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Stories.

False had always liked to keep trinkets around. 

She remembered when she was young, venturing out through the vast woods and deep caves for hours when the sun had barely crossed the horizon. Looking for anything that looked interesting enough to show to her mother by dinnertime.

She always loved watching her face light up as she recounted the story behind finding whatever that thing may be. Being sure to keep it proudly displayed the entire time, as if it was a trophy she had won.

Her room became cluttered with all the things she had ever found, but her mom had never asked her to get rid of any of it. Even if she did, she would completely refuse, because they were hers. 

A littler version of False wouldn't have let anyone take something as insignificant as a shiny rock without making them pry it from her cold dead hands.

(She learned later down the road that life didn't work that way.)

Then, she found herself in a universe far from her own, and it felt like every neatly placed routine she had ever set for herself came crashing down on its head.

She rarely ventures out herself anymore. This world has far more dangers then her own ever had to offer. She never goes into land in which she is unfamiliar with, quick trips to visit a neighboring empire is the extent of her travelling.

Empire, the word still feels unfamiliar on her tongue. This place is not her home, this is an empire. And she's somehow found herself  the ruler of it.

She doesn't go beyond her empire, but that doesn't stop the collections of odd things that seem to pile up in her storage chamber. 

She keeps everything from this world that she collects. Whether it be nothing more then a log of spruce and a worn ax. She finds herself able to find the beauty in everything here, no matter how strange.

She also keeps what's given to her, fWhip's trade book sits proudly, overlooking all the chests that line the walls. The many purple boxes given to her, even if she thought they were a little strange, sat nearly in a corner along with her crafting supplies.

She even keeps the sign left ominously on her wall, text scratched out and scrawled over, leaving threats in their wake. She doesn't like it as much as the others, but it's something, at least, it's something to show from this place.

She thinks of the stories she can tell when she gets back home. The tales of a not-so far away dimension. Holding up all the odd things that she had managed to obtain from there. 

She itches to tell a story once again, to show off all the things that she had found, that she had obtained throughout her time here. But there were certainly no emperors that would find any of it to their interest.

They've been living in this world for thousands more years then herself. These things are normal. There's hardly a story to be made even after traversing the nether as many times over as False had, because they had likely done far more.

She wanted something to show for, she wanted to impress people with what she could create, what she could find hidden within the rocky depths of her empire away from home. 

She dreams about ways to get home, she dreams about the solution to each and every single one of her problems.

She dreams of flying, flying in a way that none of the rulers she knows of have even attempted  before. A way that would get her home, getting there on a story just waiting on the tip of her tongue. Everyone would stop to stare, everyone would be able to see it, see her.

She builds a blimp, and it does not fly. Yet she tries to think of it grand enough for few to pay this place a visit. To at least catch a glimpse at the newest story in her collection.

It doesn't work. Her empire remains as alone as ever, the frequent moos and oinks were the only semblance of chatter that happened within the land. Sometimes the rare iron trade with colorful characters from around the world, where few words are said, and they're always gone as quickly as they seem to come.

Another dream comes to her, another way to soar, to finally have a story to tell. It wouldn't get her back home, yet just far enough for the empires to see in all of their glory. 

She's seen wings that emerge from End dimension, another odd thing from the world in which she leaves unexplored. She watches as they fly with them, to and from her empire, landing and taking off, graceful as a bird.

If she had a pair of her own, that would certainly be a story, a reason to be heard, to be watched. So she builds herself a pair, not stolen from the clutches of the land of stars. Made herself, with her own two hands. Big and beautiful and just like the one she had left in her mind.

She soars, she watches over her empire, barely even thinking about the lack of people, of life, in her giddy haze. 

She goes to tell the others, knock on the doors of empires bristling with life. She stands by the doors, months of words just waiting to spill out the moment she sees another person to give them to.

It's all empty, nobody is home.

It would seem abandoned if not for all of the townspeople going about their days like everything was normal, like everybody wasn't missing. Like time hadn't just paused in her own mind, everything coming in hazy.

Everything seeming so busy, so, unlike her own empire. A place full of stories and dreams and trinkets to share with the first listener that they could possibly find. Everything her real universe was, and everything her own empire wasn't.

She walks back to her empire, despite the length and danger of the travel, her wings lay dormant by her sides. Her pockets that would once have been full of strange items found from adventures now empty.

And False, for once, didn't have a story to tell.

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Authors note:

False's new episode possessed me and made this in four hours.