The Same Old Routine
I suppose if I'm to be hanging out around here, I might as well come up with a fursona. Well, I was writing a quick description, which turned into a paragraph...which turned into two paragraphs, then...well, let's just say my muse was hitting me over the head with a bat from start to finish. Also, yeah, you've heard it before, no stealing character idea blabidy blah. Well, I don't really care what you do. Unless I get to be famous I doubt anyone will try to manipulate my character, so I guess that's one less thing I need to worry about for a while ^__^ Or something to shoot for. "My first Defamation of Character"... that's one for the baby-books, I'm sure. You may be wondering why a description is going up as a story. Well, if anything else I'de like to keep a copy of it somewhere else besides my sketchy HD, and I wouldn't mind seeing comments or even getting to meet some people (read: Hot Chix) around here by way of this. Anyway, it seems that somehow, a simple description became this: ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "The Same Old Routine" The alarm clock radio cuts on at 6:00pm, playing the first few chords of a hardcore rock song before a scaley red hand whips around from underneath the covers, slamming the large "off" button atop the digital display. Dull grumbling is heard as the hand flings back the covers, revealing a cascade of blood-red scales blanketing a muscular draconic form, the crimson blending into a dull yellow color on his underside. He slides his clawed feet to the edge of the bed, shifting his weight to the balls of his heels as his large leg muscles undulate beneath his scarlet hide. Standing a good two and a half meters tall, he begins stretching his limbs. His long, muscular arms that end in a five-fingered hand, tipped with sharp black claws rise above his head, stretching his ripped golden chest and his imposing pair of wings, the shade of which are a deeper red than the rest of his body and end in similar razor-sharp ebony claws as his hands and feet. He yawns, revealing a row of pointed teeth, the canines still showing underneath the upper lip of his maw as he closes his mouth, licking the loose flap of scales that counts for his lips with a purple forked tongue. He walks over to the plain white curtains and throws them back, squinting as the setting sun glazes over his golden eyes. He wasn't a full vampire, but the sun still tormented him with it's gaze. He turned his back to the warm glow of the sunset, it's rays glinting off his scales and leaving small red points of light glittering among the plain walls of the apartment. He stepped into the bathroom, the tip of his tail dragging the tan, carpeted floor. His claws made clacking sounds as it made the transition from the carpet to the simulated marble of the bathroom tiles. Flicking the light switch with his dexterous tail, he stared into the mirror above the sink. Gazing into his own golden eyes, which showed no iris nor pupil, he turned on the squeaky faucet and splashed cold water over his snout, the beads running down his scaled neck and breaking against the small spikes that highlighted his spinal column. Looking up from the water, he admired the two large horns that adorned his head at either side, pointing straight backwards in an ivory spiral and ending in a dangerous-looking point. With a toothful grin, he returns to his room, picking up a large black book from underneath his alarm clock. Opening the book reveales various scribbles and small pictures that appear to be runes to the trained eye. Turning it to the fourth page, he sets the book on the bed and stands back, speaking in a language that sounds like eloquent hisses and growls, the meaning of which being alien to your ears. In moments, the pages of the book begin to glow, certain symbols shining a golden color before emitting shimmering rays of light, bathing the dragon in a radiant curtain of gold. The glow passes, leaving behind an emerald-green dragon where the red once stood. His scales shine brighter, and his claws are a the same dull yellow as his chest, which hasn't changed it's color from before. This new form lacks the frightening wings and fangs of the previous one. His horns, tail, and overall body size have also reduced in size, giving a less imposing feel to him. Now only slightly above normal height at two and a quarter meters, his muscles are still there, but they aren't accented by the shadowed blood coloring of the crimson terror that he was. His eyes are now almost human, showing a slightly slip pupil surrounded by a sharp blue iris. Admiring his new form, he smiles and closes the book, placing it underneath the alarm clock as he makes his way to the sliding wooden door of his closet, his tail no longer dragging the carpet due to it's reduced size. He opens the closet, which is mostly filled with dusty boxes labeled in black marker, and reaches in, grabbing a black leather jacket and a bright red shirt from the hanging wooden bar. He also reaches for a pair of blue-jeans and boxers, for all the good they'll do him. Dressing himself, he puts his slender tail through the hole in his boxers and pants, them being designed for such appendages. Zipping up, he grabs the crimson shirt and fits it over his head, fitting each of the now-smaller back spikes through each of the holes he made himself. Putting on the jacket, he leaves it unzipped to allow his shirt to show through and his spikes to rest against the jacket's interior, leather being a lot harder (and much more expensive) to punch a bunch of holes through. He doesn't bother with shoes, the awkward contraptions only serving to slow him down. Putting his hand on the doorknob to leave, he turns back and speaks a few more words in the hissing tongue, the bed making itself in a quick and timely fasion. Breathing pridefully on the back of his knuckles, he wipes them on his leather jacket and smiles as he exits the apartment building, heading for the first place to pick up a good meal (or female) around here. A bit long, perhaps, but I like to be thorough. Open to comments, but I can do without the criticism. Thanks for your time and please play again soon.