Post by sammonroll on Aug 20, 2013 23:38:45 GMT -5
Like a beacon in a barren wasteland, the smooth, clean fur of a young Siamese cat stood in stark contrast against the birthplace of insects and rats that was the dump. The petite she-cat had made a temporary home here for the past few days. There were many crazies that came here that were fun to play with, although the smell was a little much. She would probably leave in a day or two because of it. To counteract the heavy odor, she snatched up a few flowers, currently dangling in her mouth, along with the fresh scent of catnip on her pelt. After all, she was expecting company.
She had singularly met Tinsel by chance just yesterday. She was making her regular rounds on her favorite catnip garden that was growing behind one of the human structures and met up with the little tom. He immediately took a liking to her, due to his playful personality or the scent of cat grass, she couldn't tell, though it was likely the cat grass. There were the usual stirrings of her own version of playfulness welling within her, but there was something about the immaturity of the cat that made her control herself. He was too... kit-like. It reminded her of days that she did not have, having to grow up as soon as she was able to get milk for herself. She couldn't find it in herself to ruin that childhood for him, but little did she know that Tinsel was more an adult than her, at least in age.
The curious, affectionate little tom had known her name , Lovelie, without having to hear her say it. It was strange. Lovelie was sure to cover her name up. Occasionally in her little games, she introduced herself as she really was, occasionally used Love or Lies, or even pretended she was nameless, which was not largely unusual for a rogue cat. As for an appearance, she usually picked on loner cats whose insanity had long since chased away any tangible companions. Tinsel shouldn't have known her name. Perhaps she wasn't as careful with her patients as she thought she was.
Nonetheless, he had known her name, but mentioned nothing of her other half. She couldn't tell if he actually knew her true self or not, but she chose to meet the cat he spoke of alone, just in case.
So, by herself, she padded back to the boxed home she made in the least offending part of the dump. Gently, she placed the flowers in the back of the box, trying their darndest to emit their pleasantries in this vile environment. She separated them, finally picking out a couple leaves of the catnip that she had, seeping their sweet juice onto her tongue. Lovelie, unusually, was immune to the effects. There were few cats that were, and if this visitor was one of the few, it would have been a waste, but she might as well try.
Tinsel had told her about Azrael and asked if she wouldn't think of joining their little group.
"I bet Az can convince you! You'd be good for us, I think. ...So pretty and soft and..."
The full affects of the catnip had taken place and he trailed off after that. Lovelie was a little offended at being asked into a group because of her looks, but if he knew her name... He must know something about me...
Azrael was a familiar name. He was infamous around town, and she was wary of meeting him. But as the effects of catnip were wearing off on the high tom, he had excitedly told her that he would send Az her way. It made her nervous, but she couldn't simmer down the creamy Tinsel's bubbly attitude. It made her wonder if perhaps Azrael was Tinsel's father. Tinsel certainly seemed young enough, and she had never seen the mysterious tom in person to be able to attribute any features to him. Though it seemed odd. A powerful tom like him acting as the caretaker to a sweet little tom, never mind the naming of the son as a stringy, playful holiday object by a father of death.
Not sure what she should have been expecting, but overall expecting a similarly tan-colored tom with perhaps bloodthirsty eyes, she made her way to the shiny, gated entrance of the whole dump, wondering if the young tom she met truly made good on his word of her meeting his father? guardian? sympathizer? She would find out soon enough - it was nearly sundown, the designated meeting time.
Sundown was one of her favorite times. It was ethereal, a sort of blurring of lines that allowed her to push her victims over the boundary between sanity and insanity. The night that soon followed only made the situation better, making it hard for a cat to tell whether they had made it back over that boundary, or if they were forever lost in the vastness of insanity.
Lovelie took a glance behind her, knowing her sister must be hiding in one of the growing shadows within the confines of the steely gate. Since she wasn't sure how much intelligence was gathered on her, she decided to play it safe, leaving half of herself behind and only partially meeting this Azrael.
She stayed standing, disliking sitting on the ground around the dump, likely to soil her sweetly soft fur, especially when it was now wrapped in the tempting scent of catnip. Her tail laid low, unsure of the coming situation, but leaving her countenance untainted by uncertainty. Her eyes, oceans deep, kept their calm, whiskers only twitching now and then in quiet anticipation.