I stood without movement, letting Rosha take a good look. Right now, the attachments that were showing were picked for their aesthetics instead of practically. That meant that most of my body, including my face, was covered in yellow plates of orichalcum carapace, as it was the most opaque thing I had.
I didn't bring clothes, after all.
My wings were still visible, and so was the cross mark on my chest. My hair, the only thing that stayed not jelly-like even after all I did to liquefy myself, was messy and eye-searing blend of icy-blue and crimson-red. And one shouldn't forget my four arms. I couldn't mold them into my body as easily as other parts of it—they were massive enough that I would have to make myself a couple of centimetres taller, too.
It was a questionable setup even if compared to the worst I could look. And while my beauty was the least of my worries, I had high hopes for Rosha to have enough tolerance for my looks… I really liked our sex.
Ping Pong Circulate