Catsovi e Viciro (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scornful) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-09-22 11:04 am
scornful) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-09-22 11:04 am
Entry tags:
[OPEN] "I'll post this in a day or three" or you know, five, same thing, I'm rounding up
Date & Time: backdated: late 09/15 - late 09/17 | following the party
Location: Outlands
Characters: a fake ophanim and an asshole and you walk into a bar. the bar is actually post-apocalyptic britain.
Summary: anyone who wants to scrap with Catsovi and the Misery following the Sept 15th party this is the place to do it. CATFIGHTS RRRRRRRRRRREOOOOWWWWWW
Warnings: FIGHTING ALSO HE DIES, GOD FRICKIN' BLESS
He'd finally had to acknowledge the Misery's presence and, even worse, come in contact with it after the ungraceful dissolution of Vanadi's party. They'd escaped the scene together, Cat balancing in the cove of its stationary center as it spun its way out and into the open air, unsteadily, unhappily. Through the ascent Catsovi had watched the Masked moving about and for a moment he'd considered following them back to the United Earth -- and then, just as quickly, lost that thread of thought completely. As if it weren't and never had been an option.
He lost all train of thought then. His khet may have asked him where they were going -- if so, Cat had refused to answer, instead retreating into himself to sulk like a child. So the Misery had taken its own initiative and fled back to the Outlands.
There will be... people coming after him. This is a fact that Catsovi eventually acknowledges.
After a while, it becomes something that he looks forward to.
The Misery's path becomes slow and erratic, weaving in inefficient curves, occasionally even doubling back on itself. It stops spinning so that Catsovi can climb to the very top of it, perching upon the rim of the wheel, turned back towards the city to look for pursuers -- watching, waiting, hoping.
Location: Outlands
Characters: a fake ophanim and an asshole and you walk into a bar. the bar is actually post-apocalyptic britain.
Summary: anyone who wants to scrap with Catsovi and the Misery following the Sept 15th party this is the place to do it. CATFIGHTS RRRRRRRRRRREOOOOWWWWWW
Warnings: FIGHTING ALSO HE DIES, GOD FRICKIN' BLESS
He'd finally had to acknowledge the Misery's presence and, even worse, come in contact with it after the ungraceful dissolution of Vanadi's party. They'd escaped the scene together, Cat balancing in the cove of its stationary center as it spun its way out and into the open air, unsteadily, unhappily. Through the ascent Catsovi had watched the Masked moving about and for a moment he'd considered following them back to the United Earth -- and then, just as quickly, lost that thread of thought completely. As if it weren't and never had been an option.
He lost all train of thought then. His khet may have asked him where they were going -- if so, Cat had refused to answer, instead retreating into himself to sulk like a child. So the Misery had taken its own initiative and fled back to the Outlands.
There will be... people coming after him. This is a fact that Catsovi eventually acknowledges.
After a while, it becomes something that he looks forward to.
The Misery's path becomes slow and erratic, weaving in inefficient curves, occasionally even doubling back on itself. It stops spinning so that Catsovi can climb to the very top of it, perching upon the rim of the wheel, turned back towards the city to look for pursuers -- watching, waiting, hoping.
[09/15 LIKE RIGHT AFTER THAT PARTY]
The most recent one left her in a cold sweat, but the cool night air feels good. Out here is safer than in a place with many people, at least to her anxious mind, too many walls, too many obstacles boxing her in close to danger. Syllona is acutely aware she's panicking again, that running off alone is maybe not the most logical option, but she's very, very tired. She just needs to move.
Eventually she has to catch her breath though, and scrawls out a spell on the mouth of an alleyway-- a trap, something quick and destructive, she hardly thinks it over when she lays down the instructions for flames-- but, no. It's not quite right.
She traces shaking fingers over the lines of chalk. There's something...no, that's just it. There's nothing, no warmth of power, or live, thrumming spark. It's dead. Absent.
Then comes the rumbling of something huge, but Syllona is still...staring. Mumbling the spell to herself; it's wrong. it must be wrong.
no subject
But the Misery spots Syllona down below and, consequently, so does Cat. The khet pulls to a halt and drops.
It hits the ground with an enormous thud, outside the alleyway to block one end of it off, scraping and damaging buildings as it lands. Twenty eyes congregate towards the bottom of the wheel to stare at Syllona. Cat himself remains seated in the hollowed-out center of the wheel, arms crossed, staring down at the girl. Saying nothing.
no subject
"Your...wings healed."
She takes a step back, dragging her vision from the eyes pooled so near to search the rest of it over, for a clue why it was here. Then she sees Catsovi.
Her attention fixes on him, eyes widening and wild with too much adrenaline -- briefly, they flicker to her spell, to the still lifeless markings and, then, to the dim traces of light reaching from a streetlamp far behind her...
no subject
He smiles down at her. His eyes are still blank, but they're fixed on her face, and the third eye painted -- burned? -- into his forehead is pulsing.
"Would you like to come up and talk, Syllona?" he asks.
no subject
Slowly, she shakes her head left to right. No.
But she doesn't run, despite the shifting of her feet. It doesn't seem smart.