50th of Winter of 513 A.V.
This arguably had to be one of the most bizarre experiences she ever had cooking, but it was going to have to become second nature to her. Kneading was not the most comfortable job for a nuit to perform. It required strength of all things... and she had little of it to spare of that. But what she lacked she could always borrow, therein lay the gift of morphing. She'd already saved a model for this very occasion, the arm of an isur. Though she could never fully replicate its qualities she needn't create a perfect imitation. She was only cooking, not forging herself a piece of armor.
She could picture it clearly in her mind, the bone, the sinew, the flesh that she would attempt to recreate as she allowed the djed to feed her magic, twisting her flesh to serve as its canvas. She willed the change to happen solely within the arms concealed beneath the long-sleeved garments. Strong, firm, heavy muscles... rippling strength.
She breathed softly, clearing her thoughts of all distractions. Her mind had to be made an empty canvas, her body relaxed so she could mold it to the shape in her vision. The change was slow at first, a warmth and a tingle... but soon she felt the first sign of true change. Pain. Slow and steady it crept up from her fingertips to her shoulders, the bone was the first subject to it's power but this was expected. There had to be a price for everything and this pain was not nearly as intense as what she had to endure when she was a novice.
This arguably had to be one of the most bizarre experiences she ever had cooking, but it was going to have to become second nature to her. Kneading was not the most comfortable job for a nuit to perform. It required strength of all things... and she had little of it to spare of that. But what she lacked she could always borrow, therein lay the gift of morphing. She'd already saved a model for this very occasion, the arm of an isur. Though she could never fully replicate its qualities she needn't create a perfect imitation. She was only cooking, not forging herself a piece of armor.
She could picture it clearly in her mind, the bone, the sinew, the flesh that she would attempt to recreate as she allowed the djed to feed her magic, twisting her flesh to serve as its canvas. She willed the change to happen solely within the arms concealed beneath the long-sleeved garments. Strong, firm, heavy muscles... rippling strength.
She breathed softly, clearing her thoughts of all distractions. Her mind had to be made an empty canvas, her body relaxed so she could mold it to the shape in her vision. The change was slow at first, a warmth and a tingle... but soon she felt the first sign of true change. Pain. Slow and steady it crept up from her fingertips to her shoulders, the bone was the first subject to it's power but this was expected. There had to be a price for everything and this pain was not nearly as intense as what she had to endure when she was a novice.
