It is bitingly cold outside and Alcina can tell that it is troubling the girl. But of course her little fire child would hate the cold. She is no different than her sisters in that regard. For the time being, Alcina lifts her up and bundles her into the folds of her coat.
“Thank you.” The girl mumbles. Her cheeks and nose have grown very red.
“Of course, dear.” She replies. She thinks that it is only a matter of time before the girl begins sniffling. Alcina hopes that her warmth and generosity will be enough to keep the girl from resenting her. But her form, it isn’t easy to behold, much less accept and love.
She doesn’t even love it.
Doesn’t accept it.
Her hand touches Azula’s cheek. She has to chuckle, her hand is practically the size of her face. The girl seems content until she brushes the snow off of a bench and sits her down upon its frosty stone surface. She shrugs off her coat, she won’t need it anyhow. “Here, darling, you can just bundle yourself up in this.”
Azula’s smile returns. “It’s very warm, thank you.” She rubs her cheek against the fur, likely taking in an aroma of fine wine and luxurious perfume.
“Can you promise me again that you won’t leave me?”
Azula nods, “where would I go?”
Back home, Alcina thinks, where heinous beasts aren’t threatening to destroy or consume her. But then, the girl has encountered several such things already–namely the lycans–without so much as a flinch. She wonders just what his girl has gone through to put such a cold indifference in such a warm body.
She wonders what the girl’s limit is.
She hates to think that she will be the limit.
That one look at her will be enough for the girl to change her mind about never wanting to go home.
Alcina hands the girl her hat and takes several steps back. The transformation is agonizing, horribly so. To induce it herself is a dreadful thing, a thing that tears at her mind in a way that she can just barely comprehend. She falls to her knees and hunches forward. She thinks that Azula might have flinched. If she had…
It is hopeless.
A mistake.
And it is too late to turn back now.
Now that her skin has paled. Now that dark cracks and veins spiderweb across her face, over her chest, up and down her arms, and around her belly and back. Her eyes burn and her entire body strains and pulls. He skin writhes and ripples as tendrils burst free. She throws her head back and screams.
She spares a thought to Azula. Azula who must be quite deeply distrubed by now. And then her mind drifts back to the pain, the ungodly amount of pain. It intensifies until she can think about nothing else at all.
Nothing but the pain, the stretching and pulling. The trashing and writing.
.oOo.
She would be lying if she said that chills weren’t running through her entire body. Lying if she said that she hadn’t burrowed deeper into the coat. Lying if she said that she didn’t want to pull it over her face and inhale a comforting aroma of wine and rose.
Azula has never seen such a thing before. Has never considered the existence of such a creature. Of a woman that can quite literally become a monstrosity. Absently she finds herself backing away, but she had promised not to leave.
Even when the woman, already impressively large, grows larger still. Until what remains of her human body is perched upon a beast with a gaping maw that opens like a an iris or the legs of a starfish. Each petal has its own set of teeth–multiple sets per each leg–and its thrashing tongue has a maw of its own.
Even the human portion of her body is no longer human, it is white and corpse like, eyes dark and head adorned with a crown of thrashing tentacles of sorts.
But it is her screams that are the most terrifying of all. They are shrill with a gutteral layer. Tortured and furious. Vicious.
Azula understands why her mother had her make that promise; she is horrifying. And for a petrifying moment she isn’t so sure that this form comes with any control. She thinks that the woman may have deceived her, tricked her into standing nice and still for her…
The dragon creature drops, only for a moment before lifting its head, the tongue thrashes and Azula stumbles back.
She had been a fool to trust these people…these things. They had said pretty things to her, done her kindnesses–she shouldn’t have let her guard down. Should have known that it was too good to be true.
But then the creatures speaks, “please don't…” she hadn’t realized that such a mighty creature with such a naturally booming voice could sound so meek. “You promised me that you wouldn’t leave.”
“I–” Azula sputters. She hadn’t realized that she was food.
“Don’t leave me. I can turn back. You won’t have to see this again.”
She relaxes if only a little, if the beast–if her mother wanted to hurt her, she would have done so already. Anyways, she supposes that a quick bolt to the chest or head would do it if need be. She returns to the stone bench and the body atop the maw seems to lose tension.
Alcina doesn’t speak. Azula thinks that it is shame that keeps her silent. Shame, self-disgust, and embarrassment. She cringes at the thought that she has just helped induce those feelings. Really, now that her doubts have passed, now that she knows that this is no avatar state and that the woman does have full control and awareness, it isn’t so bad.
It is more of a curiosity, an intrigue. She has never seen anything like it. There is only one thing that comes even remotely close, “you’re a dragon?” Azula asks. But she is nothing like the dragons of her world.
“Yes, something like that.” Mother confirms, her tone bleak.
Azula sighs, she gathers the coat and steps forward. She wishes that she hadn’t hesitated, but she can’t exactly help it. She worries that the dragon portion has a mind of its own. But when she lais her hand upon the outside of its maw, Alcina keeps it tightly closed.
“You may come up here.” The woman offers.
Azula hesitates again before saying, “you’re too high up.”
One of the tendrils comes down to lift her atop. In such close proximity, Azula can’t suppress a shudder. The look of the woman is like rot and illness. She smells of it too. She smells of death. Azula not so subtly buries her nose in the coat, inhaling a more comforting and familiar scent.
There is anguish in her voice when she asks, “would you like to fly?”
She has probably already made the woman feel bad enough so she doesn’t hesitate this time. “I have always wanted to try riding a dragon.”