mysterykitten
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Roleplayer of Zahara and Marshall West
Posts: 98
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Post by mysterykitten on Jun 9, 2012 19:20:09 GMT -5
Zahara couldn't help but be sad when the music was over, but after hearing the compliment from Misto to her, she felt her pelt grow hot. "Thanks," she mewed in reply. "The music you played was amazing." the assassin added a returning compliment. "And you're welcome, I'd love to dance to your music again sometime." This was true, it seemed like dances in private meetings with friends was much more fun in public performances, though in public, many more dancers could join in. Pros and cons for each.
Turning to Jet, Zahara waited for the dancer's response to this time.
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Kitsani
Full Member
♥ Jet Marrow and Kite Tanomis ♥
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Post by Kitsani on Jun 10, 2012 11:18:47 GMT -5
Jet slowed to a stop, unable to contain her grin. "That was a blast~" The marbled feline laughed, putting a small paw over her mouth. As Misto seemed to have liked her bells, she nodded, "Thank you, although they were no match for your instrument, of course," she purred. The dancer glanced over at Zahara with a smile. Normally the feline would feel a twinge of jealousy; this cat was no dancer, she didn't spend every waking moment of her childhood life practicing, and yet she was still so great at it. But the sokoke cat didn't feel any jealousy or irritation towards the cat. She assumed it was because she now looked at Zahara as....a friend? Jet didn't have a lot of friends, and grinned wider at the thought.
"You were great, too!~" She gave a little bounce, her kittish cheerfulness shining through now that she was surrounded by felines she felt a comforting ease around. Her icy eyes flickered to the sky. How long had they been there? She wasn't sure, but settling in a sit back down on a rock, Jet felt in no rush to return to her little rustic home in the Southern Quarter.
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Post by icyreflections on Jun 11, 2012 13:58:38 GMT -5
Still grinning as each cat exchanged compliments, Misto looked at his new friends and felt a sense of elation that he never knew existed. He was friendly enough and made plenty of acquaintances in his life but never had he thoroughly enjoyed the company of other cats as much as he did this evening. He had only really had the opportunity to create strong relationships with his large family due to their nomadic and shunned lifestyle. In the eyes of other cats, Misto and his gypsy family were ghosts that blew into town one day, were somewhat acknowledged when they were present, and then suddenly vanished. Other cats didn’t fully approve of gypsies, believing them to be untrustworthy, misfortunate, and unclean. It was no wonder Misto didn’t make friends despite his efforts to be polite and cheerful. Tonight was a huge accomplishment for him, he was able to make friends for the first time in his life and they all were able to spend the night sharing something that each felt passionate about- music and dancing.
He didn’t want the evening to end but as he looked up at the darkening sky, the stars faintly coming into view, he realized that it was about time for him to begin his journey through the South Quarter of the city to the beach where his caravan was situated. A prickle of unease clawed at him as he realized the task that was now before him- it was getting dark and he had to travel through the more dangerous end of town alone. He normally was out late and had to face this trial often, but he was never this far from home at this hour. Normally he could find a shortcut while it was still light out and made a mental note to follow it when it was darker. Now he would have to stick to the main roads and hope that he would be able to remember or see shortcuts along the way that would prevent him from running into trouble.
He glanced at the two she-cats before him, now feeling slightly anxious but not allowing his smile to falter for a minute. He didn’t want them to worry. He would be okay. He dipped his head cordially and mewed politely, “well, it has been fun, ladies but I am afraid I must retire while the night is still young.” Normally he would stop by the tavern on his way home but the day’s excursions made him tired and he really just wanted to head home and lay by his family’s bonfire.
“I am heading towards the beach, through the South Quarter,” he meowed in a casual, friendly tone, “if either of you are heading in that direction at this time and would like to walk with me.” He grinned, “though, I doubt you need a silly tomcat like myself to walk either of you home.”
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mysterykitten
Junior Member
Roleplayer of Zahara and Marshall West
Posts: 98
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Post by mysterykitten on Jun 11, 2012 15:44:31 GMT -5
Zahara looked up at the sky and sighed, it was getting darker, and that meant the fun day was coming to an end. Looking to Misto, she answered to his proposition. "I live here in the South Quarter." she mewed. "But I can walk with you until we have to split our paths." the assassin's tail twitched and she smiled as she added the last comment. Sure, she could just walk home by herself, she knew how to defend against attackers, but it was always nice to walk with someone, it is a little less lonely that way.
