on the dance floor: Ares!
The change was instant, and complete. Well, almost - Lia felt dissociated, distant. It wasn't a feeling of paralysis so much as something like floating coupled with awareness of what was happening to without direct sensory input - experiencing herself once removed, only it wasn't herself - it was her.
Her. Laughter loving; foam-born; mother of desire; bringer of victory; deceptive one; bridal; warlike; sexual; contriver; black of night; heavenly, golden, Aphrodite.
Dim mortality lifted away like a paper shade that had filtered the sun. Her skin seemed to glow golden, her hair shone in richer, deeper hues. What beauty the fragile, mortal creature Maricelia Valencia - Maricelia, Maricelia, sweet, beloved Maricelia - possessed was exponentially more, perhaps inexplicably so. The skin they'd shared was infinitely softer, smoother; the very look of it inspired the desire to touch it, to confirm the undeniable impression it made that it could be the most pleasurable sensation one might have ever experienced. More than that was the very sound of her movements, slight though they were, were musical. As she realized what had happened - as she moved her slender, delicate hands, saw her own shape reflected on some bright surface - she laughed, and it was water bubbling merrily over stones; it was melted chocolate over sweet fruit; it was symphonic.
Her euphoria was so great she could barely contain it; it was not, after all, only having herself back. Maricelia had been watching-without-watching him all evening (that made Aphrodite laugh as well, softly to herself, as she'd played that game so many times so long ago, when they'd thought they had all the time in the world) - his own Maricelia, his Samuel. The chaos that had overtaken the party barely registered to her - all the animals, the sounds, the confusion. There was only him, and she would find him.
As she threaded her way through the crowd, the very scent of her thoughtlessly adjusted to whatever might be most inviting and tantalizing to the people she passed. It was strange, walking in these shoes of Maricelia's, but grace came as naturally to her as anything else beautiful might, and they made it a bit easier to see in the crowd. A smile emerged when she saw him - of course, he'd already spotted her, was already coming for her, her Enyalios, her swift, brazen, fearsome Enyalios.