Waylon wakes up smaller, still scaled, and considerably skinnier. It was about this age he learned to walk with a swagger so people would read into the implicit threat and just leave him alone. It's with this swagger (to no one, because he's all alone in this dank, damp little cave) he ventures into the castle proper.
The sun is gloriously out, and there's nothing more that Waylon would love to do than go bask in the sun outside. He sees kids playing down there, though, he sees people, and decides better of it.
When he goes into the next room, he's surrounded on two sides by... bones? They're nothing like the tough rotties that Waylon's well-learned to fear. He almost winds up to kick one before he hears an exasperated voice, and a grinning child-- nope, not grinning, just a skeleton like the rest of everything in here, apparently-- comes into the open.
"Oh." Moat. He plonks himself down on one of the moat-books, tail uncomfortably squashed. "You need a crocodile?"
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The sun is gloriously out, and there's nothing more that Waylon would love to do than go bask in the sun outside. He sees kids playing down there, though, he sees people, and decides better of it.
When he goes into the next room, he's surrounded on two sides by... bones? They're nothing like the tough rotties that Waylon's well-learned to fear. He almost winds up to kick one before he hears an exasperated voice, and a grinning child-- nope, not grinning, just a skeleton like the rest of everything in here, apparently-- comes into the open.
"Oh." Moat. He plonks himself down on one of the moat-books, tail uncomfortably squashed. "You need a crocodile?"