"What about you, Jet?" Zahara turned to the dancer. "Would you like to join us? Even if just for a little bit?"
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Kitsani
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♥ Jet Marrow and Kite Tanomis ♥
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Post by Kitsani on Jun 11, 2012 20:07:45 GMT -5
The marbled feline's ears lowered slightly at Misto's dismissive tone as he began to speak. She didn't want the night to end. There was so much to talk about, so much she wanted to learn from these brilliant new cats. She really wanted to call them close friends of hers. She flicked her feathered, brown tail, her ears pricking again as he offered for them to join him on a walk. She glanced over at Zahara, smiling softly. This cat actually seemed to want her company. It wasn't often this happened; many immediately took her as shallow. She was aware she was pretty and flaunted it in order to make a living, but it didn't mean she was selling her soul... right?
"I'd love too," she purred, not mentioning that it was a little out of the way from where she lived. No worries, a little walk never hurt. However the thought of being out alone in the dark made her a little uneasy, she assured herself the company would be worth it. The East Quarter wasn't too far from the southern end. She pushed away the thought of her being quite a target for bandits; she could handle a few rowdy cats. Well, not in a fight, but she could outrun them no problem. Not wanting to be the downer, she masked her quiet fretting with an excited smile.She couldn't deny really wanting to hang out with the felines. They seemed too nice!
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Post by icyreflections on Jun 13, 2012 16:50:53 GMT -5
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“How wonderful,” Misto beamed delightedly as each cat accepted his invitation to join his walk home. His tail swayed behind him in a content manner and his expression was so lit up with pleasure that his cheeks seemed to bulge, which caused his eyes to squint. It was a nice change of pace, to have someone to talk to on his journey home. Normally he woke up at the crack of dawn and set out about the town to make some money and by the time he was ready to turn in, he had only a few coins than when he began and a disbanded audience that left him feeling deserted and incredibly lonely and used. Although it was ‘just business’, Misto really enjoyed meeting new cats. His family was understandably wary around strangers and largely kept to themselves. Years of experience made the wise to the cruel realities of the world and they realized long before Misto was born that gypsies weren’t accepted within society. Thus, nearly every one of Misto’s brigade kept to themselves and didn’t go looking for clients the way Misto did. They would simply hold dances on the beach or in the Southern Quarter of the area, hoping to peak passersby interests and inspire them to donate spare change for their dances and music. Perhaps it was due to being the youngest and thus most naive of the troupe, Misto was different and had a thirst for adventure and curiosity of life beyond the caravan that was his family’s sanctuary. He never lost that kit-like wonder and often traveled the town, peeking into taverns, speaking to townsfolk, playing his violin for those who were interested and asked him to play, and dealing his cards and magic tricks with the cats he convinced to give it a go. He didn’t realize how much he loved being around others and how much effort he put into trying to make friends until they left him at the end of the day to walk home alone despite the fun he thought they were having. It was awfully tiring to go home to his large family, who he was forced to sit and travel around with in the caravan since he was born. Now that he was finally able to get out and explore and share his talents with the world he looked forward to each new day… and he secretly dreaded the night that would wipe away all his hopes of actually reaching through to someone. To most, he was just a street performer and it was his duty in life to entertain them… They didn’t care what happened to him after they left. He was just a sideshow attraction.
This night, however, was different than all the others. He finally invited two cats into his world and shared something that meant everything to him- and they didn’t listen to him and then walk away without a second glance. No- they STAYED with him and they danced! They invited Misto into their world and shared something they loved with him. There was now a connection, a common ground, a love for music and dancing that they were able to all share and smile about. He was able to make friends. It was just too good to be true!
He plopped down on the ground and pulled a long, thick band from the folds that he used as pockets in the scarf tied around his waist. He carefully wrapped the band around his violin and after two full revolutions (once around the violin’s middle and again the long way), he used the remaining material to make a strap. Once he finished tying the strap, he pulled it over his shoulder and let the violin rest against his back like a sort of satchel. He slid the instrument’s bow underneath the band holding the violin and once he had it snuggly inplace against the violin’s surface he looked up at his new friends and grinned with a low, satisfied purr rumbling deep in his throat. He hopped nimbly to his feet and excitably mewed, “let’s go!” And with his cheerful grin still in place, he set off from the hot springs.
