This is Wimbly Wombly. His real name cannot be comprehended, so we nicknamed him something ridiculous. To describe him in a way you could understand would take eons. He’s a transdimensional being who is neither living nor dead, who really likes eggs and cats.
He doesn’t technically have a sex or gender, but we just refer to him with masculine pronouns. He doesn’t seem to care either way. He’s reality and fantasy; on the edge of existence and myth.
The form he takes is of a very smartly dressed (man?) wearing a one horned mask designed with etchings that seem to pulsate and wiggle with life. They’re not really etchings at all, they’re smooth and cool to the touch. His tongue-like appendage holds his one eye, which actually seems to be a different entity entirely. The mask, which you’d assume to be his face is actually the top of his head, and when pulled back shows off his gaping mouth filled with hundreds of sharp fang-like protrusions. It’s really quite frightening, but he’d never hurt you with them. They’re not for ripping flesh. He won’t tell me what they’re really for. I don’t even know what they’re made of. I don’t even know what /he’s/ made of or if it’s even real. Anyway, so that’s him. Perhaps he’ll drop in to say hello now that you know of him. Make sure to put the kettle on.
