“I'm just trying to get my gender changed!” Ashran erupted. “This is the fifth meeting I’ve been to this week and everyone keeps telling me I'm someone else’s problem.”
“Well, here's your problem,” the Bureaucrat signed by wiggling its wheel of eight feet around a huge central eye. The small imp on Ashran’s shoulder rapidly translated and gibbered into Ashran’s ear. It had dark, heavy lashes. Ashran idly wondered if it used mascara. “This form–Form IX!:1/57–is for changing linguistic gender. For when you’re tired of declensions.
Ashran sighed deeply. “It’s like the gods don't want anyone to get anything done!”
“Well, one is just a Seraphim,” the Bureaucrat signed primly. “Hardly one’s place to question Gods. if we're done here, would you care for a teleport?”
“Sure,” Ashran said. At least she wouldn't have to sling home.