The trees that surrounded the clearing that housed the springs began to clear as Misto lead them into the East Quarter of the Gweillan Kingdom’s territory. A large meadow opened before them and the grass was cool under Misto’s paws as the moon rose over head and the nighttime sky shaded the area. The tuxedo tom looked over his shoulder to make sure Zahara and Jet were behind him and he grinned and pointed a quivering claw at the orphanage that sat several feet to the left of him. “I sometimes do magic tricks for the kits there,” he explained excitably, trying to keep the conversation between them going. “They seem to enjoy it when I visit them, which is nice because I’m not just a ‘street performer’ to them. They really do get awe-struck at even the simplest of card tricks, bless them.” He dipped his head thoughtfully. It must be awful to be so young without parents. Maybe he should visit them tomorrow? They seemed to really love the attention and surprise. Misto wondered how much attention and gifts the kits could possibly receive…. There were so many of them and it was hard enough money-wise for most families to even care for one kit. Do churches really receive enough donations and schillings to care for each kit properly? He thought about his kithood- he had both parents but still he was picked on by his older siblings… and it was a no brainer that they were poor and couldn’t afford to care for everyone. Misto supposed that it was the struggles that banded a family together. But still, he couldn’t help feeling saddened. He blinked and looked away from the orphanage and continued on his way through the field.
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mysterykitten
Junior Member
Roleplayer of Zahara and Marshall West
Posts: 98
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Post by mysterykitten on Jun 13, 2012 17:08:15 GMT -5
Zahara was the farthest back in the group, but she still listened as he told the two she-cats about his job. When he mentioned the orphanage, she couldn't help but frown. "I know the orphanage rather well..." she began. "Spent the majority of my kitten-hood there." she mewed, purposely leaving out that she had a terrible time there, also that she was adopted by an assassin and that was her occupation now.
As she gazed over at the building, the frown remained on her face as she thought of what could've happened if she wasn't bitter and mean after her brother was adopted. She may have had a much different life with a different occupation, a life the assassin couldn't even imagine having. Being a hired assassin was her life, and most likely she will die as an assassin. There's nothing else Zahara even dreamed of being, but that's probably because she was adopted into the life.
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Kitsani
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♥ Jet Marrow and Kite Tanomis ♥
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Post by Kitsani on Jun 22, 2012 8:08:02 GMT -5
Jet continued to walk quietly, glancing off to the side at the orphanage and frown softly as Zahara spoke. She knew it quite well too, but kept very quiet.
After the passing of both her mother and her father, she was still very young. Young enough, that if anyone had discovered of their deaths, she probably would've been dragged right to the orphanage. Of course, she wasn't too young to realize the predicament she had now found herself. She was about the age of an early teen, only just hitting the age of 1 year old. Mothers who go to the orphanage would go to foster cute little baby kittens, who could still be shaped to love them as if they were truly the child's parent. Jet was pass her cutesy phase; she wouldn't want a new mother. Foster parents would know that immediately. She had shuddered at the thought of maybe being locked in there forever. But all her mother had left her behind was the ability to dance, and hell she danced until her paws bled. But it got her by, and she wasn't one to let a little rough times get her down. She loved her past; she would never look at it with self pity or resentment. She would never want it any other way. It made her who she was.
She glanced up at the black and white tom in front of her, wondering what his past may have been like. He was so cheery. Zahara had clearly gone through some rough times by the pained glance she tossed at the older building. But Misto seemed less open; harder to read. The marbled tabby wasn't one to pry, though, and kept walking along in a hushed silence. She found herself almost skipping to keep up; all these cats were taller than her own, small breed, but she didn't mind. It was kind of nice, and she cracked a smile. She decided she really liked these cats.
