Her hair colored had changed to white-blond from the purple, and it had grown several feet; now almost to her knees. It was back in a braid instead of a ponytail. The first sign of herself changing.
Then her clothing had changed: she wore layers now instead of the hoodies she had been wearing for so long. A black top that hung off of her shoulders with a black cami beneath it, the shirt elongated in the front and back almost like a dress. A belt around her waist that held her combat knife she had taken to carrying, and jeans with decorative bells hanging form it: and with the holder for her throwing knives wrapped around her right leg. The black tennis shoes were still the same.
She had done some changing, physically... but the biggest change was what was going on in her mind. She had given up fighting against the merging she could feel; she didn't want to, she felt compelled to just let it happen. Already she was more tame than she had been; such as when she had saved that woman from her burning home, instead of just having kept walking like she normally would have.
So, for now, she was sprawled face first on the couch in the middle of the living room of her suite, face stuffed into one of the many plush couch pillows.
