Will I love you or lie to you? [Shads]

[sammonroll]

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.

[` `shadsywadsy.]

Come let the, revolution takes its toll
Rise up and take the power back
It's time the, fat cats had a heart attack
You know that, their time's coming to an end
We have to, unify and watch our flag ascend

The sun was setting over the mountains. It made a plethora of colors that splashed across the skies, making the normally azure heavens a sea of mixing hues. A gentle breeze rolled on by, as it had for the past couple of days in this area. It was enough to keep the sweltering heat off you during the day, just barely making it bearable, but during the night it made it cool. The temperature was dropping all around the area, noticeably dropping. The animals could feel it, they could feel the cool coming. They relished in it joy, in the fact that it might give them relief. Night was the only relief from the heat in summer, and even then sometimes it wasn't enough. Soon a storm would brew in the west, and move east over the mountains and wreak havoc on the clans and the surrounding areas. Soon, but not now. For now it was calm. It was peaceful. It was getting cooler.

And the tom loved it.

He loved the time of year, when the nights were cool and the days were hot. His black pelt, sleek and shiny, soaked most of the heat the sun's rays had to offer, and he would be the first to admit it sucked sometimes. But in the winter it was a blessing, for he was always the warmest when the sun came out. His paws, big even for a tom, slowly made one step after another, carrying the rather large tom to a place Tinsel was sending him. The carrionplace as the clans called it. He just called it a garbage dump. He was never too impressed with this place, so he never thought to really ever spend too much time here. But apparently Tinsel had, and apparently he had met a she-cat. A she-cat who apparently was going to be useful to him. He rolled his eyes. If Tinsel was sending him on another wild goose chase... The things he would do to that kit like tom. Whom was probably older than him in reality. For all anyone knew Tinsel could have been 100 moons old. Azrael seriously doubted it, but hey. It proved a point.

He had just gotten back from meeting with Pluto and Lady. Who were two different she-cats, who occupied the same body. Honestly, he was still trying to wrap his mind around the whole concept that you could create a completely different persona for yourself but still be you at the same time, but he was slowly understanding he just couldn't ask questions. Lady would be useful to his group, he knew that for sure, but she was a ticking time bomb, someone who could easily turn on him as she could his enemies. He honestly was scared to chance her. But life was too short not to take chances. And Pluto came with her. Sweet, timid Pluto. She was a good hunter, from what he had seen. She would be a wonderful addition to have. He shook his head, clearing his mind. He had to be prepared for anything with this she-cat. For all he knew, she could be worse than Lady. Which he assumed would be pretty hard to do, considering she was completely ensnared in darkness. She could also be sweet and harmless. There was no telling with Tinsel. All he knew was her name - Lovelie. He didn't even know what she looked like.

His muscles rippled as he picked up his pace. The gate was in plain view now, he could see it clearly through the trees. His hard steely eyes watched a she-cat arrive as he did. He could only assume this was her. And from first glance, she seemed just fine. Then again, so did Lady. He blinked, putting his charming smile on his face. As he padded up to the Siamese female, he noticed her abilities. She was not especially tall, he was slightly larger than her, but she seemed agile. She seemed able to make quick movements, something he had enough warriors who could do the same. Ky was really the only one who had pure power. So unless she proved herself irreplaceable, he doubted he would need her. Then again, he did need sheer numbers also. He was still a few yards away, far enough way for her to study him and vice versa as he walked up. He had a certain sway to his walk, gently flicking his tail as he did. He seemed confident, which he was. He was confident and spoiled, a terrible combination. Though you may not see it right away, he was obviously used to getting his way. Lovelie, on the other hand, was not so easily read. He could tell nothing of her personality by the way she stood. Except she liked to keep her pelt clean, for it was silky and shiny. And she wasn't sitting. Anyone who didn't mind dirt would have sat to wait for him.

As he got closer, he noticed her frosted eyes. And her gaze. She was pretty, he admitted such easily. He was never afraid to attribute good looks where they were deserved. He swung up in front of her, assuming this she-cat was Lovelie. She was the only cat in sight, after all. Hello, my dear. I can only assume your Lovelie, considering Tinsel said you'd be here at Sundown. He let his tail sweep, gesturing to rather empty space. I'm Azrael, in case he didn't tell you. He let his deep, smooth voice ring out, echoing in the air. He liked to compare his voice to melted chocolate, simply because it fit. He couldn't think of much else to say, after all he couldn't go straight into recruiting. That just wasn't his style. He still was unsure if he was leaving with her or not, but he figured to have an open mind was the best. He sniffed her, trying to gather her scent so he would know her, and though he successfully did so - even with his messed up nose - he also gathered something else. This he knew for sure he was sleeping correctly because he had scented it so many times in his father's old night club. Cats used it to get high. It was an herb, something called Catnip. He was sure she had been around it, or taking it. Either way, it made him skeptical on whether or not she was completely with him at the moment. He gazed into her eyes, his void of anything at all as usual, trying to see if she was high or not. She seemed normal, but so did his father's customers sometimes. Az himself had never really taken a liking to the herb, it never seemed to work especially well. Though he did get a little buzz from it, he never got like the other cats did. He by far wasn't immune, he wa sure of that. Maybe he just never took enough when he was young.

