Spring 34th 512 A.V
Inhale deeply.
Exhale slowly.
This was the way Chamaeleon directed her thoughts as the sun rose, sitting with her back to a tree and with her violet eyea closed. As the sun lifted over the sky, her body metamorphosed into that of her true self. Black became gold, sharp became curved, and small became large. The form was near instantaneous, a flash across her pale skin and she began to glimmer again in Syna's renewed youth.
The change of her outsides matched what her insides went through. The sound of her breathing change as her body adjusted its lung capacity and her organs had a chance to adapt to the new space within the shell of her form. Subtle curves became more pronounced, but the body remained just as different as it had before. In no form was Chamaeleon a human being, and she worried that would always be a problem.
Once the Ethaefal realised she was worrying, and her thoughts were racing, she once again forced them to slow and focused her attention on her breathing. Yet, like a child, her mind wandered unbecomingly and she began to think of herself and her part in the activities she participated in.
She thought about the people she had met after that first fateful night in Sunberth where she had agreed to give herself to the Crimson Edge along with a handful of others. She thought about much and didn't catch herself as she thought about the people she had grown attached to until she thought of Wrenmae, and Roka, two people Chamaeleon liked the most.
One was a disturbed man with a silver tongue and a quickly aroused anger. The other was vibrant and happy, but wild. They were both special, in their own ways, and Chamaeleon didn't know what to think of either. She couldnt trust Wrenmae as easily as she could Roka, despite the fact that Roka had a difference about him that made him seem more animal than man. Wrenmae just had a strong sense of danger around him, smiling or glowering.
Chamaeleon growled low to herself and shut down her thoughts, frustrated. She had misplaced her harp once in this very same park, left it to accompany Roka because she didnt want to heft around an instrument all day. She couldn't keep calm without that thing. It was her most important possession from her birth city and it irritated her to realise she lost it out of stupidly leaving it in the open.
Shifting so she was settled more comfortably against the tree, Chamaeleon sighed. At this rate, she wouldn't get anywhere with her morphing. Even in the deepest seclusion she could find in the city, she felt spied upon. It began to occur to her that perhaps alleys were safer than parks, but she wasn't ready to move around yet. Maybe she could force herself to relax enough to fall asleep here, and when she awoke maybe her harp would reappear.
Her blue eyes shut all over again and she focused upon her breathing.