<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/CbThKQ5.jpg)<br/><div align="center"><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Transformed Nyx</div><div class="spoiler_body">(https://i.imgur.com/LOWQFYe.jpg)</div></div></div></div><hr/><strong>Location</strong>: Nevermore Lunchroom<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Tara, OPEN<hr/>Nyx raised one pink eyebrow at the other woman as she scarfed her meat. Even the thought caused them to giggle behind a concealing hand. For Nyx, eating was a process to enjoy rather than be done with. It was a moment to be alone with delicious thoughts. They ate absently or quickly only if their attention was diverted by conversation or a book. As such, their own meal disappeared rather quickly as they listened to the other speak about her life. Their mouth made a little 'O' of surprise at the reveal Tara had been a Normie just the year before. Their brow furled as they had to concentrate through the barrage of teen lingo. Confusion reigned at the end though. The story had been presented in general sweeping terms but some details were left out. Nyx got the sense that it was intentional and they resolved not to pry. If and when Tara wanted to share details, she would. A furious blush colored their face at the compliment though and they squirmed in their seat. Did the pink grow a shade more vibrant? Their features just a touch softer?<br/><br/>Shaking their head, they nodded,<strong>"That... must've been so hard. I've been rejected and abhorred by normies most of my life. Shapeshifters learn not to take children out in public before they stabilize, but that wasn't an option with me. Either leave me at home or deal with the looks. I can't imagine fitting in most my life only for it to go sideways!"</strong>They stopped and tilted their head trying to imagine Tara as a blonde, cheerleader, type. Shaking their head to clear the malformed image, they laughed,<strong>"Gawd, sorry, but trying to imagine you as the blonde, typical, Normie is hard. You're so... so alt. To...tes an upgrade, fer sure. Wait, bimbo?!"</strong>They blinked a few times and them shook their head.<strong>"Definitely not my image of you now. Heh. Definitely more 'bad rhymes with witch' now."</strong><br/><br/>They giggled as they tried playing keep up with the lingo game but felt the awkwardness of it powerfully. Stilling as the more powerful turn of the conversation, they looked away a moment and then sighed,<strong>"It's hard to say. On one hand, you know you're 'looking in the window' as it were, but I've never had another perspective, yeah? Even for an Outcast, I'm a bit of an abnormality. I mean, no one likes being reminded that I could be anyone. I mean, that's what the hair started as. Just a way to let people know it's me."</strong>Smiling innocently, the thin figure in the other chair slowly began to slip. At first everything went less defined, vague, then a new image of a petite asian girl formed in what were now quite baggy clothes. They struck a cute pose and went 'uwu' before the same shimmering shift the image into Vladimir Putin who struck the same posed and also said 'uwu' before the shimmering settled back into its normal form.<strong>"Nowadays, the hair is about the only pair I DON"T need to concentrated on. Well, the color at least."</strong>They shrugged at the idea that a societal norm had been the driving cause of stability in their identity as much as their own expression.<br/><br/>They tilted their head and considered the original question again,<strong>"So, anyway, I can't speak for the furs, fangs, or scales, or stoners really but shapeshifters generally deal with normies by hiding. That's the point isn't it? Of being a shapeshifter? Hiding and running away? But I can say that you never get used to the look of existential horrow on someone's face as they realize not only could you be anyone, but you could be them. Things they consider unique and important parts of their identity can be easy replicated by my kind. You'd be surprised how violent that reaction can be. Or maybe not. I don't know. I was taught by my parents from a young age to be aware of it, watch for it, and flee when I saw it."</strong>They'd grown more and more distant as they described something they did have some experience with, by the look on their face. Slowly, their eyes scanned the cafeteria, a real wariness filling their eyes.<strong>"You know that feeling when you're walking downa  dark road by yourself and you hear a twig break or a car bakcfires, and you just can't shake the unease? It's a little like that. Only at a constant low hum.</strong>