You watch helplessly as the arms continue their work. The pencil moves about in what used to be your hand, and as it does, you get the faint impression of lines forming in the air where your head once was. As the drawing continues you get the notion of shape, of a face. Soon, there aren’t just lines, but details filling in. The color of skin, the sense of depth.
As the new head forms, you realize it looks familiar. It only took you a moment to recognize because you’d never seen it from this angle, but you’re fairly sure that the new head on your body looks exactly like yours. You’re now looking up at a complete copy of yourself.
When the drawing finishes its actualization, the head begins moving. Its eyes pop open, and it takes a deep breath. The eyes blink rapidly and examine your body around as it stretches experimentally. Eventually, the imposter’s gaze meets yours as you stare up from the ground, too stunned to speak.
“Hah! There you are!” the imposter taunts down at you, speaking at you with your own voice. “When I first felt a new presence in possession of my prison, I was cautiously hopeful, but never would I have expected it to be this easy. You invoked me with absolutely no protections? No wards or barriers? What did you expect to happen when you linked to me?”
He walks to stand above you, using a foot on your chin to turn you to look straight up at him. You’re still trying to mentally catch up with all that’s going on, and the eeriness of watching yourself move and speak doesn’t help.
“Come, now, have you no excuse for your folly?” he says with a laugh.
“Uh, I don’t really, uh, know most of what you’re talking about. I just bought that pencil today. I don’t know much about this… well all this magic stuff,” you manage to stammer out. You’re not really sure how you’re even able to speak at all, but compared to everything else, it’s not much to take in stride.
The imposter suddenly bursts into a fit of laughter, holding his (your?) stomach as he tries to catch his breath and say something, only to begin cackling again.
“So… so you’re telling me that the prison of an archfiend, focal point for a Primal of lust and change, a treasure once held only by the High Seat of the Magi of Babylon, wielded only with the greatest caution, ended up in the hands of a novice. Or are you even that?” he manages to say before losing himself in another fit of laughter.
“Oh, this is too good. If only Asmus was here. He always got a good chuckle out of these things as well. Well, I must thank you for your ignorance and your assistance in opening my path to freedom. Now, I suppose I have a magical artifact to start dismantling.”
With that, he takes his foot off you and begins walking away.
“Wait! Please don’t leave me like this!” you exclaim from the floor.
The imposter turns back and looks at you in consideration.
“I suppose you did give me this body through which to enact my will. Hmm.”
After some thought, he…