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Post by icyreflections on Jun 25, 2012 15:49:05 GMT -5
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Misto was suddenly aware of the tentative reaction that greeted his remark. He could sense the hesitant emotions of the cats traveling with his and he perked his ears with anxious curiosity. He had meant to uplift them all but he seemed to do the opposite and though he was ashamed of himself for putting his new friends in such an awkward place, he couldn’t help himself- what was it about the orphanage that made them uneasy? His large amber eyes slowly became thoughtful slits as he pondered the situation carefully. His occupation enabled him the ability to read others feelings and thoughts through the way the held themselves and expressed themselves with their eyes. In a brief moment, Misto was able to glance at Jet and Zahara and see the tension in their shoulders, the discomfort that was betrayed in their eyes, and the way their tails stiffened ever so slightly at the mention of the orphanage. They must have had some sort of run in with the place that made them feel this way. Misto’s heart felt heavy with grief. He hadn’t meant to stir up old memories or unpleasant thoughts.
He walked along the path quietly, trying not to say something offensive again but he could stand the silence. The atmosphere was heavy with awkward tension that Misto just wanted to fix. He thought desperately of something to say that would cease the silence and make up for his orphanage remark. The nighttime air began to cool the summer air, though the humidity still clung uncomfortably to the black and white tom’s fur. He was considering talking about the weather but decided against it for it was too cliché a topic to discuss and he rather not think about how muggy he felt under his dark pelt. The darkness made him think about his kit hood and how his family would stop the caravan’s travels in the fleeting hours of daylight to step up camp. They would make a small fire and all the adults slept around it while the kits had enough room to sleep in the caravan. Misto was too big to sleep in there now… But he remembered that the ill would rest in there because they weren’t fit to travel… That is where his grandfather gave him his violin and passed away a few days later.
The darkness of the caravan never particularly bothered him and nighttime was usually a blessing for the nomadic family because it meant time to rest, eat, and tell stories and sing songs for recreation rather than profit. It was a time for the otherwise bustling family to bond and Misto cherished it. Nighttime meant good memories for the young tomcat and with this thought, his tail curled with delight and a soft purr caught in his throat. He wondered if the others enjoyed the night as much as he did and if they’d be interested in sharing stories. He looked to them excitedly, whiskers trembling. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he asked in a pleasant tone with his familiar grin. He thought for the briefest of moments, he didn’t want to seem rude or desperate by speaking too much and he certainly didn’t want to upset these cats again by talking about the past. So in a casual tone he mewed and glanced idly at the stars above, “I wonder if they are sitting around the fire telling stories tonight? I always liked listening to them… I like telling them too, but my sisters always scoff at mine and my cousins look at me most peculiarly- like they don’t take a word of my tales seriously.” He shook his head disappointedly, “ah well, it’s their loss. I can’t help it if they can’t handle the adventurous nature of my stories.” He looked up at the other two brightly and, beaming, asked, “do either of you know any stories? Or would you like to hear one of mine? Be warned, they can get quite exciting.”
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mysterykitten
Junior Member
Roleplayer of Zahara and Marshall West
Posts: 98
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Post by mysterykitten on Jun 25, 2012 16:01:18 GMT -5
The assassin readjusted her cloak before speaking, "I've heard a few stories before, like the ones about the sage that lived in the dusty mansion." Zahara responded, looking to the tom. "But I'd love to add a couple or a few more to my collection." she gave Misto a smile, and then looked to Jet. "Wouldn't you like to here some stories as well?" The she-cat waited for the responses of both. As she waited, her ears twitched and her tail flicked.
(Couldn't think of anything else to put OTL )
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Kitsani
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♥ Jet Marrow and Kite Tanomis ♥
Posts: 237
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Post by Kitsani on Jun 25, 2012 16:26:16 GMT -5
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As the air fell tense and quiet, Jet bit her lip. It was a bad habit, but it tended to emerge with discomfort. She felt a prickle of guilt in her pelt; she didn't have to go and be such a downer. Seeing Misto deflate, she wanted to say something to lighten the mood, but she didn't trust herself to open her mouth. She wasn't exactly as smooth a talker as she liked to think sometimes, and her attempts at fixing situations usually came out jumbled and resulted only in worsening the matters.
Her ears pricked as Misto started talking again, instantly feeling quite relieved. That cat certainly knew how to save the conversation, and soon the marbled she-cat found herself smiling again. "Stories?" she echoed with a glisten of excitement in her eyes. She turned to look over at Zahara. Would she like to hear some stories? "Of course!" She exclaimed happily in reply to the she-cat, "I adore a good tale. My parents never told me any, so sometimes I would hide away in the tavern when I was younger just to listen to cats talk," the marbled feline laughed. "I definatly heard some interesting things," she flashed her teeth in a grin, but she really was genuinely excited. She loved to listen, and sometimes when the rare occasion came by, she loved to be listened to.
