Mr_Positive
Returning veteran
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2024
- Posts
- 578
Ethan sat frozen for a moment, his fork suspended midair as he watched the faint glow ripple across her form. His pulse quickened—not in fear, but in pure, unfiltered fascination. The transformation was seamless, fluid, and eerily beautiful. One second, she was sitting there wiping her hands with a napkin, and the next, she was gone—replaced by the sinuous, scaled body of a bull snake. The creature’s movements were graceful, almost hypnotic, as she slithered to the floor and made her way toward the bed.
Ethan exhaled slowly, setting his fork down with a soft clink. Most people, he imagined, would’ve panicked at the sight of a snake suddenly appearing in their kitchen. But fear wasn’t what stirred in him. If anything, it was a deep, unexpected sense of calm. He leaned back slightly, observing her as she began to climb the bedpost. Her small, triangular head lifted, tongue flicking out as if to measure the world around her. There was intent in her movements, a deliberate carefulness that reminded him she wasn’t just any snake. No, this was Illy—her essence unmistakable even in this form.
“You didn’t warn me you could do that,” he murmured, his voice low and almost conversational. He wasn’t sure if she could understand him like this, but it felt natural to speak anyway. “Would’ve been nice to know.”
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Guess it explains why you don’t mind the dirt,” he added, more to himself than to her. Ethan stood, his chair scraping lightly against the floor, and walked to the stove, ostensibly to clean up. But his attention kept flicking back to her, watching the slow, methodical way she coiled and maneuvered. It struck him how vulnerable the transformation was—how it left her exposed in a way few would understand. Trust. That’s what it had to be, for her to shift like this in front of him.
He lingered by the counter, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?” he said softly, half-smiling to himself.
Ethan exhaled slowly, setting his fork down with a soft clink. Most people, he imagined, would’ve panicked at the sight of a snake suddenly appearing in their kitchen. But fear wasn’t what stirred in him. If anything, it was a deep, unexpected sense of calm. He leaned back slightly, observing her as she began to climb the bedpost. Her small, triangular head lifted, tongue flicking out as if to measure the world around her. There was intent in her movements, a deliberate carefulness that reminded him she wasn’t just any snake. No, this was Illy—her essence unmistakable even in this form.
“You didn’t warn me you could do that,” he murmured, his voice low and almost conversational. He wasn’t sure if she could understand him like this, but it felt natural to speak anyway. “Would’ve been nice to know.”
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Guess it explains why you don’t mind the dirt,” he added, more to himself than to her. Ethan stood, his chair scraping lightly against the floor, and walked to the stove, ostensibly to clean up. But his attention kept flicking back to her, watching the slow, methodical way she coiled and maneuvered. It struck him how vulnerable the transformation was—how it left her exposed in a way few would understand. Trust. That’s what it had to be, for her to shift like this in front of him.
He lingered by the counter, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?” he said softly, half-smiling to himself.
