A few days ago, I took this story down because, in my eagerness to write something based on the image that inspired this story, I forgot to ask permission from the owners of the characters from it. I have since received permission, and am now re-posting this story for you all to enjoy.

https://www.furaffinity.net/view/36988661/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/37034673/

The image shown in either link above is drawn by an incredible artist,  Madness_demon. The commissioner, someone who I am happy to have gotten to know better these last few days, is  GrumpyGoat. Their characters are Canthus the eldritch spawn and Naiden, an alien species who is a natural shape-shifter without the usual bone or blood that we usually associate with our kind. Visit their respective accounts to find out more. Trust me, it's worth it. Also, give them a watch, if you can. Like I said, they are incredibly talented people.

Anyway, this is a what-if scenario inspired by the Painted Word image in which these two characters meet. I like to think that Naiden was either banished or otherwise somehow cast into this blank gallery, and is now seeking a means to return to his plane of existence. Canthus detects this entity and is intrigued by him.

This interaction ensues. I hope you all enjoy. I've included the PDF, but I will also paste the text below for anyone who doesn't like downloading or opening documents online.

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Trapped for so very long in the infinite space of black and white. There was no color here. No sound other than the padding of his own feet and the drag of his tentacles. In all his wandering, only one place broke that mold. A single frame with golden filigree woven into the gnarls of the wood. It portrayed a beautiful scene, the blazing sun dying an ocean into a sea of gold.

How he missed oceans. How he missed the sun and the warmth. There was no warmth of cold here, merely sterility. Was it too much to ask to be free? He had done nothing wrong, merely sought to survive. It was a primal need, and all primal needs should be addressed. What was he to do, starve to death? No. That was not right.

Yet now he was consigned to this ... sea of gray. The ground seemed to twist and writhe, sometimes pulling, sometimes bouncing him away in accordance with his will, his mood. There was no time here. No hunger per se. But he might have preferred it to the unnerving quiet of the place.

Every time he detected the slightest movement, he would twist, and whatever it was would be gone. The occasional stench would linger past his nose, but then disappear. In a way, it reminded him of the planes of hell. He shuddered at that memory. Those fires still left their scars. At least he didn't have to worry about those here, wherever here was. There was something ... different about this place. He sensed other creatures. Yet they did not come for him. Perhaps because they did not sense easy prey. Or perhaps they were not sapient, and thus were not willing to understand him as some had been willing to do once before.

In due course, the loneliness began to sink in. He was alone, so very alone. And silence is not always a welcome companion for long. This silence stretched for an eternity. His three tails drooped. His tentacles writhed weakly. Any damage left by his claws was quickly restored the moment he looked away. It was as if this place, this dimension, would brook no alteration.

The painting became his only lifeline. Sometimes, he could swear he heard gulls and the crash of waves, could smell the salty brine of the sea along the shore.

But surely that was wistful thinking. Surely, that was the desire of a heart that had been kicked and beaten one too many times. Still, on instinct, he would touch the canvas. The material would not give, but he did feel something strange with the contact.

"Won't somebody hear me?" he whispered to himself. "Won't somebody come?" He stared longingly at the frame and the scene. A golden speck along the shore stood in the surf, a figure he had not noticed before, but doubtless had merely blended in like a shadow in the ripple along the water. Perhaps a jutting rock with seaweed and algae.

He shook his head again and slowly turned away, barely holding back the tears that threatened to fall, until, that is, something wrapped around his arm. A slick golden substance slid down his smooth skin to the floor. And then he was greeted by an even greater surprise.

A golden goat with metallic tendrils that waved from his beard, his arms, his chest, his head, was leaning out from the painting. Silver hooftips brushed Naiden's flesh, the first physical contact he had had in he didn't know how long. Surely, this was a delusion, some fantasy resulting from a psychotic break.

"No delusion." The goat chuckled. "Though I can’t promise you anything about madness. What's a creature like you doing on this plane, hmm? You're no Shambler, though this dimension certainly wishes you to be." His caprine hooves clopped solidly on the ground, and the air reverberated with the vibration, one of the first Naiden had heard in a very long time. "Your form is certainly compatible enough," he mused. "And yet, you have not allowed yourself to become one with this place. Curious, given the nature of your species. You are capable of taking on any form you wish. Is that not so?"

