...well, this seems like a good time to take a closer look.

She leaves her vision aside and directs her gaze into the wyrm, past the surface-level irritation. What does he want, really? What’s his aesthetic, his self?

Beneath the annoyance and bewilderment and the petulant urge to take up all her floor space—

—independence is the thing he wants. Freedom. The power to be his own self on his own terms. She can offer him all the transformations she likes, and as long as she intends to carry them out herself, they won't be the right ones.

Interesting.

And how does he feel about challenges?

Oh, he'd rather everything came easily to him, but if the thing he wants is on the other side of a lot of hard work he's not going to give up on that account.

Well. She hasn’t used this in a while, but it doesn’t look like she has a choice with this strong a preference. She can design as many forms for someone as they like, but for true morphological freedom...

“Or you can do it yourself.”

Intrigued rumble.

“I brew a kind of godsmead here myself, and...well, the trip’s not easy, sugar, but if you want to control your own transformations I’m proud to say there’s nothing better. After a little practice.”

This assertion buys her a mildly suspicious glare.

“I’m just being straight with you, honey. Full control isn’t easy at first. I could start you out on something milder, but I don’t think you’d be satisfied.”

Harrumph.

“Or you could take a bite out of me, but I’m not sure you’d like that any better.”

He makes an intrigued/skeptical/questioning sort of chirp.

“Oh, now you’re interested.”

Huff.

“It’s more power, but you run a few risks, and if it’s all the same I like to keep my meat where it is, most days.”

He stretches, uncoiling further, then settles back into a slightly tighter loop with a regal toss of his head.

Hmm.

“Do you have a strong self, hon?”

Affirmative snort.

“Good. Anybody who doesn’t...there’s a whole lot of me left and not much of them, by the end.”

She inspects him.

“Now, how this turns out really depends on the person. You can expect shapeshifting for yourself and a little transformative potential from fluid contact, but it’s up to you how good it is.”

When did she start seriously considering letting her guest take a bite out of her? She’s just too damn helpful for her own good. And, well, maybe she misses that old cult of hers.

He narrows his eyes suspiciously at 'not much of them', but listens through the rest and nods.

“I think we should start you on the mead before we take any pieces off me, if that’s all the same to you.”

Agreeable shrug.

"All right. I won't be a minute."

She heads towards a back hallway and disappears for a while.

When she returns, she's holding a clear wine bottle filled with glowing golden liquid.

The coiled-up lizard regards it suspiciously.

She uncorks it with two fingers. There's a wisp of glittering vapor that quickly dissipates into the air.

"Do you want a cup, hon?"