Unusual Meeting To The Sun

EL RITCH

'So, what can you do exactly?'

El Ritch thought the words, directing them to the non-existent fox curled up in his lap. She lounged there, draped across his thoughts like a lazy shadow.

"I can sleep and make you painfully self-aware of your victim complex, if you want me to~" she hummed.

El Ritch groaned internally. He couldn't make a sound. His body—if it could even be called that anymore—sat motionless on the edge of the witch's worktable, waiting. The witch, hunched over her crafting tools, muttered soundlessly under her breath as she adjusted the runes carved into the wooden legs she was making for him. Frustration clung to her like a second skin. El Ritch didn't dare disturb her.

'Not that I even could.'

'I think... if I go too long like this, I'll forget the taste of food.'