Flickers

true Visage

A group of shape shifters gather once every few centuries, bringing new members and discussing plans for the future.
Each sporting their "true" look, formed after years of shifting.
Some have multiple eyes, some with tails, some with scales or high ears.

Two friends meet after decades and discuss ones crush on a girl, who none of them have seen (or knowingly seen) in ages, as she shifts frequently. And they can't really sense one another very well.

The first (Kane?) speaks on how they can tell their shape-shifting crush from others

"It's in little color shifts in her eyes, and flecks of gold around her irises,"
He explains dreamily while smiling,

"It's the freckle patterns on her cheek,
The little marks on her ears,
The width of her fingers,
The shape of her palms,
The way her hair falls, whether curly or straight,
She's pigeon toed when she walks,
and stands with her toes inwards,
She bounces when nervous and
looks wistful when thinking.
And her eyes water in the faintest wind.

She smiles and frowns to herself when daydreaming, scrunching her nose and pursing her lips into a line so fine they nearly vanish.
Her hands meander without realizing it, as if playing on invisible piano keys or sewing a blanket of air.
She mouths poems to herself that no one else can hear
Arguing amongst her own thoughts
Or exchanging jokes to laugh.

There's a singular strand of silver in her hair, often tucked behind her ear.
Her form, no matter how simple, she struggles to maintain, leading to her hair looking frizzy and unruly even slightly. Her eyes often look tired and puffy, as though from weeping often.
And despite her changing her handwriting, something about it still feels just the same."

The friend (Sav) listens intently, and eventually, a group gathers to listen as well to the boy and his lovesick ramble until he notices said crowd and trails off awkwardly.
"Have you told her you like her?" One shifter asks.
"Do you think maybe she likes you?" Another chimes.
"HA!" A rather beefy one snorts, "with the description you gave, she sounds like an actress, a fairytale, or worse."
"Worse?"
"Married."
"Married?!"
"Wouldn't blame her. Life gets lonesome after a couple hundred or so. Take it from me, lad, best you leave her be."

"AH, SHOVE OFF DURK," an elder pipes up, swatting the crowd with his cane, "BEGONE THE LOT OF YE, LET THE BOY BE DREAMING, IT DOESN'T HURT TO PINE A SQUIDGE, BETTER THAN TO THROW SEED TO SQUALLS."

[Kane] winces at the volume and the swatting, grateful for the elders' wisdom, despite its confusing nature.
"Listen, my boy," the elder rasps in his ear, breath with hints of seasalt. "sieze the time while it's nigh, for it may'nt come again. Next, you see this lovely lil droplet, ya tell her how you feel, alright? Sonnets and all."
"Uhh, maybe go easy on the sonnets," Sav chuckles, "Save them for later on then, ay?"

"Oioi! I think she's coming up!" A lookout cries, sending half the room rushing to the window, and the other half towards the door, eagerly waiting.
Sav shakes Kane by his shoulders and smiles, slicking back his hair and straightening his brows.
Kane stretches up by a few inches, suddenly nervous.

Should i broaden my shoulders?
No, she'd notice...
Maybe my hair should be shorter?
Or curly... no that'd look stupid on me...
Am I tan? Did I toast too much?
I SHOULD HAVE CHECKED A MIRROR

"Kane, cool it, you look fine." Sav smiles.

"She's here she's here!"

The crowd shuffles around, some posing by the wall awkwardly holding glasses, some sit making fake conversation, but all eyes remain locked on the door as a soft knock-knock-knock sounds from the wood, before slowly swinging open, and the room falls into a deathly silence.