MSN:
AIM: deceptive exiie
Add me ONLY if you plan to TALK TO ME. Don't add me then never say a word to me. That srsly pisses me off. Srsly.
-Fever is hereby declared inactive. His journal has been removed. See his bio for the full story.

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I look… zombie pelt, orca antlers, skull mask
I feel… full from a meal
My health is… excellent
I wander… at the bottom of the pond
I think… 'Guh... I couldn't even eat all of him... -Guiltily looking at the remains-"
I am here… xXx
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X

None...

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I look… magpie pelt, orca mask, antelope antlers.
I feel… tired.
My health is… excellent.
I wander… in his sleeping spot, asleep.
I think… ‘Totally gonna skip class tomorrow... -Yawn~-'
I am here… xXx
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Grape sure is a good dancer. Or at least Spyro thinks so, for a deer. With his smaller legs, the dragon tried to keep up. After getting a good sway and rhythm going on, he and Grape danced for about an hour. And confused many, many deer.

It was a nice workout, if anything. Afterwards, the little purple dragon ran off across the Ruins and pounced around, then settled into a flower patch and watched a group of deer a ways off. He could have interacted with them, but he was too tired to really move. Almost dozed off, even!



(And then my computer spazzed and Spyro bolted halfway across the forest in a gallop. xD)

But the fun didn't stop there! Oh no. Once Spyro rested up by the river, blowing butterflies away from his nose (they really liked perching there), the dragon ran off into the forest to see who was up at this hour. Since, you know, little dragons should be in bed by 3am. He did find some fawns running around and sat by them after a spellspamming session.



It soon grew into a party with a few more additions! Dancing and tag, romping about as young dragons and deer do. Strangely though, one fawn's "name" didn't show up, as well as the gray deer with the strange antlers. Wonder why...?



As the group dispersed as all makeshift groups do, Spyro sat down to rest a bit. The fawns ran off to frolic some more, and the deer ran away to play. One did stay though - she was rather nice, keeping him company. After the strength returned to his legs, Spyro got up to play some more.

Since he had tried keeping up with Grape's dancing, the little dragon tried again with his companion. She seemed to know what she was doing a lot more than Spyro did, but he tried to do some fancy stunts - most of them resulting in him on his back and the doe giggling at him. It made him wonder how Ember would react to this if she had stumbled across them.



But it was getting far too late for a young dragon to stay up, and he could feel the tug of sleep on his eyelids. He said goodbye and yawned, wandering back off toward the Ruins and his little shaded spot to sleep. He may just skip his classes the next morning. Just because he could.

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I look… orca pelt, real deer antlers, magpie mask. Transformation Raven.
I feel… a bit tired, resting
My health is… excellent
I wander… everywhere
I think… '...'
I am here… xXx
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Such a nice forest. Peaceful and full of hiding places.

My favorite is a tree near the pond. It has a little hole in its trunk that I like to nestle in. Prolonged stays have left my shedded feathers around the rim.

I wanted to explore. And explore I did.

Many deer. A little shy or a little anti-social or just very young. I like to hide under them. It made them laugh or get very confused.

They seem to bond through dancing. It is confusing in itself, but I am not to judge such a primitive tribal ceremony.



It surprised me that this one even looked a lot like me. Only smaller and deer-like, whereas I am... something else.

Yet others did not like me following them. I cannot understand why. I do not try to. I do what I want.



Confused and frightened it seemed. I thought this form would not frighten them. My true form is far scarier from what I have experienced in my lucrative past. I did not feel the need to waste energy reverting back.

Let them be. I shall rest for now and come back for more... later.

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I have taken a liking to hiding in the deer's feathers (if indeed they have feathers). It's warm and concealed, and they usually don't mind... being asleep.

Of course when they do wake up, I fly away before they can catch me.



This nice young deer was quite tolerable of my presence. I was pleasantly surprised. Whether I enjoyed the brief company or not, well not even I know. But I did stick around to amuse it. My bird walk and somehow sprouting bubbles from my beak greatly pleased a lot of deer.



Being it was so cold, much like my home with its eternal night, I followed it about for a while. It kept a slow pace for me to follow on my talons rather than fly after it. How considerate.

I settled down in the ferns to warm up. It stuck around for a while longer before continuing its ventures, wherever they may lay. I tried to convey a sense of formal goodbye, but it is hard to do with such a body. I suppose I could have turned to my true form, but felt it unnecessary. Safe travels indeed.

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I look… zombie pelt, fan antlers, orca mask
I feel… warm and bored
My health is… excellent
I wander… at the Playground
I think… 'Bored...'
I am here… xXx
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WARNING: This journal is told from the point of a flesh-rotting, slobbering, bloody zombie. If you're squeamish, don't read.
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It is strange to view the rotting Special Infected as anything other than instinct-driven gluttonous monsters. However some of their actions have been so puzzling that it has to be connected to a web of human emotions and reactions.

The Hunter awoke in its tree near the pond and stretched in a skin-ripping cat-like way. Frothy mouth opened to gulp at the crisp air. It seemed stiff, most likely from the shade that had crept over it in the tree. It shimmied down the trunk and landed on the grassy ground with a audible thump. And off it went, to search for warmth.

Several spots around the forest offered small patches of bright sunlight. It curled up in several spots, to roll in the heated grass, but it never stayed there long. The Living kept invading its space with their greetings. It did not like sharing its space. Snarls and growls did not ward them off, so the Hunter retreated in a fast pace to get away.

It pounced here and there, sometimes even chased the squirrels that were disturbed by its movement around the brush. Finally it crept over near a large rock on a red hill and stretched its dusty body over its warm surface. A pinecone was near it. It sighed, much like a cat does, and pawed at the pinecone with its arms outstretched. The cone skittered away and rolled around, batted between its bloody hands until it rolled right off the rock. The Hunter lay still. Sighed again. Idled there on its belly.

This flesh-eating Infected was... bored.