[open] They’re gonna eat me alive

[Dretch]

DRETCH

... and from your lips she drew your hallelujah

They’re my favorite,” she replies, and I breath out a sigh of air that I did not realize I had been holding. I do not encounter many others in the dark - especially when Niklas, Set, or either of their minions rove at my side. Of those, fewer still are friendly, and none of them females. I twist my head to the side, trying to bring her in better focus. It is a somewhat fruitless endeavor in this darkness, but a habit I’ve yet to lose. I blink dumbly at the friendly smile she gives me. The curiosity shining in the titian depths of her eyes is one that mirrors my own. Are bats your favorite? she asks, and I loosen my wings from where I have them wrapped around my small body. I have never before considered whether or not I have a favorite. Set says I came out of the womb an alarming mess of creatures, my shifter’s gene tempestuous and undisciplined. I grin faintly as I recall his description of my mother’s initial horror, an expression that slowly fades as a darker memory follows on its heels … Or can you become other things, too? The follow-up question snaps me back to reality and I smile wide. “Oh I can do lots,” I say, my bat’s voice a bit squeaky and colored with unmistakable pride. There is little else I care for above shifting, in spite of the fact that with every change comes pain as molecules rearrange themselves. Still upside-down, I spread my wings even wider and search my mind for the creature I am looking for. My claws grip tighter when I find it and I initiate the change, muscle and bone shrinking, changing, until I have eight legs and blink at her with eight different eyes. My orb-weaver’s body clings to the side of the branch for a moment. “See!” I shout, but she will probably hear it as barely above a whisper – spiders are a rather quiet sort. Delighted to have an audience, one who is genuinely curious rather than forcing me through my paces, I scuttle toward the ground and through the leaf litter left over from last autumn. When I’m clear of the mare and the brush, I shift again, closing my eyes against the vertigo as I become a horse once more. Just close enough to make her out in the darkness, I twist and dip my head a bit. “I’m Dretch,” I introduce myself. “What are you doing out here?”

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@[Arachna]