What...?

[Corporal Light]

The first thing that came to mind was that the air smelled sweet. It was a familiar aroma; they were the Blood Ice Berries. Red crystals of fruit attached to succulent, brown leaves that stuck out in the desert of snow. They were the only plants he knew that could survive the sub-zero temperatures of his home, and he could always tell he had found one by the enticing, belly-warming smell they gave off. They grew by the thousands back at home. He wanted to grab the closest one and pop one in his mouth just to taste the plant again. Yet, for a long time, he was paralyzed to his spot.

Suddenly, a voice, one that sounded like his own, spoke in his mind.

Open your eyes...

He did so after a moment's contemplation. He was met with a blinding light that was soon replaced by a world of white. At first, he thought he had awakened in the middle of a snow storm, and his heart began to race. At any point, he would see the Church. As he lifted his head up, however, he could not find any such building anywhere. He was not dreaming, which calmed his quickening heartbeat, but left him with another question.

Where was he?

You are in the Nexus.

That voice... he thought to himself. Who was it? He had not uttered a single syllable since he woke up, and there was no one around that he could see that could have spoken. The aroma of Blood Ice Berries encroached upon his nose, slicing through his red scarf and invading his nostrils. It made his mouth water.

The Obara-Isotz Berri you are smelling is not of a physical plane. Your mind is conjuring up familiar images and memories without meaning or context. Try to keep your temper within the realms of tranquility.

He brought a gloved hand up to his face. He closed his eyes, eyebrows creased and teeth grit as the smell grew stronger. Who was speaking to him? It could only be himself, as no one else sounded like him. But his lips were not moving. Who was doing this?

His head ached as he tried to pull every memory he could out of his mind to solve this. He groaned in pain, his head feeling like someone had taken a hammer and pulverized his skull with it. There was an unusual pressure around his chest as well that only increased when he tried to breathe. Not even coughing could rid himself of it.

What is going on? he pondered, why is nothing familiar? What is going on?

Do not worry yourself. This process is normal. For now, you must remain tranquil.

He resisted the urge to dart his head behind him, as doing so would have caused him to careen his face into the nearby fountain. W-Who? Who are you?

My identity is SPB, a logic spirit. It has been a long calendar time since we have been able to converse, gunsmith.

Converse? SPB? Logic Spirit? Gunsmith?! It didn't make any sense. How did it know who he was?

My incorporeal nature has given me minor possession of your physical and, more notably, mental form, including knowledge of all of your memories and the ability to mimic you in both a bodily and mind fashion.

His hands quickly flew back onto his head and covered his ears. The voice that was his own but yet somehow wasn't quieted down, giving his mind room to think. Slowly, he reopened his eyes.

He was sitting down on an altar of some kind that was positioned right next to some kind of grey-stoned, withered fountain. The altar, gold in color, held a basin on one end full of a clear liquid, and on the other end, a basket full of red berries with a small, crimson flame underneath it that licked the bottoms of the fruits. He could hear the trickling of water coming from the fountain, which only reminded him how parched his throat and tongue was. He slid off of the altar and stepped towards the fountain, hands cupped to drink.

His gloved hands passed right through the water, leaving no ripples or any signs that he had touched it. He almost hopped back so far he could have landed on the altar if he had actually jumped.

You cannot interact with anything as of right now. You will have to wait, or, if you really do wish to, try again.

How did this.... SPB(?) know that?! Could he even be certain he was telling the truth?

I have told no lies to y-

Holy crap, STOP.

Apologies.

He took a deep breath, fingers pinching the brim of his nose. His throat was burning, begging for relief, and his mouth felt like it was on fire. On top of it all, his body felt numb, cold, and rigid. He needed a drink or SOMETHING to take his mind off of the current state of his form. He gnashed his teeth, cutting into his lips. He could taste blood on his tongue. His arms flexed and wobbled in place. His nostrils flared; he could feel his blood pump through his veins. He tipped his hands forward.

Still nothing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would NOT be denied a drink. If there was anything life could give him after so many years of pain, misery, and suffering from so many things he could have stopped, AT THE VERY LEAST life could give him this. It could gift him just one sip of water to mend the bitter, frosty coldness plaguing every part of his body.

With that, he dipped his hands again.

His fingers felt wetness underneath the leather of his gloves. With a smile, he removed his scarf and took a drink. And another. And another. Soon, he was slurping directly from the fountain itself, mouth submerged in the water.

You do realize you look absolutely ridiculous, don't you?

THIS WATER TASTES REALLY GOOD OH MY GOODNESS IT'S JUST LIKE THE BLOOD ICE BERRIES I LOVE THAT STUFF GIMME GIMME GIMME GIMME!