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Post by RushingWolf on Sept 6, 2012 19:20:47 GMT -5
Devyn had been wandering through the woods beyond the Palace, searching for a way in that wouldn’t have him caught in a mere few minutes. His quest hadn’t gone as planned though and before he knew it night had fallen across the land of Gweillan. And with the night came cold winds that swept up dark clouds that covered the moon. The chilling wind wouldn’t have been that bad to Devyn who had his cloak on but it soon started to drizzle. And before long the small drizzle grew to a fierce rain that pelted anyone caught in it with icy droplets of rain. The gray furred tomcat knew he had to seek shelter if he was hoping to keep himself dry, or at least not get even more drenched than he already was and found himself walking into the first abandoned house he could find. Luckily the door hadn’t been locked, not that it would have stopped Devyn. Once inside he quickly closed the door to keep out the on going storm and when that was done took a good look at where he had ended up. It wasn’t an ordinary house, that much he could tell. Even though he knew the place had been abandoned from how it looked outside, the inside of the house was completely different. He shouldn’t even call it a house. This place that he had stumbled upon was a mansion! A few paw steps forward, though shyly at first, soon led the tomcat around the house. The area that lay just behind the door had the look of one of those grand hallways he’d hear about in stories about kings and queens. He’d never thought he’d actually see something so like those stories. And in the hallway were the grandest stairways he’d ever seen. There were two identical stairways on either side of the hall that half spiraled up to the second floor. The end of the hall both had doors that led further into the house and at the top of the stairs he could see many more doors. The sudden urge to explore this newly found place itched and the tom figured he’d be stuck here for a good while anyways from the way the thunder roared outside. As eager as a child that had just been given the greatest gift possible Devyn bounded excitedly up the stairs. Which door should I open first? he though when he reached the top. The door ahead of him was closed, like all the others and if he had to start somewhere why not start there. Grasping the handle with a forepaw he turned the knob and pushed the door open. It opened easily and soon enough Devyn was inside the room. From the looks of it it was a study. The desk and collection of expensive looking books told him that much. Walking towards the desk that was all the way on the other side of the medium sized room Devyn was able to glance at some of the titles. The Sage’s Handbook was among the many books that rested on the book case. And like the other books it was very dusty. Once up at the desk he found that it wasn’t cluttered like most desks he’d seen but rather neat and organized. A quick peek in the drawers produced nothing interesting. A few quills and pieces of paper were all they held. His interest flared back to the books and he found himself drawn to them like moths to a flame. He hadn’t read many books. He just barely knew how to read luckily but he had always held a certain affinity for literature. And as he picked out more of the books he wasn’t surprised that he soon started placing 2 of them inside his satchel. No one would miss them right? If they had they would’ve taken them to wherever they had gone to. But then again, it didn’t seem as though whoever owned this place had taken anything along. A very strange thing to do and Devyn couldn’t pin point any logical reason to do something like that but didn’t want to spend his time dwelling on things that may not even have any significance. Striding towards the door he opened it quietly and made his way back into the hall, his satchel now heavier with the weight of two books which didn’t look at all like they’d be only a couple of pages. Looking ‘round left and right e finally settled on going his left towards the end of the hall where he spotted yet another door. As he made his way down the hall Devyn could almost swear that he could actually feel the eyes of the portraits follow him as he walked past. It was a little unnerving, even for him. He even stopped before one to make sure they weren’t actually staring him down. As reason would have it, it was just his imagination but he could still feel their eyes on him as he kept on towards the door. Once there he found that this door was locked. Strange considering the ones next to it weren’t. Deciding not to dwell on that mystery either he walked into what seemed to have been, or more accurately still was, the library of the house. He never knew houses could actually have such things. He certainly never did. And these books had much more interesting titles than the ones in the study. Many sounded like story books and he couldn’t help but take a few f those as well, only 3 though because his satchel was already becoming full with all the things he’d found so far. Devyn decided to rest up a bit from his exploring and found a dusty armchair and seated himself. It was too dark for him to crack open one of the books he’d found so he just sat there in the half dark of the room, all the while listening to the howling outside and the thunder roaring as if it was responding to the howls.
