Lord Drakkon finally removed his helmet to consume the treats. She tried not to cringe at his face. His skin sagged even further than hers. One of his eye’s iris had gone pure white, the vision potentially permanently impaired. Thick whiskers, some crappy mustache, had grown on his face that didn’t suit him at all. Scars ran up from his chest to his forehead, likely past the scalp underneath the hair. Speaking of, his hair, pure white, whiter than snow, whiter than her old outfit… whiter than white.

- LetterSequence Round 5