[ A portal opened before you. Some sort of green field is there, on the other side. Blue skies, no clouds — no sun, either, despite how bright it is. Sheep, hundreds of them, litter the green hills. ]
— @xanthovinophobia
*`HE KINDA. JUST STARES AT THAT. CONCERNED. VERY CONCERNED.*
*`He. Takes his phone and. Goes in. Which is probably a really bad idea! But. It'll be fine i think*
[ There was a figure, clad in yellow, in the distance. Surrounded by a herd of sheep, yet he did not seem to be caring for them. ]
*`He ponders for a moment of whether or not this was a good idea, and decides to just keep his distance and observe from afar. Hmmmm. You know what this kind of reminds him of! The king in yellow! Haha! Wow was that a king in yellow refr*
[ He moved away from the sheep, yet they followed anyway. He huffed, walking off and heading suspiscious;y close to where they wwere. Hmmhmmm ]
*`Oh. Oh the mysterious yellow figure is approaching. Does he run?? What does he do?? 🥹🥹 he just. Freezes in place uhm.*
[ He noticed them, staring for a moment before walking over. ]
...Who are you? How did you-- are you stuck, too?
"Uh,"
*`He rubs the back of his neck, nervous, before pointing to the direction where he came in.*
"I came in through that portal, over there?"
[ He looked over, before sighing. ]
..Oh. Great. I can't... leave through that. Well. Um. Hi. I'm the King- or, well,.. was, I guess. I don't know what you could call me now.
"...like the king in yellow?"
...That's my title, yes. Why?
"Oh wow. Hi. Uhm. I'm a big fan. I guess. What do I do."
"Can I have an autograph. Sign my arm."
Hello. I didn't expect to still have.. people acknowledging my existence. Um.
Thank you, I think. Do you have a— pen, or.. marker? I don't.. have anything here aside from sheep. That hate me. Clearly.
"You have a book. And also a podcast. And probably more, but I don't know."
*`He pulls out a pen from his pockets. He just. Keeps that around. Sure.*
I knew about the book part. Didn't — know about the podcast. Hm. I suppose being locked up for millenia really does mess with you.
[ He hummed, grabbing the pen. He held their arm out, careful with his claws, and wrote his name. ]