My name was Ink. I was a good dog.
I can't be a dog anymore, though. Dogs can't take medicine, and they saw I wasn't one. I tried to go back to being part of their family anyway, but they didn't me. They wanted Ink.
-Makes a bundle out of a towel and puts the bottles in it- I'll have to find somewhere else now. I'm not wanted here either.
You don't need to know. Trust me.
edited 10th Aug '16 7:44:21 PM by WonderSquid
-Kris pauses, as if considering his answer, before mouthing out parts of it to himself, and nodding when he's satisfied.-
"It's said that spirits dwell in objects into which people put their feelings. He always thought that, if that's true, then the same must be true of artwork. With that idea, he immersed himself in his artwork, so as to impart his spirit into his creations..."
"...He succeeded. You've seen the proof already."
And it's so easy when you're evil... This is the life for me, the Devil tips his hat to me...I'm not wanted here either.
-Looks at his collar contemplatively-
-Clips it on- Maybe I'll be someone else's dog.
-Struggles to stand back up again. Upon further examination, his feet appear to be digitigrade, but the legs are still structured enough like a human's to make walking difficult. And the third hand and mismatched ears aren't helping with coordination either-
What about you?
edited 10th Aug '16 7:54:32 PM by WonderSquid

Have you met a lot of aliens before?