'Come on, Sam. You can do this.'Her heart pounded as she stared down at the illusion patches. Funny. The sigils painted on waxed paper looked kinda like temporary tattoos.
Leeron, That line about the illusion patch being like a temporary tattoo? Perfect. It bridges memory and transformation so cleanly, and it already shimmered with possibility. I followed Sam right into that moment—each breath, each press, each second of waiting. That pacing pulsed with just the right kind of anticipation.
For me, the scene wanted to lift even more once the illusion took hold. That mirror moment had such potential for sparkle and lift-off—it already had the recognition, the breath of surprise, the turning point. I imagine Sam spinning, arms out, laughing, or doing that little bounce you do when something fits better than imagined. There’s a quiet contentment here, yes, and I love the grounding in realism—yet I feel this version of Sam might gift herself more than just a murmur. Maybe a wink at the mirror. Maybe a quiet, audible “damn, I look good.”
This is a gorgeous continuation. I can already see the moment she steps out, the way the world might echo back that joy. I’d love to see it dialed up just a notch—like music turned from 6 to 8—just enough to let that early euphoria glow through.
Yeah, this one felt the pinch of the word count; I’m chewing over a short story continuation that picks up after she gets changed, and I’ll definitely bear your feedback in mind for that. As you say this is the first joyous steps, they should be danced! 💃
Leeron, That line about the illusion patch being like a temporary tattoo? Perfect. It bridges memory and transformation so cleanly, and it already shimmered with possibility. I followed Sam right into that moment—each breath, each press, each second of waiting. That pacing pulsed with just the right kind of anticipation.
For me, the scene wanted to lift even more once the illusion took hold. That mirror moment had such potential for sparkle and lift-off—it already had the recognition, the breath of surprise, the turning point. I imagine Sam spinning, arms out, laughing, or doing that little bounce you do when something fits better than imagined. There’s a quiet contentment here, yes, and I love the grounding in realism—yet I feel this version of Sam might gift herself more than just a murmur. Maybe a wink at the mirror. Maybe a quiet, audible “damn, I look good.”
This is a gorgeous continuation. I can already see the moment she steps out, the way the world might echo back that joy. I’d love to see it dialed up just a notch—like music turned from 6 to 8—just enough to let that early euphoria glow through.
Yeah, this one felt the pinch of the word count; I’m chewing over a short story continuation that picks up after she gets changed, and I’ll definitely bear your feedback in mind for that. As you say this is the first joyous steps, they should be danced! 💃