This Stygian was born from a life who clings onto delusion. A life was born in a world that was too much for them to bear- too many horrors they could do nothing about, too much anguish to deal with, and too many discrepencies between what efforts they were putting in to move foward and be good and what results they were getting from them. To avoid such terrors, they relied heavily on the power of imagination: they imagined worlds of fantasy and wonder, with friends of their own creation and stories that contained the things they longed for most. It was a wonderful relationship between them and their world, and it made them happy, bubbly, and determined to face the future, wholly believing that what they made of their daydreams, they could use to face their nightmares.
   But of course, those feelings could only extend so far.
   One glance back would always reveal that nothing ever changed- they were still in the real world, they were still weak and meager, and they never stopped being afraid of what laid outside. And eventually, they'd come to realize that the feelings they had in their daydreams were only illusions, and nothing they imagined was ever real to begin with. They could pretend they were a hero, but they never had real powers. They could pretend to have friends and even a lover, but they were only empty spaces to idly make conversation to; those conversations were the only things to allow them to feel any sort of true love, ironically stemming from the self. They could pretend they made change to the world, but really the only thing that changed was their own narrative. And thus, nothing was truly valid- confidence was fake, happiness was fake, and nothing mattered. The real world continued to rear its ugly head to them and everyone else around them- even worse so now that they were older. They were stupid to believe otherwise.

   It was a horrible realization, because their delusions were kinder to them than reality.

   The world continues to unravel into deeper and darker fates, and they watched with tear filled eyes and hands over their ears. They try to allow themselves to sink deeper, and become swallowed by their delusions to escape it all. They wanted to go back. God, they wanted to go back.

   But it was never the same after that. Reality was the true nightmare, all along.

   Now Melt lives in a bowl.

   She's incredibly, incredibly quiet. Barely speaks a word, not finding the need or desire to speak at all. She spends her time in solitude, and doesn't prefer to keep many close. Her emotions are next to none- while lacking in long term and substantial emotions like bliss and despair, she does have inklings of emotions that are more fleeting, like frustration or surprise and curiosity.

   Her kingdom is a large, empty fishbowl that has nothing but mossy, abandoned aquarium gravel under her hooves. Dried kelp and grass is scattered about, along with what little belongings she has. Ironically, the water isn't in the tank, but on the outside. It infinitely expands around her abode, its pressure cracking the delicate glass of the bowl, but the bowl is always repairing itself. Or rather, something else is repairing it.

   From what she could tell, the bowl used to be full. The water used to be inside, and there used to be many beautiful displays of plant life, along with an abundance of sea creatures. It was perfect for her to swim, and everyday would bear fruitful adventures and explorations, for it was always changing and expanding. But when she woke, all there was for her to see was the water on the outside and the tank environment being completely void of life. She swears it wasn't always like this. She swears it to be true, she assures her memories fact, but since a kingdom is born simultaneous with the Stygian, then how could one know?