The early morning air wasn't exactly cold, but it was almost too cool for the cold blood that ran through Ink's veins. He shivered as he slithered through the trees, trying his best to hit every patch of sunlight he could. It wasn't long before he hit a clearing in the trees, a spot where everything opened up to a river, grass running along the banks. Rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning his shirt - both of which revealed a myriad of scars: needle marks, claw marks, and uncountable others - he sat down in the grass, and then he proceeded to lay down, allowing the direct sunlight to warm him. The grotesque amount of scales on his arms and face glinted in the light, but they somehow seemed even darker when faced with the sun. His hair fanned out underneath him quite a bit, sleek and shiny as ever, creating a black halo.
His fangs were his newest transformation, even though they came in when he was fourteen. It had taken quite a bit of time and many holes in his tongue before he was able to speak around them. By far, however, the wrist part of all of this was the insomnia; every time he tried to relax and close his eyes the flashbacks would come. Maybe this time... His golden eyes slid closed as he basked.


