So for my noveling I'm at research-stage and I'm looking into shapeshifters. This idea has always fascinated me. What about you? Do you love it? Squinch your nose at it? Could really care less?
My current project isn't about shapeshifting as a fully formed thought, but rather an undertone. I don't know if that makes sense? For now, this is kind of how I'm using it (though this short-short isn't at all part of my novel. SoSo is one of my characters, but that's about it):
|link to original here|
Reminiscing, Fiona thinks, It’s not so much that I'm a shapeshifter, because nothing really changes. It's more like I'm added-on-to. Upgraded, maybe, or accessorized.
Fi knows her share of shapeshifters, proud people claiming their birthright with the ease and grace of walking. Their mothers teach them shifting before walking, even, which is perhaps why that basic human skill seems so second-nature by the time they get around to learning it.
“What’re you thinking about, my little angel?” Liam rolls to his side, propping his head on his hand and smiling a sleepy grin.
Fiona looks up and sighs, “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“But I’m not.”
She slides back into silence. He waits.
Without any mother to speak of, or at least none that claimed her, Fiona was left to learn everything from her half-sisters. Though SoSo is doting, she’s busy. The others are interested when it serves them. At best, Fi could say she’s received a variegated education, having to piece things together herself.
At worst, she could say she is screwed. Perhaps that’s why things still seemed so out of order. Unclear.
“I’m thinking about my mum,” Fi finally answers.
Liam has been slowly drawing his finger along the lines of her high cheekbones, her lips, her long neck. His touch is light, teasing, as he continues his unhurried exploration down.
“What about her?”
“I don’t know,” Fi purrs, relaxing and stretching into his hand.
Rumbling deep, he pulls her length onto him, whispering, “Do your thing.”
Fiona hesitates, though, pushing slightly away. She isn’t supposed to; it’s considered a waste. But she loves how he plays, how he laughs.
Eff it, she thinks, her form blurring. She scoops him up and wraps them both in her wings. Angelic love is perfect. Rapturous. But now she’s truly in trouble.
Hmmm. What do you think about the present-tense? I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with it. I feel like I'm taking notes, or something, but thought I'd try it out.
Created in part for the GBE 2: Blog On week #48 challenge
Moment of Magic today:
Because it seems to serendipitously fit?