A Z R A E L

[sammonroll]

Ears perked towards a dark figure as her expected visitor approached. He had dark fur and a lithe but muscular body. Lovelie's eyes narrowed, trying to focus on the shape that came nearer to her. It had to be this Azrael she was waiting for - the intent was clear in his eyes and the direction of his paws, but the real image of him was not quite what she had been expecting. Perhaps...Tinsel's guardian then? Tinsel's mother might have been as soft colored as the young-looking tom, but there would be traces somewhere of this dark cat if he was indeed the other's father.

The resemblance wasn't even embodied in the personality. He wasn't nearby yet, but she could tell from the jaunty way this cat walked that he was used to getting exactly and precisely what he asked for. Tinsel was clearly used to this as well, but the dark tom struck her as a cat that created results, while Tinsel merely expected them to happen. Still, confidence was confidence. This trait struck well with the slim she-cat. Lovelie was naturally soft-spoken and flighty. Timid and shy cats required confident seduction, love which Lovelie was capable of delivering, but only just. It wasn't a strong suit, to say the least, and required an extra heaping of catnip.

But strong, confident toms - toms that wanted what was hard to have, now that was easy. She only had to play up her natural personality, a trick she learned quite early. After hardly having gained her bearings once her father abandoned her, it was relentless tom after relentless tom. It was then when she learned her favorite tricks.

When the tom finally approached, she looked at him expectantly. The sweet-smelling Siamese was not one to initiate conversation, and as there was no game to play, she did not worry about falsifying her personality. As expected of the princely tom, he spoke first.

"Hello, my dear. I can only assume you're Lovelie, considering Tinsel said you'd be here at Sundown."

A tinkling purr tumbled from her throat at his flattery. She was certain that a tom with such pride and easy-going speech had introduced any "dears" or "darlings" or "sweeties" in his words long before meeting her. A she-cat would be smart not to fall for these pet names, though this was no worry for her. Lovelie was not interested in the likes of "love" or whatever company it had to offer. Although, his voice is rather soothing to the ears... He introduced his name and she breathed the tunes of his smooth words slowly, darting her eyes from his gaze in shy embarrassment though bowing her head in respect, a gesture that seemed to come from royalty.

She could tell from the slightest pause in his steady motions that he had noticed the catnip. A small, amused smile touched her lips before she parted her mouth to speak, dripping out more of that intoxicating scent. Perhaps he would not be much affected, but even a little bit would be enough for him to stop taking notice of the small details. She had no plans to destroy his mind, of course. That wasn't the point of his coming. But in case it had to come to that, it was always better to be prepared. Besides, he might be curious of her abilities. What strong, determined leader would offer his guidance without knowing the abilities of a potential subordinate? Either way, entertaining your guests was the polite thing to do.

In a soft, gentle, but not overly quiet voice, she spoke, her lovingly scented words brushing up against the mind like her sweetly drugged fur against their bodies. "Yes, you have me correctly, sir." Tilting her head up, she looked him in the eyes, with a respectful yet earnest gaze. "Is Tinsel perhaps your son?" she questioned, knowing full well that the answer was very probably no, but it was this naivete that intrigued self-assured cats like himself. Besides, Lovelie had asked plenty of stupid questions in her kitten days, and knew perfectly well how to pull one off, all topped with a darling and innocent smile.

[` `shadsywadsy.]

Come let the, revolution takes its toll
Rise up and take the power back
It's time the, fat cats had a heart attack
You know that, their time's coming to an end
We have to, unify and watch our flag ascend

He was sure it was catnip now that he was smelling. Even with his nose being as unreliable as it was, he knew that much. Its scent was strong, unmistakable. He tried his best not to breathe too much of it in, but he knew that it wasn't going to work. He had already gotten a good bit into his system, and anymore would probably make him loopy. He figured she knew full well what was going on, and was immune to the toxin. How else could she appear so controlled, so sober? He almost envied her, being immune to this herb. However much he would like to pretend he was immortal, that was not the case. He could die just easily as anyone else in this world. Except perhaps Lilith, who believed she was the goddess of justice. He tried to focus in on the she-cat in front of him, but found the herb slightly affecting him. He wasn't high by far, but he could feel the drug in his system. And frankly, he didn't like it. At least now he knew why Tinsel had come back so grumpy.

