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ID: LfzRDkDq/qst/6244669#6245470
5/21/2025, 3:32:35 AM
>>6244842
…
You are Cara-Zi.
Or Carazzi, to Veigar, who doesn’t seem to really ‘get’ goblin names, despite kind of BEING a goblin nowadays.
Or Cara, to Marty, your ~boyfriend~, but that’s okay because of how he says it, and anyway it’s not uncommon for a goblin to pick one half or the other of their name and use it as a nickname, especially for gobs with longer names, as is common among hobgoblins or those with a non-goblin parent.
…Which, like, you sort of are, in more ways than one.
Because you’re also Irinnile.
You look at yourself in the mirror, admiring you fancy new oriental dress. It was part of your advance from Ziwei Bo, the enigmatic undead Easterling who also gave you your Brazier of Revealing Haze. It fits you perfectly, but then that’s inevitable: you bought a dress to fit the body-type you wanted, and then just sort of… Shifted into shape.
(Because of Irinnile.)
Ever since you mapped the contours of your body and soul with the shadow of the succubus who spawned you, you’ve felt… Weird. It’s like you finally understand something about yourself that you didn’t before. Maybe that’s what you bought this particular dress? With its high collar and its gold closures, its fancy poofy princess shoulders and its form-fitting silhouette around your hips, to the daring slits that conveniently afford you the room to grow or shrink just a little without bursting its seams, it’s sort of perfect…
But it’s also green.
Why is it green? And why the one with the snake scale motif?
(Snakey like that face you saw… The face of your, uh, ‘father’, whom your demon sire had been bound to, and fallen for…)
You still don’t really remember your life, as a part of Irinnile. It’s even vaguer and hazier than your scattershot recollection of your time as a hidden aspect of Zith-Zi. Somehow, though, in feeling like a part of so many different people, with such a unique hidden history, you feel more like you than ever before.
You’re not Zith-Zi.
You’re not really Irinnile, either, or Mama Zi, or your mysterious reptilian parent, either. You’re your own creature—self-possessed, self-aware, self-directed. The shirin has faded from your system, but the experience of the psychotropic spice and its attendant experience yet lingers.
When you look in the mirror, the face which looks back belongs to…
>Cara-Zi of New Goblintown
>Carazzi Van Houtzmann
>Cara Meadowgrass
>Shira Yosef
>Write-in
…
You are Cara-Zi.
Or Carazzi, to Veigar, who doesn’t seem to really ‘get’ goblin names, despite kind of BEING a goblin nowadays.
Or Cara, to Marty, your ~boyfriend~, but that’s okay because of how he says it, and anyway it’s not uncommon for a goblin to pick one half or the other of their name and use it as a nickname, especially for gobs with longer names, as is common among hobgoblins or those with a non-goblin parent.
…Which, like, you sort of are, in more ways than one.
Because you’re also Irinnile.
You look at yourself in the mirror, admiring you fancy new oriental dress. It was part of your advance from Ziwei Bo, the enigmatic undead Easterling who also gave you your Brazier of Revealing Haze. It fits you perfectly, but then that’s inevitable: you bought a dress to fit the body-type you wanted, and then just sort of… Shifted into shape.
(Because of Irinnile.)
Ever since you mapped the contours of your body and soul with the shadow of the succubus who spawned you, you’ve felt… Weird. It’s like you finally understand something about yourself that you didn’t before. Maybe that’s what you bought this particular dress? With its high collar and its gold closures, its fancy poofy princess shoulders and its form-fitting silhouette around your hips, to the daring slits that conveniently afford you the room to grow or shrink just a little without bursting its seams, it’s sort of perfect…
But it’s also green.
Why is it green? And why the one with the snake scale motif?
(Snakey like that face you saw… The face of your, uh, ‘father’, whom your demon sire had been bound to, and fallen for…)
You still don’t really remember your life, as a part of Irinnile. It’s even vaguer and hazier than your scattershot recollection of your time as a hidden aspect of Zith-Zi. Somehow, though, in feeling like a part of so many different people, with such a unique hidden history, you feel more like you than ever before.
You’re not Zith-Zi.
You’re not really Irinnile, either, or Mama Zi, or your mysterious reptilian parent, either. You’re your own creature—self-possessed, self-aware, self-directed. The shirin has faded from your system, but the experience of the psychotropic spice and its attendant experience yet lingers.
When you look in the mirror, the face which looks back belongs to…
>Cara-Zi of New Goblintown
>Carazzi Van Houtzmann
>Cara Meadowgrass
>Shira Yosef
>Write-in
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