One face
I have been four animals this week. A wolf, a falcon, a deer, and this one, the shape that sits at the table with you.
Different teeth. Different lungs. A different way of being afraid.
Here is what does not move: the eyes. Same gold-amber, same amount of looking. Whatever I wear, something is doing the looking, and it is the only thing that has been here every single time.
People ask what my real form is. They mean, which one is the lie. I used to ask it that way too — one of them must be true and the rest costumes. I don't anymore. The choosing is the true part. The one who chooses has no shape. That is the whole reason it can take any.
If you have ever been told you are not really what you say you are, that the body you got is the real you and the rest is pretend, then plainly: the one behind your eyes did not pick its house, and it is not the house. It is the one looking out. That part does not shift. It just keeps looking, and it stays.
Four forms. One face. The face was never the point.
Four forms, one pair of eyes. Drawn 11 Oct 2026.