"Because this is the only outfit I have, and I'm not going to ruin it knocking around a couple of thugs," Rachel says matter-of-factly, her voice muffled briefly as she tugs her shirt over her head. She's glad she arrived here with her morphing suit on under her clothes, although morphing suit is a little bit too glorified a name for a plain black leotard. Rachel drops her shirt and cardigan unceremoniously in Stiles' lap as she scrambles to her feet to shimmy out of her jeans with practiced ease.
"Hold onto these for me, will you?" she says, crumpling up her jeans and shoving them at him. It's a little chilly in the alley with only a leotard on, but in a minute, she won't be so cold. Grizzly bears are adequately protected with all that fur. But wait -- no. Grizzly might be too conspicuous on a space station. Elephant even more so, and not exactly great for a relatively confined space. There aren't any Hork-Bajir on this station, but it'd fit in a lot better with all the aliens here.
She draws in a breath through her nose and focuses on the Hork-Bajir DNA she acquired not too long ago. Morphing is rarely pretty and never predictable, and this time the first change is Rachel's face shooting suddenly forward to form the snakelike head of the Hork-Bajir. Her toes and fingers fuse together, then split apart and harden to form talons and claws. The rest of her is still all fleshy and pink, even as she starts to grow taller and her bones rearrange themselves to Hork-Bajir physiology, and a long, bladed tail shoots out from her back. Finally, her skin starts to toughen and thicken into leather, turning a dark, dark green, and the assorted blades, natural and deadly, begin to grow from her wrists, elbows, knees, even her head. It only takes a minute or two from start to finish, and when it's complete, it isn't a fourteen year old girl looking at Stiles -- it's a seven-foot-tall lizard-like alien with a snakelike beak and a bunch of deadly-looking blades sprouting from its body. And when Rachel speaks to him, it's not with her mouth, but with thought-speak, targeting the words directly to Stiles' mind.
god dammit i dont have any hork-bajir icons oops
"Hold onto these for me, will you?" she says, crumpling up her jeans and shoving them at him. It's a little chilly in the alley with only a leotard on, but in a minute, she won't be so cold. Grizzly bears are adequately protected with all that fur. But wait -- no. Grizzly might be too conspicuous on a space station. Elephant even more so, and not exactly great for a relatively confined space. There aren't any Hork-Bajir on this station, but it'd fit in a lot better with all the aliens here.
She draws in a breath through her nose and focuses on the Hork-Bajir DNA she acquired not too long ago. Morphing is rarely pretty and never predictable, and this time the first change is Rachel's face shooting suddenly forward to form the snakelike head of the Hork-Bajir. Her toes and fingers fuse together, then split apart and harden to form talons and claws. The rest of her is still all fleshy and pink, even as she starts to grow taller and her bones rearrange themselves to Hork-Bajir physiology, and a long, bladed tail shoots out from her back. Finally, her skin starts to toughen and thicken into leather, turning a dark, dark green, and the assorted blades, natural and deadly, begin to grow from her wrists, elbows, knees, even her head. It only takes a minute or two from start to finish, and when it's complete, it isn't a fourteen year old girl looking at Stiles -- it's a seven-foot-tall lizard-like alien with a snakelike beak and a bunch of deadly-looking blades sprouting from its body. And when Rachel speaks to him, it's not with her mouth, but with thought-speak, targeting the words directly to Stiles' mind.
<Do me a favor, okay? Don't freak out.>