I haven't written creatively for over a year, and I probably won't be getting back to #Plot Armadillo for at least another year due to Life. BUT I love my losers that live in my brain. I still want to play doll's sometimes, just less pressure low stakes doing it live dolls. Hence, I am going to write up scenes of Dovenroc, my dragon boy, as he goes from being a college drop out with a trust fund to a multimillion dollar lifestyle brand empire. Let's see if he actually becomes a better person along the way.
"Thank you. Come again," Dovenroc said as he handed the customer their receipt. Checking the tiny clock at the corner of the register, he saw the time flash to 15:30 exactly. Clocking out!
He tore off his horrendously brown apron, catching the small dragon pin Symone had stuck on a strap in his hair. Frowning, he put his apron back in the break room, and pulled his bag and his compact out of his cubby.
Replacing each strand of dark brown hair around the two horns swooping back off his forehead would have been much easier with two hands. Dovenroc continued to labor with one while the other held the mirror at exactly the right angle needed; the staff bathroom at this grocery store was disgusting and disgustingly small. He'd been in it once and refused to step foot inside again. It took twice as long, and some random contortions to get his hair just right, but Dovenroc made the time.
Once that was fixed, he surveyed his face. Mahogany eyeliner sharpened his green eyes, but he hadn't bothered with other make up for his shifts today. And now he was bored.
Average face, Dove sighed. Blinking quickly with the itching at the corners of his eyes as his scales in shades of dark blue erupted through his skin. Better.
Replacing his compact in his bag, he swung it over his shoulder and grabbed his bike helmet.
A young woman wearing the bland brown apron over a light yellow floral dress walked in as he was leaving. She smiled warmly on catching sight of Dovenroc.
"Heading out? Thanks so much for helping out today Dove!"
He nodded once and held up a two finger wave. "See ya."
"We'll call you about next week, 'kay?"
Next week? Maybe. Might be lifeguarding at the beach if that CPR thing goes through.
Dovenroc unlocked his bike and strapped on his helmet while he let his horns retract.
Safety first. He laughed. I'm hilarious.
The animals at the shelter didn't think he was all that funny.
"Still couldn't convince the dogs to let you pet them?" Bob laughed as he watched Dovenroc stare at a spaniel sitting as far away from him as possible while he cleaned their kennel.
"Well, you might have better luck if you didn't look like a dragon every time you came in."
Why did everyone have a problem with the horns? The horns stay.
"Tch. Nah. My brother says dogs just don't like dragons. He's always wrong. I'll pet 'em eventually."
Dovenroc had done a lot of things in the year and a half he'd been volunteering at the animal shelter, helping out where anyone asked. He played with cats, fed bunnies, tamed lizards, and even trimmed parrot claws. The only animals that didn't like him were dogs. He was determined to pet one, one day.
His supervisor just shook his head, smiling all the while.
Without a signal of recognition, Dovenroc finished up the spaniel's kennel and moved on to the shepherd's next door. The shepherd snarled as he entered, but Dovenroc snarled back, convincing the dog to sit in the corner with his head between his paws.
By the time he'd scrubbed the rest of the kennels, his muscles were sore and his sheer bright blue tank top had caught more fur than a spider's web caught bugs. At least he could go change now that he was done.
"Thanks for your help Dovenroc," Bob said as he headed out.
Alice, one of the ladies who handled the administration, smiled when he waved a good bye. "Just remember to give us a call the next time you want to come in!"
She really does hate spontaneity, he mused.
The controller bounced off a pillow and into another pile of four. Dove sighed, rolling onto his back arms flung wide. The bold red letters flashed over a black field, mocking him, proclaiming in foot tall letters on his big screen TV, "You have been annihilated. Play again?"
The online chat room cackled in his head set. Always the same thing with this game. Dragn_D0ve never made it to the end of the round. He wasn't sure why that always caused the chat to dissolve into laughter; it's not like he claimed he was the best video game player.
A pillow hit Dovenroc in the face, before rolling off, only to get hung up on his horn. He turned his head, but the pillow was stuck.
"Have you been playing all day?"
Great, now Latrebor's laughing too.
His older brother stood in the door to his room, picking up another of Dovenroc's pillows that had escaped his bed. No doubt, he'd be making it into another projectile.
"How long have you been back?" Dovenroc replied instead.
Latrebor smiled, "Missed me? I got in this morning. Father wanted me to go into the office and fill out some of my starting paperwork."
Ugh, came back just for stuffy office work?
After college and finishing a finance degree summa cum laude, Latrebor had taken off for the mountains in Europe. Dovenroc had hoped that meant his brother had finally realized how boring his perfect life was and was doing something about it. Maybe he'd gone off to just be a giant lizard full time like Uncle Raizenrot. Apparently Dovenroc had hoped for too much from Bore.
"Mother told me you'd dropped out, but I had hoped that you were doing *something*," Latrebor mused. "You do remember that Father said you needed to have career to keep access to your trust fund? Losing video games isn't a job."
Dovenroc remembered all of his father's requirements. Unfortunately, his father's requirements were boring. He had to have a job with "career potential". Careers got so repetitive.
Video games could totally be a job, Dovenroc thought. What he said out loud instead was, "Yeah, whatev'."