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Post by kelvie on Sept 6, 2012 19:32:07 GMT -5
Kelvie crouched on fours, the cracked and ruined roof of an abandoned mansion under her paws. Rain lashed her cloak, which was being whipped in the wind. She was near soaked, and finally decided to take shelter in the mansion. She had been here a couple times when she was younger, but had been too scared to venture far inside. She slid the the edge of the roof above what she knew was a broken window and dangled by her forepaws, hanging over a several-story drop. She slipped tail-first into a small maid bedroom. A ratty bed, side table, and frayed rug filled the room. Books and papers cluttered the small table, as well as an expired candle stub. She walked through the already open door of the bedroom and into the hallway. Coincidentally, she had gotten strange dreams of the mansion, although having not been inside before, so she knew some areas. She headed toward a flight of stairs and went down. As soon as her paw touched the second floor she heard a door open down the hall. She wasn't alone. Flipping up her hood from where it had fallen around her shoulders, she pulled the cloth wrap over her mouth as well. She crept on twos down the hallway and reached the open door of the study. A bolt of lightning flashed outside just as she looked in, to see a gray tomcat sitting in an old, dusty cushioned chair. She said nothing, only watched him, waiting for him to see her standing in the open doorway.
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mysterykitten
Junior Member
Roleplayer of Zahara and Marshall West
Posts: 98
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Post by mysterykitten on Sept 6, 2012 20:04:42 GMT -5
Zahara smiled as it began to rain, the storm had come at the perfect moment, right after she made a kill. The droplets that fell down from the sky masked the scent of death, which meant that no one would really notice until way later. This was also the perfect time to get out of the area; she’d collect her money prize later. The assassin’s contractor was probably hiding somewhere to get out of the rain.
The she-cat’s paws led her to a location she knew rather well, the old dusty mansion. A while ago she had explored the majority of it with her close friend, Jet, and that turned out to be a fantastic time. Zahara, upon noticing that the door was slightly ajar, and that fresh scents led into the old home, grew excited. Someone was in there, this could be good.
Quietly padding up to the doorway, she slipped through the small opening, not wanting the door to creep and give away her location. The assassin made sure to stay around the perimeter of the rooms as well, to avoid squeaky floorboards.
Following the fresh scent of felines, it led Zahara to come stairs. She knew better than to go up them traditionally, so she hopped up onto the railing, climbing her way up to the top, making nearly no noise.
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Post by icyreflections on Sept 6, 2012 21:23:56 GMT -5
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Contrary to the felines’ of Gweillian natural instincts which predicted the strong rainfall that would surely ensue before the night was over, the sun attempted to shine through the dull haze that clouded the sky. The air was heavy and thick with moisture and was overall uncomfortable. The wet scent that clung in the atmosphere betrayed Fate and Mother Nature’s plot for the rainstorm and Misto silently wished that they would just hurry up and make the sodden weather pour already; being a black and white tomcat, Misto’s coat naturally absorbed heat and light at a faster rate than other cats and warm weather always irritated him to a great extent. The gypsy had attempted to ignore the disgusting weather by abandoning his home on the beach- which was greatly affected by the climate and made even more unbearable than usual (Misto hated the itchy feeling of sand caught in between his paw pads… which was unfortunate because his family set up a camp on the beach and showed no signs of moving on any time soon). He decided to travel deeper into the soul of the great city of cats with his trusty and constant companion: his beloved violin.
