38th of Winter, 515AV
The soft twitter of birds in the trees didn't seem to mind the odd time of night. Even so, Neely found it comforting. This lane that she walked down was lightened by the midday sun, but the comfortably cool weather didn't necessitate any thicker, more restricting, garments than the colorful silk tunic she wore.
But Neely was too lost in thought to be considering the nice day. Instead, she had been lost in thought. She had only gone down to the bazaar, a day's task, to inquire about prices to rent a stall. Of course Ionu had distracted her with a tea shop that served it's drinks in pinecones. Even after a steaming cup of Oolong, she failed to understand how it happened, but ti was a joyous illusion despite it.
That and the cobbler which specialized in making shoes from silk. At first she thought his shop to be the most practical she found, but was quickly proved wrong when the supposed silk only appeared as the shimmery cloth from her home, but behaved like any other leather boot. Too bad she didn't need leather boots like the humans did.
Now that her attention was drawn to the obvious differences in her body and the majority who inhabit Alvadas, at least the majority as far as she could guess (one never knew the true race of another), her stomach stirred with the thought of her own djed manipulations. A magic she hadn't had much practice with, but enjoyed. Since she had decided to stay in the city of illusions, it quickly became clear to her that magic was not an accepted art. Almost as it had been in Kalinor, although she guaranteed the people of this city might do more than shunning her socially.
She stopped, the ring of tweets as well, in the center of the street. Below her the stone shimmered faintly as if bright red pools of lava threatened to break from beneath the black stones. Since her feet felt no heat from the ground below her, she paid it no mind. Instead, the Symenestra looked at her hands. They were so pale she didn't even have the lush pink of the other pale humanoids. Instead her skin reverted to a slightly ashen grey than it already was. Long thin fingers screamed with their fragility, but the sharp, thick claws that flowed past the ends challenged for the opposite.
She had never minded her fragility until she surrounded herself with the sturdier races. At least in Kalinor, they would take you to a healer if they stepped on your toe. She wiggled her toes at the thought. Her first years in Alvadas had ended with quite a few breaks, which made her toes looked like a tangled mess after the haphazard patching up.
But what if she could change her brittle bones? She knew she could, she just didn't want to risk it. Guiltily, she glanced up the street and then behind her, as if a bystander would persecute her for thinking of the taboo magic. She only saw the passing figure of a man behind her, but paid him no mind, certain he would continue on his way. Instead, she slipped off her shoes. The street was empty, but it was best to be safe. She gently kicked them to the bottom of a medium willow. It's branches tangled with the ones around it, making a canopy to guard from the small winter sun.
Leaning down to straighten her shoes, Neely stood, spreading a bare palm flat on the bark. It was comforting to feel the cling of her skin to the natural structure. With the uncanny grace of only a Symenestra, she slid a foot up the bark, like a squirrel, she scuttled up the tree with ease, taking a leap of faith to hook a hand on the lowest hanging branch. Climbing was easy for her, easier than walking had been, but the acrobatics of it took more effort, since excess was not celebrated in Kalinor. With some effort, she swung her feet up, letting the hooks in her skin settle before daring to let go with her hand. Her tunic had fallen down past her shoulders, so she relaxed, hanging by her feet, to tuck the tips of the garment into her leggings. Once she was sure her clothing would not escape her, she pulled herself back up, effectively, at least she thought so, disappearing into the trees. Then, Neely maneuvered into a more comfortable position to crouch on the branch like a Cabaca bat, or a mythical monkey.
She had never doubted her people came from the trees when they were this comfortable to be in. Now that her view of the street was clouded by the thick willow branches, which smelt more like pine than willow, she felt a little more secure.
She settled back, picking a chunk of dirt from under her nail and smoothing it over her leggings before thinking about it. What would she start with? She had only ever transfigured skin, never daring to go deeper than the appearance, so she decided to start with that. But it lead to the next question, what was more sturdy than her own flesh? Anything, that was an easy answer.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught the movement of a small garden lizard, and her mind was made up. The soft iridescent scales of the old Konti came to mind. They were much sturdier than her own skin, by far.
Her eyes fell back to her fingers and she flexed them. With a concentrated effort, she pulled at the heavy feeling of djed that flowed throughout her body. Maneuvering it to focus on her wrists. It took a few ticks before she saw the color change. The ashen grey mixed and formed to a lighter pink tone. She almost grinned, but didn't risk her concentration as she tried to push the djed in a different direction. She was thinking of the firm and sturdy scales for nearly a chime before she saw it appear on her right wrist. The outline of a scale seemed to be trying to break free from the layer of skin. It didn't hurt but a dull pressure forced her left hand to it. Gently, she scratched at the skin and was surprised to find harmless flakes peel away to reveal the shimmering pink set of scales that now swirled over the top of her wrist. She grinned, and did the same with her other wrist.
Without thinking about it, she brought one of her scaled hands up to wipe her forehead, finding it immediately slick with the slight sheen of perspiration that was not yet enough to be considered sweat, but in no way caused by the comfortable winter air around her. She decided to ignore it, focusing her attention on her nails now. Deciding to help this morph along, she pinched the end of the nail on her index finger as she streamed djed into it. It bent, like the soft nails of the old Konti, although they remained the same obsidian black. Biting nails had not been a concept she had ever known, for her nails were always harder than her teeth, but instead she picked at the edge of one, horrified when the long black crescent peeled away with little resistance, leaving a jagged edge behind. She didn't like this, she didn't like it one bit.
Scared, she tried to reverse it, pulling the djed out of her nails as best she could. Whether it was the relief of using less djed or the calmness of seeing her long crescent nail reappear as it had been originally, she sighed. "Perhaps not the nails." She murmured to herself in Symenos, but froze when she heard the ruffling of leaves. Like lightning, the djed flew from her wrists as well, zapping back into her core, as the scales flaked of from her skin, returning to the ashen grey of her brittle skin.
"Who is there?" She snapped in common, quickly rubbing the disappearing scales from her skin before she even looked for the intruder. More than likely, it was an animal… right?
