Reflections are everywhere in a city. They shine off of every unnatural surface, catching each other and multiplying into infinity. It's the first time your world has ever been dominated by sight rather than scent. Now you find yourself unconsciously turning your head to catch a glimpse of yourself.

It's still chafing, this new skin. The confusing gleam of mirrors only compounds the oddity of knowing that the Glamour is bound tight to you. As if your situation wasn't degrading enough without the constant reminders. It turns your stomach to think of the game you're playing, letting the humans see what they want to, making your body conform with theirs. Once their ancestors killed yours for the chance to wear their hides. It's an irony that you must now debase yourself and wear theirs without even the honor of a kill.

You growl low in your thought, ignoring the tinny sound of it in favor of the slow release of tension it provides. You haven't been in this form for a full day yet and already you've taken on a human's capacity for lying. Honestly has always been one of your most basic instincts, but now you find yourself attempting to turn truth away from your conscious thoughts. It isn't just the shame of your bare skin or odd, two-legged gait that's gnawing at your mind- it's the basest of vanities.

Why the hell do you look like this?

You haven't ever stopped and stared at yourself outright, even- especially -when you first changed. You were too busy stumbling off into a maze of streets with your odd 'rescuer.' Then pride took over and forbade all gawking. Still, over time, you've built a picture out of your almost-shy glances.

A tall boy, well built. Hair that hangs long around his neck. Dreamer's eyes. Thin. Maybe too thin, though not spindly for all the angles of this body... but delicate somehow. And fragile. Fay, that might be the word for it. Or effeminate.

You can't understand it. Within the day you've tasted the blood of human and wolfkind and been blooded yourself uncountable times, and survived. So why this youthful beauty?

You know, although you haven't had cause to see for yourself until now, that a wolf does not decide on his looks when the Glamour takes hold. That one is what one is, and from the core of that understanding one can show many outward faces that are still 'self' because they reflect the spirit as mirrors reflect the flesh.

Is this the look of your soul?

You'd be a liar if you said you weren't disappointed.

***End
return to splash page