Abject: Adjective: (Of something bad) Experienced or present to the maximum degree
Continuation of Ineffable, Abecedarian, and Esoteric
Upon opening my eyes, the circle of people around me begins to whisper and murmur to each other. For each man, there is a colorful woman. Green, purple, blue, and yellow shimmering women with hair the color of obsidian and glittering as if sprinkled with miniature stars. They are ethereally lovely. One of them said something about me having to adjust to my new life like they did. Do I now look as beautiful as they do?
A black semi-circle sofa surrounds Tristan and me, and seats the many people who seemingly decided to come here for my hatching. My shell lay in sparkling shards around me. It concerns me that I can think so calmly about the fact that I just hatched from an egg. How did I get in there in the first place? Oh my goodness. Did I turn into a puddle of goo, then reform the way caterpillars do in a cocoon?
The idea that I liquified at some point fills me with abject horror, causing my stomach to churn. Closing my eyes, I tuck my head into the chest of my kidnapper to bring my emotions under control. By all appearances, my life has been irreparably altered. Not only have I been transformed into some kind of rainbow girl, but I have no idea where I am. As unlikely as everything else has been up to this point, I could be in another dimension or in an alien mothership orbiting around earth. I’m not sure which would be worse.
“You said we could leave if I opened my eyes,” I whisper.
The room hushes as Tristen regains his composure and strokes my hair, cooing soothing sounds into my ear. He lifts up on his feet, not losing his balance for even a moment, then I feel him swiftly move out of the room. The conversation starts again behind us, but I still can’t make anything they’re saying out in detail. I hear something about my eyes being unusual, wondering about my element, how well Tristan did in his selection.
Whirring and mechanical shushing sounds, then we’re in complete silence. Gently, he lays me down on what I suppose must be a bed, then he covers me with a blanket so warm, it feels like it just came from the dryer. Next to me, the bed dips, and he takes one of my hands in his.
“You can open your eyes again now. It’s just us,” Tristan assures me.
He gasps when I blink my eyes open, leaning in to get a closer look. His empty hand reaches out to stroke my cheek, but I flinch away. Curling his fingers into his palm, he brings his hand back to his side and sits up straight. Deep blue eyes examine every inch of my face before he nods decidedly and hands me a mirror from a side table.
With a shaking hand, I bring the reflective glass up to see what I am now. Much like the other women, I am unrealistically gorgeous, but I also still look like me, somehow. My hair is the same color as theirs, but my skin is a shimmering shade of pink somewhere between peach and coral. Unlike the monochromatic colors of everyone else I saw, though, my eyes are every color I can imagine. This must be what threw everyone off.
Setting the mirror down, I look up at Tristan, who is a mixture of proud and apologetic in expression. Why did he bring me here? No. I don’t think I really need to ask that question. It is quite clear he means to make me his in an unknown way and this transformation was necessary for some unknown reason. He’s brought me to an unknown location and it’s unknown how long I have been here. There are too many things I don’t know.
“I think you owe me quite a few explanations,” I say to him in a cool voice.