Information

Velure has a minion!

Minion the Sonata

Velure
Legacy Name: Velure

The

Glade Terracoon
Owner: Plushtigre

Age: 12 years, 11 months

Born: April 21st, 2013

Adopted: 12 years, 11 months ago

Adopted: April 21st, 2013

Statistics

Level: 2
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 9
HP: 10/9
Intelligence: 26
Books Read: 25
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Kennel Cleaner

Agender/Feral/14 Years Old/Pansexual"Hello...my name....is Velu....it is a pleasure...to meet you..!"

"Alright, listen up. You're gonna do this lab zap stuff, so you can be something cool, or whatever. Promise me you'll be strong for it."

Velure like his owner plenty from the first second he met her, promising to endure the zaps immediately. Euclid and the other scientists seemed pleasant enough, after all!. The first trips to the zapper had him thinking otherwise, the pain of his bones shifting and skin stretching making Velu wish he was dead. Still, he persevered. He had a promise to keep, after all.

The days went on and on, and Velu could remember days where he had perhaps five forms in one day, not counting the countless sex changes and headaches. It became a routine that he looked forward to more than eating, even with all the pain. Every form felt less right than the last, his skin too tight or legs too long. The stumbling that came after losing and regaining limbs became his normal gait, his voice a breathy whisper from screaming for hours.

Still, he grew used to such things, and found comfort in them.

The look on his owner's face was of shock and horror as he dragged himself out of the lab one day, his neck broken at a sickening angle. Oh, he could not breathe, could not push air in and out of his lungs anymore...being a graveyard swampie was his longest transformation, days spent without changing his body. When he finally changed again, into a form that pleased him, he found that taking breath was just as hard as before, every inhale ragged and pained. He was happy all the same, smiling through his pain. He was keeping his promise.

If his lungs were the problem, the modified gas mask was the cure. If his trauma was a burden, his music helped him to shed it. Medicine became his meal, downing a soothing cocktail of painkillers and inhalers every hour through his mask. It took him so long to get his paws steady, but he found that he could play a few keys. He kept his heart full of light and his lungs shakily breathing life, a quiet smile hidden behind a mask.

"I hope...you have...joy, in your...life. Without...joy, there is...no light."

OPEN for roleplay

Overlay by Griffin

Profile Code by myself

Background Art by myself

References