Adolph himself was not so used to being Adolph and not Pacing-on-Gusts-of-Wind. He'd spent some time getting used to this 'clothes' business and learning enough of the regional language ("English," wasn't it? A silly name, when they weren't in England at all), and his natural balance had served him very well, though he hated the cold chill of hairlessness and the dullness of the human senses. And he couldn't clean himself.
But the elders' word was the elders' word, and without another mention, he shifted slowly and deliberately through the forms into Man. Standing tall, he was 6' 2", fit but not necessarily muscular, with the sort of slender, long face and blonde hair that might lead some to believe he was Scandinavian. His eyes showed a sort of skepticism or scrutiny, though whether this was affectation or merely his facial construction was not readily discernible.
"When it is that you are ready," he said, deliberately, clearly faking confidence.
((Hey. I want detailed descriptions of lupine appearances, too. Equality, bitches!))
"You haven't told me what I'm looking for."
"Anything that might be of interest to Slitscan. Which is to say, anything that might be of interest to Slitscan's audience. Which is best visualized as a vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organism craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed. Personally I like to imagine something the size of a baby hippo, the color of a week-old boiled potato, that lives by itself, in the dark, in a double-wide on the outskirts of Topeka. It's covered with eyes and it sweats constantly. The sweat runs into those eyes and makes them sting. It has no mouth, Laney, no genitals, and can only express its mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire by changing the channels on a universal remote. Or by voting in presidential elections."
--Colin Laney and Kathy Torrance, William Gibson's Idoru