Misto obtained his violin when he was a young tomcat- shortly before his grandfather died- and ever since then, not a day went by that he ignored it. Misto made a point to play his beautifully crafted instrument everyday, it is what his grandfather would have wanted and it made him feel closer to his deceased benefactor. While Misto was a young kit, he wasn’t very talented at anything and being born the runt to an extremely large family, he was often pushed aside, ignored, or coddled. When his grandfather taught Misto how to play the violin, a metamorphosis of epic proportions overwhelmed the young tuxedo tomcat. He once was well known as ‘Pesha, the wide-eyed little runt that goes looking for trouble’ to ‘Misto, the performer’. Sure, the title wasn’t nearly as long or detailed as his previous identification but to Misto, being a performer was a huge improvement in his family’s hierarchy and gave him a purpose. He now was able to help support his family by playing his violin for his sisters and cousins to dance to and be showered in gold coins. A veil lifted from his eyes- no, better, a curtain opened and revealed Misto upon his personal stage. He was able to take a bow and examine each and every cat that sat amongst his audience. His world was a stage- and he had the capability of doing his best to make his audience happy. That was Misto’s purpose in life and he would never stop the performance short.
As the black and white tom walked through the streets of the south with his violin slung diagonally across his shoulder, occasionally slapping against his back and poking his neck with its own, Misto became lost in his thoughts. He was undeniably exhausted by the weather but he did his best to think of something else to preoccupy himself enough to shut away his feelings as far as the weather was concerned. He thought of his friends, Jet and Zahara, and he was curious if they ever thought of him. Misto’s family were nomadic gypsies, which meant that they moved from place to place. Despite the fact that some may believe that a family that traveled constantly would have an interest in the world and people around them, they were wrong. By some strange twist of fate, Misto was the only cat in his entire band of gypsies that actually enjoyed traveling, exploring, and making friends. Call him foolish or ignorant but he was born with a natural curiosity for the world around him. He often got into trouble for playing in the witches’ woods or talking to ‘shifty strangers’. Misto wasn’t oblivious to the horrors of the world- being born into a life of poverty, Misto was well aware of starvation, abandonment, slums, thieves, beggars, murders, etc.- but he figured that if he put a smile on and gave everyone a fair chance to get to know him, he would be free of enemies and meet a ton of interesting people with stories of their own to tell- and he would be more than happy to listen. Misto of course of careful about newcomers, but he didn’t usually allow his natural defenses to threaten his ability to make friends. He had a thirst for adventure and new experiences and he didn’t really care what was in the way- he was just in it for the fun and he was more than happy to share his journey with anyone who wanted to join him.
His personal views, he was told, mimicked his father’s outlook on life… whom emulated his own father. Misto never knew his father but he loved his grandfather very much and was secretly proud that he had his personality. He understood and respected his extended family’s fear of other cats- potential threats that would string up a few gypsies for the fun of it or to reclaim ‘justice’- but he simply couldn’t live his life solely on the beach and wait for onlookers to drop by looking for a reading or an exotic song and dance. He had to go somewhere or do something with his time- he had to explore, to learn, to share his songs….
He had met Jet and Zahara once at the Hot Springs and played his violin for them to dance to. He laughed fondly as he recalled the night he met his friends and was grateful that he had the opportunity to spend an evening dancing and swapping stories with two lovely she-cats. That is when a thought hit him- ‘what was it that Zahara mentioned? Something about that Dust Mansion…’ Slowly the evening the she-cat shared her ghost story came back to him and as he recalled the tale of the insane sage, Misto beamed from ear to ear.
“Ohh!” He squealed excitably to himself, “that’s right. The scribe that killed his family. Perhaps I should finally go to the mansion and see if there really is a ghost that resides there. I would certainly love to see if he was still demented in the after-life or if he realized what he did and is in mourning for his loss and faults. Maybe I could help him pass on… Would his family be in there too? Maybe I can somehow help them meet up and talk it out and then they can all pass on together.” Misto thoughtfully pondered the situation. He wasn’t afraid of his own wellbeing by any means, his main concern was finding the ghosts that presumably haunted the mansion and helping them resolve their conflicts that kept them grounded in this world and thus allowing move on. How was he going to do that, though? Would he be able to see the ghost before he sensed it presence? Would the ghosts even FEEL like anything… could they control whether or not they were detectable? This was all troubling indeed… But there was only one way to find out the answers to his questions- he had to check out that mansion!
