Beneath Borrowed Skin become what you need to be
Time drips like sap in this place—slow, sticky, and directionless—until days fold into hours, and memory forgets what came first.
The choices that you make within these woods will shape who you become. The trees are watching, their hollow knots wide like unblinking eyes. The air hums with voices that slip through the leaves, murmuring names that are not yours—yet. Shadows stretch in ways that defy reason, reaching for you like old friends, like something that remembers. The deeper you go, the less certain you will be of where you end and the forest begins. Here, illusions are not mere tricks of the light, but a way of survival. The fey are waiting, smiling with borrowed faces, their hands outstretched in welcome. Will you trust them? Will you become one of them? Or will you find the path back before the forest learns to wear your skin?
Who do you think you are?
The Lost
You came here without meaning to. A step taken too far, a whisper followed down a wrong turn, and now the trees do not look the same and you don't recognize where you began. You search for memories like they’re pieces of a map that’s been torn and scattered in the underbrush, but nothing fits quite right. The forest leans in close, curious. It sees you as something unfinished—something that might still become. Will you carve your name into its bark, or let the forest rewrite it for you?
Beneath Borrowed Skin has 10 Taken
The Stray
You weren’t led here, and no one will come looking. You drifted in, unmoored, like a leaf on the wind that never settles. You’ve always felt slightly out of step with the world, and now the world itself feels thinner, quieter—except for the whispers between the trees that say you’ve finally arrived. The forest sees you as kin, wild and without anchor. It offers you belonging, but at what cost?
The Run Away
You chose this. The path behind you burned or broken, and you ran until the woods swallowed the trail. Out here, the rules are different—fluid, like the lies we tell ourselves to sleep at night. You’ve traded one danger for another, but the forest doesn’t judge. It listens. It waits. The fey smile wider when they sense your desperation, because they know: anyone who runs far enough eventually forgets what they were running from. Or who they were.
Beneath Borrowed Skin © 2025 by Jacqueline Taylor is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
All artwork within this world © 2025 by Jacqueline Taylor is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0