Naiden blinked in surprse, then shuddered as the goat cupped his chin again. "I ... yes, but ... how do you know that? Are you a telepath?"

The caprine smiled knowingly. "Of a sort." He stared deep into Naiden's eyes and nodded. "Yes, it seems that your species does indeed share certain key traits with the Shamblers. It's quite possible that your kind and they share a common ancestor. My mother and her siblings had many such pawns and servants. And pets. They didn't enjoy the way the creatures looked, so they changed them, made them more ... adaptable, efficient for the tasks that they would have to complete on their masters' behalf."

"And these ... Shamblers? What is their role?"

"Consumption. I suppose you could call them the compost workers." He extended a hand and the air rippled next to him. Seconds later, a glistening white mass with sunken eyes and sharp jagged teeth stood next to the goat. It let out a great shriek, which was followed by gentle patting and the goat shoving his tail into the creature's gullet. It shuddered, then sucked greedily as it grasped the tail with both clawed hands. "I'm sure you can see the similarities between your form and theirs. I find it curious that you should choose it so subconsciously. These prowl the dimensions hunting for prey to claim for their own. They drag them here, wait for them to sink into the mires of their dimension, and gradually succumb. They feast on their victims' sanity, their humanity, their very essence. They digest it, re-purpose it, until there is nothing left of the former creature's home plane. Their connection home is severed. And the depths of this plane claims them for its own. Their souls consumed. Their minds destroyed. There is only the body, the primal id, the clawing hunger." He flicked the creature on its forehead, and it released its grip on his tail immediately. Golden fluid dripped from its maw mingled with its own spittle to tap the floor.

As Naiden watched, the floor rippled like a pool, and the strange fluids were slowly absorbed. For the briefest of moments, the walls were gone. The floor ceased to exist. Instead, there was a warm moist sensation about his legs. The air reeked of foul breath and vapors unspeakable in their stench. Distant shrieks almost identical to the Shambler clawed at a closed sky enfolded in gray that rippled and churned like stormclouds caught up in a great wind ... or the slimy walls of a creature's stomach. Blood and acid mingled with decay and rot. A cry that sounded all too human echoed and reverberated, then slowly contorted. Terror gave way to pain, to suffering, to torture, to agony, to sobbing, to demented laughter that gradually drowned in a curdling burble. Then, finally, the familiar mindless shriek of the Shamblers carried over the area, and the ooze at Naiden's feet rippled and churned, as if in satisfaction. The portrait wall had become a thing of living flesh, just as the high ceiling to the cavernous space. A few moments later, a cacophony of those same cries responded.

"Another Shambler ready for the hunt, to begin the cycle anew." The caprine smiled at his pet and patted it gently on the head. "Go on now. Go join the others."

The Shambler needed no further prompting. It screamed its war cry and bounded off, even as it slowly began to take on more mass.

"He will make a fine alpha. A reward for his being so obedient," the goat explained. "But the real question I have is, what should I do with you?"

Naiden blinked in surprise as his eyes watered. When they cleared again, he was back in the blank featureless gray walls of the gallery. The strange landscape he had beheld was gone. "Perhaps ... you can start by telling me your name?"

The goat smiled. "And witty. I like you." He chuckled, and his eyes flashed. For the briefest of moments, Naiden thought he saw spirals, instead of pupils in those golden orbs. "You may call me Canthus, of the Golden Coat. And what shall I call you, my big tentacled friend?"

Again, the flash. Again, the swirl. This Canthus seemed absolutely at ease. There was no sense of threat, only curiosity, a curiosity that Naiden understood completely. Had he not felt the same way about the creatures called Humans? His shoulders slumped slightly. His brow, once furrowed, now began to relax. "I am called Naiden." His tails swished. The tentacles on his back began to writhe, feeling so good as he watched the golden protrusions from the goat do the same. Such ... lovely tentacles.

Canthus smiled and licked his lips as he clasped the alien's chin again with that same gentle grip. "Well, then, Naiden, how about you and I strike a deal?"