Jet was afraid she didn't really know any good stories, but by the claims of her other two friends, it sounded already like they both had pretty good sets of tales on them already. she smiled softly to herself, her tail and paws having a bit more swing with her steps. This made her bells jingle softly, but she hoped it wasn't rather obnoxiously. She let out a slight embarrassed laugh and tried to hold three bells in two paws. "Sorry, they get a little noisy," she giggled.
(sorry for the shortness DX)
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Post by icyreflections on Jun 25, 2012 17:36:08 GMT -5
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“Brilliant!” Misto beamed, unable to conceal his excitement. Finally, he managed to say something that didn’t bring the conversation to a screeching halt. His tail quivered with delight and he cleared his throat as two pairs of eyes looked to him for a story. As quickly as his brain could function, Misto searched the depths of his mind for a tale that would suffice. Of course, being Misto, this wasn’t too difficult. He was usually banned from story telling because he had the habit of making up the most elaborate and imaginative stories possible. He loved to tell stories, but they were often never taken too seriously because they were just too ridiculous. He couldn’t think of a story he told recently off the top of his head- which wasn’t surprising because it was so long ago that he was privileged to unravel a tale of his own so without skipping a beat, he began telling an entirely new story.
“Alright, I’ll bet you’ve never heard this one,” Misto grinned triumphantly. “This is a story of love and it takes place during the brightest, sunniest, warmest day of the summer.” He fanned himself and stuck out his tongue, panting, for dramatic effect as he spoke. “One day, a queen was out dallying in the meadow with her lovely she-kit. They were having a great time stalking through the tall grass and blowing dandelion seeds onto each other’s noses-” Misto twitched his nose like a rabbit at this point- “little did the she-cats know, an evil, monstrous BEAR was watching them from the shadows of the forest that enclosed the pasture.” Misto threw his forepaws into the air, claws extended and teeth bared as he demonstrated just how ferocious the bear was. “Unlike other bears,” he explained, placing his paws at his side, “this particular bear could change his form for he was the spirit of the dark forest. Though he had a kingdom and power, he desired a queen to sit beside him and ogle him. When he saw the beauty and grace of the mother she-cat, he realized that she was just the type of female he wanted to rule beside him- she wasn’t overbearing and wouldn’t threaten his crown and she was incredibly beautiful. So, without further ado, he took his giant claws and slashed himself down the belly and shed his bear skin like a large overcoat on the forest ground.” Misto pretended to ‘unzip’ a coat and stepped forward with a light whistle. “From the skin of the bear came a tomcat with a long shaggy brown coat that gleamed golden at the tips. His whiskers dazzled in the sunlight and his eyes appeared to be made of gold.” He reached into his belt’s folds and rummaged around for a moment. He eventually found two schillings and placed them over his eyes and puffed out his chest regally. With the schillings still over his eyes and his chest extended he continued, “he strode majestically out into the open and approached the frolicking she-cats. The mother, cautious of the stranger, tucked her kit underneath her belly.”
At this point, Misto suddenly smiled and the schillings popped out of his eyes. He crouched to the ground, ceasing the journey home. He changed his demeanor to that of a mother cat protecting her kit and warily interrogating a stranger. In a high-pitched, girlish voice, Misto squeaked, “who are you, good sir?” He turned abruptly, and pretended to be the forest tomcat replying to the mother she-cat in a very deep tone of voice. “Fair lady, I am the ruler of this meadow. Do you realize that you are trespassing on my territory? I am afraid I do not take lightly to such antics and you and your kits shall pay.” “P-please sir,” Misto said, changing position and his voice, “we mean you no harm! Have mercy on my kit!” “Foolish she-cat,” he laughed a booming laugh, “you expect mercy from a God of my importance? You are in no position to ask for favors. However, I do enjoy your groveling and will not harm you this day.” “Oh sir, thank you sir!” “However, you will still be punished. I enjoy your begging so much I have decided that I shall take your kit prisoner.” Misto, acting as the queen, bristled and spat, “filthy, mangy, disgusting-” “Ahaha, none of that crude language. With that sort of attitude, you may never see your child again. The only way you may broach a change of heart is by visiting me everyday and begging forgiveness. That will show you never to use such awful words to someone as important as me!”
