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Post by safa on Sept 4, 2010 23:05:24 GMT -5
As the grasses parted and broke down into the rural outskirts of the city, the familiar sights of litter and sounds of cars was all too comforting and familiar. She could remember when once in her life she was frightened of such things, and longed for her fields of wheat and the companion of the larger beasts of man. How many times did she have to leave one place, to find her own? She couldn’t recall. Too many now, and no matter where, she always seemed to stick out like a store thumb. She didn’t belong into any tribe, even the feral one. She was ‘too feral’. Apparently even the silent cats were bothered by her deathly like facade.
Recalling and tracing her steps, she struggled to remember a time that she felt good. That she felt like she had a reason, a purpose for being there, to live. At home it was the dogs job, she tagged along. In the apartment there was no need for a protector cat. In the Jellicle yard, there was no need for a female to do the toms job of watching. Then the feral tribe, another failure. There was only one part of her life that felt…right. Where she felt respected, needed, wanted.
Pausing, she took a deep breath. No matter how often she washed all she could smell was that horrid junkyard upon her. The failure it was, that always remain. A nightmarish reminder of yet another failure on her part.
Shaking her head firmly, the butter-coated cat walked the soon familiar streets of the human world, skittering to avoid the trash being thrown from passing cars. Soon the cars gave way to trucks, then the trucks gave way to silence yet again. The cracked pavement with the overgrown dried grasses and weeds, the long roads of abandoned warehouse resting before her like some horror movie set. Already she could feel the eyes of the watchmen upon her, taking in her every move. She wondered if these cats were even old enough to remember her, or if she was just a ghost story to them now.
Her stride never faltered, never slipped, or tripped as she took the small worn pathway to the home of he himself. The enemy of the one she wanted. The one who started the flames. The one who gave her the scars. The one who made her what she was now. And the only one who would understand…who ever seemed to understand her. As fucked up as that was, the queen felt no need any other place, and seemed to love that razor edge that she walked upon.
Her suede jacket wrapped tightly around her, those tight roper jeans and bare feet making little sound as she just stood there for a moment, watching the lights and flames flicker in the distance. She knew that it wasnt his home, but it was one of the many abandoned buildings that the crime lord kept as his own. If any were within it of importance, it would suprise her. She was certain the memories that she had of those who 'mattered' back when she was with them were dead or smartened up.
But then again, there was little reason to move on. She walked out all those years ago. Why? She was bored. There was no challenge in it any longer. The kittens, the toms, the queens she was commanded to slay. Tucked away within the basement, fed like a queen, given what comforts she wanted. Executioner. It was the Mad cats idea to torment her, to send her to do this. To break her. But much to his disappointment, she was already so detached, it effected her little. After years of slaying, years of blood matting her fur, years of scars, she just walked out. No one stopped her. Just a reminder of how worthless she really was to them all.
Snorting bitterly, the queens lip curled back as she spit onto the ground, silently wondering why she came back all this way. She had no home here, or with the Jellicles. She was better as a stray, fending for herself, being on her own...but fuck her and her damned sense of nobility. Weakness ither had to be punished...or protected...and she would do both as long as there was air within her lungs.
Claws raked through her massive mane before setting down, crossing over her bare chest as the fringe of her jacket teased the bare flesh beneath it across her belly. This was pointless.
Insperation: Gravemakers and Gunslingers - Coheed and Cambria
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Post by Fangor on Sept 6, 2010 23:54:02 GMT -5
"Fancy seeing you here, Ghost."
His voice was distinct in that when one heard it, they never forgot it. There was something so detached about it, but maybe that just came with being a sociopath. He didn't love his gang, but he loved the members roles in it. Some came with more value, some that were more trustworthy. Jazz was top of the list, narrowly followed by Pascal, and after that Cinder. As difficult as Cinder could be, he couldn't say he disliked her company because he enjoyed it when he wasn't in a horrid mood. Chris was completely trustworthy but, admittedly, wasn't as much fun since they broke him, but it needed to be done. There was no room for someone who became soft, and now he was almost ripe. He needed to get job fit again--the few fights they'd send him on, hit runs basically, were all successes and over and doe with too quickly, but they needed to make sure he had the stamina.
This move, this attempt at takeover, had no room for failure.
Fangor's back was to the wall as he chewed a dried piece of jerky and swallowed. Though thin from disease, the remaining solid muscle looked more intimidating in the streetlamp's glow casting long shadows on the ground. He wasn't peturbed to see her there. More amused.
