aximili-esgarrouth-isthill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
omnomnombunzuh) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2012-07-06 11:38 pm
omnomnombunzuh) wrote in capeandcowllogs2012-07-06 11:38 pm
(no subject)
WHO: Ax and YOU!
WHERE: Just outside the M.A.C., wherever there is yummy grass
WHEN: laaaaate Friday night and into the wee hours of Saturday morning
WHAT: There is an alien weirdo eating outside the M.A.C. With his... hooves. Come stop and stare! Or face his tailblade if you're the criminal type, I guess.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start. Whatever you like after.
Aximili was starving.
He had gorged himself on whatever scraps of human food he could steal, but keeping up a steady schedule of morphing and snacking every two hours was exhausting. In all his time on Earth he had never felt so depleted -- and coming back to his apartment was not helping his nerves.
How could humans sleep in such cramped quarters? Corners and sharp edges everywhere; it was making him claustrophobic. The fact that his new lodgings came with a television was a consolation, of course, but it didn't make up for the fact that there was little room to rest his four weary legs.
And he could no longer could he ignore the sharp aches in his hooves. They were crying out for grass, for nutrients, for the sort of sustenance that could not be gained through stuffing his human mouth full of delicious treats.
So, as soon as the sky reached its darkest shade, he walked out of his lodgings and just outside the MAC -- into the lush, delicious green grass he'd been figuratively drooling over.
Then, taking a deep breath, he began to demorph. Hoping no one came by to wonder why a blue, centaur-shaped, four-eyed alien had wandered on to the premises.
Then again, if they did, he could always knock them out with the flat of his tail-blade.
WHERE: Just outside the M.A.C., wherever there is yummy grass
WHEN: laaaaate Friday night and into the wee hours of Saturday morning
WHAT: There is an alien weirdo eating outside the M.A.C. With his... hooves. Come stop and stare! Or face his tailblade if you're the criminal type, I guess.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start. Whatever you like after.
Aximili was starving.
He had gorged himself on whatever scraps of human food he could steal, but keeping up a steady schedule of morphing and snacking every two hours was exhausting. In all his time on Earth he had never felt so depleted -- and coming back to his apartment was not helping his nerves.
How could humans sleep in such cramped quarters? Corners and sharp edges everywhere; it was making him claustrophobic. The fact that his new lodgings came with a television was a consolation, of course, but it didn't make up for the fact that there was little room to rest his four weary legs.
And he could no longer could he ignore the sharp aches in his hooves. They were crying out for grass, for nutrients, for the sort of sustenance that could not be gained through stuffing his human mouth full of delicious treats.
So, as soon as the sky reached its darkest shade, he walked out of his lodgings and just outside the MAC -- into the lush, delicious green grass he'd been figuratively drooling over.
Then, taking a deep breath, he began to demorph. Hoping no one came by to wonder why a blue, centaur-shaped, four-eyed alien had wandered on to the premises.
Then again, if they did, he could always knock them out with the flat of his tail-blade.