|
Post by icyreflections on Jun 27, 2012 12:21:53 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,424,true] | [atrb=background,http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y77/libbyoc/forumblack.png]
(This is OPEN to whomever would like to join~ I prefer one on one RP's but wouldn't mind if maybe two others joined in. )
It was a bright summer’s day; the sky was a brilliant blue without a trace of clouds. Above, the sun shone brightly and pleasantly warmed the earth beneath the black and white tomcat’s paws. He was deeply relieved that the day was so comfortable compared to the recent bought of exhausting humidity that plagued Grimalkin. His fur absorbed the heat faster than others’ and he was loathing the climate as of late for it prevented him from enjoying the sunshine and performing his job. Today, he was finally able to emerge from the shadows of the forests and the caravan his family resided in on the beach and take advantage of patrolling the streets happily.
Misto traveled contently with his black and white tail swaying carefree behind him. He hummed softly and his ears flicked eagerly as he looked around to assess his surroundings and mentally determine the best place to sit and await customers. Misto found in his experience as a fortuneteller that there were those who believed in the superstitious art and those who didn’t. However, the non-believers varied in category as well, some asked him for a card reading despite their believes for they thought that the act was silly and fun. Others, however, weren’t as good-humored and these were the cats that Misto often found himself silently cautious of- there was no telling what the serious non-believers would do to make their opinions fully known. The thought was frightening, Misto was aware of the bad reputations that witches received and their persecutions and he was also familiar with some rumors that certain fortune tellers who dabbled dangerously on the border of dark magic- such as trying to predict the future- were treated no better than the witches. Though Misto had no real talent for predicting the future and merely interpreted the random spread of cards while reading the facial and body expressions of his clients to suit their personal reading; but still, it was always best to be cautious because the pious and ignorant didn’t really care HOW Misto did what he did for a living- they just knew what they SAW and what they saw could be skewed as dangerous and devilish and that was life-threatening to the young gypsy.
Luckily, through the time spent as a fortuneteller, Misto became quite good at reading others’ faces and was usually able to determine their temperament and how much danger he was in in their presence. He was now traveling away from the South Quarter where he lived- and usually could stir up a good amount of business but not too much money for the cats of the South Quarter were very poor and their were thieves commonly spread throughout the area- and made his way for the West Quarter. He considered temporarily heading for the North Quarter but denied this thought- though the rich paid fairly well and were eager to rebelliously allow themselves to have their fortunes told, the chance of running into a guard or a no-nonsense snob was more likely and Misto didn’t want to run around the village to avoid arrest today- it was too nice out.
So, the West Quarter was what he ultimately decided on. It was better paying than the South Quarter and much more low-key than the North Quarter. He could settle himself down by a tree off to the side of a main road, play his violin, and await curious spectators to wander over, entranced by his music and then ask them if they would like a reading. On top his head sat a large puffy white hat with an Egyptain eye clip nestled in the center and a violin was slung across his shoulder by a long strap that crisscrossed against the tomcat’s back and tied around his waist. He found a nice slightly shaded spot off to the side of the street and padded over to it, untied his musical instrument from his back, made sure his hat was on straight so passer-byers could indicate his type of service, and only until he was situated and satisfied, he began to play the violin the way his grandfather taught him so long ago.
| |
|
|
mysterykitten
Junior Member
Roleplayer of Zahara and Marshall West
Posts: 98
|
Post by mysterykitten on Jun 27, 2012 12:39:47 GMT -5
With cloak worn and hood over head, the assassin walked, blending in with the crowd. She had made a getaway to the West Quarter after killing the cat she was hired to kill in the South Quarter. It was a drunk cat who probably cheated in gambling and took money from her contractor or something, Zahara didn't care the reason, she got paid to do the job. It was rather easy to perform.
With the target drunk, Zahara just had to use her good looks and the advantage that she was female to lure the tom out of the tavern and into a private place. The target thought he was going to get something good, but what he actually got was death. After getting her money from the contractor she made a direct path to the West Quarter, where she was now.
Zahara paused in the streets of the West when a violin tune hit her ears. Turning her hood-covered head in the direction of the beautiful sounds, she smiled when she realized it was a familiar black-and-white cat, Misto.
Walking over to him, the she-cat greeted the tom. "Hey! long time no see, eh?"
|
|
|
Post by kate0808 on Jun 27, 2012 12:53:21 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] | [atrb=background,http://i49.tinypic.com/kewvep.png]
The dark, male feline weaved himself through the trees, his eyes look splashes of blood against the shadows that enveloped the forest he thrived in. The witch often said that it was not his business what was going on outside of his home, which was the forest known as the Witches' Hollow. Many felines would say that it was dangerous place to be, and it could get you killed if you were not careful enough. The spiteful witches were rumored to live there, and this single warlock did indeed thrive in the very heart of the forest.