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Post by safa on Sept 7, 2010 8:30:46 GMT -5
Much like a bird of pray, the queens head canted to one direction, those odd tones eyes following the movment till they rested upon him. If she held more emotion within herself one could say she seemed suprised, but her face was as blank as the dead corpses that normaly rested in her wake. So he was still alive, that in itself was suprising. Thinking that his own wretched ways would have ended him years ago, he was stronger then she gave him credit for. A fighter till the end. And by his apperance the end didnt seem that far away from the gangly tom.
Drawing a breath she shifted her weight to turn herself to look at him. Dressed in clothes, not in blood and dirt, carrying herself with a slight sloutch to her posture, she was not fully the monster that he would remember her as. Adapting to life on the outside, to walking that line between peace with the Jellicles and the hatred with Macavitys gang. Torn in two, she seemed too calm. Her arms dropped down to her side as her bare feet made no sound within her step, drawing closer to the tom under the street light lamp.
"Your alive." Sure it sounded like a statment, but being who she was she couldnt muster much more then that. She was truely indeed suprised to see this tom up and about.
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Post by Fangor on Sept 7, 2010 21:42:07 GMT -5
"Disappointed?" The smile that came to his face was cruel and wicked. He didn't view her to be a threat, and seeing her lurk around was amusing, to say the least. What'd be more amusing would be if she were to try and strike, but he doubted she'd be that stupid.
The albino flecked a little dirt off the fur on the back of his hands, a little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Oh. He knew her all right. She was a pretty decent fighter. Took a lot of hits, he thought, but seemed to win. But she wasn't memorable enough for him to consider going after when she left. It'd be a waste of his time, especially when his priorities then went to Chris and that Coalie-bitch.
Oh. That'd be delightful, he thought, somewhat wondering if they would be prepared enough. To pull the takeover off, Chris was the integral part of their plans, but trusting so much to him was a danger in itself. Chris was loyal to the core, but his loyalty knew no bounds. There were so many fights that the gang would have to pry Chris off cats, corpses or sometimes, unfortunately, still alive. Sometimes even Fangor had to step in. A few times, Pascal had to tranquilize him. And if that was when he was so pleasant and happy-go-lucky, and really not even pissed...
He'd need to make sure to take his cream of the crop from the Jellicles first, because there would be blood. A lot of it.
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Post by safa on Sept 8, 2010 6:11:13 GMT -5
To just say she was strong was an understatment. While some cats had even scores across the board, this queen lacked in nearly everything else, but her strength. Never once had she failed to maime or kill an opponetne. And while others felt something..ither pleasure, guilty, or remorse..she felt nothing. Just a tool to her own mind and pride. Her biggest strength was her ability to fight, to take the hits, and keep going. Her biggest weakness was everything else...
"No." One word responses seemed to be all she could muster. Her and Fangor were not friends, nor enemies. In fact they were just nuteral to eachother. Walking side by side in a numb like state of balance. She had no qualms with him, and he not with her. Or she thought at least.
Stepping closer to the albino tom, her odd eyes traced over his figure,taking in his sickly apperance with one brow cocked slightly.
"You look like hell."
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Post by Fangor on Sept 8, 2010 8:47:00 GMT -5
"Not much different than you," he replied evenly, not deterred. It didn't take too many times to hear the same thing before one became immune. He'd always been a bit sick, but the past five, no six... five? He couldn't remember when he killed that bitch who gave him this.
It didn't matter so much. He wasn't fazed. Safa couldn't faze him either. No one really could.
He ran a tongue over his gums. Hurting a bit. Shit. He'd talk with the good Doctor. Maybe get a good fuck out of the deal, too. Maybe see all that blood.
"What are you doing here?"
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Post by safa on Sept 8, 2010 20:46:38 GMT -5
"Debating. Visiting the past. You have your place with your lips around Macavitys cock...I've yet to find mine." Her voice was dry as ever, else that statment might have sounded like it was filled with malice and hatred. No, just the truth, well to her at least. She always saw Fangor as a little dog nipping at Macavitys heels, just waiting for a bone to be thrown to him, or a petting. Pathetic. But to each there own...Fangors weakness was his lack of strength to strike out on his own.
Adjusting her position, she set herself against the wall beside him, her arms crossing over her chest still. With her jacket on it was hard to see the worst of her scars, but that large one that sliced down her chest shone in the lamplight above. The highlights of silver and gold within her wildly large mane shimmered in the dim light...and it wasnt hard to see how she was beautiful.
