Post by Waylon Jones on Sept 6, 2021 19:57:54 GMT -5
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Pounding footsteps lead into a series of creaks as a hulking reptilian behemoth lurched it's way up the staircase. A jingling of metal and a groaning of wood rang out as the monstrous beast squeezed it's way into the modest apartment.
Was this the start of a horror movie?
No.
It was Waylon Jones coming home.
It almost startled him. The feeling of soft carpeting beneath his scaled feet, sifting between his toes and tickling against them. A few more careful steps forward, and the door creaked shut behind him. Truly, he felt like an intruder in his own home. It honestly didn't even feel right. Like any minute he'd get tazed by the flooring, or a vent would start spewing out a poison gas.
Creeping closer, a rough palm placed itself against the smooth glass staring out at the bleak streets of Gotham below. The contrast felt so surreal. The many lights glistening in the night sky shining like a sea of stars welcoming Walyon back. Back from the frigid depths of isolation and despair.
Noticing a recliner nearby, Jones hesitated for a moment before going to take a seat, almost startled by how easily he sank in compared to the rigid stoneways of the Gotham underground. Clasping a nearby remote, Croc gingerly tapped the power button, wincing in fear of being scolded as the blaring sounds of the Gotham Griffins scoring the victory basket flooded into the abode.
"Heh...Heh....Heh..."
Waylon's amused laughter was betrayed by a faint trickle running down his cheeks, bursting forth into a gushing river as his blurred vision was darkened by a pair of claws coming to shield his face.
He finally felt human again.
(Open to anyone who wants to be settled in the same apartment complex as Croc, or someone coming to keep an eye on him)
Pounding footsteps lead into a series of creaks as a hulking reptilian behemoth lurched it's way up the staircase. A jingling of metal and a groaning of wood rang out as the monstrous beast squeezed it's way into the modest apartment.
Was this the start of a horror movie?
No.
It was Waylon Jones coming home.
It almost startled him. The feeling of soft carpeting beneath his scaled feet, sifting between his toes and tickling against them. A few more careful steps forward, and the door creaked shut behind him. Truly, he felt like an intruder in his own home. It honestly didn't even feel right. Like any minute he'd get tazed by the flooring, or a vent would start spewing out a poison gas.
Creeping closer, a rough palm placed itself against the smooth glass staring out at the bleak streets of Gotham below. The contrast felt so surreal. The many lights glistening in the night sky shining like a sea of stars welcoming Walyon back. Back from the frigid depths of isolation and despair.
Noticing a recliner nearby, Jones hesitated for a moment before going to take a seat, almost startled by how easily he sank in compared to the rigid stoneways of the Gotham underground. Clasping a nearby remote, Croc gingerly tapped the power button, wincing in fear of being scolded as the blaring sounds of the Gotham Griffins scoring the victory basket flooded into the abode.
"Heh...Heh....Heh..."
Waylon's amused laughter was betrayed by a faint trickle running down his cheeks, bursting forth into a gushing river as his blurred vision was darkened by a pair of claws coming to shield his face.
He finally felt human again.
(Open to anyone who wants to be settled in the same apartment complex as Croc, or someone coming to keep an eye on him)
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