A large fairy, perhaps; or a six-winged dragon, descending from the clouds. Were it not for my horns and black wings, I might have appeared to be angelic. I designed this form long ago, during a period when I fantasized about what mortals might have thought my appearance to be. Funny, then, that it ended up being correct.
Though, to really be: to feel the air growing warm as I descend, the smell of damp streets and decaying leaves, it's very different from what I imagined. I am not too sure how these beings manage the pressure from these gaseous elements constantly weighing them down.
Ah, she's coming into view now. It's time to be professional.
You, child, I say with my most gentle yet firm voice.
Immediately, she reacts, turning her head rapidly and searching for the source of my voice. She is not able to, of course, as my voice is not coming from a source. An oversight, perhaps, that I do not have a mouth.
Be not— uh, don't be afraid, I project into her head. I mean you no harm. Raise your eyes, child.
Nyani finally looks up, and her gaze meets mine. She stares at me, fearlessly, perhaps curiously, watching as I touch the ground.