Meet the main character - you ✨
One day your whole world crumbles around you. Literally. The sky splits, and everyone you know turns into dust. You escape to the thousands of glowing portals to any dimension imaginable. Only you are trapped, and hun...
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Ugh. Your head hurts.
"We aren't late? Are we late? Ow!" Somebody squeaks. She has such a high-pitched voice, what a bother! "Are we, are we?"
You grimace and open your eyes. It doesn't help much, everything's blurry. The pale skies blind you after all the darkness and smoke, and you wince at the piercing pain.
"Are we?" repeats the girl.
Shut up. Please? You clench your fists, and yet feel nothing. Your numb fingers bleed. You wriggle your foot a little, then tilt your head to the side. Hard ground touches your scratched skin, and you bite back a yelp.
Lying on your back, you realise in a moment. You shut your eyes hard and then blink a few times to stay awake. Nausea hits.
"Curse," groans the girl, and for a second you think you've heard another voice. "It's already down!" she yells. "Bet Jansen had something to do with it!" A pause, and, "Of course! Who else? It's always Jansen. ... Yes, I hate him! He's annoying and pokes his nose where it doesn't belong. ... No, that's a good enough reason!"
She's talking to someone, isn't she? You groan silently and try to sit up. Pain shots through your head and down your spine.
Finally, you manage to peek to the side. Greyish-white and ground. Nothing else but for the two blurry figures and a larger black dot.
You lie low and hold your breath. Memories flood in flashes. School. The horrid noise. Ground cracking. Your teacher tore up into particles right in front of your eyes... Well, you never liked the hag... Right? You swallow the sigh and keep silent.
"And who the claws are you?!"
Fuck.
"..." You can't hear what the other says, just that her voice is gentle and soft.
"Who. Are. You," grits the girl and jabs her shoe into your side.
"Ompf!" You force your eyes open.
"Anya, you're hurting them!"
"Shut– Ugh. Argh!" The girl throws her hands up and groans.
You blink a few times before your vision finally focuses. Freckles. Ginger hair touches her shoulders. A yellow T-shirt.
"No, Moon," says the girl calmer to the other behind her. "I am not."
Dark shorts. Stupid striped socks.
"B-but–"
"No, Moon," she insists and scuffs her green sneaker against the ground. "Moon?"
"... yes, Sun," concedes the gentle voice, and the redhead turns and glares back at you. "But please don't hurt them."
That Sun girl glances over her shoulder and hmp-s. "Fine," she groans and rolls her head back. "Whatever. I don't care."
