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@catwithacauldron
catwithacauldron replied to your post:Vergil “I don’t know what to do with feelings or…
(Citrine is absolutely sure he has a spell for this. J/s. He could totally help you out here Verge. It wouldn’t even end badly for anyone!)
………………………… citrine why do you have a spell for dealing with teenage boys
Noooo reason. Just. You know. For a rainy day.
:3
;3
"Why am I even still alive right now to experience New Years? I mean. I tried to die, twice, not once, but twice. Why the fuck am I still here.”
"Yeeeesh-- I'd call you the death of the party, but if you can't even get dying right..."
Citrine just kind of lets the sentence taper off, realizing how on the nose that is before it's way too late. Instead, he just sort of flatly blows a noise maker in the girl's general direction. So much for putting the happy in Happy New Year!
"Hmph... it feels lame, having to start the new year in this dump."
"My resolution's gonna be to get back my magic-- and my sub resolution is to whip up the best curse I've got for this place!" Not that he wasn't aiming for those things from the start. He's got a grudge, 2015!
New Year Ritual; [CA Closed]
The forest was vast, larger than the one he once called his home. The breeze tickles his fur and the brook babbles on in the background, as restless insects and animals chirp through the night, robbing it of a total silence. In a technical sense, District Mu should have been better than what he called home before, but...
But he can't say he favored it. As much as he tried, as often as he visited, he couldn't feel in tune with anything for the life of him. The same breeze that rustled the branches wasn't the same air that filled his lungs, the animals were hard to understand-- sometimes in tongue, sometimes in species-- and even the very streams, the things that served as the veins of the woods themselves, felt a little too... dry, like it was simply created in the image of a river. It didn't feel like water was delivered to where it belonged as effectively as it could have it nature truly took over. He wants to chalk it up to what he's learned in his short time here, that everything was just data-- which is basically a fancy word for a fabrication, from what he managed to gather-- and perhaps that's part of it... but the scientists know what they're doing. It's not just some cheap knock off-- the herbs and plants he's come to gather from time to time were some of the best he's ever used, in common witchcraft. It was simply that, despite it's notable size and vibrant plant life, the jungle he stood within wasn't his forest. Therefore, it was inferior.
But it'd have to do, for tonight. Beggars can't be choosers.
He always held a small ritual to welcome the new year-- and while he wasn't in the forest he usually held it in, he intended to stick to his guns. Why should he have to change his traditions for a bunch of nerds in trench coats. During th;e night, he arrived in District Mu (It's a miracle it survived all the immolation in the last few months) with a simple goal-- to send a paper boat down the river with both a tea candle and a wish for the new year-- and he's just managed to kneel himself down by the edge of the brook, struck match in hand, the presence of someone else becomes glaringly clear. The thresholds of rituals are fragile, after all, and even though this was just a weak one, it's easy to tell when something disrupts the fray.
Sighing and muttering something rude under his breath, he stands, talking before he even sees who (Or what, for that matter) it is he's talking to.
"... Eh? What're you doing out here? It's New Years Eve, y'know..." He stands, holding the little paper boat in his free hand and the match in the other-- which is quickly blown out before he's responsible for another forest fire. Irritation spells itself out across his features as he faces who he's addressing, spinning on his heel in a single, fluid motion (It's easier to pull off than when he's in the city itself-- the soil's a lot more forgiving than asphalt, on his poor paws)... but what he sets his sights on isn't really what he expected. The bright pink cuts through the evening's gloom like neon, painting out the image of some kind of... weird, miniature horse. Do they usually look like that? He's only familiar with the kind of horses adventurers rode through his woods, only to get struck down by either a horde of wolves or a particularly low-hanging branch.
Not that the city didn't have plenty of other weird stuff. Like that snake woman, or the girl full of metal. This was probably a little more mundane in comparison, he'd imagine.
"I'm sure that even you've got some place better to be than a cold, quiet district like this!"
