Motley Manifestations Pt. 7

Idris did not consider the possibility of changing her shape to make life “easier”. In fact, she wasn’t the sort of person to think about “ease” in that sense. She was always one to overcome obstacles with her strength of body and will. It was what the others found admirable about her. However, today was a day she’d have to admit that having a humanoid form would be, in essence, far easier than keeping her current shape. 

“I’m not sure how you managed this,” Mithras mused morosely. 

Idris, who had been stuck in the doorway for the past twenty minutes huffed. “Clearly by getting halfway through.” 

“I mean,” Mithras said, his tone unchanging, “you normally fit through this door.” 

It would be rude of her to point out to Mithras that this situation could partly be his fault due to his tendencies to fetch her snacks. Idris hadn’t noticed an increase in bulk. If there was, it was likely Wrench, her prosthetics engineer, would have advised her of it in his blunt way. After all, he did have to account for how much stress her legs would be under from her day to day activities. 

“Idris,” Mithras continued. “Shape change please.” 

She didn’t know why she’d been so averse to trying it. Mithras certainly looked good in his humanoid form, still so very like his Crook self. 

“Try pushing again,” she said, knowing the effort would be in vain but trying to stall for more time. 

“The younglings will be back shortly, and they will see you like this,” Mithras warned. 

The thought of a gaggle of new Crooks and eager Cccats coming to gawk at her stuck half in and half out of a room mortified her. 

“Alright, fine, ok, stand back a little while I figure this out,” she conceded, her two-toned voice resigned and irritated all at once. 

Mithras, quite used to her by now, simply took a step back, ready to assist should she need him. 

Closing her eyes, Idris tried to picture a form that would get her through the door, something slightly less bulky, something humanoid, to no avail. She just couldn’t imagine anything. However, she remembered Taiga telling her that if she couldn’t picture something, she could describe it in her mind regardless, if she had an idea of what those things looked like, then she could at the very least communicate what she was thinking about. 

Redoubling her efforts, she thought about what she would want for herself as a human. The first thing she thought of was having dark skin with pale lightning scarring and thick hair done in rope-like strands. As her awareness spread throughout her body, feeling the edges and limits, she coaxed them to be slightly smaller, willing the scales to recede from her face, neck and chest, allowing some to remain on her arms, back and thighs. 

Mithras, never having witnessed a transformation like this in what looked like, to him, a methodical, carefully slow manner, was intrigued. 

For someone who’d never even considered changing shape for the convenience of it, she was very confident in what she wanted to look like. 

When she was done, her four human arms held her upright in the doorway, the stumps of her human legs resting in the prosthetics to keep them from falling over, but not at all fitting inside them enough to walk. 

“Okay,” she sighed, resigned to being assisted. “Make sure my legs don’t fall over. Wrench hates when I mismanage these things.” 

Mithras, who had been taking in the sight of her, shook himself out of it, and stepped forward, hooking his tail around her middle and grabbing her prosthetics with his hands. 

“Ready?” he asked, his tone decidedly less morose.  

“As I’ll ever be,” she responded sullenly. 

He lifted her humanoid self with ease, his strong tail bracing her under both sets of arms and around her waist. She was still quite bulky, built strong even as a human, but Crook strength was nothing to sneeze at. 

Reflexively, upon being lifted into the air, Idris settled her hand on Mithras’s tassel tail. Though most of his fur did look ragged and torn, his tail was always much more well-taken care of. The strands of hair on his tail, though thick, were smooth and silky, and under it all, a firm, muscular core. 

“Let’s get you back to your office,” he said, hefting her prosthetic legs up, tucking one under each arm. 

“Don’t carry me like this the whole way,” she griped. 

Unwilling to set her down so she could drag herself, as it would be slower, Mithras simply pulled her closer with his tail and let her transfer herself to hanging on his back, two of her strong arms wrapped around his neck, the other two wrapped around his trunk. 

Idris, who was now painfully aware of the time and the urgency of getting away from prying eyes, tapped Mithras’s stomach. “Get a move on,” she urged. 

Thoroughly amused, Mithras set off for her office, shimmying through doors when necessary. Unlike her, Mithras carried his bulk differently, and could afford to have someone carried on his back while attempting to fit through unfortunately sized doorways. 

“We should get contractors down here to widen these doorways regardless,” Mithras mused, as he approached her office. 

His ears flicked backwards and up. The younglings had returned. 

Without further preamble, he stepped into her office, and shut and locked her office door. Heading over to her chair, he placed her prosthetics in their charging station next to it, then knelt to allow her to drop off his back and into favorite chair. It now dwarfed her, but was no less comfortable. 

“Yes, we should get a contractor,” she agreed, deciding it was better to take the out Mithras gave her. Despite having to change her shape due to urgency, she still felt like she shouldn’t have to do so to fit anywhere. It was a very Crook-like mindset to want the world to accommodate her instead of forcing her to minimize herself to fit inside it. 

“But you do look good,” Mithras said quietly, settling down like a living throw rug. 

She looked down at him, wishing for the hundredth time that she could mush his big head with her foot. His hair was likely just as soft and silky as his tassel tail. 

“Do I?” 

She hadn’t given much thought to what humans found attractive, she simply knew what she would look like if she were to be one. It was a consideration she’d had once in a while, especially after seeing Mithras in his humanoid form. Then again, maybe it wasn’t that her humanoid form had anything to do with human attraction, but what Mithras found beautiful. 

The thought flustered her, so she crossed both arms over her chest, as if daring him to explain himself. 

“Yes, I like the pale scarring, it’s a nice touch,” he responded, seemingly uncaring of her unspoken challenge. 

His sincerity made her flush, and she immediately let the shape go, turning back into her Crook self. “Well don’t get used to seeing it,” she said as she reached for her prosthetics. 

Mithras simply rumbled in amusement.