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Description
What if the curse got worse for poor Cecil? Well, let’s explore that idea because I love my characters and love making them suffer! 😈

Cecil felt heavy as he pulled himself groggily from the muddy pit, grappling onto any vines and bushes he could reach. The small red and gold dragon hovering shakily above him, shouting meaningless encouragements.
Ugh, Arvynn. Cecil rolled his eyes as he grabbed at an upturned root. The dragon was the one who’d gotten him cursed in the first place! And the beast’s stupid dragon feelings made it so the little annoyance had been at Cecil’s hip for the past week and a half.
The dragon crashed onto the soft earth to his left, his red snout burying in the wet marsh grass. Just his luck the tiny nuisance couldn’t even fly right! A truly useless companion.

Cecil sighed as he hauled himself out of the muck and onto semi-solid ground, panting from the effort, and still feeling absurdly heavy.

He turned to glance at Arvynn, who was staring at him wide-eyed and blubbering incoherently, a glob of grassy mud still on his muzzle.
“What?!” The hunter snapped, glaring back at the dragonet, who helped a frantic apology and flinched back.
“It’s just… your…um…” Arvynn stammered, his tail curling around him nervously. Of course, the creature was a chatterbox all the time, except when he should just-
“Spit it out!” Cecil growled through gritted teeth, trying and, for some strange reason, failing to sit up.
“I-I think your curse has gotten less better!” Arvynn whimpered, hiding behind his wings.
Cecil froze for a moment, his heart hammering. He swallowed thickly, and, with some effort, flipped over.

His eyes widened and he felt bile rise in his throat.

His legs weren’t gone, luckily enough, but rather doubled. Four. He had four legs. And a scaled tail and lower torso. Like some sort of cursed centaur.
Cecil screamed, scrambling away from the dragony torso and legs, which only followed him. His back hit a tree, and he stopped for a moment, shaking. He could feel the tail, but that wasn’t all that new. The worse part was that he could feel the legs. They were undoubtedly his.

This was bad. Worse than bad this was HORRIBLE.

Cecil felt like he couldn’t breathe enough, choked by his own fear. He cursed.

“Well, I mean, I guess this could be a little better than before…” Arvynn said, jumping up with a flap of his wings to get a better view of his companion.
“Better?” Cecil choked, fixing the dragon with a panicked glare, “BETTER?! IN WHAT WORLD IS THIS BETTER?!”
Arvynn shrunk back, whimpering, is large amber eyes shining wetly, but Cecil didn’t think to apologize. Instead he flipped back over with a waiveringly set expression, and tried to stand, but ended up faceplanting into the ground. He groaned loudly, covering his head with his hands as he went limp.

Today couldn’t get any worse.

Description
What if the curse got worse for poor Cecil? Well, let’s explore that idea because I love my characters and love making them suffer! 😈

Cecil felt heavy as he pulled himself groggily from the muddy pit, grappling onto any vines and bushes he could reach. The small red and gold dragon hovering shakily above him, shouting meaningless encouragements.
Ugh, Arvynn. Cecil rolled his eyes as he grabbed at an upturned root. The dragon was the one who’d gotten him cursed in the first place! And the beast’s stupid dragon feelings made it so the little annoyance had been at Cecil’s hip for the past week and a half.
The dragon crashed onto the soft earth to his left, his red snout burying in the wet marsh grass. Just his luck the tiny nuisance couldn’t even fly right! A truly useless companion.

Cecil sighed as he hauled himself out of the muck and onto semi-solid ground, panting from the effort, and still feeling absurdly heavy.

He turned to glance at Arvynn, who was staring at him wide-eyed and blubbering incoherently, a glob of grassy mud still on his muzzle.
“What?!” The hunter snapped, glaring back at the dragonet, who helped a frantic apology and flinched back.
“It’s just… your…um…” Arvynn stammered, his tail curling around him nervously. Of course, the creature was a chatterbox all the time, except when he should just-
“Spit it out!” Cecil growled through gritted teeth, trying and, for some strange reason, failing to sit up.
“I-I think your curse has gotten less better!” Arvynn whimpered, hiding behind his wings.
Cecil froze for a moment, his heart hammering. He swallowed thickly, and, with some effort, flipped over.

His eyes widened and he felt bile rise in his throat.

His legs weren’t gone, luckily enough, but rather doubled. Four. He had four legs. And a scaled tail and lower torso. Like some sort of cursed centaur.
Cecil screamed, scrambling away from the dragony torso and legs, which only followed him. His back hit a tree, and he stopped for a moment, shaking. He could feel the tail, but that wasn’t all that new. The worse part was that he could feel the legs. They were undoubtedly his.

This was bad. Worse than bad this was HORRIBLE.

Cecil felt like he couldn’t breathe enough, choked by his own fear. He cursed.

“Well, I mean, I guess this could be a little better than before…” Arvynn said, jumping up with a flap of his wings to get a better view of his companion.
“Better?” Cecil choked, fixing the dragon with a panicked glare, “BETTER?! IN WHAT WORLD IS THIS BETTER?!”
Arvynn shrunk back, whimpering, is large amber eyes shining wetly, but Cecil didn’t think to apologize. Instead he flipped back over with a waiveringly set expression, and tried to stand, but ended up faceplanting into the ground. He groaned loudly, covering his head with his hands as he went limp.

Today couldn’t get any worse.