When she asked if Tinsel was his son, he let out a hearty laugh. His eyes closed briefly, smiling wide. A purr escaped his throat, vibrating the air around him. Of course Tinsel wasn't his son. Anyone with eyes could see that. He wondered briefly if maybe the herb was affecting her, she had just become tolerant to it. Tinsel was on the complete different color scale from him, not to mention he was also twice the deputy's size. And his eyes were a gray - a hard and cold gray that pierced souls - which he had come to figure out was a dominant trait. His sister had gray eyes, so did his father. He figured all his children would as well. Anyone with a half brain would be able to see that there was not even a hint of family relation between them, but perhaps Tinsel had said something to make her believe so.

No, Lovelie, Tinsel is not my son. Far from. He swept his tail in an arc, flicking the end as he did so. His tail was moving on its own, invariably a tale tell sign of his emotions. Since his face was virtually unreadable most of the time. He was trying to figure out her game, her ambitions. He was trying to get to know her in general. He is simply someone I helped along the way. I do that often, helping the underdog. The one who is defenseless, and making them strong. He let his eyes sweep over her body, not caring if she saw. He wanted her to see, in fact. He wanted to see him sizing her up, making judgments about her. He wanted her to know he was the absolute authority and no one could undermine him. He made all the decisions, all the plans. He was the mastermind, and no one could take that from him. But no matter how much he tried to focus, he was finding it hard. He didn't let his frustration show, for he didn't want to give her the knowledge that the herb was affecting him. It seems, however, you are strong enough. Though formed as a statement, it was really more of a question. A teasing question, one that was borderline flirtatious. He was always like this however, with every she-cat. She should not feel the least bit special.

He took several side steps, letting his eyes sweep over her once more. She seemed so tiny, so innocent, but he was very sure that if it came down to it that she would be able to hold her own. He hoped so. He needed warriors, not dainty princesses. He wanted them to be able to fight, not stand there and look pretty. Pluto was the only exception. She needed his protection to live, no matter how much Lady thought she was the sole protector. He was in her life now, and Lady would have to deal with it. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus in on Lovelie, who he had to devote his whole attention to now. He couldn't think of Pluto or Lady right now, Lovelie was here now. His tail flicked back and forth, slightly faster than normal because of his annoyance toward the affect the drug was having on his system.

Although, I am not confident you could hold your own in a fight. He winked at the end of his statement, knowing full well she could fight if she wanted to. Especially if her attacker breathed in her perfume. But he wanted to see what she would do. How she would take being accused.

A Z R A E L

[sammonroll]

An "oh" of surprise formed on the thin Siamese's lips as the dark visitor laughed away her question. Flirty eyes cast downwards in shy embarrassment at his correction, but returned to his grey eyes as he spoke. For a cat that supported the underdog, he certainly had soulless eyes. They were intriguing, and made his words even more interesting, if not confusing. Crystalline blue eyes squinted a bit, her first movement that was not completely controlled by logic. She held true interest in his motives, but by no means was she moved by them. It was purely interest. Lovelie was never one to care about the underdog, only for herself. For a rogue, a caring mentality was most unusual. But Azrael surely seemed powerful; perhaps it would be beneficial for her to side with him. After all, Tinsel had made it sound as if exciting events were on the way, and new events brought new cats. New cats brought new excitements.

She noticed his glances, and was completely undisturbed. A leader had to make analyses, yes? Lovelie understood that well enough. Besides, a glance or two was... nothing new. Of course, Lovelie made some analyses herself, and by the way his eyes were flitting less than gracefully across her pelt, she could tell her drug was taking effect.

A slow forming grin was only brought to completion with his comment: "Although, I am not confident you could hold your own in a fight."

"Yes, yes, I suppose we should dispense with formalities," she mewed, almost reluctantly, still holding a graceful, yet completely relaxed stance. A sweep of the tail nonchalantly accompanied her words. Her posture showed no intention of fighting. Tinsel had told her enough of the group that she knew she already wanted a place in it. She cared not for their objective or motives, as long as she was secure. It was getting tiring moving from place to place and dealing with all the mangy rogues. Plus, Clan cats were most enticing...

Locking her calm, steady eyes on his blank, grey ones, she spoke clearly and smoothly, "To be honest, I'm not much of a fighter."

Meanwhile, a clone of this very same cat noticed the intentional, but hardly marked, sweep of her sister's tail. At that moment, this lithe, white she-cat slunk out from the shadows of the dump, and walked towards the two, similarly encompassed in a waft of catnip. This clone was not looking at the two conversing cats, but merely passing through, walking as if her path was abandoned and not a living soul was nearby.

This mirror image softly padded on, passing right next to Azrael and Lovelie. She did not stop, though she came as close as she could without touching the two. If either one wanted, they could reach out a paw and touch her, but Lovelie's eyes were locked on Azrael's face and took no notice of the copy of herself that passed by.

This seemingly ghostly presence did not disturb the words that came from Lovelie's mouth, and she continued without any noticeable pauses. "Usually, I don't really have to."