Once.
"You....?"
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Post by Fangor on Sept 9, 2010 9:51:25 GMT -5
"No, that'd be Rozumbrad," Fangor replied evenly in response to the cocksucking comment. It was funny how different perspectives could affect certain things but what did he expect from a queen? So few knew what was going on. He could cut this bitch slack--she'd been gone for awhile. But talk about the cliche. Visiting the past, debating, finding her place. He'd have told her she was more than welcome to suck his cock, but she could be a bit useful. Maybe.
You.
He laughed a little, thoroughly amused by the question. "Unchartered territory. There's no reason not to be here."
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Post by safa on Sept 9, 2010 17:45:26 GMT -5
"Name dosnt strike a bell. But no doubt he swallows." The comment was dry of course. SHe didnt know more then half the people currently 'rolling' with Macavity, and wasnt sure if she wanted too. She prefered her little universe where she was alone, but seen by the few who mattered. Fangor should have mattered to her, but he never did. There was no getting off on the right foot with him. He was a user to the definition. Drugs, queens, toms..didnt matter. He took, but never gave. Like a blackhole just devouring everything.
" Reckin Macavity would give two shits if I returned. The monster in the cellar isnt needed anymore hm?" Aha, a touch of feeling in that question. For all the horrible things that she had done, it was the feeling of having a job and worth that filled the void of everything else she lacked. Something was clearly not right with this butter-cream queen.
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Post by Fangor on Sept 9, 2010 19:56:09 GMT -5
He couldn't help the laugh that poured off his lips.
"That's not a question for me if you're looking for a job again, unless you've still got it. I'm always recruiting, but the selection process has gotten finer."
He glanced to where she sat, a bit amused then. "Are you looking for a job? You're not the type to just show up for a visit. Nowhere close."
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Post by safa on Sept 9, 2010 23:19:45 GMT -5
A thin smirk crossed over her lips as she heard him give her a compliment. Well to many it wouldnt seem like one, but to her it was. No, she wasnt the type to just stop by for no reason. Everything had to have a reason, else it was worthless. Vain effort and energy. A waste. Like so many. In a world filled with vapid and pathetic people, some had to have meaning. Like her.
Shifting as she sat, she let her head press against that wall, tilting her chin up twords that light overhead.
The scar that ran down her eye, cursing her with that horrid vision and ghastly apperance shone as clear as day. It was hard to think how she managed to walk away from so many fights the victor with the collection she had upon her. Badges of disgrace and shame. But still she wore them with pride.
"The 'Dancers' are too consumed with there own drama of whos fucking who and who is in love with whatever. Its pathetic. They wont come out and just say it. IT just shows how weak they are. One queen went too far. She is the worst of them all. " Shaking her head gingerly, she glanced up to him. Funny, if any other cat stumbled upon Fangor, no doubt they'd be pissing themselves with fright. Yet here she was, falling back into that easy rythem again with him.
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Post by Fangor on Sept 10, 2010 9:27:07 GMT -5
He paused. Did he dare ask the question that he knew was there? That lingering thing? That suspicion? It was feasible that Safa didn't remember her, back then, Coalie had been so weak, so beautifully submissive. She didn't scream enough, but when she did, it was delicious, just like any other cat he'd make scream only he didn't slit her throat.
Years of careful planning...
But what if she meant another queen? To bring up a possible pain in his neck would be a disaster conceivably. If the Jellicles were alerted to anything, they'd be prepared. Fangor was confident in his gang, he'd only chosen the best. Not necessarily the fiercest, but the ones who had their skills: Rozumbrad who never lost a single fight and was about as hardcore as they came, the Doctor who could treat their ailments but also hold some key drugs and also tell the gang where exactly to strike, Banshee whose rage was delicious as she'd use her claws to tear her victims to shreds while wearing her lovely dandy clothes, Cinder who was one of the most twistedcats he'd met did the best mindfucks, and Chris who was a given.
He surveyed the other queen. To test her, or not? "What do you expect from a bunch of pansy ass dancers?" he began before adding, "There are a lot of queens over there. Which are you referring to?"
