Sun Marshal Headquarters

"Really cool!"
Lamina was very clearly impressed, and even charmed by the whole concept.
"Now, just to find a way to talk to you other than... talking to you..."

Yet as she said this, she opened the door to her room, stepped out, and shut it behind her.

With a writhing, wrenching motion, the threads wormed their way out of the fabric, coiling down her arm, and slowly reforming the knife. With its sudden disappearance, the cloth of the dress sagged, suddenly missing great swathes of fabric. The remainder was threadbare, barely holding itself together.

"If you would be so kind, please hold me out, and shout 'Ishtaroth, activate'. I recommend taking a moment to prepare. The first time will be hard on both of us. If you are particularly daring, you might watch through a mirror."

The knife falls to the floor with a clatter, and lies still.

The eye on the hilt opens. Indeed, it opens too wide, unfocused. Lamina might now try to drop the knife, but would find her body unable to move. Flickering blue fire pours from the eye, dribbling like water down the blade, and onto the floor, where it flowed outward, forming a rough circle of unearthly light. However, despite the appearance, the fire brings with it no warmth. If anything, the room grows cold, breath visible as a fog in the cold air. Then, before her, a figure slowly rises out of the flame. It looks almost like a military uniform, glittering with regalia. Its cloth a bone white, all trimmed with elegant gold. Whatever might be contained within is obscured behind the great helmet topping the figure. Most notably, the entire assembly is chained in place with thick steel almost five inches thick. The chains shatter, as it begins to move, fading into nothing. Before her eyes, it warps and twists, the helmet splitting. Flesh pulses and distorts beneath what had once looked like cloth. Eyes, stare out from within the void of the head, even as a newly formed mouth gapes, teeth forming. It reaches out with a gloved hand, and gently takes hers. Her clothes vanish briefly, reappearing a few feet away. Ishtaroth itself then begins to vanish, starting from its right hand. An elegant white glove forms on Lamina's hand at the same time. This process continues, working its way up her body. It's a strange feeling. The cloth has a smooth texture to it, and fits perfectly. Ultimately, she is left wearing a perfectly fitted white uniform, complete with boots and gloves. Here and there, red gems that look suspiciously like eyes glint.

"It is done, milady. Does the style suit you?"

"Are you sure you wish to remove me already? Do you truly find my style so offensive?"

Several of the gems start streaming tears, which roll down the fabric.

"Then perhaps this will please you!"

The cloth reshapes, shifting its color, and suddenly Lamina is wearing a pink dress almost identical to the one ruined earlier. Oddly, though, this particular outfit retains the gloves. The outfit also has leggings and sleeves that connect the gloves and shoes to the rest of the outfit.

The cloth seems to suddenly ripple, evaporating into a thick cloud of flickering blue fire. The knife reforms in her hand, and the fire pours into its eye. She is left wearing her original outfit. The knife is silent. It might even be described as sulking.

The knife still seems at least a little bit out of sorts, but relents just a bit.

"I'm sorry if I startled you. It is impossible for me to properly reshape for a new user without showing just a hint of my true form. I was not always a knife, nor was I always armor. Later transitions will be done using the same method you saw when I detached, as I will have no need to manifest away from your body."

It almost seems to pout.

"I'm not sure how I feel about a user with such a strong dislike for the uniform of Thran. I even gave you the regalia of a Duchess."

"Well, I hope you will give me an opportunity to show the full extent of my capabilities at some point. I am not merely a suit of armor. I am every article of clothing, rolled into one. And to clothe my bearer is the least of my capabilities."

"Let me see. In combat, I am able to augment the user's strength. For a brief period, I could give my bearer the strength of a hundred men. Because I have a mind of my own, I am capable of activating a number of integrated weapon systems. For example, one of my users had an ingenious plan for shoulder mounted spikes that launch on command."

It pauses for a moment, thinking.

"In terms of utility, I can maintain my internal temperature at a fixed point, irregardless of outside heat or cold. I can also offer amplified sensory input, allowing you to see much further, or hear much more quiet sounds. One feature that I am particularly proud of is my ability to change colors at will. With some effort, I can completely blend into a wall, rendering my bearer effectively invisible."