Metamorphosis
((OOC: Not god modded, GW turning into an anthro- you get the gist.))
Ghost Writer felt himself roll over in his bed, a smile gracing his face. He could not remember a day he had slept in until noon, but the feeling was welcome. He had fallen asleep late, or early, at night or in the morning, whichever one would care to chose. The first thing he felt to do after waking up would be to run his hands over his smooth, pale skin...
His eyes cracked open and he felt them dialate- his skin wasn't smooth anymore. He shut his eyes and ran them over his arms again and felt the soft tickle of a feather duster on his body. Feather duster. He lept up, and felt new muscles in his back knock him off balence for a moment before shouting and flexing them unnoticably. His balence was restored, and his hand flew to his head to clear his thoughts. He hit a rather sharp beak and brought it back, spitting feathers from his mouth.
Feathers? Beak? ...Wings?
He ran to his bathroom window and placed his glasses on his face. Big green eyes widened back at him, and he blinked and stared with an expression only an artist, or a man of spiritual vitality, could conjure.
He was beautiful.
Ghost Writer felt himself roll over in his bed, a smile gracing his face. He could not remember a day he had slept in until noon, but the feeling was welcome. He had fallen asleep late, or early, at night or in the morning, whichever one would care to chose. The first thing he felt to do after waking up would be to run his hands over his smooth, pale skin...
His eyes cracked open and he felt them dialate- his skin wasn't smooth anymore. He shut his eyes and ran them over his arms again and felt the soft tickle of a feather duster on his body. Feather duster. He lept up, and felt new muscles in his back knock him off balence for a moment before shouting and flexing them unnoticably. His balence was restored, and his hand flew to his head to clear his thoughts. He hit a rather sharp beak and brought it back, spitting feathers from his mouth.
Feathers? Beak? ...Wings?
He ran to his bathroom window and placed his glasses on his face. Big green eyes widened back at him, and he blinked and stared with an expression only an artist, or a man of spiritual vitality, could conjure.
He was beautiful.