If you can't be the prince and won't be the damsel...

Hella had had this notion in her head for a few months now. It hadn’t been a thing she’d even considered until Destra planted the seed. You’re basically already a dragon. That was something she had never considered. She had researched where she could, but even on Manta Carlos she couldn’t really find evidence of people changing species outside of the ones you’d expect: vampires, werewolves, curses, and ascension to godhood. Not a lot of talk about people willingly becoming a different species. But the seed had been planted and it had been taking root for months. And Hella was not one to give up on something she wanted. So she had researched into every myth, every story she could find. Saint George, as some scholars said he had become the very dragon he had slain. Fafnir, who had become one after he was cursed by another Dwarf’s gold. King Eliot Lundrssen, who she now knew had become some kind of pseudodragon rather than dying in his attack on the beast Lökgirm. But nothing sounded right. It was all curses and ill omens.

And so months had gone by and she had not made any progress. So Hella had kept this growing desire to herself. It was silly and childish anyway, she told herself. What kind of mature young lady wished to become a dragon? In what world was that responsible? And yet the thought never left her. In fact, it could be said that it burrowed deeper into her thoughts. It had been a chance encounter with a fox named Jericho that had finally given Hella a hope that she could do this thing that was invading her every waking moment.

Hella stood outside of this smoke lounge, the Fox Hole, bundled up against the cold and the deepening snow. Kjetil was tucked away in her backpack, zipped up safely and for safety. She checked her phone for the dozenth time since leaving work to make sure that no tragedy had befallen her sisters in the half hour walk over. Jericho was the owner, and if she was going to have any chance of getting what she wanted she had to swallow her anxiety and go for it.

Stepping into the Fox Hole, Hella looked around tentatively for a glimpse of the gift god.

@Lazzy

Hella spotted Jericho easily enough. He was a large bipedal fox after all. There weren't too many of his kind walking around. With a wave she approached as he did, smiling slightly. She was ever-conscious about her smile so as to not make it stretch unnaturally. She wanted to seem approachable, not crazy.

"Hello Mr. Jericho. I am glad you could meet with me today. How are you doing this fine winter day?"

Hella looked around at the decorations. They were bright and colorful and had a warmth to them that was almost comforting. But she found she was less impressed with mundane things like Christmas lights ever since her stay in Ebonyridge. What could a string of these lights compare to the intricate dancing patterns of lightning bugs in the Queene's realm?

Still, she smiled and nodded and mentioned how pretty it all was. She wanted to be polite. Jericho was, after all, offering to help her with a decidedly obtuse problem. One that, thinking about it, he might not be able to when he discovered the details.

Sitting in his office, Hella felt herself on edge. She hated being alone with people. It reminded her of how weak she was. She sat, fidgeting with her hands and being keenly aware of Skredder's presence on her hip.

"Well," she said, trying to find the words to what she wanted. "I... you see, I have this singular notion in my mind. It probably sounds rather silly out loud but..."

She inhaled, taking her time to gather the courage to say it. "I want to be a dragon."

Hella held her breath as Jericho said he could make her a dragon. She was quivering with something like excitement at the prospect, barely registering the rest of what he said. Why was he pulling out papers? Oh right. He wanted to know why she wanted to be a dragon.

"My sisters," she explained. "They were hurt badly because of me. I couldn't protect them. I'm... weak. I know of nothing more powerful than a dragon. Nothing I'd want to be anyway..." she admitted. Her hands wrenched at the hem of her skirt, her eyes slowly filling in with black.

"Oh... um," Hella had missed that part. Whoops. She looked at the paper and realized it was a contract of sorts. So she had to either give him a secret of hers... or worship him? Well he was a god, so that made sense. She had plenty of secrets, but she wasn't so keen on giving them up.

She looked over the contract to see what all the worship entailed. She could possibly manage it, but if she slipped...

Hella bit her lip and let her eyes flick up to Jericho. "I can do the worship. I... would rather not share any secrets."