Prestidigitation [cat-with-a-cauldron]
“A-A witch? Impossible…”
Well, not impossible, certainly, but it’s very rare for nekomata to grow to such a degree of power. Whoever this ‘Citrine’ was, he was clearly a dangerous creature, friend or ally. And certainly not to be trusted.
Exploited, perhaps, but not trusted.
“… hmm. Well, then, Citrine, I am Alipheese Fateburn XVI. You may call me ‘Alice’, if you’d prefer.”
“You can consider me a sort of witch, too. At the very least, I’m considered in the top class of monsters, where I come from, though it seems most of my powers have been sealed here.”
“D, Don’t get the wrong idea, though. I can still protect myself." Man, Alice, you really need to stop being so overt about revealing your powerlessness. I guess she’s just so used to having to understate the extent of her powers.
She considers Citrine again, for a long moment.
“… who were your mother and father? Where I come from, a child of a human and a monster is always female.”
"Wanna meet my folks already, huh? You're kinda rushing this whole thing, you know...!"
Teasing aside, he kinda understands feeling a little vulnerable, given the circumstances. Without one of his dogs at either side of him, it's difficult to really get a sense of comfort anymore-- not that he can't defend himself, either. As she goes on to interrogate him further, it starts to dawn on Citrine that he didn't actually know anything about his parents. Not that they were anything particularly fascinating-- from what he gathered, they were just strays that happened to meet each other during someone's heat. He probably should have looked into the subject earlier, and the thought that he hasn't might have made him a little huffy...
... But he's generally not the kind to pour his heart out for the first person that hits a sore spot. Giggling, the cat loosely shrugs.
"I don't know who my mom and dad were specifically, but judging by moi-- (that means myself)-- they were the coolest cats this side of town! ... Or their town, I guess."
"I ain't gonna go and pretend like I'm totally natural-- what with the witch stuff, and the talking cat stuff, and how impossibly adorable I am... but I think that's enough about me. What's your deal?" As he talks, he decides to try circling the other-- mostly to look at the tail. It's not every day you meet whatever Alice is supposed to be. "You talk about how weird it is for me to be a guy, but you're kinda missing the other issue regarding my state of being. Are there cats just walking around like me, where you're from?" He pauses, briefly, and perhaps a bit immaturely, follows up on himself. "And if you're gonna ask stuff like that, then I gotta return the favor-- who were your parents?"
catwithacauldron
❝ And what are you supposed to be? Puss in Boots? Where is your sword? And boots? You’re lacking things vital to your character. ❞
"The 1800's called-- they want their goofy taste in clothes back!"
Seriously, they can't live without it. It's their thing.
catwithacauldron
He had never seen anything like it, someone who stuck out of the crowd so easily. How did they even leave their house like that was a mystery to him. Pit couldn’t help but make a scene out of all of this.
"You’re… not wearing shoes! Don’t your feet hurt?"
Well, have you ever seen a cat wearing shoes? It's embarrassing. A disaster. The grace in his stride and spring in his step vanishes the moment he tries on socks, leaving him to wobble and slip and fall on his ass every time he tries to walk. Being stuck in footwear is easily a worst case scenario for him-- the stuff of nightmares, even when he's otherwise left to travel miles of concrete and asphalt. He scoffs at Pit like that ought to be common knowledge, but he humors the guy either way with a response.
"It's not as bad as it could be! You wouldn't believe how us felines handle having stuff on our paws-- it's a real joke!" He pauses long enough to give the angel a thorough look over, cross his arms, and giggle. "And speaking of jokes-- wasn't Halloween a few months back? What're you doing wearing all that?" He's mostly just looking for an excuse to change subjects, but if he can sate his curiosity at the same time, then all the better for him.
Should probably not be this distressed over the notion of some vandal burning down pine trees. Too late. He’s still distressed.
Join the club, nerd. He's starting to reconsider his future plans of housing up in the city's woods! They've been burning since the world's been turning, and color him pissed about it!
