Copulating through eighteen umbilical cords - manipulated through

sex that was transport, in a subterranean cave complex the walls of which were the shades of lies that made the demon's mind/throat/mind/throat/mind -

Art[ion] Mlckk'n Inchance-rify, a prince in his own right, with a life before this, and reasons why he did the things he did, even here, was transported through; his whole face turquoise in the light that bathed it.

Out the walls. Shades and flavours, separate from language. He only felt the meanings of. There was no – as verbal as he could ever be – there was no translation. They weren't walls; it was a cave complex – underground! - He'd been transported through, because the walls were only colours, sometimes primary; sometimes, something, else; something else, he couldn't name/colours he'd never seen before, shades he couldn't describe; hues no attributable identity in the human mind.

Just the tunnel before him and the demon. It went down, at the end. He thrust himself forward in it. Exploring his consciousness, who he was, as much as the place within which he had no choice but to say he existed. A lie realm. A fantasy chasm. Whatever it was it was all abstract, and he didn't know who he was.

There was a suspicious blankness. Genericness. An absence where - should be - who he actually was; the shape of his mind, the attributes and attitudes beyond those purely functional, beyond those at the same time supernatural. But it was this that thrust him past a peach shadow, in a mauve cloud, deeper past the corner of a corridor, pink and simultaneously green; turning, a larger space, a chamber:

The peal of his unsheathed sword.

And flung it at the first one that plunged at it.

A backward slash, he flung his body sideways, he could barely see it, he was inside the demon - but inside the demon was populated too.

The Demon with the Tongue of a Thousand Fingers who drank the Soul off your Lips who was – same time - the red key. - That was reduced by death, for the 9 prophetic scrolls of the Queen of Waat, a combination Cyclops with an outside womb and a child like no other and whatever else she was.

There were demons inside the demon too, and he had a quest, same as Pry wanted, he had a quest for him, maybe the same as that of the Queen. It reinforced her; it all reinforced her, and he'd been told he was a slave. But he progressed anyway.

He'd been told the truth of what he was - no colourful vibration in response, no challenge off the Bollock of Wanting saying: - No, that was a thing only to take you out of, the way of, the story you were inside. The same time the Orach of Mending told him that that was inarguably and exactly true. Backwards slashing at the thing out the colour wall, only a flashing image of, the same colour teeth, claws, arms, talons, a wide beak, and, of course, sexual organs.