Page 36 of Florescentia

“We’ve spoken before,” he said like a fact.

“Considering you just built your first human body in front of me, I highly doubt we have.” I tilted my head. “You’re not exactly subtle. I would have remembered.”

His body started to relax as he eased into his new skin. But it was like looking at a corpse. His chest didn’t rise and fall with each breath, he rarely blinked, his stance still as stone, not one waver.

“Your floor remembered,” he finally said.

A joke?

My arms fell from their position; I couldn’t even keep my jaw from dropping. I stood, eyes locked on the fiend. Before I knew it, I was approaching again.

“You are the reason my pets refuse to participate in the rituals.” I shot an accusatory finger his way, jabbing it into his chest again. “They’re frightened of you.”

He took the impact, and his body returned to a straightened posture.

His hand wrapped around my arm, now human, and of flesh instead of beast. Though the form behind him grew, the liquid-like shadows spilling into the room, creeping along the walls, even peeking from behind him as if to remind me that what I was looking at was simply a puppet, a mirage of his making. This was no man I was dealing with, and perhaps it would be beneficial to remember that.

“What are you?” I spat the bitter words.

His eyes shifted, glancing between my left and right brow. I caught a slight glimpse of a smirk, just a curl of the lips before it disappeared again.

There was a contemplative pause, as if the beast was deciding how to explain himself.

“I am what holds the stars at arm’s length,” he said.

I wasn’t sure what he was trying to describe, or which way he meant it.

I could only manage a head shake and a scoff. “A bit egotistical, I’d say. Do you think of yourself as a god? Is that it?”

His eyebrow twitched, then he looked down at my chest.

My cheeks and ears burned. I wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. How dare he? I could only make so many excuses for something that wasn’t human to begin with. I supposed men in any form were the same.

He pulled me by my arm upward, until I was on the tips of my toes and my shoulder was beginning to ache. He lifted his free hand toward my chest.

I brought my arm across to my shoulder.

He touched my waist, the hand firm on my side. The pads of his fingers dragged over the fabric, tracing the constellations decorating the garment. He traced over my abdomen, then to my hip.

He met my eyes, then tapped his finger where he stopped.

“This,” he said, as if it were self-explanatory.

“This?” I repeated, though unsure. Then some small relief and understanding when I saw what he was referencing. “Are you from out there?” I laughed.

He seemed confused at my remark.

“You’re pointing to stars,” I stated, looking down at the embroidery, “a map of constellations. A collection of stars locked together in gravity.”

“If that is how you understand it,” he said, letting go of me again. “I could say I’m like your companions.”

“You’re far too massive.” I took a step back. “I did not summon you.”

“Well, I’m here. Am I not?” he said. “I couldn’t pass through without your generous help.”

“Never have I summoned anything like you.”

“Is that what you think?”