Post by KIT RATHBONE on Sept 20, 2011 22:54:07 GMT -5
Eight O'Clock.
It was dark out. Perfect. Kit had been in Scriptor Bay for a good while now, and he knew nothing about the City except that it was swarming with the likes of other shape shifters like him. His bar had become infested with them. Most of them didn't have to say it. He could smell the stink of their animal counterpart on some of them. One tough guy, Dale, always reeked like a skunk near the full moon. It was pretty obvious on him.
Kit liked to keep to himself. He liked to hit on the good looking girls that came into his bar and he'd give a 'what's up?' nod to the guys but mostly he was just quiet. He wanted to ask them why there were so many in one area but there never seemed to be a good time to do it. Plus the dumb bastards that came into his bar came to get drunk not talk about why they could turn into animals.
Crickets are loud tonight.
Carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels in his left hand he'd left the bar and took a walk. He wanted to get away from all the rowdy jerk offs who were shouting and dancing in his bar and get some quiet time in. Was it illegal to walk down the sidewalk with an open bottle of whiskey? Let them cuff him. He'd spent time in the slammer before and he'd do it again. He knew people that could talk him out of any bad situation. Just one phone call that's all he'd need.
Kit was chuckling to himself, lost in his own thoughts when he came to the realization that his short little walk for some air and taken him much further than he wanted. "I'm in the damn park!" He said loud and bluntly before he took another hearty swig from the bottle. The park had lamps that lit up the pathway, but there was limited lighting in the grassy areas. With the trees it would be pretty easy to stay hidden.
He stood there staring at the mouth of the park, debating whether or not to enter it for the reasons he wanted or not. Maybe he'd be better off just heading back to the bar. What the hell. Kit entered the park and began sidestepping, walking at an angle off the pathway into the grass. As soon as he was covered in the shadows of the tall trees he stopped walking and did a slow turn around to see if there was anyone watching him. He could see a few people taking a stroll down the pathway but it didn't seem like anyone was close enough to take notice of him.
That's when he began to strip.
Shirt over his head, boots kicked off. Unbuckle the belt and unbutton the jeans. He slid his pants down to his ankles and let out a shiver, his arms instinctively wrapping around his upper body to shield it from the light breeze. He left his boxers in place and kicked his clothes into a heaping pile in the crook of two giant roots at the base of a tree.
"...too bad I don't have opposable thumbs." He stared at the bottle of whiskey that he managed to keep a tight grip on and gently set it down beside his clothes. "Be good, baby." He instructed the bottle. There was one thing that Kit loved and would always love. His Jack Daniels. With a shudder Kit stood upright and stretched his back out before hunching forward.
Kit curled up, bones cracking and re positioning while at the same time shrinking in size. His skin became a light pink and short, coarse fur started to cover his body. In a little less than a minute where Kit had once stood was a four legged dog. A doberman-rottweiler mix with a coat of shiny black aside from a few brown patches on its face, paws and stomach.
The dog took off through the park at full speed. The wet grass felt nice on his paws. His tongue dangled out the side, his nose wet and sniffing with excitement. Life as a dog. It was great.
It was dark out. Perfect. Kit had been in Scriptor Bay for a good while now, and he knew nothing about the City except that it was swarming with the likes of other shape shifters like him. His bar had become infested with them. Most of them didn't have to say it. He could smell the stink of their animal counterpart on some of them. One tough guy, Dale, always reeked like a skunk near the full moon. It was pretty obvious on him.
Kit liked to keep to himself. He liked to hit on the good looking girls that came into his bar and he'd give a 'what's up?' nod to the guys but mostly he was just quiet. He wanted to ask them why there were so many in one area but there never seemed to be a good time to do it. Plus the dumb bastards that came into his bar came to get drunk not talk about why they could turn into animals.
Crickets are loud tonight.
Carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels in his left hand he'd left the bar and took a walk. He wanted to get away from all the rowdy jerk offs who were shouting and dancing in his bar and get some quiet time in. Was it illegal to walk down the sidewalk with an open bottle of whiskey? Let them cuff him. He'd spent time in the slammer before and he'd do it again. He knew people that could talk him out of any bad situation. Just one phone call that's all he'd need.
Kit was chuckling to himself, lost in his own thoughts when he came to the realization that his short little walk for some air and taken him much further than he wanted. "I'm in the damn park!" He said loud and bluntly before he took another hearty swig from the bottle. The park had lamps that lit up the pathway, but there was limited lighting in the grassy areas. With the trees it would be pretty easy to stay hidden.
He stood there staring at the mouth of the park, debating whether or not to enter it for the reasons he wanted or not. Maybe he'd be better off just heading back to the bar. What the hell. Kit entered the park and began sidestepping, walking at an angle off the pathway into the grass. As soon as he was covered in the shadows of the tall trees he stopped walking and did a slow turn around to see if there was anyone watching him. He could see a few people taking a stroll down the pathway but it didn't seem like anyone was close enough to take notice of him.
That's when he began to strip.
Shirt over his head, boots kicked off. Unbuckle the belt and unbutton the jeans. He slid his pants down to his ankles and let out a shiver, his arms instinctively wrapping around his upper body to shield it from the light breeze. He left his boxers in place and kicked his clothes into a heaping pile in the crook of two giant roots at the base of a tree.
"...too bad I don't have opposable thumbs." He stared at the bottle of whiskey that he managed to keep a tight grip on and gently set it down beside his clothes. "Be good, baby." He instructed the bottle. There was one thing that Kit loved and would always love. His Jack Daniels. With a shudder Kit stood upright and stretched his back out before hunching forward.
Kit curled up, bones cracking and re positioning while at the same time shrinking in size. His skin became a light pink and short, coarse fur started to cover his body. In a little less than a minute where Kit had once stood was a four legged dog. A doberman-rottweiler mix with a coat of shiny black aside from a few brown patches on its face, paws and stomach.
The dog took off through the park at full speed. The wet grass felt nice on his paws. His tongue dangled out the side, his nose wet and sniffing with excitement. Life as a dog. It was great.
