A Green Tinted Sky

[Clownpiece]

Empty. A whole lot of nothing. Blankness as far as the eye could see. Sitting there in complete confusion, Somerled blinked rapidly, making sure that what he was seeing was actually what he was seeing. It only took a few moments to decide that yup, it’s fucking nothing. There was no seeing beyond the veil of pure blackness that covered his eyes. “Well this sucks,” he tried to say, but was unable to draw the strength to even move his jaw. As he began to grow irritated at his body’s refusal to listen to his commands, the darkness eased up on his eyes slightly, and a silhouette was revealed to him. “Who are you?” He wanted to demand, but alas, his mouth was being stubborn. Then, it spoke. In a voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once, it told the spirit of the world it was brought into. It spoke of a material, desired by all, something that, to him, felt something like magic. What he wished could become reality, with that element. Then, leaving a good most of his questions unanswered, it vanished.

Thus, the emptiness that seemed to cover even his very being began to lift, revealing a very disorienting whiteness behind. He blinked even more, eyes adjusting to the sudden change in light, and still unsure of the realness of this place. Soon, the world came into focus. Far off, on the edges of the horizon in front of him, things could be seen. What exactly these things were he couldn’t tell, but they were things, sure enough. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he skimmed the horizon around him. The massive shape of what he assumed to be a monolith of some sort was to his back. Why exactly there was such a thing in the middle of nowhere escaped him, but he wasn’t gonna question it, as that wasn’t his focus. In a ring around him, exactly what he had been paying attention to, was a few more of the things. He’d definitely have to make a sightseeing trip to see these things, he was curious, to say the least.

“Alright alright alright,” the spirit of the storm sprung to his feet, pleased now that his mouth was obeying his brain. He felt quite lively despite the recent death he had just experienced. Or had he died? He wasn’t quite sure. There weren’t any visible wounds on him, he thought. Casting his eyes down, he patted over his body, making a short checklist of injuries or lack thereof. Legs? Alive. Torso? Present. Arms? Intact. Mouth? Rebellious. Coat? Majestic as always. Judgement, he was very much not dead yet, probably. Returning his gaze to the whiteness around, he attempted to recall exactly why he was here. Despite how much he strained though, all that he remembered was a lot of screaming, some sort of emptiness, and a very angry squirrel. Squirrel? Doesn’t matter. All that mattered to him was that he was now here, wherever exactly here was, and he was going to make the most out his second chance. Third? Man, he really needed to stop throwing away his life.

“First things first...” he mumbled, using his own voice as a comfort in the whole lot of nothingness he was seeing and hearing everywhere. “Let’s see if I can acce- WHAT TH-” out of nowhere, Somerled’s voice screamed for him, and the sudden stress of saying two things tore at his throat. The monster doubled over in a fit of intense coughing, which subsided after a few seconds. He straightened back up slowly, wondering what in the everliving fuck had just happened.
“Let’s try this again. What the fuck is going on?” His mouth moved of its own accord, speaking his voice for him. This phenomena was thoroughly disturbing to him, and he instantly prepared for action. Of course, rather than doing the reasonable thing and screaming like a maniac, he dropped into a combat-ready stance.
“Get your own voice you fucking goat!” the angered spirit yelled, beginning to channel his magic. The power of weather coursed through his arm as he prepared himself to punch the absolute fuck out of whatever was gutsy enough to try and steal his voice. Within moments, a flash of light seared his peripheral vision, accompanied by a resounding crack as the lightning magic discharged unintentionally, Somerled unable to hold its charge. He responded to this as any reasonable person would do, with a startled yell and a sudden lunge away from what he assumed was danger. His feet shot out from under him and he teetered sideways, hitting the ground hard.
“Nice going,” he found himself scolded by his own sarcastic voice, peeving him off to no end..
“Shut up!” he shouted under his own volition for once, scrambling back to his feet as quickly as he could, “Why don’t you come out so I can show you exactly where your voice is made! As I punch it out the back of your spine!”
“As much as I’d like to,” this time his voice lacked sarcasm, “I can’t.”
“What d- You se-” The stress of two voices launched Somerled into another coughing fit.
“One... at a time...” Somerled spoke voluntarily, speaking between coughs. For a few seconds after that, there was total vocal silence as the coughing subsided.
“Okay. You see, my dear, sweet, precious other half,” his voice said on its own accord, absolutely dripping with sarcasm, “I don’t have a body any more.”
“Oh wait...” Somerled straightened up completely, “Sonny?”
“That name rings a bell.”
“What the fuck happened?”
“I have no idea,” Sonny answered, subdued, “I remember being shoved aside by some angry men with giant weapons, the damned god of squirrels popped past, you got your shit kicked in. Next thing I know is the feeling of literally being ripped out of my body, which, might I say, fucking hurts, and then suddenly here I am, seeing through your eyes, hearing through your hear, er, ears. What the hell is with all this white?”
“I’m as confused as you are,” Somerled said, “Can you manifest? I kinda want you to kindly get the fuck out of my mouth.”
“It doesn’t seem like you have enough magic, where’d it all go?”
“Doesn’t matter, just quit using my voice,” the storm spirit remained stubborn in that goal. "Let’s start with spring...”

The monster closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, channeling his personal reserves of magic. The air around him grew heavier as he tried to create anything with it. Wind, rain, hail, it didn’t really matter, all he just needed to prove that he still had his power. A light breeze ruffled his hair slightly, but didn’t do much else. Disappointed at the lack of awe-inspiring storms appearing, and the amount of magic he had to expend to not make them appear, he shifted to trying melee magic. Like with what he had done earlier, he focused the magic through his arm, and launched a quick right-handed jab. With the characteristic crack of a lightning strike, his hand shot forward, lightning tracing an arc through the air where his fist traveled. Way more pleased with himself than he had any right to be, Somerled gave a wide, if far too devious smile.

Next up on his list... He gave summer and fall a miss and went straight to winter. For a brief moment, he debated attempting hypothermia induction. This was instantly dismissed as a fucking stupid idea on the grounds that who in their right mind tries to freeze themselves to death. Frostbite was similarly right out. He didn’t need to go and freeze his fingers off of his body. Summoning a blizzard was out of the question. If he could barely manage to eke out a breeze that couldn’t even be considered “majestic” then how was he supposed to create an amazing maelstrom of wind, snow, and death? Settling for snow blindness, he channeled with magic through him again. After a second of charging, a chilling wind blew out from his body, releasing his ability.
“There’s the limits!” Somerled said, much more excited than he should have been for bad news. “Now, what about this... thing that being spoke about? Whatever I desire, huh?” As he spoke, his gaze turned towards the horizons. “I guess I’ll see about getting to one of those quickly.” The storm spirit dropped to a sitting position, and began his concentration.