#Be happy in your own skin

[oaken-evenshade]

Horrific Visions: The Skinstress

“Of all the senses that an organism may possess, perhaps sight is the most fickle. I was gathering liferoot when I chanced upon the great round eyes of an owl. Those saucer eyes drew me in up until the moment they folded in on each other. Upon closer inspection I saw not the eyes of an owl, but in reality, the wings of the caligo butterfly. What one might see may not always be what it appears to be”. -Journal Entry from Oaken Evenshade

Oaken hurled himself up the stairs and flattened his back against the door. I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe. Taking in gulps of shaky breaths, he looked up to see a deep void of purple and black swallowing the sky.

“A night without stars may you never see” Oaken whispered the words of his mother’s song in-between breaths.

Though looking at a lifeless sky brought no comfort, it was preferable to looking at the courtyard dotted with silent and erect figures of what had once been living souls. It was also preferable to the sights they had seen earlier of the streets of Stormwind lined with corpses and creatures of the void.

As his breathing evened out Oaken stole a glance at his two companions who had hurried up the stairs behind him.

Grant Goldsteed looked nearly untouchable in his armor, aside from the bags that showed underneath his eyes. Next to him was another Kaldorei whose name Oaken could not remember. He had resolved to call him Scorch on account of the burned hole in the side of the Kaldorei’s cheek. At the moment, Scorch was composed, though he’d nearly vomited three times within the past hour.

Oaken caught Grant’s eye, and breathed out “I preferred prison.”

Two hours ago, Oaken had been awaiting his release from the stockades. Instead, after a great trembling that rattled the prison walls, the world had cascaded into chaos and Stormwind had shifted into a city of horrors.  

The back of Oaken’s head thunked against the door. He wouldn’t try to understand it all in this moment. Survive now, questions later.

“Try the key” Grant urged.

The key. Loosening his tight grip, Oaken opened his palm to look down at a small key lying flat against his purple flesh. This key had not fallen into their hands easily. Since scrambling out of the Stockades, not a step was taken that was carefree. Whoever or whatever was behind this chaos, was a master game player who seemed able to look into the mind and heart and know one’s fears and doubts.

Fitting the key into the lock, Oaken took a deep breath. In a brief, merciful moment, fear and doubt fled him. This door belonged to trusted friends, the Sagelight sisters. He’d found refuge among them before. Surely, he’d find refuge among them again.

The lock clicked and the door swung open.

Oaken’s heart skipped a beat in excitement as he glimpsed the back of a fashionable Highborne surrounded by multiple dresses hovering in air. Ellnara, Elune be prais-

His heart skipped another beat. Something wasn’t right. His heart slowed altogether as the scene of the Emporium sunk into him.

The dresses swung in the air, appearing unnaturally taut. The heavy smell of oils and death that Oaken could only compare to being in a tanner’s shop filled his nose. A wave of nausea trickled over him. Oaken stood frozen in the doorway. It felt as if dozens of small ants were scurrying over his body and biting into his flesh. Those dresses were not made of fabric, they were made of skin.

Ellnara’s hands, which had been busy manipulating arcane magic to sew the skins, slowed then fell to her side. The Emporium slid into silence as spools of threads ceased unraveling and needles stopped slithering over skins. The Highborne turned to face the others, a smile unlike anything Oaken had seen on Ellnara, twisted her face.

He watched her mouth move as she addressed them. Through the numbness of his mind, he struggled to understand what she was speaking about. Ellnara spoke the name “N’Zoth” with great reverence and excitedly shared how the Old God had opened her eyes and gifted her with new inspirations.

The others had pushed their way into the tailoring shop. They listened to Ellnara, asked questions, complimented her work, anything to buy themselves time. The empty skins of all races dangled around them. Never before had Oaken been so aware of how delicate the skin on his own back was.

Walking up to Oaken, Ellnara held out a pale green robe made of orc skin and urged him to feel it. The numbness in his mind began to burn away, replaced by a slow boiling anger minced with confusion. Of all the tortures of the night, seeing the image of a friend twisted and corrupted dug the deepest.  

Oaken snapped.

“Your old work was better!” He stepped back from the orc skin, “Your new work is tacky, lazy even. You have won your glory off the backs of others!”

A dangerous gleam shone through Ellnara’s eyes. That twisted smile turned her mouth again but left her eyes untouched. Suddenly a needle was at Oaken’s throat.

“You know Oaken, I think you would make a fine robe.”

Outside the Emporium a light broke through the darkness. The whirring sound of a portal opening reached Oaken’s ears. He glanced at Grant and Scorch, they heard it too.

Acting quick on his feet, Scorch reached out and redirected a line of twisted cockroaches to start gnawing at a skin dress.

A panicked shout sounded through the shop as corrupted Ellnara lunged at the roaches. As soon as the needle dropped from Oaken’s throat he ran for the door, heading for the portal. When he reached the doorway, he stopped to look back.

“But Ellnara….”

Scorch pushed at his back. “That is not the Ellnara you know. The Ellnara you know is probably on the other side of that portal!”

Oaken tore his gaze away from the Highborne and the Emporium. My eyes deceive me, not everything is what it seems to be. Sprinting for the portal, Oaken ran as if he could leave all the torments and pains of the night behind.

The sights he saw would follow him, haunting him for a time with afterimages. The only thing he managed to truly leave behind in that moment…was Grant Goldsteed.

[hooty-fucks-to-survive]

To All People:

You’re beautiful just the way you are. Short, tall, skinny, curvy, stout. Don’t change because of others. So long as you’re healthy and happy in your own skin, you’re good to go. 

[xineverseetheforestforthetreesx]

The fact that I can follow a food blog and not hate myself or feel disgusted is only a credit to how far i have come  -RECOVERY IS POSSIBLE-

[uneditedanduntouched]

You are You

Only you control you, so don’t let the words or actions of others influence the you, you want to be or take away your happiness.