[Life is hard for a would-be up and coming manga artist stuck in a town like this without so much as a photocopier to his name. It's harder still when every store you had your eye on now that you've finally finished some samples is swarming, the noisy fannish throng forming a colourfully solid barrier not even a violent demon could elbow through.

Hardest of all is when you don't have elbows to begin with, because you are a round blue-grey bird no taller than a large turkey, and people keep mistaking you for a poorly-crafted plush accessory. Dude, how can you even begin to present that thing as a badass eagle? Never mind the size, it's a pigeon no matter how you look at it! And we can't even say A+ for effort, look, what kind of fan would smudge red dye all over the front and just leave it like that...]

Fools! This mark of my Cursed Blood is but the brand I must bear on my path of Eternal Repentance! Like I said - gah!

[The third time he's distractedly kicked away, Anghel only just misses the rusty bucket sitting outside the store opposite as he thumps into the window. Hopping to his bare pink feet with no small amount of panic, he checks under his wing. Well, his folder is still safe. That's good. The rest of this predicament isn't.]

Ugh... to think that even the furthest hallowed reaches of the Empyrean would offer no respite. Is this... my fate...?

[At this point he seems a little wobbly, and so does the glass in the window behind him. Little help?]