Hidden Imperfection

Law itched the iron ankle bracket and stumbled toward a set of wooden doors in the wall, kicking them aside with a violent stamp.
"Frack Narnia!"

The crystal sea spat salt at him every time the six foot waves crashed against the brittle sand. The fake blue sky jeered at him. He looked like Bob Geldofs mutant brother on acid,three times removed. Three scaly arms all different lengths, he found these useful, the long snout he could have done without and having half a pony (tail) on his head was just distressing.

"Experiment is safe my ass," and what exactly had happened to that? Dark ridges followed the line of his spine they stretched now pining to display to a mate. He leant his head back drawing in a smoke free breath, free of the cigarettes he chain smoked to keep his mind from the oddity of his burning desire. "I mean where am I going to find a dragon this time of night." his laughter spluttered a weak flame and singed his knee. "God dam it, another pair of shorts ruined."

The sea sharpened it's hold and he stared vacuously, mirroring the hypnotic feed of the waves. His vibraphone started, looking for attention. He drew it out from his half developed wing. There were some ancient texts he'd never bothered reading, now they demanded his attention. He tap tap tapped the surface with one of three black claws.

He drew a cigarette from his dwindling supply and wondered when he could escape from this prison. He read;

Hidden, you are to remain hidden. You are the thorn of imperfection in the pristine societies side.