Wearing one shape for so long was starting to feel confining, but Rhen doubted any of her companions would be willing to let her strip down and stretch. Whenever she had to hold a form for more than a few hours, she started wondering how the other races did so. Her shoulders ached, her chin felt too narrow and she could swear her vision was going blue from holding one colour for too long.

Perhaps most annoying was that little pit of fear in the bottom of her stomach that came from staying around any group too long. That fear they'd know she was a changeling and chase her away. But that was ridiculous, irrational, since she'd openly presented herself as a changeling. Still... She looked over at the man at the edge of the camp. Demon, human, famous persona, she still wanted to know him.

She stopped a pace away from him and forced herself to think of an appropriately formal greeting, but in the end only managed, [color=ed1c24]"Ibic solus tionir ara'novor?" [/color]She wasn't used to speaking like a child. Her infernal needed serious work. "Great and powerful Argor," she added.

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