Now that his feet had a destination to travel to, Misto marched along through the slums of Grimalkin and it wasn’t until he slipped into the North Quarter that the raincloud above finally released their burdens and the raindrops poured from the sky. Misto paused for a moment to look up at the heavens and soak up the cool water. He thought it was a bit ironic that he was planning on speaking to a troupe of ghosts and was unsure if this was Nature’s way of weeping for joy at his efforts or crying for their loss and due to the fact that they were a lost cause. Sure, Misto knew all day that it was going to rain- but why at THIS exact moment?
As mysterious as life could be, Misto blinked the thought away and, remembering his precious violin, he swung it over his shoulder and held it to his chest with one paw while he grabbed his vest with the other to shield it the best he could from the downfall. “Almost there~” he promised the instrument as he rushed through the sodden streets towards the mansion, silently apologizing to his violin and grandfather’s spirit all the while for being so careless.
He finally reached the mansion and noticed that the door was slightly ajar. He paused briefly at the sight and blinked his brown eyes curiously before he extended a white paw and pushed the creaking portal open. He stepped inside, shook himself dry, and then took the liberty to sit upon the mansion’s impressive floor as he dunked any residing water from his violin’s bowels and dried it off as best he could with his dampened pinstriped vest. He of course had little luck and shrugged at his progress. “Oh well,” he said with a trace of disappointment lingering in his voice, “I suppose that’s the best I can do for now.” He pulled the violin over his shoulder once more and allowed it to swing on its strap like he did during his journey to the haunted house. He then rose to his paws and looked around the building in awe- he had never seen such elegance before and though he was searching for ghosts (which was enough to frighten any normal feline) Misto felt intimidated by the high ceilings, the grand staircase’s once-finely-polished wood railings, the marble floor beneath his paws that spanned the grand foyer, and the exquisite paintings that hung upon the walls.
Though the house was abandoned and unkempt, Misto was able to imagine how beautiful it must have looked ‘back in the day’ and was simply stunned. So this is what is was like to live in a nice house… to have money? He padded towards a particularly impressive painting that was as tall as three cats standing on each other’s shoulders and examined it carefully. He looked at the faces of the cats in the portrait and though he didn’t know them- he was sure that they once lived in the house.
“So,” he said softly with a gentle grin, “is this a paw print… a paw print that shadows the lives that once were? Are these my ghosts?”
And with that, the tuxedo tom looked around the room expectantly, his eager smile never faltering. “How divine~ the fun has just begun.”
It was at that moment that Misto decided it was best that he did some further investigation and decided to start by checking out the other paintings in the house. He started upstairs, eager as to what he might find…
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Kitsani
Full Member
♥ Jet Marrow and Kite Tanomis ♥
Posts: 237
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Post by Kitsani on Sept 7, 2012 23:19:39 GMT -5
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Kite was known as Storm in the Blue Blood pirate crew for a good reason. He was average with maps, but what really made him the navigator he was, was in fact his ability to sniff out a storm from a mile away. The weather was something he could grasp and understand without trying. It was the type of thing the sandy tom never really worked to develop, so it could hardly be called a talent. It was simply there, and it always had been. Kite was fond of it, for one reason more than most. He loathed getting wet, always had and always would. So being able to know when the rain would come down helped him often. Every storm, even the slightest of drizzles, had a thick air of warning to him. Every Storm… except this one.
The rain poured down hard, drenching him in a matter of heartbeats. His pointed, once-silky pelt was plastered to his frail, gangly frame in an uncomfortable way, making the blacksmith look more measly than normal. And compared to other sin his trade, that was saying something! He has strength behind his limbs, that much was certain. But the will to use this strength was lacking, and with such a timid nature, Kite’s body could only be as powerful as his mind. His mind, constantly caniving new inventions and daydreaming of flying, had a different way of looking at the world. Everything was a puzzle, one he was determined to solve. But now wasn’t the time. Now, he was drenched, and with autumn coming down on Gwellian, the rains brought with them a chill that reached the marrow of Kite’s bones. Trembling quietly, he ran, not sure where he was going but trying to find the nearest shop, the nearest house. Anything.
