25 Winter 515 AV, dregs of hunger.
The drowsy serpent, locked behind her door and coiled before the smoldering hearth, inhaled deeply the smell of warm things scratching at her door, looking to climb in through any crack it could find. Her long, forked tongue tasted the air, heavy with flavour, and didn't recognise the smell. Was it a human? A little thief trying to steal from her? She was certain that anyone to walk in would be horrified at the sight of a massive snake, and then she would eat him.
But when Citlali turned around, heavily and with a slow uncoiling, it was not a person that began wriggling its way under her door, business in its eyes before it got a good smell of the giant snake right there. But it couldn't backtrack; Citlali was striking out in blind hunger, silent and filled with ill-intent.
It wasn't enough, though. It slipped through her jaws easily, struggling and writhing, and Citlali knew she should have smothered it before she took it in, but it barely satisfied the aching hunger that made her who she was. She fumed because of it. The food here was incredibly unsatisfying, and whatever she'd just eaten wasn't properly worth it.
But she wanted more.
Her skin crawled with pleasant sensation as it changed, growing limbs and losing length until, in place of a continuous tail there were long legs, strongly muscled, and arms ending with thin, delicate fingers. She was in the more uncomfortable body, a necessary form for interacting with the society she found herself in. There was distaste for this form, and for the people that needed to interact with it, and she glared down at her hands, and then at the clothes she would be pulling on. That was a new sensation in and of itself; clothing was constrictive and heavy, too warm and sometimes too cold, and she thought that she didn't really understand the reason why the hairless monkeys made these things. They could expend less energy by sleeping in the cold. It would be better.
But that was beyond the point of taking this form. Instead, Citlali did dress, and she gathered up her rucksack. She needed to carry with her the squirrels she would capture, so that she could bring them back here and eat them.
With that, Citlali closed her cloak and stepped out, closing the door behind her before wandering down the long hallway in search of something small and easily swallowed to eat, completely ignoring the other inhabitants of the apartments.
The drowsy serpent, locked behind her door and coiled before the smoldering hearth, inhaled deeply the smell of warm things scratching at her door, looking to climb in through any crack it could find. Her long, forked tongue tasted the air, heavy with flavour, and didn't recognise the smell. Was it a human? A little thief trying to steal from her? She was certain that anyone to walk in would be horrified at the sight of a massive snake, and then she would eat him.
But when Citlali turned around, heavily and with a slow uncoiling, it was not a person that began wriggling its way under her door, business in its eyes before it got a good smell of the giant snake right there. But it couldn't backtrack; Citlali was striking out in blind hunger, silent and filled with ill-intent.
It wasn't enough, though. It slipped through her jaws easily, struggling and writhing, and Citlali knew she should have smothered it before she took it in, but it barely satisfied the aching hunger that made her who she was. She fumed because of it. The food here was incredibly unsatisfying, and whatever she'd just eaten wasn't properly worth it.
But she wanted more.
Her skin crawled with pleasant sensation as it changed, growing limbs and losing length until, in place of a continuous tail there were long legs, strongly muscled, and arms ending with thin, delicate fingers. She was in the more uncomfortable body, a necessary form for interacting with the society she found herself in. There was distaste for this form, and for the people that needed to interact with it, and she glared down at her hands, and then at the clothes she would be pulling on. That was a new sensation in and of itself; clothing was constrictive and heavy, too warm and sometimes too cold, and she thought that she didn't really understand the reason why the hairless monkeys made these things. They could expend less energy by sleeping in the cold. It would be better.
But that was beyond the point of taking this form. Instead, Citlali did dress, and she gathered up her rucksack. She needed to carry with her the squirrels she would capture, so that she could bring them back here and eat them.
With that, Citlali closed her cloak and stepped out, closing the door behind her before wandering down the long hallway in search of something small and easily swallowed to eat, completely ignoring the other inhabitants of the apartments.
