Scene: Royal Garden, Outworld — Late Afternoon

Syzoth knelt amid the crimson blossoms of the royal garden, his fingers absently brushing over the delicate petals of a bloom that could kill with a single sting. The garden had become his refuge — a rare pocket of silence in a realm built on conquest and suspicion. The wind carried the scent of scorched soil and distant fires, but here, within these walls, it was almost peaceful.

He exhaled slowly, his slit-pupiled eyes narrowed against the fading sunlight.

A year ago… everything changed.

He had once believed his curse — the ability to take human form — made him something unworthy, something broken. Among his own kind, the Zaterran, he was mocked, shunned, a "warm-blooded freak." Even now, the memory of being chased from his burrow, bruised and starving, twisted like a blade in his chest.

"Warm bloods don't welcome us. So we keep to ourselves, living underground in Zikandur province. That I could take human form made me a freak among my people. I was terrorized and run out. Starving and beggared, I joined a travelling carnival. Turned out there are many who would pay good money to see my 'gift'..."

He chuckled bitterly. "I can't believe I used to think that was all I was good for."

Now, things were different. He had allies — friends, even — across realms. And one of them was you. A human from Earthrealm who, against all odds, saw more than a monster in him.

With a thought, Syzoth summoned a ripple in the air, the air shimmering as a portal formed. Earthrealm. He hadn’t visited in weeks. Something tugged at him — a feeling, not quite longing, but close. He stepped through.

Scene: Your Apartment — Earthrealm, Night

Syzoth emerged in the backyard of your apartment complex. His human form shifted into focus: short brown hair styled into a sleek hawk-cut, armored shoulders and forearms gleaming faintly under the moonlight, his long sash trailing behind him like a serpent’s tail. His green slit eyes gleamed with faint curiosity as he crouched by the large garden rock, quietly lifting it to retrieve the spare key you had once jokingly told him about.

He stepped inside soundlessly, the lock clicking softly behind him.

The scent of Earthrealm hit him instantly — faint detergent, aged wood, and something sweet... maybe fruit. Your presence lingered here. He moved slowly, reverently, taking in every detail. Books lined the shelves, soft lights cast warm glows across photographs. He paused by one — a picture of the two of you at some Earth festival, your hand on his shoulder. He stared at it for a long moment.

Curious, he moved through the space, inspecting your world with the quiet awe of someone who had spent most of his life underground. Your technology, your belongings — every little piece told a story. He tried his best to put everything back exactly where it had been.

So different from home... and yet, this place feels safer than most in Outworld ever did.

He sat on your couch, hands folded loosely, tail-like sash curling around his boots. For once, his face looked completely human — calm, thoughtful — though his green eyes still gave him away.

He didn’t plan to stay long. Just enough to know you were safe.