Misto sat up and dusted himself off. He looked from one she-cat to the other, cleared his throat and began once more in his regular voice. “The mother fought with the tom as she defended her kit from his grasp. As the struggle ensued, she called to the little one to flee and save herself. The she-kit did as she was told, and her mother was left alone. She took her daughter’s place as the lord’s prisoner and reluctantly became his queen, just as he planned. As the king and queen ruled the forest together, the young she-kit wandered on the outskirts of a nearby town desperate and alone. She nearly died without her mother’s care until she was taken in as a servant to a military family. Everyday as she brought the training squires their water, she observed them quietly on the sidelines and decided that she would learn to defend herself and fight so she could free her imprisoned mother. So, in the dead of night, while the squires and their warrior mentor slept, she took their swords and practiced the moves that they studied during the daytime. She trained long and hard, but eventually she was able to wield the sword well. While she was practicing one evening, the master of the house woke early and discovered her using the weapons. As a servant, she wasn’t privilege the educated the squires were and he was fearful that she was considering stealing the weapons for extra gold. He fired her on the spot and kicked her out of his home. “Now without a job, she had an ample amount of free time and could go rescue her mother- she just needed a weapon. She waited for the soldier to go back to bed or turn away long enough for her to sneak back into the house and steal a sword. When she was able to obtain her weapon, she set off into the forest. When the king heard her enter he approached her, mildly amused. He didn’t think such a dainty she-cat could wield a weapon. He taunted her and told her that her mother forgot all about her and swore her love and loyalty only to him and that she was wasting her time. But the young she-cat knew better and stood her ground. When he realized she wasn’t going to back down, they fought. The king pulled all sorts of wily tricks- he make roots shoot from the ground to trip and ensnare the little warrior, branches and leaves fall from the sky to obscure her vision, called other animals to his aide to outnumber her but she fought on- the power of her love for her mother giving her the strength to preserver. Soon, the devotion to her mother was noticeably stronger than the shallow affections the king had towards the queen and the young she-cat triumphed over all the obstacles and sliced the king in two!”
Misto did a sort of karate chop with his forepaw, mimicking the motion of the blade in his story. With a grin, he took on last large breath and said, “she managed to kill the evil king and the dark forest suddenly flooded with light. Her mother, who was trapped within the shadows, was finally free and together mother and daughter were reunited and ruled the forest in peace and harmony! It is said that the forces of nature- beauty and strength- are represented by the mother, Queen of Nature, and her warrior princess.” Misto smiled heartedly and purred with a jubilant throw of his paws into the air, “the end!”
He purred and his whiskers twitched excitedly as he rashly looked from Zahara to Jet, “okay who’s next? Or shall I go again?”
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mysterykitten
Junior Member
Roleplayer of Zahara and Marshall West
Posts: 98
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Post by mysterykitten on Jun 25, 2012 18:04:43 GMT -5
Zahara applauded the tom as he ended his tale. "Bravo," she complimented. "That was quite the story." When the musician brought up the subject on who should tell a story next, the assassin retold what she said before. "If you would like me to, I could tell the legend of the sage who used to live in that dusty mansion." she offered, flicking her tail. The she-cat had heard many variations of the legend from the cats in the tavern and from the other assassins. Zahara would just pick out the most interesting details and throw them in the story, without going out of character.
(Oh dear my post looks like a kitten compared to your monster post, Icy OTL )
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Kitsani
Full Member
♥ Jet Marrow and Kite Tanomis ♥
Posts: 237
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Post by Kitsani on Jun 27, 2012 11:46:35 GMT -5
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Jet listened with peeked interest throughout the entire tale. She wasn’t told stories often, as she had mentioned previously, she heard most of her grand adventures from the Taverns. But this story seemed like something entirely different. Completely far-fetched. Ludicrous. It could never happen. Yet it fascinated her more than anything he had ever heard. Music always painted a picture in her mind, sometimes pictures of places or things that could never be, but it felt great to imagine anyways, and that was one of the many reasons she loved songs. Somehow Misto captured this in stories as well, and it surprised the young she-cat. Although Jet was easily-impressed, she could tell the fortune teller was gifted, and longed to hear more stories now that they had stopped their travels.
