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7/5/2025, 1:52:53 PM
>Performance enhancing substances
"Sort of." Is there any good segue here? "It was more about how I'm— I'm filing a complaint. There's a party going on in the Correspondence department, and it's loud, and they're leaving trash everywhere, and they're— they're not doing their jobs! As the Director, you need to stop it!"
"Oh. That sounds really annoying. I'm sorry. I don't think there's anything I can do, though." If the Director had a proper human face, you think he'd be frowning. He doesn't, so he isn't.
"But you have to! You— I'm the Herald, by the way. The actual Herald? You know it? So you can't just say you can't do things. Besides, I saw, in the future, that you'd—"
"You're not the Herald," says the Director. "The Herald has a long neck. You have a... well... your neck isn't Heraldlike at all."
Damnit, Richard! "Okay? So? I'm trapped in this stupid lizard body, but my True Forme has a long neck, obviously. Also, I have a tail. See?" You rotate 90 degrees. "Do normal agents have tails?"
"No, but it's not a long tail. The Herald has a long tail. It's in all the pictures. And," the Director says, with the air of finality, "the Herald definitely doesn't have spots."
"But—" You can't tell him you're not fully the Herald yet. That wouldn't accomplish anything. "Okay, fine! I'll prove it! I'll—"
You don't really exist. This body doesn't. Richard's making it up. So it's fine if you stick your fingers into your pockets— the skirt doesn't have pockets. It's fine if you stick your fingers into your pockets (there!) and retrieve a sachel of gulfweed, which will definitely have its usual effect, even though you have a lizard digestive system. (Do lizards eat?) Dodging eye contact with the Director, you stuff the gulfweed into your mouth and shred it. Eugh. How did anybody discover how it works, given how it tastes? Didn't Henry say it was mildly toxic? Your face tingles. Let's see. Herald, Herald, Herald, Herald? Hello? Please? You need another—
Ow. Your stomach pangs. It's possible that gulfweed does not agree with the lizard digestive system. But again, not a real body, so— Herald, Herald, Herald. Come on.
Ow! Ow, that's worse. You feel more nauseated than woozy. Something is coming up the back of your throat, and when you try to force it down, it comes up faster. Even with your mouth clamped shut, it oozes through your teeth: bitter black goop.
"Are you okay?" the Director, bless his heart, is saying. The answer is yes, you will be, ahem, AS SOON AS THE HERALD GETS OFF HER LAZY ASS AND HELPS YOU! PLEASE! YOU NEED HER! HERALD, ETERNAL ONE, SUNBRINGER? FAMOUS AND BELOVED HEROINE? PLEASE— YOU—
(1/4?)
"Sort of." Is there any good segue here? "It was more about how I'm— I'm filing a complaint. There's a party going on in the Correspondence department, and it's loud, and they're leaving trash everywhere, and they're— they're not doing their jobs! As the Director, you need to stop it!"
"Oh. That sounds really annoying. I'm sorry. I don't think there's anything I can do, though." If the Director had a proper human face, you think he'd be frowning. He doesn't, so he isn't.
"But you have to! You— I'm the Herald, by the way. The actual Herald? You know it? So you can't just say you can't do things. Besides, I saw, in the future, that you'd—"
"You're not the Herald," says the Director. "The Herald has a long neck. You have a... well... your neck isn't Heraldlike at all."
Damnit, Richard! "Okay? So? I'm trapped in this stupid lizard body, but my True Forme has a long neck, obviously. Also, I have a tail. See?" You rotate 90 degrees. "Do normal agents have tails?"
"No, but it's not a long tail. The Herald has a long tail. It's in all the pictures. And," the Director says, with the air of finality, "the Herald definitely doesn't have spots."
"But—" You can't tell him you're not fully the Herald yet. That wouldn't accomplish anything. "Okay, fine! I'll prove it! I'll—"
You don't really exist. This body doesn't. Richard's making it up. So it's fine if you stick your fingers into your pockets— the skirt doesn't have pockets. It's fine if you stick your fingers into your pockets (there!) and retrieve a sachel of gulfweed, which will definitely have its usual effect, even though you have a lizard digestive system. (Do lizards eat?) Dodging eye contact with the Director, you stuff the gulfweed into your mouth and shred it. Eugh. How did anybody discover how it works, given how it tastes? Didn't Henry say it was mildly toxic? Your face tingles. Let's see. Herald, Herald, Herald, Herald? Hello? Please? You need another—
Ow. Your stomach pangs. It's possible that gulfweed does not agree with the lizard digestive system. But again, not a real body, so— Herald, Herald, Herald. Come on.
Ow! Ow, that's worse. You feel more nauseated than woozy. Something is coming up the back of your throat, and when you try to force it down, it comes up faster. Even with your mouth clamped shut, it oozes through your teeth: bitter black goop.
"Are you okay?" the Director, bless his heart, is saying. The answer is yes, you will be, ahem, AS SOON AS THE HERALD GETS OFF HER LAZY ASS AND HELPS YOU! PLEASE! YOU NEED HER! HERALD, ETERNAL ONE, SUNBRINGER? FAMOUS AND BELOVED HEROINE? PLEASE— YOU—
(1/4?)
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