As it turned out, Faetalis did have something else in mind. Everyone approached the task they'd been given in their own way, several through the lens of pragmatism. It made sense, after all, to forego any special effort when one already owned an item capable of bestowing a human guise, or one could already boast a human appearance. Why wouldn't the more unusually shaped monsters present approach the idea of being stuffed into a human-sized suit with caution, even if Mae herself just accepted the impossible as a matter of course for Supreme Beings, without thinking? In their best efforts to accomplish their objective in as sensible and efficient a manner as possible, however, it seemed as though the Overseers missed out on a crucial piece of their master's assignment: her intent.

Mae crossed her arms -an impossible feat in her typical form- and developed a pensive expression as she ruminated on what Faetalis had to say. Like some of the others, she'd assumed that her boss simply wanted them to be disguised. To that end, the obvious choice was to select a skin from the grisly spoils of bygone victories, which magic would then allow them to inhabit. When she remembered a way to disguise herself without needing to sacrifice one of these trophies, Mae had been all too pleased at her own supposed cleverness, not realizing that she'd missed the mark. The hidden horror's simulated eyes went wide, mirroring her true self's thoughts, as the corrective words of Faetalis sank in. While she didn't immediately grasp the meaning of everything the Supreme One said, she knew in an instant when she'd messed up. Just being disguised in some way wasn't important; it was [i]how[/i] that mattered. Suddenly the Witching Veil seemed like a cheap trick, a stop-gap solution that didn't actually address the issue. Like cooking in a bucket instead of a pot, just because she saw a bucket first.

Moreover, these once-glorious husks weren't hers, or any Overseer's to take. It soon became apparent that the much smarter Overseers were just as mistaken as Mae. As Faetalis continued to explain, however, things didn't necessarily become clearer. She wanted the members of her Raid Council to not look around, but within. Mae blinked a couple times as she looked down, trying to see what Faetalis evidently saw in her, although all she ended up seeing at the moment was her human guise's bosom. A 'Human', inside her? During and after the Guild's more high-profile invasions Mae had a bunch of humans inside her, whether minced, ground, juiced, baked, or raw. It had been a long time, however, since mankind had been on the menu, so she somehow doubted that was what Faetalis meant. But then what did she mean? Unlike her Maneaters, who at one point had been ordinary people before succumbing to their unholy, mutative curse, Mae had never been human, at least as far as she knew. As a Great Old One, she existed as a ghoulish monstrosity wholly beyond the ordinary world, a fearsome deity borne of gluttonous depravity whose hideous flesh made mockery of the human form, of the depths to which their sin could lead them. Maybe...[i]that[/i] was what Faetalis alluded to? As Great Old Ones went, Mae did sit comfortably at the tamer end of the spectrum, far less cosmic and incomprehensible than her more 'outer' kindred, as far as she knew. Maybe, instead of a pretty form chosen [i]for[/i] Mae, in order to cover her up with a much more appreciable veneer, her boss wanted a human that [i]is[/i] Mae, or at least what she represents.

Or maybe that was all just a bunch of hogwash. Mae did feel a little hungry, and nothing distracted her from the monumental task of critical thinking like an empty stomach.

Either way, the headless horror did feel like she had a slightly better grasp of what Faetalis wanted. Her glamour watched, and her blindsight scanned, as her master finished her great work with a flourish and slipped on her new flesh like a jacket. In just a moment the deception was complete, and a totally unfamiliar human stood before the group of monsters, a pretty little thing that smacked of none of the Conquering Technomancer's genius or ambition. Mae couldn't even feel her pressure anymore; there wasn't a single trace of the slightly oppressive 'gravity' that naturally emanated from a Supreme One to weigh down upon lesser beings, such as herself. "Dad-gum!" she breathed, re-evaluating any detail for even the slightest hint of a flaw in the disguise, but just as she expected she found none. "Well, butter me up an' call me a biscuit, that's one downright immaculate costume there, Lady Faetalis!" She then internalized that her boss was cold. Somewhat sheepishly, Mae removed her Witching Veil, and in a matter of seconds the lovely chef ballooned back out into her true, abominable form. Promptly she removed her sleek, dark brown Night-lined Mantle and offered it to Faetalis to drape around her shoulders like a cloak.

No longer possessed of a head to emote with, the great ghoul stepped back and put her hands on her hips as she considered what to do. This place wasn't supposed to be a boutique where the Overseers shopped around for a good fit, but a tailor where they could get the perfect fit custom-ordered. As far as Mae could tell, the 'human' Faetalis asked for wasn't what Mae wanted out of those available, but what she wanted, period. But what did she [i]want[/i]? It was a dizzying question. Right now, she mostly wanted a snack, and failing that, to be back in her kitchen cooking something, since that was what she enjoyed the most. But she also wanted to do a good job for Faetalis, of course. And that meant showing her 'innermost soul'. But what [i]was[/i] that? Mae felt like she was thinking in circles, getting nowhere. "I don't got the INT for this," she mumbled to herself in resignation. What did Canology Mae want out of herself?

Try as she might, she could think of nothing she wanted more than to provide for her Guild, to make meals that could satisfy body and soul, then send her friends off with full hearts and all the boosts and buffs they might need to do their jobs. As fun as terrorizing that expedition had been, she possessed no particular bloodlust or grand ambition, other than to obtain fine ingredients for the craft of exquisite dishes. Of course, any who threatened her kitchen would soon find themselves on the menu, and she did feel a little ashamed that she'd never earned glory for her guild on the field of battle, but was that what she really wanted? ....No. Let the others pillage, adventure, scheme, and conquer; Mae would be here to get them ready when they left, and to welcome them home when they returned.

A vision sprang into mind--either hers or that of Faetalis, or maybe both. A woman, somewhere in her mid-thirties, at least. Quite stout, but nowhere near as much as Mae herself. Possessed of ruddy, ordinary features, chestnut-brown eyes, crow's feet, and wavy, mousy brown hair, pulled together in a ponytail over one shoulder, covered partially by a white cloth wound around the top of the head. Dressed in a simple forest-green overdress over an ankle-length smock, yellowish in color, and sporting a well-used apron and rolled-up sleeves. Hers was a face that could be found most anywhere, whether in a tavern making beds or doling out food and drink to weary travelers, in a farmhouse over a roaring stove after a long day's work, or at market bargaining for the freshest meat and produce from the countryside. This sort of face belonged to countless mothers and wives, and it was one that just about anyone would happy to see, for it belonged to someone who knew how to take good care of you. Not someone who would ever change the face of the world, whether through war or politics, or who would earn the admiration of heroes or kings, but someone who ran a tight kitchen and kept a good home, beloved by many and respected by anyone with a lick of sense. There could be no doubt about it; for all of Mae's monstrosity, and despite the Witching Veil's glamour, this better represented who she really was.