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“Zhian rages about a bit longer, cracking trees and whipping up whirlwinds of dust. Then, at last, he assembles himself, taking the form of an enormous, human-like figure, nine feet tall with hooves and horns. It’s one of his favorite forms, modeled closely after his father. He wears only a leopard-skin loincloth, and his chest swells with muscle and pride. In his hands is a long chain, from which dangles a spiked morning star. Curl-of-the-Tiger’s-Tail, he purrs, his black eyes glittering. Smoke-on-the-Wind. Girl-Who-Gives-the-Stars-Away. You have chosen a beautiful form. Subtle, but desirable.” — Jessica Khoury
Zhian rages about a bit longer, cracking trees and whipping up whirlwinds of dust. Then, at last, he assembles himself, taking the form of an enormous, human-like figure, nine feet tall with hooves and horns. It’s one of his favorite forms, modeled closely after his father. He wears only a leopard-skin loincloth, and his chest swells with muscle and pride. In his hands is a long chain, from which dangles a spiked morning star.
Curl-of-the-Tiger’s-Tail, he purrs, his black eyes glittering. Smoke-on-the-Wind. Girl-Who-Gives-the-Stars-Away. You have chosen a beautiful form. Subtle, but desirable.