Sleekit

The spiral bowed awkwardly, tucking her wings to her sides in an effort to look more.. Sophisticated. She gulped. Curse this tiny spiral body! "O Arcanist..." Deep breath. "I wanted to ask you something.. " 

She made an effort to tidy herself, flicked a few tea leaves from her shoulders and picked a loose feather out of the liquid and tucked it back into the beaded cords at her elbow. Nimbly scrambling up the side of the cup, she perched on the edge and gave a brazen wave to the shocked imperial holding it before hopping down.

Clearing her throat of the last of the tea she'd accidentally gulped after tumbling so unexpectedly into the (let's be honest) ridiculously huge tea cup, Sleekit sauntered over to the group gathered around for their chance to meet the Arcanist. "Act casual!" she thought to herself.

It didn't work. The crowd continued to stare at her as she attempted to move through. The imperial with the tea cup continued to stare. Grinning forcefully at the dragons she passed, her eyes flicked over to where the Arcanist sat in state. Amazingly, the Arcanist was not staring. The Arcanist did not seem to have even noticed her clumsy entrance. "Good enough!" and she slipped sideways behind a guardian, past two obelisks, and tried to lose herself in the crush.

Circling around to the right, she made another attempt to reach her goal. Pressing through as many gaps as she could only took her so far, and she once again took to the air, hopping over the heads of larger dragons, one to the next, leaving them batting at the air as if pestered by flies.

At last she was within earshot, and this time carefully avoided the flapping claws of the annoyed giants as she swooped down and called, "O Arcanist, I wanted to ask you something!"

"Please great Arcanist, I must know, how did you get so many arms? How may I also acquire such wealth of appendages? They would be ever so handy!"

Sleekit has made an arrow of her body. She shoots down the track at an alarming rate, claws tightly gripping the sides of her sled, wings tucked close and eyes wide. Her tail leads the way, spaded tip the point of her projectile form. How long can she hold this rigidity? She's got her head tipped back for maximum aerodynamism, a wild grin splitting her face as she adjusts direction seemingly by feel. Only the ghost of a flicker of concern can be seen in the very corners of her mouth. This could all go terribly wrong. She is having a great time.

Sleekit is back for another year of luge. She's confident and ready. Someone has convinced her to retain the sled, but she has forgone the helmet. That arrow straight formation has been tuned to perfection, her manic energy trained into a single purpose tool. She's going to come shooting out of that track like a harpoon.