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Post by safa on Sept 10, 2010 11:14:00 GMT -5
She would have been a shoe in to his gang. That rabid dog held on a leash untill needed, then loose the fury of her passion and rage upon those commanded. Unlike most of the rest she has no sense of morals...of right or wrong. Child, woman, man, elderly. It didnt matter to her. They all bled just the same. Scarlett staining her butter-cream fur, wrapped around her in blissful peace. It was sad...only feeling pleased when she was within that state...looking down at the dead...seeing the horror struck face stare back at her. Empty.
Clicking her tonuge she shrugged her shoulders slightly. "American. Skinny as a rail. Additude that makes a mule look like a Saint." Ah yes, the flickers of her past that only came when she spoke. A past that was so far beyond her reach, she wondered silently why she still held on to the barest traces of it.
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Post by Fangor on Sept 10, 2010 11:20:27 GMT -5
He couldn't help it--the grin that played on his face was all the better. The only issue remaining would be whether she got on or had sympath for the queen in the first place. He didn't think so, but he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember how she was with Chris either, come to think of it, but that was something of it's own invention. Chris was... Chris. You loved him or hated him. Most wanted to hate him but found they couldn't because of his charisma, his general enthusiasm, his desire to do good. He always did good in the gang.
"She'll be taken care of. Shortly."
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Post by safa on Sept 10, 2010 18:24:19 GMT -5
Looking up to the albino tom as he seemed lost within his own world, the queen snorted and shook her head, resting one arm across her knee as she looked out to the deserted lot. Coming here was useless. Sure she may have been unknown with the 'Dancers' as she called them. But it was better then being just a thug. Wasnt it? It was hard to remember what she was looking for. Maybe just someone to admire her strength...to see past all the scars...to see her. The queen she used to be before she lost herself.
Maybe.
"Going to swoop in and steal her in the night...? Will be difficult. Apparently the American is 'friends' with many of the Dancers. Alot of hands holding to that one. Cant see why." It was the truth. The cat was skinny, rude, idiotic, and just...like all the rest. Nothing about her shone. It didnt matter to her if Fangor and his gang took her away...except maybe Munkustrap would be upset by it.
Shit.
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Post by Fangor on Sept 11, 2010 11:18:44 GMT -5
The cat couldn't help but laugh. "Are you really that slow to realize what she's holding the key to? Maybe if you were more observant, you'd have realized why by now. Useless."
Maybe it was crueler than need be, but Fangor wasn't the type to be kind. Ever. Unless it were for personal gain. Unless someone were in his top tier. And even then, it was all for him.
"Your jealousy's cute. Only not really. And you honestly think she's friends? I'm amazed you haven't put it together. Really. Even though an idiot would." He patted his pockets for a piece of jerky which he chewed slowly, and swallowed. "Are you looking for work, or just wasting my time?"
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Post by safa on Sept 11, 2010 16:51:03 GMT -5
Safa gave him an evan look with those two odd toned eyes. She was never with 'the in crowd' of Macavitys gang. She found them all to be too vain, greedy, and tunnel sighted for her taste. So she kept to her basement, talking with the other few toms who dwelled down there. She never knew the inner workings of Macavitys plots, and she never wanted too. So, as far as she knew, the American Queen was just another stray witha sob story that she didnt want to hear sung.
" I dont listen to idiots brag about themselves. I can tell what they are worth in stance alone. If she is something more, and if she is playing the Dancers, shes doing a damned good job of it. Her and the silver one seem to have a connection. Her and the red queen seemed to have bonded as well. So..if they are not her 'friends' she is a better actress then any other. " No emotion within her voice, even as Fang cut her down so easily. The gall he had. At this point she was sure a strong wind could end him, nevermind the full range of her fury.
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Post by Fangor on Sept 11, 2010 17:19:01 GMT -5
"You're clearly wrong. You know nothing, little girl. Absolutely nothing. It's why no one looked for you before. Now, you can either stop wasting my time, or you can say you're looking for a job. It's really that simple." Though those bitches always made it so much more difficult. Ugh. It always pissed him off! Why couldn't they just take things for what they were?
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Post by safa on Sept 12, 2010 11:19:56 GMT -5
The butter-cream queen gave him a flat look. Sure it would have been easy to argue back with him. But what was the point? He was one of those who -always- had to be right, and talking down to others made him feel better. Pathetic really, but she wasn't one to start fights for sad little pathetic reasons.
"No one looked because I was not worth anything more then just one of Macavitys warriors. Sure...takes about four Toms to do what I can alone. But he has so many sad lonely little souls looking for attention I'm sure they just begged to be my replacement." The statement would have sounded vain..if she had any emotion within her voice at all. But that gravely tone just was neutral as always.