So I know I have a few minis from... heck, ages ago to reply to, and a few threads to do on top of that, but with the event over, I think I'd like to start up a few new things, too! If anyone's interested in messing around with a sassy witch cat, go ahead and like this post-- I'll try and whip up a starter as soon as possible! Capping at... llllet's say four!
In the middle of a street, it seems that Citrine is expected to resume his business like nothing had happened. But he's left canting his head to the side and planting his hands at his hips instead, face baring nothing but confusion and mouth passively sputtering out just the same.
"... So--"
"Like--"
"I mean--"
"What's data--"
Cut Off All Ties; [CA Post-Event]
Harvest festivals were big things for witches, and Citrine loved an excuse to eat. But thanksgiving was spent wth meals of minotaur steak and unicorn veal, with boiled water and whatever else he could whip up to flush it all down. The moon was something witches (Though not all) respected a lot in their beliefs, and it was a vital part of half his rituals-- but how long has it been since he's seen the moon? How long has he seen anything? He ran out of snarky comments days ago, and while he liked to think he could handle situations like these fairly well, he was getting stir crazy. Having partners is probably the best thing that could have happened under these absolutely sucky circumstances.
But that doesn't matter-- none of it does. Because the thread was starting to get a little tight, now losing the slack of hundreds of cumulative miles of distance. They were nearing the end.
Though it's only when that dawns on him that he feels the need to say his goodbyes. He wasn't a sappy cat even under the worst of conditions, and all things considered, these were pretty shitty conditions, and from what he's seen of the girl in front of him and the guy at his back, sentiments like touching farewells are jokes waiting for punch lines-- but still! He didn't know how abruptly they'd get torn out of this whole deal, or more importantly, what was actually at the middle of the labyrinth. All he knew was that something was going to change, either for better or worse, and while he's not a sappy cat, he's not one that walks away quietly, either.
"Wwwwelp! I dunno about the rest of you," Starts the cat, cutting the relative silence that seemed so, so rare with this particular group. "But I foresee a whole lot of sun, satisfying meals, and fresh air in our future-- our really relative future! I'm gonna kinda miss being down here, if I'm being honest-- I feel that we've really bonded! Like this!" He crosses his fingers, giggling under his breath. "What're you two gonna do when we're up topside?"
toontowntroublemaker
Land on Their Feet; [CA Closed/Event]
Birds land on their asses; pigs fly.
Being eternal had its perks, and one of them was knowing that you could practically tell what’s coming without many penalties. His mood plummeted as fast as he fell, his plump silhouette touching upon the stone floor as if he was stepping out of a luxurious vehicle, the floors around them rose to connect the ceiling, creating the walls around them.
There was no visible source of light, yet everything was sharp and distinct, as if placed under the gaze of a fluorescent beam—but there was none. Here, he was in his element. He adored the darkness, and it only gave him a source of strength. He couldn’t help but giggle, his bright grin as wide as ever and his spirits raising outrageously.
It was apparent that something about him lit up much more than the ever-present glow of the red string. Devilish, even. His face was plastered with glee, but it was for but a moment before a forced, cheerful, and gingered smile coated his face as if he was a lollipop.
"Oh ab-so-lute-ly," Pokey quickly responded, his voice chirping with an arrogant ring to it. The one word scraped against the atmosphere that they were given. All he did was place a hand underneath his smile, displaying the pact projected by the red string, and lovingly replied with a tone that was tainted with sarcasm.
“Kind of spiffy, don’t you think? We ought to be careful from now on. Mr. Minch isn’t in the most ginger of moods right now~”
Whistling, the plump boy swayed from side-to-side in a whimsical manner.
Cat with a Cauldron
His partners were peeved about getting dropped, literally dropped into someone else's mess, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't share the sentiment... but it's outweighed by his curiosity, and as Pokey's commenting on the spiffy little symbols on their wrists, he begins to think about this objectively. Mazes were just mazes, designed for the purpose of getting in and out disorienting and aggravating, but this was different. He hasn't done enough poking around to be totally certain, but if he knows his stonework (which he doesn't) and the scientist can be trusted (which she couldn't), this was a bonafide labyrinth-- a thing designed to use that sense of disorientation as a defense, to keep something hidden, something safe. Or something that needed to stay lost.