His father used to tell him to be careful what he wished for. That, if he wished for things he didn’t truly want, things might turn out badly for him. Then again, what kit wasn’t told to think before they lept? Hell, what kit actually listened? Kite never did, always too busy scribbling in his journal to busy himself with the petty mischief of other toddlers his age back then. His big, burly brothers would go out and play ball, while he’d sit inside and draw sketches of cats with mechanical wings. Day in, day out. This was his life. This was his everything. His parents let him at it, giving up rather quickly on trying to get him to go play with his siblings, especially when the taller toms would track mud into the house. At least Kite knew how to be well behaved. He didn’t wish for things he didn’t want. And right now, he wanted shelter. With every fibre in his tired body yowling out, the skittish tom could hardly process the site that had leapt out before him when he rounded the corner of the woods.
A field. The grass stretched out, and he felt saddened it wasn’t swaying in the breeze like he loved to see. Rain had a way of ruining that, too. But there was no time to dawdle on grass. Not with what he saw sitting atop of it, his icy gaze glazing with utter shock and disbelief. Was he paralyzed because the chill had frozen him to the spot, or perhaps was it the fact he still fought to process how any universe could be cruel enough to plaster this fate upon him. The Mansion. The old, dusty, dangerous, half-destroyed mansion. There was no debate; Kite was NOT going in there. Nu-uh no way, it was not happening! He wasn’t going to die that way. His teeth chattering with more than just cold, he turned, his back now facing the dark house as he made a move to escape its very presence.
But the Siamese didn’t get far before the lightning lit the sky in brilliant white, booming with such a force that nearly knocked the blacksmith off his quivering paws. He couldn’t even feel his paws. All he felt was utter terror. It was everywhere, chocking him. He couldn’t breath as he dashed mindlessly into the mansion, flying through the door with a yowl that seemed to echo through the creaking building. Not even realising the sound had tore through his own throat, he fell to his knees in the doorway, letting the water droplets drip from his whiskers as he fought to slow his hummingbird of a heart. Breath in, breath out. You’re okay, just a storm. Just a storm. Just a storm. He chanted this in his mind, trying to forget where he was, as if that was somehow possible. Hugging his paws to his sides, he moved deeper into the house, getting away from the door when he could hear the distant rolling of thunder miles away. But Kite could deal with that. Lightning? Not so much.
A quiet whimper escaped his trembling lips, and he shuffled into one of the corners of the room. It was a large, open space. Somewhat like a living room, but nothing seemed to have lived in this room for years. The musty smell made his nose sting uncomfortably, and he resisted the urge to sneeze as the Siamese fell in a hushed silence. Realizing he had yowled when he had entered the building, his stomach dropped in terror. What if something answered? Now trying to make himself invisible, silent, unheard, he shuffled deeper into his corner. Nothing could sneak up on him while he was back here, at least. He hugged his knees to his chest; how had he gotten himself into this situation!? He caught his breath. This was shelter, he had wished for it. This was his fault. Kite wasn’t a very superstitious cat, but he was the first to admit lessons were to be learned from this. Well, if he even made it out alive.
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Post by icyreflections on Sept 8, 2012 10:06:49 GMT -5
((Kelvie, you skipped Rushing XD; You have to wait until she posts.
