As if things can't get any worse for you, your oral prison descends into near-complete darkness when Eilidon closes her teeth and lips. The elven cleric's tongue stops flinging you between her cheeks, which does bring you a tiny amount of relief. But that feeling fades in mere seconds; the beastly muscle tosses your spit-drenched body into the pitch-dark esophagus, and you are swallowed down with an uncharacteristically-strong gulp.

 

While your descent down Eilidon's constricting throat is by no means comfortable, it is, at the very least, relatively quick. At the end of the gullet, your feeble fairy form is squeezed through a little sphincter before falling onto the spongy stomach floor with a moist plop. Your pixie magic somewhat illuminates the organ, allowing you to see the fleshy walls of your current cell, along with the chewed-up bites of apple Eilidon had consumed earlier. A slight murmur echoes around you - is your host talking in her sleep?

 

Trying your hardest to keep your composure, you begin to brainstorm your escape from this sloshing death trap. Saliva still coats your wings, so flying back up the way you came isn't a feasible option. That apple Eilidon had partially eaten might be upsetting her stomach, so maybe you could pound on the walls and hope for her to vomit you out? Or, you could dive deep into her bowels and attempt to survive the 'natural route'?

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December 19, 2025
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