Skriph, sometimes, missed Rozburg. As dull and stagnant as everything had been there, it had also lacked Centralia's overwhelming liveliness, and pronouns had never been dangerous back home. People got upset when Skriph guessed wrong or forgot, and the only constant was that nobody wanted to be called "it" (even though that was a singular pronoun). So much felt wrong and different (wonders like roads, wheels, electricity, and magic were not only not-forbidden, but were ubiquitous) that it sometimes worried that it would suddenly wake up in the swamp and realize this wonderful, scandalous, terrifying, noisy, disgusting, cheerful, thankfully-lax-in-guarding-foodstuffs, candy-decorated, city was merely a dream.
Skriph missed its knife. Darn that Safety Fairy.
(This thread was made so I could turn my main thread back into posting-my-random-thoughts, also, the ending space in the title is intentional, for ternary divisibility).