The order is Rushing Kelvie Mystery Icy Kit))
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Post by RushingWolf on Sept 8, 2012 11:23:28 GMT -5
We also have a new plot for the Rp ^^ Basically Kite and Misto aren't going to know Dev, Kelivie and maybe Zahara are also in the house so they accidently keep scaring eachother ]]
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Post by kelvie on Sept 8, 2012 13:20:09 GMT -5
((Gah okay .n. Orders are useless to me because some people tend to not reply for days and it just doesn't work))
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Post by RushingWolf on Sept 8, 2012 13:58:52 GMT -5
It's ok, just remember there's an order and would you mind deleting your previous post? ]]
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Post by kelvie on Sept 8, 2012 14:05:23 GMT -5
done and so now its your turn
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Post by RushingWolf on Sept 9, 2012 12:53:25 GMT -5
Devyn had been sitting on the armchair for a few minutes, thinking about many things. The house mostly. Hadn’t he heard rumours about this place? He was sure but he just couldn’t remember anything. Devyn tried thinking back to those rumours and stories he’d heard, probably when he was a small kit. What was the story again? Someone had lived here... he was sure of that. I mean, of course someone had lived here, that was a sure thing. But the question was who... Who had lived here so long ago and had left all their things here.. While he was deep in thought the storm raged on outside, splattering rain against the old beaten windows. The storm didn’t seem as though it was going to stop at anytime soon, great. Well at least he was surrounded by a room full of books. Too bad his satchel didn’t fit anymore inside. He’d have to come back here sometime to take some more. He thought to the books he already had and one stood out in particular. The one about Sage’s. That was when it hit him. The cats who had lived here were murdered. That was why they had left everything. The sage who had lived here with his family had gone insane and killed them. Devyn couldn’t help but feel a chill go down his spine and was suddenly feeling a bit of regret for coming in here and taking the books. What if the sage’s ghost came after him for stealing from him? He couldn’t fight a ghost! Which was kind of ironic since his FDT name was ghost.
The sudden lightning hadn’t scared him. No, he was already used to the sounds of the storm outside. What had scared him was the shape that appeared at the door of the library. Devyn felt a whimper start but stopped before he could let it out. He wouldn’t let this ghost think it had the upper hand because he had been spooked. He reached for his dagger, but then realized how useless it would be against this enemy. He couldn’t really kill something that was already dead, or could he? The figure had said nothing, only standing there in the silence. He couldn’t say it wasn’t creepy, or even scary in the slightest. He wouldn’t admit that though. Nope, never. He was thinking about what he should do when the scent of another cat drifted in through the doorway and he realized this cat wasn’t a ghost but alive. Mentally kicking himself for getting scared so easily Devyn stretched his legs before getting up. What were they doing in here? Probably escaping the storm outside like he, or were they? Maybe they were taking advantage of the storm to loot the place? He was surely going to later on. Curiosity about the stranger in the room made Devyn almost completely forget about the Old Sage who’d killed his family. He walked over to the cat, rather slowly. Each step rang out with a creak, but that was to be expected. The floor boards looked old, and felt old for that matter. He’d have to be careful not step on a soft stop or else he might fall through the floor. Wouldn’t want that. When he finally reached the cat after many noisy steps he took a good look at them. They seemed harmless enough and after a few moments of studying them he finally decided to say something. ”Well well, looks like I wasn’t the only one caught out in the rain.” he said in a half whisper. For some reason speaking out loud just didn’t feel right, maybe it was the spooky feel in the house?
Devyn was awaiting a response when he heard it. A terrified yowl ring throughout the house. This time he hadn’t anytime to stop himself. He felt his fur fluff up in surprise and terror from underneath his cloak and it took all his will not to dash and hide. What was that? Was it the terrified yowl of one of the family members that the sage had killed? And if so was the Sage’s ghost here right now, waiting in the shadows to jump out at him? The thoughts raced through Devyn’s head and he couldn’t help but reach for dagger. It wouldn’t provide any help against a ghost but it made him feel better. ”Did you hear that!? Devyn said is a hurried whisper, his voice even lower than it had been when he first spoke. Whatever it was, it surely didn’t sound good and Devyn couldn’t help but wish for the storm to be over so that he could leave this place already. Along with the sound of the storm outside a new sound joined its chorus, the pounding of Devyn’s heart. Although he’d never admit to the fear he was feeling it didn’t mean he wasn’t. He tried to calm himself though adn once he did he was able to think at least a little bit rationally.
