LIGHT! You can see. Well, you could see in the darkness before at some point but you’ll ignore that. You’re in a supply room somewhere. The ten by ten room is dark as can be and there’s a peep of light from a closed door. And you’re able to see with ease. To make things more interesting, you feel strange, like your legs feel kind of stuck but also a lot laying on the floor.
You twist your body up and find that the snake responds, letting you take yourself in and deftly avoiding the vent. It’s porcelain white, almost gleaming in your vision despite the near complete lack of light. Every immaculately crafted scale shimmers as you slowly slither across the floor.
You’re a porcelain lamia? Or a doll snake person at least? How strange and wonderful as you take your form in, affirmations continuing to ring through your being. You still feel sticky though, your now free torso feeling like it’s covered in goop. Your arms also feel compressed, like your shoulders are too tight.
Actually, your arms feel…different? More of them as you stretch them out, wet and sticky, six long and sculpted arms form. Drying in the air, you feel yourself posing, able to hold it for as long as necessary. It helps build those affirmations as you dry, thoughts of how lovely this is bouncing around in your head as you wait to no longer feel quite so wet. You’re eager to do that so you can slither to a mirror and perhaps get a more clear view of yourself.
For now though, you’re content to wait, the air on your hard yet delicate looking scales sending tingles of delight through you. Despite your hardened ‘clay’ nature, you’re more sensitive than you ever were as a mortal. Another advantage of being a doll as you consider your situation.
You’re not entirely sure what your purpose is. You’re waiting for something to tell you; either a performer here or perhaps some mystical voice or maybe something else. Or maybe you’re going to be forgotten about, left to gather dust here forever. That last sends a little forbidden thrill through you. A doll exists to be used, but the idea of being left here and forgotten about, to do nothing but be with no expectations; it’s like the desire to lay in bed forever and order takeout and watch TV. But for now, you wait to dry, contemplating your fate. It’s at the moment you know you're ready to move, your skin having hardened, when you feel…