Leaves crunched under the tom's paws as he continued onward, his ebony cloak flowing in the summer breeze. The grass felt coarse under the male feline's paws, showing signs of the harsh fatalities summer brought with it. The crimson-eyed witch could hope for none other than the summer to be gone once and for all. However, the leaves would die in the fall, thus bringing even more decay. Why were the seasons always like this? The witch shook off this morbid feeling, trying to enjoy his day for once. A rare sight to behold, the witch padded out of his homeland, lashing his tail and passing through the Western Quarter. The buildings made him uncomfortable, for he knew all too well that these did not provide protection like the trees of his hollow did. The male feline bit his lip, trying his best not to shiver at the sight of so many felines in one place. Flinching as a large feline brushed up against him, he swiftly maneuvered himself out of the way of the crowd, almost bumping into a curious fellow. The feline smelled of the urban lands, but he also had the slight scent of forest trees still clinging to him. He certainly did not look like a witch, for he had much more expensive-looking clothing and did not wear a black cape like most witches were rumored to.
The dark magic user stood there for a second, watching the fortune teller with an amused gaze. "You," he meowed, "smell of the forest trees. Do you perhaps live in the Western Quarter around here? They do have a forest nearby, as you can tell. I did not know most felines were foolish enough to go in there more than once. I'm sure it disturbs the citizens of the Hollow there." The witch narrowed his crimson eyes, not looking as if he would shift away from the fortune teller's line of vision.
| |
|
|
|
Post by icyreflections on Jun 28, 2012 7:05:04 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,424,true] | [atrb=background,http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y77/libbyoc/forumblack.png]
Misto was lost in the sweet melody that his violin produced. He shut his eyes to the world and enclosed himself in a reality that was his own an only existed as he played his music. In his head, he could see the luminance of the notes, they shown gold in the light of his mind and floated around him like a fluttering songbird and created a chorus of beautiful tunes. Misto always had the inclination that their was a magical gene in his family that he may or may not have inherited. He discovered through the course of his travels that through his music, he could focus better and produce the same peaceful illusion in others’ heads that he had in his right now. It was true, he was a skillful player- having learned the instrument from an experienced player in his youth- but sometimes, his skill was overrun with a force he couldn’t explain and when he glanced up from playing his song, his audience seemed to have a far-away look gleaming in their eyes. They seemed dreamy and at peace in the fiddle player’s presence but something about the look in their eyes was suspicious to the young black and white tom… could his music DO things to others? If so, when did this happen and how did it happen? It didn’t usually happen- Misto could tell- but when it did happen, Misto couldn’t see a correlation or reason behind it.
Growing up, Misto constantly heard rumors and ghost stories of the dark witch that lived in the human realm and produced a daughter who rejected her mother’s witchery and turned to the white magic instead. It was said that the daughter traveled away from her mother’s grasp to Grimalkin where she fell in love. The names of these cats were never fully disclosed but Misto noticed his own mother became uneasy during these stories and hushed his aunts and uncles from finishing them. He had reason to believe that he was somehow related to this witch in the story and when he asked his mother if it was possible that they had some sort of magical aptitude his mother quickly denied his assumptions and it was left at that. So, now grown, Misto never fully understood the ability he possessed. It was common for a musician to see the notes and a ‘special place’ in their head while they played, surely, but was it possible to transport that feeling he felt and that place he saw to others mentally? According to his mother, Misto was not magical- just imaginative. So did that mean he just imagined the looks on the audience’s faces when he played? Was he just that good a violinist and his music could put them at ease? Misto just didn’t know.
His thoughts and violin ceased as he heard a familiar voice break into the world he created. He blinked and saw Zahara standing in front of him and he grinned. “Why Zahara, fancy meeting you here!” He placed down the instrument and made a motion to hug his friend but decided that may be too rash of him and settled for shaking her paw and patting her on the shoulder instead. “It has been too long, indeed! How have you been, dear?” He titled his head with his warm, welcoming smile growing evermore in the presence of her familiar face.
He wished to hear all about her travels since there first meeting in the hot springs- Misto had played his violin for her then too- and share with her his own stories (Misto quite enjoyed telling tales of exciting adventures and forbidden romances, as Zahara also knew from their last journey together.) His attention from his friend though, was distracted by a stranger with a dark pelt and stunning red eyes. Misto momentarily turned his attention from one cat to the other and listened to the new cat’s question intently (though the brilliant grin on his face still remained) and then he mewed in response, “oh no, I am afraid I am not from around here.” He straightened up importantly as he answered the question, pleased that he was actually ABLE to provide some information but not sure if it was entirely helpful to the new cat’s purpose. “I reside on the beach, beside the woods of which I believe you speak of.” He recalled as a kit venturing into the woods with his siblings and cousins to possibly glimpse a witch or a wizard at work but he wasn’t sure if he should mention this to the tomcat. He didn’t seem to like strangers invading his forest and Misto admittedly couldn’t blame him- it WAS his home, after all and he was a cat like any other. Why shouldn’t he be respected?
Misto simply nodded his head, understanding where the tom came from and then mewed, “I am sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful. But you are welcome to stay if you’d like. I am currently offering readings, if you are interested.” He now looked at both cats, just to judge quietly if either of them were interested.
| |
|
|
mysterykitten
Junior Member
Roleplayer of Zahara and Marshall West
Posts: 98
|
Post by mysterykitten on Jun 28, 2012 21:27:50 GMT -5
As the tom greeted Zahara back, she grinned. "I've been doing well." she said. "How about-" she was cut off by another cat barging into the conversation. 'How rude!' the assassin thought to herself, but waited patiently for the newcomer's conversation with Misto to end.
When the tom offered the reading, Zahara couldn't refuse. Things like readings were fun, right? "I'd love to have a reading." she replied, clapping her hands together and holding them there.
|
|