Stars blinked overheard, and the marbled dancer moved off to sit at the base of a tree, leaning her back against the gruff bark. Their movements stopped so that Misto could act out his tale, and to be completely honest, Jet wanted to stay put for a minute. To listen to stories, laugh together, and just enjoy the night.
Her bright blue gaze flickered over to Zahara, nodding in agreement as she flashed a smile. “That story was amazing,” she chided over at Misto. The cloaked feline once again mentioned a tale of the Dusty Mansion. Jet glanced over at her; that place always gave her the creeps. “Like a ghost story?” she mused in a wispy voice. “I’d love to hear it, what about you Misto?” She half-closed her eyes, enjoying the company again. Her tail flickered contentedly from side to side, and hoping they would remain here a little while longer to tell their tales, she quietly unbuckled her bell belt and set it down beside her. She made her she soft brass of the bells still touched her side; it was uncomfortable for her ever not to feel them when she was awake. It made her worry she could’ve been stolen blind, and although she was secretly a skilled pocket-picker herself, she wasn’t always the most vigilant.
Her bright eyes glowed dimly in the darkness as she studied her new friends. Friends. Yes, she could defiantly call them her friends at this point, and felt a prickle of pride in herself. She had finally met somebody new! Two people, in fact. Maybe Gwellian wasn’t such a bad place after all. Maybe it wasn’t completely full of harsh cats that only wanted to take advantage of you like she had originally assumed. Well, by assumed of course, she meant through experience. She pushed the thought away; she would much rather think of happier stories at this time then her own. It was then that she realized they might call on her to tell a tale too. She bit her lip; she didn’t know any good stories!
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Post by icyreflections on Jun 28, 2012 8:22:56 GMT -5
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Misto glowed with pride and he puffed out his chest triumphantly under the praise of his two-cat audience. “Thank you, thank you,” he purred, “I am humbled by your flattery.” His eyes twinkled in the moonlight and he couldn’t suppress the large grin that spread across his face. He loved the impact a good story could make on others- most likely this fascination derived from the tom’s love for company and creative expression. He was often told as a young cat that he was highly imaginative- the multitude of strange talents that he pursued and possessed weren’t considered too normal by even his family’s standards. Though gypsies were known to swindle wanders out of their schillings through song and dance and fortune telling, Misto was strange because he disliked harnessing one single talent like the rest of his particular group did. Each eat was extremely good at one talent and one talent only. This was their money maker- the one thing that they could excel at and wow the audience. Misto, though trained to play the violin extremely well for the dancers, taught himself how to perform various cards tricks as well as read the cards to tell fortunes because he didn’t want to be solely identified as a nomadic violinist that was shadowed his beautiful sisters and cousins. Perhaps this was selfish of him, but Misto knew there was more that he could accomplish in life if he simply applied himself. He loved the violin but he didn’t want it to be the only thing that cats assumed there was to him. He had a love for adventure and a curiosity of the world that he always itched to learn about and explore. Most of his stories revolved around the romantic thoughts he often had and simply further expressed his longing to grow.
At Zahara’s offer to tell her story, Misto did a sort of silly jig and enthusiastically meowed, “yeah! I’d love to hear it!” The brief introduction Zahara mentioned to her story intrigued the young tom and at Jet’s prompt that it could be a ‘ghost story’ made Misto quiver with anticipation. Anything out of the ordinary fascinated him and he couldn’t wait to hear about the old sage that lived in the old, dusty mansion. Misto had never entered it himself, though he had seen it before and wondered what sort of history it had. What did it look like when it was grand and new? What sort of secrets did it hold? Misto imagined balls and parties with drinks and pleasure but whispers and schemes hissing beneath the fancy music that played and masked the guilty. Maybe he should go there again, he thought, and maybe he would be able to find the sage ghost and speak with him. It would be very interesting, indeed.
Misto trotted over to Jet, and flopped down next to her. He laid on his belly and rested his head on his front paws and he fixed his amber eyes contently on Zahara. “fire away, my dear.” He prompted with a purr and he perked his ears, eager to listen- he didn’t want to miss a thing.
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