She knew that drove him crazy.
That he couldn't get a rise out of her.
In that she -was- untouchable.
"Do I have a choice...?" Seeing that he well, just told her of his plans...it seemed like she didn't have many options.
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Post by Chris on Sept 13, 2010 9:28:56 GMT -5
It was on the border, the farthest he'd travel alone, a moment when not in the sanctuary of one of the shops working on drugs, packaging, dealing, or even working out. And since he met up with Rozumbrad again... he didn't understand. Why did Rozumbrad say he thought Chris was dead? Fangor, Doctor, and Banshee had all said Brad didn't want anything to do with Chris.
But he wouldn't have embraced Chris, or been as close to emotional as he could get. They had their own way of showing things. They always did.
But Chris was outside, and venturing where he didn't like to go for one cat and one cat only.
Spotting the albino, his pace picked up, the cute expression on his face not so cute. It was serious, and maybe there was a touch of something else. Danger.
"Why didn't you tell Brad I was ali-" He stalled, eyes dropping to where the other cat sat, one with long hair, with scars. Subconsciously, a hand moved to the collar that hid the hideous scar on his throat. He didn't recognize her, but he recognized a scent. Or maybe that was in his head. Sniffing the air a few times, he looked more perplexed.
"Who's that?" he asked his boss. He could have asked the queen, it might have been more proper, but the past few years treated him hard, so hard. His temper was harnessed, muted. When he smiled, he seemed so harmless, so happy, but those years of labor added muscle to his short stature. Curious wouldn't be the right word to describe how he was, but his head cocked to the side just enough.
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Post by Fangor on Sept 13, 2010 12:06:45 GMT -5
Fangor was about to reply, taken off-guard with Chris' appearance. The tom always had a knack for appearing seemingly out of nowhere. It was one of the reasons why he was just so good... also explained Macavity's fury at the prospect of losing Chris.
But now, it was a funny situation. He tried to think about what Jazz or Pascal might say, then thought, Fuck It. Fangor had his own style. Combined with his arrogance, his talent had taken him so high through the ranks.
"A ghost," he replied simply. "You shouldn't be out alone. And stop fussing with your collar; makes you look pathetic." Maybe he was hard on Chris. Maybe too hard. But it was there.
He glanced at Safa. "Surely you recognize him?" Because it seemed obvious as night and day to him. Granted, Chris was older, and hardened with lean muscle, but he was still small. Just not one to smile so much anymore, one who was a bit more indifferent.
How the FUCK did he get in touch with Rozumbrad again? God damn it, that could fucking ruin all the years work they put into this.
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Post by safa on Sept 13, 2010 12:30:43 GMT -5
The newcomer wasnt unseen by her. No, she could hear something bigger then a rat lurking about. Knowing full well Fangor could too, she didnt see any reason to be alarmed. Wait, did she ever fear anything? Hard to remember. Just as it was hard for her to recall who this tom was.
Her head tilted slightly, looking him over with those odd eyes. Damned Macavity and his claws. She deserved it, she had to. Still, her one good eye couldnt hold up her milky white's work, so seeing was difficult still. What did she say to cause the Fell cat to strike at her? She wasnt one for snippy remarks or come backs. Maybe it was her silence that deserved the blow. Maybe.
Getting to her feet, her paws brushed across her backside to rid it of any dirt or dried grasses. She loved her roper jeans, high wasited, form fitting, and durable. None of those hip hugging hooker jeans. She would much rather be naked her whole life, nothing but her fur, but she adapted as need be. The frindge upon her jacket flirted with the stale breeze as she drew uncomfortably close to the tom. Dry lips parted, drawing his scent over her tongue, tasting him, trying to remember just who he was.
Sure, having a large intimidating queen who looked like something from a nightmare near was bad enough. But pratcily ontop of another was...disturbing. Able to see all the pink scar tissue, the infected wounds, and the smell of decay and rot upon her. Those odd eyes tilted downward to look at his own, trying to recall...to remember.
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Post by Chris on Sept 13, 2010 12:40:49 GMT -5
Had Chris been his normal self, he would have demanded to see whether she was marked or not, and then done a grand introduction. But, had he been his normal self, he might have recognized her.
