[OPEN] march log

[bloodwit]

Who: viren & you!
When: mid-march, eostre fesival
Where: various places!!
What: dragon viren and obviously being the life of parties
Warnings: none for now!

i

[ there's an undead lizard? a wet, feral cat? blocking the path. taking a closer look at this thing, it's a bit hideous. at least, compared to its fellow dragons. its scales look mottled, patches of dark purples and blacks streaking through its coat, and its tail spiny and serpentine. its wings are equipped with unpleasant hooks, the wings' fingers elongated and sharp, their leather worn with holes. not even its fur manages a consistent lack of color. ]

[ but if familiar with the signs — it almost could look like it's cwyld-infected. it receives anxious glances from passerby, others nimbly giving it a healthy berth. it may be the size of a cat, but it does, apparently, have an innate skill in keeping people out of its path. that, and its lower half remains coated with mud, brought on by an recent heavy rain. ]

[ when the dragon appears to recognize someone, its pitch eyes grow wide. it trots near, leaving muddy tracks in its wake. ]

Excuse me. [ ... ah, it's a deep voice. the dragon sits, its head slightly bowed. if one can read dragonic expressions, it looks -- very reluctantly humbled, even if its tone remains lofty. its claws sink into the ground. ] I need your assistance.

ii.

[ his shifting, and the rains, eventually take their toll on viren; it's a fairly miserable existence he's been made to live this week, forced into a form that, while he's beginning to grow accustomed to it, he might also resent.  ]

[ when the weather's beaming with brightness again, he crawls to a sunny patch of earth. one may spot a small dragon curled up into a tight ball, its snout tucked beneath a paw -- he can be found in some grass of someone's backyard, in gardens, perhaps even snoozing on a secluded bench. ]

iii.

[ viren doesn't think he needs a reprieve (certainly not!) from anything earlier in the month, but the crowds of eostre draw his attention regardless. even if it would typically be something much too noisy for his tastes, dragonic instincts win out, as they're prone to do—

and so he's found himself there some early evening, a cup of that sweet liquor in hand. perhaps consciously compensating for the disarray of the last few weeks, he's dressed neatly, pulling out some of his better clothes for the festivities. unfortunately, even if he isn't the main target (just a target), someone thinks to dump a flower crown atop his head. with the shape of his horns, it's almost like a fun (and very high stakes!) ring toss. a few petals fall to shoulders, some floating onto the surface of his drink. ]

[ with a heavy sigh, aggrieved as he is, viren plucks it from atop his head. he turns to someone near, ]

Would you like this?

[ or else, what with his accompanying gesture, it might get tossed to the bushes. ]

v. wildcard
( hmu w/ whatever — i'm at kirbies if you'd like to plot! )

Comments

[bloodwit]

No.

[ viren shuffles his paws, his shoulders hunching. but after debating a moment, since he's awoken from his impromptu sleep and should be more energized now (and, thus capable of assuming his human form...), he stands on the bench. ]

[ then he hops off of it. ]

I don't have my.. clothing. [ his lordly decency is at stake. his tail twitches. this is getting worse and worse. ] I can't change here.

[hippocarnival]

[Anything but his lordly decency.] Oh. Yeah, I guess it'd make sense your clothes don't transform with you?

[The one time he was physically altered into another form, his just ripped.]

[bloodwit]

They don't. From what I knew, I wasn't going to take the chance of them ripping off of me.

[ he appreciates clothes, generally. then he sighs; he's a sigher, this one. after looking down the path ahead, he glances back to yuya. ]

I should work on changing back, then. If that will be all...?

[hippocarnival]

[Honestly, it doesn't help the impression that Viren deep down wanted to be a tiny dragon, and it's just too embarrassing to admit. Which, fair.]

Mm, I don't need anything. [He waves.] Take care!