Cinnabon the Flareon is having absolutely none of this nonsense.
They were teetering on a thin shell of solidity beyond which – above, below, and straight out – yawned emptiness. Nothing. Yet indefinably something – colourless, neither light nor dark, pearlescent and nearly opaque, obscurely moving, shifting, curling; indefinably merging, recreating, fading into unimaginable depths like galactic space. Chapter illustration for chapter 14b of Rayfan’s story Piranha. I […]