Once again, Zagreus wakes to find himself in a tree. Except he hadn't really woken, not this time, nor was what he found in the tree himself at all. Unless he'd always been a displacer beast. He blinks disoriented yellow eyes and experiences a moment of relief that he isn't a moth. The tree is no good though, and he slithers out of his perch, lashing his new tail in vexation. So black as to be almost blue, gaunt and ill-kept, and possessed of a gait fouled by too many limbs, but the tch of disapproval he makes is amusingly mundane.