[... A grand patron. That, truly, would be... unique, unlike anything she would ever likely be able to experience in her world, even if she did figure out how to save that village and elude capture at her (former) master's hands. If she remained there... It would by necessity and circumstance be a hard life, eking out survival in the deep mountains and hiding from human hunting parties with weaker individual strengths but overwhelming numbers and clever traps. No shows, no markets, no luxuries... But if she... If, once she had fulfilled her duty and cleansed her honor, if after she saved those she had damned she were able to go to a much more distant place where a home had been offered her, one of heat and sand and flying lizards...
No. It will surely not be possible. It is already a feat enough to imagine going back to her own world. She should not entertain the thought. (But she does think, briefly... Oh. Because of Set, she would know a little of how to exist in such a place full of desert. He showed her what those look like.) The kiss, small and soft, draws her from that musing because she did not expect it... But does not deny it. Even if she averts her gaze with a soft blush, her little finger reflexively curls and squeezes on his.
Then soon enough they are in a place she has never been, in a town beneath Springstar she has always avoided because she could never feel safe there. With Set at her side, if she put away her pride and her desire to never be the one in need of protection, she knew no harm would likely come to her, but. Her large body was not as adroit at navigating the narrow alleys, the crush of people, and the many, sometimes precarious staircases of the underground settlement. And... The last time she had been in Kowloon she had woken on a makeshift surgical table in a room that stunk of rot and chemicals with her arms lashed down and her fetlocks bound to the wall.
Despite herself, she balks before the curtain Set urges her out of.
Until a hand finds a simple bracelet on her wrist he has not seen on her before, and she remembers-]
... Allow me to. Make things easier on our trip. Cetina recently provided me with something, after I expressed to her my reservations about how useful I could be outside of Springstar.
[With her face (and distinctive shape, the only non-humanoid shard-bearer in this generation) known in Highstorm, with her body clumsy in Kowloon... If the battle spilled into those places, what could she do, when the illusion magics would not last the minute someone tried to touch her or she joined a crowd that would bump into an equine rump disguised by visual magic alone? Apparently there was a solution. One that involved turning a small stone inlaid on the bracelet the Tribune's assistant had handed over, so that from one moment to the next-
A centaur mare becomes a human woman. One with the same face still, yes, the same build simply transferred over to a different configuration, but decidedly only five feet tall instead of seven, and something like half a ton lighter. Also... not wearing pants or underwear, it was a transformation spell, not a dressing spell, but... she learned her lesson last time and so she manages to grab her garments to clutch her not ill-fitting robe shut and keep the pelt wrap on her hips from dropping down to the floor.
Gods, balancing in this damn shape on two weird legs... No, she has been practicing, so. She can stay upright as she lets out her robe to cover her strange new rump, as she retied her pelt wrap into more of a kilt-like skirt, pulling emergency soled slippers she had started carrying in one of her many belt pouches out to put on her feet... So that she can be ready now. To step out out into Kowloon feeling less like she sticks out. To see...]
If you might... lend me your arm, Set, while we see this culture of yours...
[She may have been practicing, but, it has not been that long at all. The first steps were still tricky.]
no subject
No. It will surely not be possible. It is already a feat enough to imagine going back to her own world. She should not entertain the thought. (But she does think, briefly... Oh. Because of Set, she would know a little of how to exist in such a place full of desert. He showed her what those look like.) The kiss, small and soft, draws her from that musing because she did not expect it... But does not deny it. Even if she averts her gaze with a soft blush, her little finger reflexively curls and squeezes on his.
Then soon enough they are in a place she has never been, in a town beneath Springstar she has always avoided because she could never feel safe there. With Set at her side, if she put away her pride and her desire to never be the one in need of protection, she knew no harm would likely come to her, but. Her large body was not as adroit at navigating the narrow alleys, the crush of people, and the many, sometimes precarious staircases of the underground settlement. And... The last time she had been in Kowloon she had woken on a makeshift surgical table in a room that stunk of rot and chemicals with her arms lashed down and her fetlocks bound to the wall.
Despite herself, she balks before the curtain Set urges her out of.
Until a hand finds a simple bracelet on her wrist he has not seen on her before, and she remembers-]
... Allow me to. Make things easier on our trip. Cetina recently provided me with something, after I expressed to her my reservations about how useful I could be outside of Springstar.
[With her face (and distinctive shape, the only non-humanoid shard-bearer in this generation) known in Highstorm, with her body clumsy in Kowloon... If the battle spilled into those places, what could she do, when the illusion magics would not last the minute someone tried to touch her or she joined a crowd that would bump into an equine rump disguised by visual magic alone? Apparently there was a solution. One that involved turning a small stone inlaid on the bracelet the Tribune's assistant had handed over, so that from one moment to the next-
A centaur mare becomes a human woman. One with the same face still, yes, the same build simply transferred over to a different configuration, but decidedly only five feet tall instead of seven, and something like half a ton lighter. Also... not wearing pants or underwear, it was a transformation spell, not a dressing spell, but... she learned her lesson last time and so she manages to grab her garments to clutch her not ill-fitting robe shut and keep the pelt wrap on her hips from dropping down to the floor.
Gods, balancing in this damn shape on two weird legs... No, she has been practicing, so. She can stay upright as she lets out her robe to cover her strange new rump, as she retied her pelt wrap into more of a kilt-like skirt, pulling emergency soled slippers she had started carrying in one of her many belt pouches out to put on her feet... So that she can be ready now. To step out out into Kowloon feeling less like she sticks out. To see...]
If you might... lend me your arm, Set, while we see this culture of yours...
[She may have been practicing, but, it has not been that long at all. The first steps were still tricky.]