Urza - Flies Freely + Clothing Swap

Urza descended. It felt nice not to have to walk. It felt nice to indulge himself in the luxuries of being a planeswalker, to forget about the worrisome business of feigning breath and blinking, of being asked to join in dinners. For him, eating was only a nuisance. Despite his many almost limitless powers—stepping plane to plane with little more than a thought, casting all colors of magic at high levels, living beyond the terrors of ravaging time, seeing to the essence of things, smelling Phyrexian blood at a hundred paces—portraying a convincing human was a task that was at once vexing in its minutiae and exhausting in its limitations. It was a small and tedious job, but a necessary one.

Except in times like these.

Urza descended past great rafts of sulfuric cloud and banks of rusty steam. His ceremonial robes shrank inward about him, becoming a suit marked with drake-feather pads to deflect the volcanic heat of the landscape. His sandals transformed into thick leather boots that laced to the knee. Hair braided itself tightly to his head, proof against stray fingers of flame. He needn’t enter a landscape this way, dropping from such a height, but he wanted to survey this land before alighting upon it.

***

Time Streams, Chapter 12