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Ion knows it isn't real. And yet here it is, both existing and not existing within a measureless void between tales, bereft of everything but a faint whiff of mocha. Narrative energy spins around it, and its formless form glides motionlessly through the thick non-texture of it all. For an immeasurable moment, it simply is and isn't, blissfully detached from the reality that encloses it...

Until it realizes it's being watched. White triangles poke out of the nothingness, twisting and arranging themselves into a razor sharp grin.

It takes an eternal moment for the scene to solidify. Any stretch of time is forever when there's no time before it to compare to. Two black sets of talons land with a flurry of clacks on a featureless white surface. A long blue-and-white tail lands right behind them, brushing a fan of striped feathers on the floor.

Ion stretches its wing-arms over its head and rears its feather-tufted ears back, letting out a loud yawn. Taking on a physical form is just so tiring, even if it stole half its look - and its name, for that matter - from a 'benefactor,' for lack of a better term. It scratches the tip of its beak with one of its claws, poking the fangs that stick out of it. For a split second, its hand phases through its jaw, and its feathers explode into a flurry of static before collecting themselves again. A few shots of espresso will make it more stable once it steps into the real world - well, a more real world than this one, at least.

Ion struts through the space it's created, its tail swaying back and forth. Before it, two arrays of ornate mirrors hang in mid air, one on each side. Each frame offers a glimpse into a fictional reality. Each is more vibrant and lively than its own, but still malleable enough for its antics. The narrative-hopper didn't make this hub world for itself, of course. This representation of its surroundings is just an aid for its sudden audience.

Ion carefully studies the realms up for offer, tapping its claws on their surfaces. It takes mental note of each story's scenes, its resources, and its main characters. Some are full of action and adventure, while others are calmer affairs set around a coffee shop... how convenient. Some are ripe with opportunities to mold and transform its inhabitants, while others will need some encouragement to bend to its will.

Eventually, Ion's ears perk up. It's found... you. You, sitting at your desk, or on your phone, or even reading a print out if that's your thing. You, perhaps with a specific shifted self in mind, or maybe a blank slate instead. You, wondering what it's going to do next.

Ion raises one of its wing-arms, giving you a wicked wink. A mallet materializes in its hand, and a smile grows on its toothy beak. A quick swing shatters the 'glass' instantly, turning the mirror into a portal to your domain. It can't read your mind... yet. But once it crawls through that hole in your reality's wall, it's taking the first thing it finds in there and rolling with it.

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A sketch I got a couple months back from the lovely Proxi on Twitter, showing off my trickster raptor form. I adore what they did with it, hehe. If you like the kinds of builds that I love to write about, definitely check them out! They draw all sorts of big folk superbly.
And of course, a little blurb to go along with it, trying to work out this form's quirks. There's a couple basic ideas shamelessly stolen from SCP that I'm trying to bring together in this form and its stories, lol. Enjoy!