"Something restrained, demure. We don't want to unsettle the locals any more than you already have." You dig up a memory from a few days back of a farmer's daughter glanced briefly in an Inn - plain, flat face, broad nose covered in freckles, dirty red hair - and toss it into her mind. She receives it like a dog with a bone.
For more experienced lust demons, the act of transformation is an art, the transition itself used to titillate and arouse onlookers as the demons flows sensually from one form to another, body parts forming like blossoming flowers, while others linger teasingly. Others take a more indecent approach, birthing their new form into existence, but even that has a certain flair to it. Heredrine's transformation is anything but sensual - it's an affront against nature.
For the first few moments, as a mop of curly, red hair sprouts on the cow's head, it looks rather comical. Then the skull splits apart lengthwise between the eyes, exposing the brain, and you feel your stomach turn. With a hideous crackling sound that will haunt you to your dying days, lumps of gristle and bone erupt from the cow's hide, sending sprays of yellowish bodily fluid arcing across the field. Blood vessels crawl like worms over the surface of her skin, which mottles with discolored blotches of human-like flesh. The legs snap and crumple, and the demon collapses into the dirt, a gibbering mound of broken, undulating, bloody gristle.
Through the mental link, you feel her panic as she struggles to hold herself together. For a terrifying minute, she seems to become stuck between forms until at the last moment it all seems to snap together, the broken bones and mutilated lumps of flesh all coming together to form the farmer's daughter lying naked in the soft mud, and filthy but whole.
"Tadaa," Heredrine says weakly, looking close to tears.
"That was the most amateurish display of shapeshifting I've ever seen in my life," you snort. "And where are the clothes? I suppose you expect me to concur you some now."
"It's my first time doing a human," she sniffs, climbing clumsily out of the dirt, taking the plain, loose-fitting dress you pluck out of the air.
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