Typically speaking, as a general rule, Mathias considered himself to be a rather calm and level headed individual. Never one to panic or freak out, he usually liked to think of himself as the type of person who handled stressful situations very well, and, in his own words, "dealt with adversity in a collected and impersonal manner, focusing his intellectual resources on finding applicable practical solutions rather that wasting time on emotional reactions". This, however, was hardly what one might call a "normal" situation, much less something one might readily find "applicable practical solutions" for. Rather, this was one of the select few situations in life which called for nothing else short of a "HOLY SODDING FUCK, WHAT THE BLEEDING HELL?!" moment of sheer, pant sullying terror. Incidentally, as it would turn out, this was precisely what happened.
For you see, in life, there were many things for which Mathias had prepared for, jokingly or otherwise. Getting hit by a truck, being fired from his job, a surprise invasion from Canada, a virus outbreak turning the general population into a horde of ravenous unthinking undead... Waking up looking like a tenth century mythological creature, on the other hand, was not one of these things. First there was the shock, obviously. Then the silent intellectual panic and tail biting agony (Yeah, he had a tail now. A tail.). Then came the frantic pacing across the room, the increasingly ridiculous proliferation of insane explanations, the strangely calming conclusion that he was in the middle of having a psychotic breakdown, then another bout of increasingly ridiculous explanations. Monday mornings, eh?
After a particularly long and unfruitful twenty minutes spent staring at the bathroom mirror, trying best he could to convince himself this wasn't happening, he finally mustered the courage to actually get out of his room. As could be expected, he was wearing his usual outfit, consisting of a simple yet elegant suit and tie attire and a white collared shirt. "If I'm becoming a completely insane loon, might as well be well dressed completely insane loon...", he figured. Taking no chances, however, he also wore a hat and the longest coat he could find on top of that, in a pointless effort to try concealing his transformation. Admittedly, a fedora and a trench coat weren't exactly the disguise of the century, but it was all he had and, in the end, better than nothing. "If I've really turned into some sort of monster," he also figured, "then maybe it wouldn't exactly be the greatest idea to flaunt it around either."
Fortunately for him (or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it), he had been emancipated since the prime age of 16, and lived alone in his apartment, so didn't really have anyone around to react to his new appearance or lack of thereof. Upon stepping outside, however, it didn't really take him long to notice that people weren't really paying much attention to him. Sure, he got a few odd glances, but from what he gathered, they were mostly due to his strange choice of clothing, rather than any perception of his "true" appearance. Funny thing, he had now come to think of it as his "true" appearance. How messed up was that? Anyways, there were no screaming villagers with pitchforks around, which lent some credence to his "psychotic breakdown" or "horribly twisted nightmare" theories, although he couldn't help but think that this couldn't possibly be fake. By then, he had let his tail out from under his coat and it swung freely behind him. It felt so incredibly real that it couldn't possibly be all in his head, it simply couldn't be. He could feel the pavement beneath as he let his tail brush against it, and the breeze as it softly caressed its skin. Not to mention the trouble he went through trying to fit it into his pants...
He eventually made his way to school, his body going through the motions automatically as his mind wandered, not out of real willingness to go to class, but rather to lend himself a certain sense of normality. Upon arriving, he decided that perhaps it would be best to simply tell his teachers he was in the middle of some rather troubling psychological problems, and ask to be sent the material they saw in class via e-mail. Another thing he noticed was strangely how comfortable he felt wearing his heavy coat. It wasn't exactly winter weather out there, and considering how he was clothed, he should by all logic be sweating profusely. But nothing. In fact, if one were to ask him, he would find that he was actually a bit chilly. "Makes sense, I suppose, considering demons are supposed to be creatures of fire and brimstone." he thought to himself amusedly, almost as though it was all just some sort of bad joke.
He went on like that for a while, aimlessly wandering the halls, desperately lost in his own impossible thoughts. Usually, he tried to pay as much attention to his surroundings as he could, and typically tried avoiding to get too distracted while in a public environment, but there was nothing usual about today. As a result, he found himself completely oblivious to the young woman who suddenly appeared from a corner, going in the opposite direction, and walked right into her, accidentally bumping his head onto hers. They both staggered backwards, the girl visibly dazed by the hit. It would appear, at least in this immediate perspective, that accidentally head-butting someone with a pair of horns was quite painful.
"Ow! What the fuck man!", she exclaimed, her hands clutching her forehead. "Watch where you're going!"
"Right back at y..." he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, before stopping mid-sentence in shock, staring blankly at the girl he just knocked over.
Standing in front of him stood a young woman with a shining halo of bright light hovering above her head, and a pair of tattered white wings folded behind her back. He instinctively took a good long look at her, then back to his current appearance and, finally connecting the dots in his head, took a large gulp. It seemed like his psychosis had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.