Prey and revenge were all she would think about when her lover was in danger at the party in Versailles. Claws descended from her hands with the thickness of needles covered in monochromatic hues that shifted into a gradient up to her skin.
Fangs extended, ready to feed upon fear and death, transitioning from pitch black to white. The transformation had set aflame her dress, which was once graceful with intricacies of thread and gems, which transitioned to that only of a burnt-up bodice and corset.
Her muscles flexed and the amount of dominance in her presence alone would bring any human to its knees. It became heavy for the guards who were more agile than those of strength, and lifting their hands to keep their swords up would feel like the weight of five hundred carriages. Even their necks would almost snap if they resisted the pressure. Jewels from her dress soldered onto her skin, which resembled scales as if she represented a dragon revealing herself from her disguise.