He’d just heard what sounded like a ghost. And unlike cats that were alive, you couldn’t kill a ghost. Let alone touch it. Common sense told him to leave the house and forget everything that just happened. Or maybe that was fear? Either way he knew he couldn’t. The storm seemed to be getting worse from the sound of it. And it looked like it would go on all night. If they couldn’t fight the ghost what could they do? Hide? As much as he hated to admit it hiding was probably the best thing to do right now. In almost all the ghost stories he’d heard the cats who went looking for the monster met horrible fates. And Devyn was not ending up like them. Nope. Looking back at the cat in front of him he knew that he couldn’t just leave her standing there so he quickly grabbed her by the paw and pulled her in. Once she was inside he quickly closed the door firmly and looked around for anything that could be used to block the door. Hopefully the cat would see what he was doing and help him in blocking the door. And hopefully his plan would work. OOC: Alright guys so here's the plot that the majority of us decided on. Basically, Devyn and Kelv don't know that Kite and Misto and Zahara are in the house with them and vice versa. So basically whenever one of them makes a really loud noise the other party suspects it's a ghost. Which makes for a fun haunted house rp >D Btw if you read all this put pineapple at the bottom of your post, just want to make sure everyone reads this and doesn't ignore the plot ^^
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Post by kelvie on Sept 9, 2012 13:42:01 GMT -5
Kelvie stood silently in the door. She could sense the tom's fear. He came up to her and spoke, and she said nothing. Suddenly she heard the screech lower in the house. Below her cloak, her fur spiked, and her tail lashed. But she quickly calmed herself. If this cat was alive, which was more than likely, she would hear it if it tried to come down the hall. If it was a ghost, which she doubted, it couldn't do anything to her. She was still, that is, until suddenly, the tom grabbed her paw and pulled her inside. She fell, tucking into a roll before standing up.
She instantly drew her spear from the straps on her back. "What are you doing?" She hissed, outraged, as the tom tried to block the door. Realizing trying to get out would be useless against this scaredy-cat, she threw her paws up in exasperation. Sheathing her spear, she climbed a bookshelf, refusing to help with the tom's ridiculous attempts. "Think about it, idiot." She sighed. "If it's alive, it's probably alone and no match for the both of us." She said. "And if it IS a ghost, it can walk through doors and whatever you put on the other side." She pointed out. Turning to an old candle on the top of the tall shelf with her, she put out her paws, summoning her magic. A small flicker of flame lit the old wick, and the candle soon spread a thin haze of light around her as she stared down at the tom with a 'I'm right and you know it' expression.
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Post by kelvie on Sept 9, 2012 14:14:50 GMT -5
Of course.
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mysterykitten
Junior Member
Roleplayer of Zahara and Marshall West
Posts: 98
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Post by mysterykitten on Sept 10, 2012 18:05:11 GMT -5
As the storm raged outside Zahara maintained her statue-like stillness on the staircase railing. The assassin didn’t dare to make a move or a sound as she sat there. When the yowl coursed through the old wooden structure, a grin was plastered to the she-cat’s face, this could be good.
Since Zahara had never seen a ghost, she didn’t really have a belief that they were real, she didn’t have a belief that they weren’t real either. She was just neutral on the topic. Looking around, she waited a few seconds before cupping her paws around her mouth and letting out a yowl that came out from deep inside her larynx, as if it was some response to the previous yowl.
Returning her paws to her sides, she continued to grin. ‘That should surely scare the other cats that are possibly in here.’ The assassin thought, before hopping off of the railing and onto the dusty old carpet. If Zahara was going to be stuck in here for a while, she might as well explore the areas she didn’t see when she came into this house with Jet. As the she-cat walked down one of the mansion’s many corridors, she couldn’t help but get a little paranoid. Each painting she passed by felt as if its soulless eyes were following her every step, monitoring her every move. But when Zahara looked at the painting directly, it wasn’t. “You’re fine.” She told herself. “This house just has too many rumors that have been messing with your head…” The assassin blinked, if only this place had a torch or something that could be used as a light source, it was so dark in here! Yeah, she has slight nocturnal vision, sure, but a light usually makes everything better and easier. Frowning, she continued on down the corridor. Every now and then a clap of thunder would shake the whole house, and a flash of lightning would show through the windows, but the assassin did her best to ignore it, though sometimes it made her jump. This place was just so very creepy.
