Limitless Evolution As a Snake

Lyra’s laughter is like an ointment balm, soothing the sting of recent memories of near-death, transformation, and now resurrection through her care. I nearly died, and here she is, sharing a meal with me as if I’m worth that kindness.

[System: By the way, because you didn’t steal this, it doesn’t count.]

I pause, my mouth full of rice, staring off into the distance.

Really, old mate? Technically, I’m stealing her money to buy this, right? Give me this at least!

[System: Nope, doesn’t count, get stuffed.]

Lyra leans in, her head tilted in concern. "Is there something wrong?" she asks, her voice tinged with worry.

The bond between us flares with her concern, a warm glow that fills my heart. I can’t let her worry about me; I need to continue eating, faster now, determined to finish before she does, to show her that I’m alright, that her care has not been in vain, that her coming back for me was worth it.

To her amusement and the chef’s astonishment, I clear the bowl in record time. Lifting my head, I mimic her earlier tilt, tongue flicking out in a playful gesture.

She laughs, the sound rich and full, as she continues with her own meal. The simple joy of the moment, of being here with Lyra, fills me with a contentment I hadn’t known I was missing.

Lyra’s gaze softens as she watches me, the warmth in her eyes wrapping around me like a comfortable blanket. It’s the best feeling ever, like basking in the sun after a long, cold night in the damp undercity.

"You’re still so dirty, even after the treatment," she murmurs, her voice a gentle nudge against the silence of our moment. "I’ll buy you a little bowl, some warm water, and some soap. Let’s clean you up a little; it’s the least I can do for you."

She tucks a strand of hair behind her long elf ears, a blush colouring her cheeks as she looks down at her hands, fidgeting. The thought dawns on me then: Lyra is going to wash me. This beautiful girl is actually going to bathe me. Oh my god, I’m not sure I can contain myself.

[System: Calm your farm, you fuck, you’re still in glass snake mode and what if she touches your little twin turbos?]

You’re just jealous someone wants to touch me.

Lyra carries me out into the night. Twawi is loud and lit up, neon everywhere, hover vehicles cutting through the dark above our heads. It’s like someone took a night market, made it massive, and forgot to enforce any laws.

We pass through a few tight alleys. A man is selling frogs out of a cage, little ones, and they’re talking, actually talking, heckling him while he tries to make his pitch. Beside him, something big and dark shifts inside a crate and blinks at us. Hybrid, probably. Illegal, definitely. A few stalls down, a small pen holds dinosaurs about the size of cats, and they’re going at each other while a group of teenagers loses their minds over it.

A woman with feathers growing out of her hair is grilling meat on sticks. The smell hits hard, gamey and thick- mixing with noodles and hot oil from somewhere nearby, and her sign says dodo.

As Lyra carries me, her steps confident yet gentle, I can’t help but marvel at the contradiction of beauty and chaos blended so seamlessly around us. The warmth of her hands seeps into my scales, comforting and steady amidst the sensory overload of Twawi’s night market. Tonight, the city feels alive, pulsing with energy and secrets, and I’m here, witnessing it all from the palms of someone who might just be my saviour or my deepest bond yet.

Lyra navigates us to a less crowded corner of the market, her delicate hands setting me down on a stack of soft, faded cloths. "Wait here, okay? I won’t be long." Her voice is a reassuring melody, but as she turns away, my heart sinks a notch.

She approaches a home goods shop, engaging the owner, a bulky man with a greasy smile. Every time she examines an item, turning it over in her hands, I catch him ogling her. His eyes greedily trace the curve of her back, the dip of her waist. It stirs a venomous swirl in my gut.

I want to bite him, wrap myself around his throat until he turns blue.

[System: If you do it, I’ll make you red, and 500 EXP.]

I weigh the warning. The image of painting the sidewalk with his deceitful smirks tempts me fiercely.

Deal, but after my bath.

[System: You’re such a pet dog, mate.]

I’ll bark whenever she wants, and I’ll make her beg later anyway.

[System: Ok you freak, not sure how I feel about cocky you.]

Lyra’s still talking to the shop guy, something about brush bristles and towel fluffiness; my brain sorta glazes over. I’m just staring at his dumb face, all tight and ready to strike if he looks at her wrong again.

Well, even if he doesn’t look at her wrong again, I’m going to kill him.

Then she turns around with a little tub and soap and stuff, smiling like she just won something. All my pissed-off feelings melt away; bath time means she’s gonna touch me.

"Found everything we need," she says, setting down her purchases beside me. Her touch as she picks me up again sends a rush of warmth through my scales, smoothing the ruffled edges of my mood. "Let’s get you cleaned up and shiny, huh?"

Despite the earlier flare of jealousy, I find myself focusing on the bond that pulses softly between us.

Lyra scoops me into the makeshift bathtub a little glass bowl that seems more decorative than functional and then she places it carefully in a sheltered corner of an alleyway, the neon glow from the market casting colourful reflections on the glass.

"This will be our spot," she declares, her voice mixing seriousness with a hint of excitement, from now on, when you need me, just come here, okay?" She seems to think it’s as simple as that, but the anxiety nibbles at my insides. I’ll have to navigate the chaotic streets of Twawi just to reach this point. Still, I nod or do the snake equivalent of a nod, which is more of a slight bowing of my head.