Chosen Successor

At Sea

To say the Nightmare Realm- or dimension 0, was welcoming would be an overstatement. A mass of blue covered as far as the eye could see, with planets and meteors that were in constant movement. Since gliding through the portal, a planet had narrowly missed the two of you and you were nearly crushed by an asteroid, though Bill was able to maneuver out of the way with you in tow.

The meteors were constantly in motion, each coming from so far above that it was simply a blip in the realm- until it was hurtling towards you at alarming speeds. Besides the overall messy and frankly disturbing appearance, the noises and sounds were grating to your ears. Shrieks and cries sounded from certain planets that came towards you, and random ripping noises were constant. The loudness of it all had you begging Bill for earplugs, to which he graciously granted after a screaming head floated by.

You could see why Bill enjoyed this place. The constant noise, unpredictable nature, and the ability to have access to any spot in any universe would surely grab his attention. But seeing all of this- the absolute chaos of it all, it had you wondering what exactly his home dimension was like. A "flat world" Bill had called it, with nothing in it. Nothing at all? If you were taking his words literally, then was it truly a flat plane with nothing in sight?

You watch as Bill stops to look at an ice cream truck looking vehicle. An octopus creature pops out, presumably talking to Bill with the way its tentacles waved about.

Had his world truly been flat, you could understand the flair Bill seems to crave. The shifting of everything versus the absolute of nothing. It sounded... sad. He was a demon who definitely did not need your pity, but you can't help but feel the slightest bit of empathy at imagining Bill, stuck in a 2-D world, forced to comply and set a good example. Seeing him now, lively and leaning against the food truck's window, pointing to something inside, you can't imagine it any other way. He fit right in here, this was his home.

A tentacle hands off a horn with eyeballs stacked on it to Bill, and his eye crescents at receiving such a treat. You grimace and look away, floating with your back turned to the truck, watching the planets, comets, and stars that blow past you. It was fast paced, those who were slow would surely be taken out by an oncoming planet or some creature ready for a fresh meal.

So unlike your own world.

Those who didn't have the capabilities to guide themselves were helped; they weren't left in the dust. No planets would come crashing in on them if they can't run, no, there would be someone willing to help most of the time. His cold, harsh world was much different than your warm, simple world. The creatures he knows of, and the ones he's most accustomed to, are vastly different from yours.

Where you see an otter, he sees an ottoculus beavel. Where you see a salamander, he sees an ancient god by the name of the Axolotl. You and he couldn't be further apart. But at the same time, you can't say you regret knowing him. For how unpredictable his behavior was, how he seemed to drag along danger like it was a part of him, it lit a match in you.

Sure! Your mangled leg would disagree greatly. But you were safe, and Bill had made sure of that. No matter how much he feigned indifference, he cared. He did not have to warn you of your family before you woke up shackled to metal, he did not have to shield you from the cold, ease you down whenever you got wound up, or tell you about his life stories. And he sure as hell did not have save you from the sharp claws of the glarbnock.

But he did it anyway.

And, unfortunately, you can't see why. You haven't helped him- despite him holding your hand and dragging you along to new horizons. You've made your disappointments in him known and sometimes you think he would just up and leave you. It pulls at your heartstrings, no matter how much you would try to deny it. Bill left an impression on you. Pulled you from your dull, repetitive life, and showed you more than you had ever seen within your years of living.