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The weirdest of the very many weird things that happen when you're hit by a weaponized temporal paradox is that it tastes like mint.

Spearmint, sort of toothpastey.

It is also, in all other ways, the worst thing in the entire world, as for a brief but horrible second, all the atoms in your body try very hard to stop existing.

Emmie makes a noise like a frog being stepped on. His heart lurches in a way it was definitely not designed to do, his veins lighting up as though his blood had caught fire.

But he's alive, and an entire person, and right when he should be.

Not so for Piotyr, and so when the impossible blue fire of the fuzzball shuts off, her pallid fur-less flesh smokes, and it takes her a second or two to recover.