- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, Scifi and related material.
A Good Day's Start...
Neither city nor countryside, really. No place terribly distinct that one could name or place, if dropped smack in the middle. A road, perhaps a sidewalk. Trees, grass... soil with all the growing things nature provides and intelligent minds cultivate. A building, perhaps of wood, certainly of glass and metal and other bits and pieces. A sign: Trepper's Coffeeshop... Please, Enter! Ahhh, yes. In the distance round about, other signs... Civilization.......
A young Nism male, his youth marked by shroudruff feathers still too short to count as "adult"... yes, this young male, dressed in cargo shorts suited to his physiology, wearing a vest with many pockets, weight of backpack on shoulders, walked on twos. Eyes bright, alert. Movements wild yet controlled. Clawed feet pacing the road to Trepper's Coffeeshop. Cool morning breeze, early Spring in origin, ruffled fur. But couldn't chill through scales. Though said breeze, inhaled through all four nostrils... well, call it "bracing." Call it...
... Heh.
A small brass bell tinkled as he entered, heading straight for a stool at the counter. Having a tail, a stool made a perfect... near perfect seat. Heh. Being Nism and male, he'd be more comfortable down on his haunches, but he'd learned to make do. Backpack off, he zipped open a compartment, took out a sketchpad... snatched a pen from one vest pocket, and...
"What you having?"
Trepper herself stood behind the counter, looking for all the world like some oversized secretary bird, if secretary birds stood over six feet and wore aprons. And had arms instead of wings. However...
... "I'm having coffee, black. And your Number Three breakfast special." He gave Trepper a grin, a slight flare of his teenage shroudruff and... "Heavy on the pepper and onions."
Yes, he'd eaten here before.......
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Neither city nor countryside, really. No place terribly distinct that one could name or place, if dropped smack in the middle. A road, perhaps a sidewalk. Trees, grass... soil with all the growing things nature provides and intelligent minds cultivate. A building, perhaps of wood, certainly of glass and metal and other bits and pieces. A sign: Trepper's Coffeeshop... Please, Enter! Ahhh, yes. In the distance round about, other signs... Civilization.......
A young Nism male, his youth marked by shroudruff feathers still too short to count as "adult"... yes, this young male, dressed in cargo shorts suited to his physiology, wearing a vest with many pockets, weight of backpack on shoulders, walked on twos. Eyes bright, alert. Movements wild yet controlled. Clawed feet pacing the road to Trepper's Coffeeshop. Cool morning breeze, early Spring in origin, ruffled fur. But couldn't chill through scales. Though said breeze, inhaled through all four nostrils... well, call it "bracing." Call it...
... Heh.
A small brass bell tinkled as he entered, heading straight for a stool at the counter. Having a tail, a stool made a perfect... near perfect seat. Heh. Being Nism and male, he'd be more comfortable down on his haunches, but he'd learned to make do. Backpack off, he zipped open a compartment, took out a sketchpad... snatched a pen from one vest pocket, and...
"What you having?"
Trepper herself stood behind the counter, looking for all the world like some oversized secretary bird, if secretary birds stood over six feet and wore aprons. And had arms instead of wings. However...
... "I'm having coffee, black. And your Number Three breakfast special." He gave Trepper a grin, a slight flare of his teenage shroudruff and... "Heavy on the pepper and onions."
Yes, he'd eaten here before.......
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