"A ... deal?" Naiden asked. He had to blink several times to regain his focus this time. It didn't help that Canthus' tail was now playing with his three tails. It made things so ... distracting.

"You intrigue me, my dear Naiden. Yes, you intrigue me very much, indeed. And I can tell you have no love for this place. Indeed, I can tell just by the touch I've had with your mind that you wish to leave here desperately, to find someone ... close to you, yes?"

Another flash. Another dizziness. A bobbing of the head. "Yes. I ... I want to go back."

Canthus buffed his hooftips against his golden coat, as if to contemplate the alien's desire. "This painting acts as a gateway between dimensions. As you are aware, I am capable of crossing this boundary with relative ease. I have crossed many dimensions, many boundaries, in my travels. I could provide you the service that you seek ... for a price."

"What price?" Naiden mumbled. For some reason, his jaw didn't want to work.

"Oh, nothing too difficult. I simply wish some time to study you, analyze your form, your makeup, your mind. In short, to understand what makes you tick. Or rather, to understand what makes you you." The goat passed his hand over the painting, and suddenly the gulls began to move. The froth of waves crashed and receded along the shore. The salty tang increased. "In return, I provide you what you seek." He bared his sharp teeth, the one thing that was definitely not goatish about him, aside from his tail, and grinned. "Do we have a deal?"

A ring of gold rippled like a droplet of water in a pond over the purple of Naiden's eyes. The tentacles lengthened from his back, and he shuddered as they touched Canthus' own golden protrusions and brushed along the goat's hand. This was bliss. He did not understand why, but he felt ... better this way. Or perhaps it was because of the waters that waited beyond? If Canthus had been by the water, perhaps he came from beneath the waves. Naiden would need aquatic mobility if such were the case. Yes, yes ... that made much sense. "We ... have a deal, S—" He drew off into a long hiss. Canthus was not his superior. He was a means to an end. He had to ... had ... to.... F—

Canthus smiled as he leaned from the picture frame and cupped Naiden's chin in his flawless white hand again. His tail wrapped around Naiden's arm and hissed invitingly at him. "Come on, then."

Naiden's tentacles returned the favor, intertwining with the tail. He had to follow. Yes. That was what he had to do. Canthus would help him after. Canthus would. He just had to listen and follow for now. And perhaps, if he was lucky, Naiden could learn just as much from Canthus as Canthus would from him. The creature was intriguing. Another golden ripple passed over his eyes as a tiny fleck of golden ichor oozed from the tail's maw to absorb into Naiden's skin unnoticed.

Surely, the others wouldn't mind if he took a little longer to understand this fascinating creature. And as his claws lengthened ever so slightly when he grabbed the frame's edge, another thought passed through his mind that made him smile all the more. Perhaps he could introduce them to Canthus.

Now, w̗̰̺͓̔̾̕͡o̴͉̬͑u͔͙͈̳͖̇ͭ̿̋͜ļ̳͒̈́̋̚͜͠d̶̾͜͞͏̧̩̬̤n͇̣̂̕'̴̷̨̞͔̤͎̩͚͉̒̂ͣ̆ͬ͠tͥ҉̴̢̛̛̻͜ ̸ͧ͑͊́͒͌̕͠҉͕t̵͉͚̲̭̱ͦ̑͋̎̾́h̸̵̶̢̐͊͐̔̈͌͟͏҉̙̝̮̠̮̪͕̜͡͝a̴̸̡̡͓̜̟͎͕͂ͫ͜͞͡͞ͅț̡̩̙̖̭̜̳̻͐ͮ ̛̱̓́̈ͭ͟b̓ͭ̕͏̟͇̳̜̀e̶̢̛͖ͮ͑̄ͭ̀͜͜͟ ̷̢͙̟͙̙̒̂ͮ̈̇̓̀̀͟n̸̨̥̳̲͋̾͘i̷̷̸̫̤̥̖ͤ͟c͌̕҉҉̮̫̬ͅé̢̪̰̼́͝.̷̨͎̳̲̆.͕͓̖̔͡.̳ͯ͘͢.̳̭̾͛͡