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Post by icyreflections on Sept 11, 2012 19:59:11 GMT -5
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Large painting scaled the walls of the hallway at the top of the stairs. Misto carefully approached a particularly massive portrait located at the head of the staircase- strategically placed to make a ‘good impression’ on houseguests. He poked at the painting cautiously so as not to unbalance it and make it fall and his eyes were cast up upon the robust tom’s sour expression. ‘Why do rich cats insist upon frowning in family portraits?’ Misto wondered to himself. ‘They have so much to be thankful for but if they like living a façade so much, you’d think that they’d want other rich families to think that they are happy.” He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest to get a better view of the picture when he heard the echoing yowl fill the room. Misto’s ears perked with alarm. He wasn’t afraid of ghosts or anything like that- that was the whole reason he was here, after all- he was concerned that someone had wandered into the mansion accidently and might have gotten hurt. Though he had only just began his investigation, Misto decided that the wellbeing of another (living) cat was probably more worthy of his time at the moment. He wasn’t by any means ready to give up on his exploration of the house and his search for the ghost family but first, he had to make sure that whoever was downstairs was okay.
With that, Misto turned and rushed down the carpeted stairs. Little clouds of dust billowed under his feet and he hurried downward and settled in a new location for who knew how long? As Misto reached the bottom of the staircase, he stretched out a paw and gripped the finely carved banister to brace himself. He slid on the foyer’s marble floor and quickly approached the adjoining room to the north.
Misto reached out a white paw and pushed the old, creaking door open. His brown eyes swept the blackened room to hardly any avail- he couldn’t see much in this light. Misto knew how dark the night could become- especially on stormy nights. His life as a virtuously homeless gypsy made him well aware of that. Although he was accustomed to the darkness, the bleak room was brimming with ancient furniture and the sheer quantity of items shrouded in the dark atmosphere made it all the more difficult for the tuxedo tomcat to detect anyone lurking within the room.
Carefully, the gypsy stepped into the room before him; after a few moments of pointlessly trying to survey the room from a single spot, Misto began to move forward, trusting his whiskers and tail to help direct him through the gloom. “Hello?” he whispered cautiously, “is there anyone in there? Are you injured or lost?” He was unfamiliar with the layout of the mansion, which could make his voyage in the dark all the more dangerous. His pupils grew larger in the blackened area as his eyes tried to drink in any light source available to them. Misto perked his ears, listening for another cat’s breathing and parted his lips slightly to drink in the scents surrounding him. However, the only thing that Misto was able to smell was dust and mildew. He hacked suddenly as his senses were clogged with a mildew scent. Falling onto all four paws, the black and white tom fought for a moment before his onset of coughing finally subsided.
He looked up and blinked a few times before he came to the realization that his regular feline senses couldn’t compare to his supernatural gifts. Misto sat upon the dusty floor and curled his black and white tail over his paws. His eyes closed and his breathing subdued as he focused on his inner-self. Whilst in his meditative trance, the room around him became mute and seemed to no longer exist. The walls around him fell away and he was no longer surrounded by the choking smell of the furniture. Misto sat in complete nothingness- his eyes opened and before him lay an infinite plane that was whiter than snow. He carefully looked around at his surroundings, wondering if he was truly sitting in the room by himself. He sent out his senses, trying to detect the mind of the cats he swore summoned him. After a few moments on focusing, Misto was finally was able to pick out the cat that was fearfully shaken by the stormy weather and his frightful experience in the mansion. Misto watched and listened to the crème-colored Siamese’s thoughts momentarily- he was a huddled bundle of nerves. Though other toms might have taken advantage of his submissive ‘weakness’, Misto understood how he felt and though he felt a twinge of pity for the stranger, his sympathy warmed his heart and made him want to reach out and help the poor cat that it was okay to be afraid, that he wasn’t alone, and that he would help him get home safely. Misto was sinking from the white plane. He was coming back into a conscious state of mind. As the room came into view once more, Misto knew what needed to be done.
He concentrated carefully, his eyes hardly daring to falter from the spot he saw the cat- he had to make sure the message got to him. Using his telepathic ability, Misto concentrated on the mind of the tom before him and purred in a kind, sympathetic voice, “I am Misto. I am not a ghost. You are not crazy. And you are no longer alone. Let me help you, and you also won’t have to be afraid any longer~”
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