Terror. A dimension mirroring the living one--but morphed to reflect the imagination of its Overseer. And the current Overseer... has refused to relinquish her power for centuries, tormenting her souls--"terrors"--into becoming... zombies.
Arielle f...
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The blob of white soon took shape, and Penelope cringed as she watched it. A masculine figure, with a defined jaw-line and large shoulders and a broad chest. He was part-see through, yet still sturdily built as he composed before her. As if one could reach through him, but he could snatch a wrist and squeeze it tight if he decided.
Long arms stretched out, lean legs expanded, and a billowy cloak lined his back, whipping in the wind his appearance had caused. A mane of silvery hair blew out behind him, and his eyes—the only non-white part of his being—widened, sharp as knives, an icy blue that prickled Penelope's skin.
How she loathed him and his glacial energy. Could he not tone it down, in respect for her realm of heat? His arrival had likely frozen the place over. Her terrors would be afraid, her zombies would freeze to death.
"How are you here?" The chills his presence sent through the air were piercing into her, draining her of her fiery core, of her rampant rage. As if he dulled her, calmed her, soothed her insides; but she didn't want him to. He wasn't reassuring and relaxing as most believed him to be. He was toxic.
"Oh, you question me, now?" His icy eyes narrowed on her, yet his face didn't twist into fury. If anything, his features were neutral; his unblemished, snow-white skin was soft, pure, untainted by wrinkles or any marks of age. Not a line warped around his thin lips, and his jaw didn't clench as he spoke to her. He remained so tranquil, his voice so serene, it irked Penelope to the core.
"I do." She set her hands on her hips, but when she realized how she shook, she stuffed them behind her back, instead. "This is my home, and you've arrived unannounced."
"Unannounced? Penelope." He quirked a brow—the Being had a way about his words that made anyone feel stupid, beneath him, bedazzled by his energy. "This was never your home. You were in the Void, destined for me, my realm. And I allowed you to linger longer, to confront your business when you were ready; but you were to ascend to the Soul Realm afterwards. Yet you defied me. You plunged past your perimeter, you messed with the natural way of things. And as per the rules of our universe, our dimensions... once you jump into Terror, you become a terror. And you knew that, hm? Unless one miraculously finds the means to crawl out—which you've now made impossible—no one leaves this place." He'd been floating, and with a sigh, he lowered his feet to the ground. "But you dare ask why I'm here and how? I know the secrets, Penelope. Better than you."
"I don't need a refresher on the rules or a reminder of my past, Being." She shuddered when uttering his nick-name; no one knew if he had a real name, and she didn't care to ask. "I perturbed your peaceful way of things and took control and refused to join your slumbering crew of recycled souls. I won't recycle; you heard me say this centuries ago, and that hasn't changed." She wanted to back away, but she was already up against the wall, with nowhere to go, nowhere to run. "W-what do you want?" She bit the insides of her cheeks, wishing she weren't shaky; he'd interpret it for fear, when in truth, it was only because her bones were chilled.