Only whatever it is, they had the advantage of being pointed right to it.
... If the shifting designs of their threads were anything to go by, he means. He was too busy giggling over how his wrist-- their wrists, he should say-- were just... flipping him off, as though it were a final "fuck you" from their mutual catnappers. He extends his arm out to look at his own pact proper, as if he were admiring a piece of jewelry, before bothering to pipe up once more, tail flicking and mimicking the sway of his companion.
"Yeah, it kinda does suck... but I've gotta admit, I'm pretty interested! When have those nerds ever wanted to tell us anything? And now they're just... leaving a load of answers for us in a hole underground?" His hand finally lowers, and he looks at the two with mock suspicion. "Don't tell me that doesn't make you guys at least a little curious!"
toontowntroublemaker
Land on Their Feet; [CA Closed/Event]
The floor was pulled out from beneath all of them, and at first, he shrieked, but Citrine had to question if what they were doing really counted as falling, when it slowed like it did. There's a kind of certainty that comes with falling to your death-- with gravity, there's no gray area. You don't get caught, you don't land safely, and you certainly don't walk away from the experience with a fun story. You kinda go splat, and that becomes glaringly apparent all the way down.
Not that he knows what it's like, or anything. Cats always land on their feet.
It's different here, though. It was more like he was sinking to the bottom of the blackness, like a pebble cast into a lake, only thankfully, there wasn't any water. Just the lazy drift into nothing that could be associated with it. Perhaps it's better than a rapid drop and an awful crunch, but it was... still kind of boring, to be honest. Less of the dramatic shock he desired and more of a tiresome, timeless wait, where he couldn't see the ground, he couldn't see where he came in from-- where he couldn't see anything to judge how long it's been. He can't even tap his foot out of impatience. How long was it gonna take?
...
...
... There we go. It's about time.
He mistakes the twinge in his heart as relief, the sentiment blowing over his head completely, and dusts off his jacket for good measure. He never thought he'd be so glad to be standing on something solid before a few... minutes ago, he thinks? It felt like forever, but he's known to exaggerate for dramatic effect-- even to himself, sometimes. It's a bit of a problem. He's not going to take care of it.
Then, messages on the strings he's only now noticed-- the strings woven into his fur and flesh, that felt so deeply connected to him, that they could pull out his veins, when he plucked at them with a claw. A labyrinth, cryptic messages of their lives being linked. Answers sitting in the middle. Citrine wasn't fond of playing anyone's games but his own (Not that he's had a choice since he came here), but consider his curiosity thoroughly piqued. If there's something cool sitting in the center of the maze, he's gonna get it.
... But he's not the kind of cat that just walks away. He's not alone, ~their lives are linked~-- might as well say hi to these guys before heading off.
"... Yeesh-- talk about dropping in unannounced!" May as well start light-- he got the vibe that these two were about as deeply concerned about the situation as he is. That is to say, not at all. "You'd think they could've just told us before pulling a stunt like this. For a talking cat, I was pretty freaking busy!"
[[ 'Ey! While I know I've got a few things to reply to and have been fairly quiet as is, I doubt I'll be able to get to them during the event, since this time I'm actually having Citrine participate, for once. I'm gonna try and do a few of my minis, but once that's wrapped up, I'll be putting all my current threads on hold until things are back to normal! Sorry! ]]
IMPERSONATE MY CHARACTER IN MY INBOX I WANNA SEE WHAT YOU GUYS THINK OF THIS LIL SHIT
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Send me a ♥ to find out how my muse feels towards yours.
“Total. Dweeb.”
There’s a moment where it might be safe to say that’s all his thoughts on the matter of Snowdrift, but he pipes up again once he’s done rubbing at his own ear. “He’s my kind of dweeb, though. We should totally get drinks again, some time!”
