nothing like the harsh, grating tone I’d used with Puchuu--my voice echoes and reverberates with a power beyond it, and it takes me a second to understand the words I’m speaking not of my own accord.

“Spirits of old, keepers of the glen and glade, I call on thee!”

The clothing that had so graciously accommodated my growing form ripples across me again, layering upon itself with so many complex pieces it almost tickles. While this is happening my remaining silver coin and three bronze coins wink out, leaving me with one bronze left. I can feel a surge of strength rumble through my bones, steadying me, weaving throughout my flesh and blood.

Beyond that--there’s a calling, something that feels like a thread through my very heart, and the direction it pulls me in is… unknown, familiar and new at the same time. It takes me a second to realize it’s two directions, two separate threads--but before I can analyze them and try to make heads or tails of this situation, the transformation is complete and I stagger as the surge of energy in my core dies down.

I half expect to have changed again, dropping this new male body for a third form, but I seem to be unchanged physically, save for feeling generally better and stronger. My outfit is what’s really different.

I’d barely paid attention to what my tank top and jeans had turned into, and now that they’re gone I can’t remember what that first new outfit had looked like. I look down at my lithe, fit body which is now adorned in what can only be described as buckle and strap vomit. I’m in green and earth tones--that much I can make sense of… but the rest of it is a complex winding and criss-crossing of holsters and compartments across thin belts that zigzag across my torso, hips and legs. Instead of ammo or utility belt items, though, my straps hold… bottles, pouches, and lots of forest debris. That’s what it looks like, anyway. I’m outfitted with sticks, leaves, sharp-edged plants, flower buds, glass tubes full of… seeds?

“Very nice,” something says, and it has a lower, more melodic voice than Puchuu does.

I spin around, trying to locate the source of the new voice, and it isn’t hard. There’s a new creature on the freeway with us, and as it flutters in a falling-floating dance I identify it immediately. It’s a huge brown moth, each wing easily larger than my hands. And… apparently it can also speak.

I officially give up trying to understand what’s happening here.

“Puchuu~!” Puchuu exclaims, its tone indignant and furious. “You can’t do this--she killed one of mine, so she has to take her place!” Puchuu is still using a female pronoun with me, which seems a little inappropriate given my new anatomy, but that’s the least of my concerns.

The moth flutters about and responds in a much calmer, more level tone. “Not my concern. Her triggered power falls under my jurisdiction. You’ll just have to find some other poor soul to poach.”

“To poach!? That’s rich, coming from you! Not all the girls who speak to the woods belong to you! Why this one?”

“It’s male,” the moth says, simply. “I don’t have one of those yet.” Suddenly I feel like I’m being auctioned off as the missing piece of part of a set.

“Hold up,” I demand, shifting to face Puchuu and the moth better. Something on my back shifts too and I glance over my shoulder to see I have an enormous, crudely hewn wooden hammer strapped to my back. Of course. I disregard it for now and face forward again. “I don’t belong to anyone. What the fuck is going on?”

“I’m sorry, that was a poor choice of words,” the moth says, sincerely, as Puchuu makes a sound of pure frustration.

“It’s already done, isn’t it? That was the extra energy during her transformation--you’ve claimed this one?”

“It’s done,” the moth says, and Puchuu fumes.

“This isn’t over,” it snaps, narrowing its beady eyes at what is apparently my new supernatural benefactor. Then Puchuu flips backwards and vanishes with a small pop.