He sucked back for a brief moment. She was taller than him, looked tougher. Was raw. And there was something that triggered. He looked at the scars. There were a few flashes, bits and pieces, crying kittens, blood, the face of the Devil, his own scream, the gurgling as he nearly drowned on his own blood, and Banshee's words. Again, again, again, again, again.
He cried out more sharply then, pulling away from the queen as he pressed back against the wall, head rounded over, hands pressed to his ears, tail thumping furiously. His black sweatpants seemed to fit him awkwardly, maybe a little too small as if he didn't buy a new pair for years, and his undershirt was stained black in some spots. Scars ornamented his body in some places.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up," he chanted beneath his breath, eyes squeezing shut, Northern accent coming out strong. Dangerous without Banshee there. Dangerous in general. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up..."
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Post by safa on Sept 13, 2010 12:55:21 GMT -5
Watching as he stepped backwards and against that wall, the butter-cream queen's head tilted as she stared at him. Unblinking eyes just took in his stance, posture, ears tilting also as she heard his mantra over and over again. While she was nearly blind, her sense of hearing was perfect. Not understanding the reason for his freak out, she looked over to Fangor for a moment.
"He is broken.." Seemed like a stupid thing to say, but hell. Look at him. For the first time, she herself didnt feel so pathetic at all. If he was with Macavity and his lot, and this is what he became...maybe she -was- stronger then she thought.
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Post by Fangor on Sept 13, 2010 13:09:22 GMT -5
"That's one way of looking at it. And a weapon is another way." Fangor looked at the mess, and that smile crept to his face again. It was almost beautiful, the way he broke down like that. Almost gave him a stiffy. Almost.
Fangor breathed heavily. He chuckled.
"You're being awfully rude, Chris," he purred darkly.
If she remembered the name and put it together, it'd be interesting to see her reaction, to see how someone so genuinely happy and loving could plummet.
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Post by Chris on Sept 13, 2010 13:18:07 GMT -5
Chris trembled hard as he shook, the chant never ceasing as he lifted his head. His eyes couldn't focus as he stared into seemingly nothing. Fury. This nearly silent fury that was building, that was threatening to explode. His claws extended and he balled them into fists, piercing the flesh on his palms, drawing blood. He didn't seem to respond to the pain as he stood up, seeming to see something not there. A memory.
"THAT BITCH!" he snarled, lunging at the empty space, landing on the ground not quite near the others. The sting on his knees startled him and he scrambled, looking in a circle, nostrils flaring from anger. "WHERE IS SHE?! WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!"
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Post by safa on Sept 13, 2010 16:16:44 GMT -5
Chris. That was right. But this wasnt the Chris that she remembered. Not the one who whistled and seemed to never have a care or worry within the world at all. No, this animal crawling around on the ground, scrambling, looking for something that couldnt ever be found, was not even a cat.
Her lip curled back slightly showing those fangs that only added to her monster like apperance. Casting a glance to Fangor, who of course acted like this didnt matter...she stepped in and knelt down infront of the tom.
If she had any trace of emotion left within her, maybe she would have comforted him, tried to talk to him...anything. But no. He was making noise, drawing attention. He could have hurt himself, or Fangor. With one motion was was as smooth as silk, the queen attempted to pin the manic tom against the ground. For his own good of course...
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Post by Chris on Sept 13, 2010 21:38:56 GMT -5
For a moment, he snarled, eyes flashing red, half-bolting up, but then it was as if his eyes cleared up, and temperament changed. He sniffed at her a few times, then shook his head. Broken was a good word for it. Or a controlled tornado of sorts.
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Post by Fangor on Sept 13, 2010 21:43:28 GMT -5
Fangor smirked before he walked up to Chris and pat his head, a bit patronizingly as he walked past. "If you want a job, first part is going to be babysitting him. I want him under strict supervision. The only exceptions would be myself, Banshee, Pascal..." he hesitated. "Or Rozumbrad, who you wouldn't know."
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Post by safa on Sept 13, 2010 22:54:18 GMT -5
"So alot of exceptions..." The queen mummered, looking down at the tom as she watched the madness leave his eyes. It was strange really. Here she thought she was the one who suffered, but clearly she had it easy. Chris was as broken as they came. Ranting and raving, then the next second calm and collected. It would be a bit of a job to 'baby sit' him as Fangor said...but she was useless to the Dancers.
And something about Chris intrigued her. Just to see how far one cat could be broken. Her paws upon his shoulders lightened up as she straddled his chest, looking down upon him with those strange odd eyes.
"I will do it."
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