With a groan, the heavy metal gate opened slowly, unveiling Locky standing behind it. The small Locky had morphed into a tall figure, her many thick legs sprawling out from beneath her dress.
The hands she normally used to brew tea and arrange flowers had turned into powerful crab legs, their sharp jagged edges shimmering in the cold light.
She looked down with a frosty stare from a height of three or four meters, her dark red eyes brimming with aggression and caution.
The tall Locky was rigid, resembling a ready-to-burst bomb, her tension palpable until Kestrel walked in and shut the iron gate. The gate's loud slam made Locky tremble slightly, as if she grasped the reality of who had just entered her home at this moment.
She descended slowly - her body contracting till her dress kissed the ground, reverting to her original delicate and fine form.
