I leapt from the tree limb I had been perching on for the past twenty minutes to another some five meters away. I felt like doing a little swinging, so when I came to the limb I had been aiming for, I grasped it tightly in my paws and used my momentum to swing forward. Letting go, I repeated the trick again, this time not letting go so that I made a full half circle around the branch. When I reached the apex of the arc, I let go again and flew up into the air. So like flying it was! I did a neat little flip and landed lightly on the limb. Standing tall on the narrow space, I surveyed the jungle around me. I was so rarely in the jungle, it seemed suddenly very strange. I was far more accustomed to forests, or plains, or most often, the bustling cities of humans.
I felt a tremor in the huge tree I was standing in, and instinctively crouched down to get a better purchase on the trunk. I looked down, and seeing nothing, looked up instead. There I saw a large ape of some sort, I am no biologist, peering down at me curiously from A couple of meters above me. His intelligent eyes evinced curiosity, but no fear or trepidation. Probably had never seen a Bastet in his life before. Feeling mischievous, I allowed my deep green eyes to glint in the diffused light from the sun, the narrow slits of pupils narrowing slightly, and bared my teeth, hissing softly at it as only cats can. His reaction was well worth it. He squeaked in the most amusing fashion, veritably leapt backward, catching himself on a passing branch only at the last second before he was plummeting too fast to stop himself. Swinging up and around again, much as I had a moment before, only without the leaping flip, he glared at me, now from a safe distance. The indignation in his eyes was so strong, it made me laugh out loud. Clearly not finding it amusing himself he turned and proceeded to swing and leap off at a remarkable pace through the trees, apparently immune to the forces of gravity. Giving another little chuckle, I proceeded to make my way to the ground, more than a dozen meters below.
Upon achieving the earth, I leaned against the tree, trying to make a decision. Not an important one really, but I was in the mood for a change. Would it be human, or feline this time? Or perhaps something in between, just for variety’s sake? I finally decided on my feline shape. I was after all moving soon into territory that did not encourage being conspicuous, and a 3 meter tall werecat is far from invisible!
I concentrated briefly, closing my eyes more out of habit than any real necessity, visualizing my form shifting into that of a cheetah. I willed it to be so, and despite the fact that even after all this time, a vague sort of surprise, and a secret thrill, flowed through my mind and body that this really was possible. The illusory sensation of being water passed after a moment, and there I was, as I opened my eyes, I adjusted myself briefly to the different sort of sensing that accompanies this form, and sat up and began to lope off in the direction of the plains again, and beyond that, One of the few cities of Africa.
Once I emerged from the enclosing trees and into the savannas, I broke into a run. Before long I was moving as fast as a human car does. This, too, was not unlike flying, so fast was I going, that it seemed that any moment my paws, barely touching the earth already, would leave the ground altogether and I would soar off into the sky. How I love to run!
It took me a remarkably short time to reach my destination. As I neared the gates of Alexandria (not really gates, but it sounds better), I slowed to a walk and with some reluctance, shifted my form to something more suitable for walking about the streets of a human city. My homid form, reminiscent of my feline, is lean and tall, with long, dark, flowing hair, a clean-shaven face, a wiry musculature, almost skinny, but just a little too full, a skin tone that would be white if not for the deep amber color evidencing many hours spent in the sun. My eyes are a deep brown, almost black, with long lashes, though these are often hidden by the glasses I am forced in my human form to wear. My hair flies loose at the moment, and I dig an elastic out of my pocket and tie it back out of my eyes. My nails are long for a male, and the fingers are long and tapered, almost, but not quite, delicate. There is a quiet strength in my demeanor, not quite menacing. There is clear self-confidence, some might even say arrogance, as well. The whole is not outstandingly handsome, but neither is it at all ugly, in fact, one might even say that it is almost nondescript. If not for the style of dress I sometimes adopt, I would easily be able to disappear into a crowd. Right now however, I am not dressed in anything conspicuous, even for this region. I wear a shapeless T-shirt and some worn denim shorts, with no adornments of any kind save for a wide-brimmed hat and dark-sunglasses(prescription ones, too, damnit!) to shield me from the African sun.
With the transformation complete, I picked up the pace of my walk slightly, I never stopped, actually, even during the change, an ability I quietly pride myself on, most changers have to stop to execute the change, and made my way into the city. Since it was so close to midday, there were relatively few people out and about. Even so brightly lit, though, the city of Alexandria, as do all cities of Egypt, had an air of death about it. Not surprising, considering its history. Considering that for centuries two of the most powerful blood drinkers vied for power here, and what is a vampire but the bringer of death? Add to that the fact that it is still a warren for some of the more despicable undead, those damnable Followers of Set, as well as the most questionable of the tribes of Bastet, the Bubasti. It is for one of those that I am on this continent at all. Normally I am not even on this side of the Atlantic, though I have been here before, as have all of my tribe. We all come here, at least those few of us that weren’t always here….
