3. To Become: Claws
Frustrating. There was no other word for it. He’d hover in front of her. He’d wave his arms wildly. He’d set the room on fire. Nothing fazed her.
It wasn’t Mabel’s fault.
It was Dipper’s fault. For being stuck on an entirely different plane of existence.
Following her was virtually pointless. Watching over her did no good. It didn’t fix the despair and loneliness that seemed permanently etched on her face. It didn’t do any good to read her aura with his third eye and see the motes of pruce swirl about her long, now shaggy, brown hair. It didn’t make him feel right. He had found Mabel, but raw human emotions wrecked him.
They were overpowering.
Eating made him feel better. The occasional minor demon he encountered. The rare summoner looking for Cipher that he dealt with. There was no keeping track of them anymore. Now it seemed the sparks and fire flowed endlessly. He didn’t have trouble with wearing thin anymore. His appetite grew to match his meals.
Now the question remained: how could he get Mabel’s attention?
Dipper mulled over the question as he prowled through the mindscape, somewhere in the northern tundra of Canada. The world was frozen over. His presence elicited steam along his path.