[Huh. With his thumb, which he still blessedly has, he scratches about long enough to establish that he does have pads. But when he tries to type with them, the claws press on the glass in the most uncomfortable way. He tries to bite his lip, only to fail to find it; a panicked scrabble establishes that he has a muzzle now, as well as the sharp teeth he could feel with his tongue. Some kind of wet animal nose.
He has a Feeling. A Feeling that Bodes.]
I don't know what I am. I tried to take a picture, but all I got was this.
[The picture he attaches is overexposed as hell, showing not much more than a radiant golden glow, brightest around the top where the head might be.]
no subject
He has a Feeling. A Feeling that Bodes.]
I don't know what I am. I tried to take a picture, but all I got was this.
[The picture he attaches is overexposed as hell, showing not much more than a radiant golden glow, brightest around the top where the head might be.]
You're a dragon. Seriously.
That's supposed to be a question, by the way.