§§§§§§§
I was a late changer, as the normal parlance goes, though most everyone who knew me thought that there was something different about me. I was nearly twenty years old before I discovered what it was. I was an American human (as most Bastet are these days, human that is) born and raised in the Northeast. I had long been fascinated with the occult. Spirits, magic, supernatural beings and the like, and the shock wasn’t so much that the Bastet existed, I’d always suspected that there were such things, but more that I was actually one of them. I had never dared to hope that I was someone so special as all that. I had shown signs of magical talent, and was undeniably empathic when I chose to exercise the ability, and even showed occasional talent toward telepathy, though it was a vestigial and untrained, and thus utterly unreliable, skill. I would often seem to have uncanny luck, my friends had sometimes joked that I had charmed the Fates, and strange things would occasionally happen when I wanted them to. But I was never able to direct these dubious powers very effectively, and I often still cannot to a large degree. Some of them yes, but many of them I think are not controllable.
But anyway, as I was saying, I was an American, not of any particular ancestry (as though any American can be so very certain of his parentage) but I clearly had some element of African in there somewhere. It seems I am one of those that the gene for changing has lain dormant in my ancestors for some reason, and only now surfaced in me. But for several weeks, I was lost about my newfound position in the scheme of things. I could not yet reliably control my abilities, not even the change, though I would sometimes be able to, if I got sufficiently upset, begin to change ever so slightly without even intending to. Occasionally I think I accidentally achieved Sokto, which thoroughly freaked out those around me at the time. I only made it to Crinos once, and twice into feline, but one of those was sort of a sleepwalking sort of thing. I did it unconsciously while sleeping. The only reason I think I did it is that I woke up miles from where I’d gone to sleep, and the entire time I was dreaming that I had become the wind. Since I’m a Swara, a dream like that comes as no real surprise, does it? That was the first time. I wrote it off at the time to sleepwalking, though I’m not given to doing any such thing normally. The other times I was awake. Thankfully I was alone when they both happened.
But finally, after several weeks of wondering what the hell I was supposed to do about this now, a tall black man arrived at my door. My first thought was that he should play basketball. He certainly had the frame for it. I’m not outstandingly tall for my generation, about six feet in American measuring (I don’t use that anymore, since it is really quite silly and totally useless anywhere else in the world), but this guy towered over me. He must have been close to seven feet tall. He was bearded, with deep chocolate skin, the blackest, deepest eyes I had ever seen, and long black hair that he had in hundreds of tiny braids running down his back. He wore lightweight, nondescript clothes that would in no way hinder any sort of motion you can imagine the human body performing. It seemed that his clothes were a bit big for his thin frame, but since that was the style, it wasn’t exceptional.
As soon as I opened the door, he moved around me and entered the room without so much as a greeting. Considering his height, he did it with amazing grace. Often people that are that tall are clumsy with their size, not really knowing how to use it, but not him. He walked right in, went straight to my favorite chair, and sat down as though he owned the place. I pride myself in saying that my jaw did not drop, nor did I look too shocked. I was powerfully offended at this rudeness though.
I slowly shut the door and turned to face him. He was sitting in my chair, as though he belonged there, looking up at me as innocent as can be. He gestured with his hand towards the other chair. "Sit down." His voice was deeply resonant; a rich baritone. It had a tone not so much of command, but more like a polite request that was assumed to be obeyed. I found myself doing as he asked without even thinking about it. When I had made myself comfortable, now more intrigued than upset, he stared straight into my eyes. He stayed that way for a long moment, and never one to back down from a perceived challenge, I met his gaze unflinchingly. Finally he nodded, as though a question had been answered to himself. He then proceeded to explain everything….
§§§§§§§
I wandered the city for some time, looking in windows, watching the people, humans are so very fascinating, and generally wasting time. I’d left a large window for arrival, and my meeting was not scheduled for nearly an hour yet.
Finally, I made my way to a particular alleyway, one that looked no different than any other alley. I went to the end of it and turned to the right-hand building, in which was set a door. I knocked on it, firmly, and then, quickly, before anyone had a chance to open the door, I stepped sideways into the Umbra. I glanced around quickly to make sure that there were no Asura about. Seeing none, I waited.
I hadn’t long, for only a moment later, the door cracked open. I took the chance for what it was, and, bursting back into the realm of flesh, transforming to Crinos as I went (a very difficult proposition by the way, one I’d been practicing for weeks) and bursting through the door at top speed, bowling over whoever it was that had opened it. I ran through the halls as fast as possible, searching for the one face I knew. It wasn’t long before I found her. She was seated on a cushion in a room lit only by a circle of small candles surrounding her, and in each of the four corners, powerful incense burned. I wrinkled my nose at the strong odor, but did not allow it to phase me. Before her was that which I sought. Hardly before she even had a chance to react, I had knocked over four of the tiny candles to reach the priceless hakarr my kuasha had given me at our parting, uttered an angry roar, and viscously slashed the thieving Bubasti from eye to belly. She fell to the earth gasping, unable to scream as I’d severed her throat, as well as most everything else, and I turned, with the blood still dripping from the blades, to glare menacingly at the servant that had finally recovered and rushed to try and help his mistress, but far too late. As I began to stalk forward, he backed fearfully out of the way. I stopped before him, glaring at him still, and reached up and wiped the blades of my hakarr upon his shirt, slowly, carefully. He trembled with fear, but, to his credit, remained conscious and stayed still. With this task finished, I turned and stalked out of the detestable place. The smell of death already gathering within the room.