Originally posted July 16, 2009
((This is actually a couple of posts written in July and August exploring the effects of prolonged shape-shifting on Siobhan. I had never played an anthropomorphic character and I found this exercise helpful as I tried to wrap my mind around how a hybrid creature would see the world.))
Siobhan yawned and stretched, her long tongue rolling over small, sharp teeth. Her elongated fingers felt the weave of individual threads in her high count sheets. She sniffs at the as yet unnamed pup, asleep at her tit. Dim vision revealed the kit's closed eyes and ears pressed tightly against her small head. The young mage did not worry about her adopted child's fitness. Siobhan read the kit's pattern, surprised at how the simple spell filled her senses. The hybrid smelled healthy. The wee bairn would open her eyes in her own time.
Shiv unlatched the kit, turning to nibble at an itch on her haunch. She carefully moved across the bed, walking on all fours. She paused occasionally, taking in the scents of her loves. A hint of cordite tainted Becky 's strawberry shampoo. Robi used a herbal strawberry mix on her fur, its smell tinged with ozone. The stink of Shiv's smithy caused her damp nose to wrinkle.
A sparkle on a distant dresser attracted her attention. She walked to it, balancing the weight of her body across her four paws to squat on the surface of her vanity. Her hands revealed every texture of the small, broken part Shiv had taken when fighting robots the previous night. She could feel where the metal had fatigued, twisted under the strength of her blows. She raised the piece to her eyes, its reflective surface slowly coming into focus. Shiv had brought the part home for Robi. That wife always liked the shinies.
Shiv rolled the part from paw to paw, watching how its surface reflected the light. So pretty. So sparkly. Such a delight to the touch.
A twittering from the bed caught her attention. She heard a change in breathing as the hybrid woke. Siobhan looked back at the part gripped in her paws. How long had she been playing with it? With a effort of will she forced her body back into its familiar pattern. Her perception shifted as her body lengthened and she stooped to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. Her sight returned and her sense of smell faded as she climbed down to walk back to the kit on naked, human feet.
"Tis alright lass," she cooed. "Mummy's coming."
--
Thick calluses line her fingers, the heal of her palm. She could remove them, let the skin die and replace it with tender, pink flesh. Siobhan thought of her other hands. How much did those thicken pads prevent her from experiencing of the world. She ran her fingers along the surface of the anvil. It felt cool, relatively smooth. These fingers could not feel the tiny pits or residual heat.
She stops herself, halting mid thought. As one hand stokes the fire, the other rubs her head. This is not safe.
She and Weekah had spent the day wrapped together in the hollow of a tree. They slept, exhausted from Wayatcha’s lessons. The aged matron showed them the place of waste, the unused den, taught them the seven calls between mother and child. They had played, the growing kit showing more certainty in her body with every day. As the dawn broke, they retreated to the tree and rested. It wasn’t home, but it felt good enough. It felt natural.
In her sleep, Shiv changed. Her body expanded to fit the tight space and it shifted to human form. The hollow felt odd, unsafe. She gathered up the still sleeping Weekah and returned to the condo. After nursing, the exhausted kit fell back asleep and Siobhan retreated to her rooftop smithy.
Her hand reaches out to pick up an ingot and place it in the fire. Again she pauses, feeling the dullness of the iron against her skin. She bites her lip, remembering the feeling metal fatigue, smooth waves in a hard surface. Raising the bar, she examines the bar with her more human senses; its albedo, hue, heft. Satisfied, she throws it into the forge; heating it; preparing it for its transformation.
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