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</div><br/>He felt like he had yelled loud enough that someone should have reacted, someone should have appeared from the houses around him to see what the hell he was up to at such an early hour in the day. In fact his throat should hurt, he should feel out of breath... yet there was nothing. He looked at the houses next to his, eyes scanning across the street to see<i>nothing</i>. For a moment he stood incredibly still unsure of what to do with himself in his new form. He existed on some level yet it appeared that nobody else could hear him and it made him highly doubt that they would be able to see him. He could do anything he wanted and that thought alone was beyond exciting to him.<br/><br/>All of his life he had been ridiculed by others. With the way he talked, the way he looked, even the way he moved. Kids were relentless when he was younger and would find something to pick on him about. Even into adulthood it never really went away and had pushed him farther and farther into solitary. Yet now he didn't have to worry about the thoughts of others.<br/><br/>A wicked grin spread across his face as he considered all of the possibilities. It wasn't anything perverted. He wasn't going to peep into anyone's homes during their intimate moments. He had never even remotely been a freak like that. No. He could have payback. Moving things that were important to others so that they couldn't find them. Hide their keys so they would be late for work. Small things to make their day just that much more annoying. These things would specifically take place against those who had caused most of the grief he had dealt with in his younger years. It was perfect.<br/><br/>The first victim of this strange abuse, he decided, would be Rodney Whitney. As young boys Rodney had a habit of taking Leopold's toys and breaking them. When coming home Leopold would then have to face the wrath of his own parents who blamed him for the damage instead of the nice boy across the street.<b><i>Asshole</i></b>. The memory was so vivid that it felt like it was being played out scene by scene in front of him where he was nothing more than a silent bystander as Rodney took his favorite GI Joe action figure and placed it on the sidewalk to be smashed under his shoe.<br/><br/>"Rodney." His voice spoke with a dark determination and within a fleeting second he found himself no longer standing on his own front porch but in the house of none other than Rodney Whitney. Had he teleported? Was that even a thing... a possibility. Well, he was dead so he guessed that anything could really be po-<br/><div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--right js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/daiopov-76411e8f-d491-4ce6-9d72-f3ce86e6ec0f-3-png.111765/" title="daiopov-76411e8f-d491-4ce6-9d72-f3ce86e6ec0f (3).png">
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</div><br/>"Holy sweet tea what is that!?" He screamed. If he had had a working heart then surely it would have stopped beating from the sheer terror of what he was seeing in front of him. It was a dog. No. There was no way that<i>thing</i>was a dog. It's black fur was matted with dried blood or what Leopold could only assume was dried blood. It's body was huge. Larger than any dog should be, closer to the size of a young horse if he had to really guess measurements. It moved and he could hear the sound of chains but there were none on the visage of the creature. Then its eyes turned towards him and his already cold  body suddenly felt even colder.<br/><br/>Red eyes, all six of them, were looking right at him. Could it see him? Surely not. Lips trembled and teeth barred. A deep growl filling the room. That was all it took for Leopold to wish himself to be in the only place he ever really felt safe. In the same swiftness as before he found himself standing in the middle of his library surrounded by his only real comforts in the world. Books.<br/><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/dde1gecumae9vzn-jpg.111761/" title="DDe1GEcUMAE9VZn.jpg">
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</div>"Who is that?" A young girl's voice echoed throughout a dark void until finally faces were coming into a rather hazy view. A young Lillian sat on her grandmother's lap, both of them cuddled together in a large arm chair holding a book of pictures.<br/><br/>"Well, that's me." Her grandmother said with a lopsided grin on her face. Lillian had never once questioned why only one side of her grandmother's face seemed to move, she was too young to understand strokes and what they could do to the human body. Just as well she didn't understand the concept of her grandmother having once been young. Her skin appearing to be as smooth as porcelain instead of folded with the many wrinkles of age.<br/><br/>"Nuhuh. She's pretty." The words brought a rather loud sigh from the old woman before she let out a hearty laugh.<br/><br/>"My sweet little flower, one day you'll grow up and you'll understand."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i>My sweet little flower...</i>​</div><br/>Her grandmother's voice repeated over and over in her mind, the pitch and tone changing until it became nothing more than a harsh ringing in her ears. She struggled to open her eyes, her body still refusing to move as the overwhelming taste of copper flooded her mouth.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i>My sweet little flower. Open your eyes. </i>​</div><br/>"Grandma?" The word forced a bubble of blood from her mouth. Her eyes cracking open as she felt the familiar roughness of her grandmother's hand sliding against her cheek.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i>It's time to get up now. </i>​</div><br/>"Up?" Her throat felt like someone had taken knives to it and every inch of her body seemed to ache. "Up." She repeated the word with determination as she struggled to get her hands underneath of her body. First she was only able to lift herself barely an inch, the next attempt gave her a little more progress but eventually her body refused to move anymore. She was fatigued. She felt like her body had been put through a grinder. She could feel at least one broken bone, possibly three. Was there internal bleeding? She wouldn't know unless she managed to get herself to a hospital.<br/><br/>The car had driven off. She couldn't hear it running at least nor could she smell it. Smell it? How was she able to smell so many things? Her eyes were closed as she forced herself to focus on that one sense. Her nostrils flaring as she took a deep breath in, wincing from the pain that she was feeling in her lungs before she forced it back out. A scream came from her as she felt her bones and joints popping, her body feeling as if it was going to rip apart. As if she hadn't been put through enough torment already. It felt like it lasted for hours but it had only taken but a few seconds before she was laying on the ground once more in the body of a fox. All nine tails formed a half-arc around her body.<br/><br/>First one small toe on her front paw curled, then another. It was nearly painless. But when she tried to raise her head to look over her body it refused to budge. The last of her energy had been exerted, her eyes rolling back into her head as she passed out.