A Lun wriggled the tendrils under his trousers and left the shed.
He was still himself, with his original consciousness and original memories. But in his mind, there was a new instinct to control his body and water, as if satisfying hunger or resisting cold, along with the supreme Twisted Shadow in the depths of his consciousness.
A Lun, like a baby playing with his limbs, curiously wiggled each tendril, including the algal-like hairs on his jaw. He couldn't describe the feeling, but the flexibility of each tendril seemed innate.
"Restrain your emotions, we must be like the believers."
At this moment, he was attracted by the whispers of the other believers around him.
"Like the believers?"
"That means wearing a cloak, silent and cold..."
They wriggled their tendrils, went to Merchant Anthony in the park to receive their robes, draping themselves, then seemed like heretics, obscure and evil.
