le piano du chat.

i'm just the messenger, don't shoot me down.

[yuumekui]

[ecriivain]

COME LITTLE CHILDREN—             —THE TIME’S COME TO PLAY!

                             HERE IN MY GARDEN OF SHADOWS.

[bupagentkent]

      “Hardly sounds like the sort of thing        to call my office over. I work for the         government, for one, and a rather…        Selective department on top of that.        I imagine that the local police would         be better equipped to deal with that        sort of thing. Unless…”

       He pauses to take the glass of water        offered to him and to consider asking        another question. This man hadn’t        proved himself too helpful as of yet. He        probably wouldn’t know too much about         said “loud dispute” aside from the fact that        it was as cacophonous as he reputed it to         be. Still, he was obligated by his paycheck to        ask regardless.

       ”…Anything strange about their argument         you might’ve noticed, sir?”

[ecriivain]

                       ' strange, how? '

                                 the writer shrugs, as though indifferent to the whole                                  situation. even the look on his face is as blank and                                  tired as before as he pours himself a cup of coffee --                                  with plenty of milk and sugar -- and leans back against                                  the counter to face agent kent while bringing the mug                                  up to his lips.

                       evaluating the man from                        where he stands, he smiles                        slightly.

                                 ' if you aren't enjoying yourself, you're welcome to leave                                  any time. '

[konzipieren]

blackbird singing in the dead of night,                             take these broken wings and learn to fly.

                                WILL GRAHAM

[tontemiqui]

"Really? Was it the clause that put you under contractual obligation to sacrifice your sanity if anything went wrong, because I can take that out, no problem.”

( does this feline good-for-nothing even  know who he’s dealing with? well, no, not  entirely anyway — that’s unknowable to all  but cipher himself. but turning down a  contract from the geometric monster is  never a good plan. )

"I mean, if you’re sure! I mean, I can’t force you.” ( well, he can, but it’d be more trouble than it’s worth. ) “Just don’t come crying to me when you’re dying of lung cancer, too weak to even use your typewriter!” ( he hopes the author is clever enough to pick up on the significance of “when," as opposed to "if." )

[ecriivain]

                             ' when? '

                                      a sneer crawls over his lips, which curl back to                                       reveal sharpened fangs. he does not know if he                                       is able to harm this demon or not, but he won't                                       risk angering a supernatural being even more                                       than he evidently has. below his breath, he mutters,                                       his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

                             ' i'm not afraid of death, bill cipher. i'll                              embrace it when it greets me with open                              arms. '

[ecriivain]

long ago, my city’s luminous heart beat                    with the song of four thousand cats.

                                                 the cat piano

[delta-hexagon]

[learnedwisely-deactivated201507]

( ecriivain )

[learnedwisely-deactivated201507]

               ❜  i’ve read a great deal of your work, sir.         and shall i just say you are quite talented.  ❛

[ecriivain]

                   ' -- really? '

                          understandably surprised, as he rarely                           ever gets approached in the street and                           complimented on his work, much less                           by someone who appeared human, he                           manages a weak little smile. clearing his                           throat, he nods curtly before he speaks                           again.

                   ' thank you. '

[bupagentkent]

      “…Water is fine. I don’t want you        to waste a whole cup of coffee or        tea on me.”

       Read: Kent didn’t trust this stranger to        make any for him. Were he a pretty woman        living in an airy apartment that existed in         this same space, he would have gladly        accepted his offer of tea. But writer types        he saw as shifty and reclusive. His brow        knotted together. The more he thought about it,        the more he realized there was no reason for         him to be here.

       ”Is there anyone you know who could          have called, then? Anyone at all?”

[ecriivain]

                     and so, while the old coffee maker does its                      job, the writer cleans a glass until it shines                      and fills it with water from a water bottle. he                      turns around, handing it over to agent... kent?                      is that who the other introduced himself as?                      the writer can't remember clearly.

                                     ' the couple on the floor below me was having                                      a rather, ah, loud disagreement earlier. perhaps                                      someone called out of worry. though, you don't                                      seem like the kind of person who handles petty                                      marital disputes. '

[iniquitouus-deactivated20151226]

               the boy raised                       his eyebrows as high as the muscles of his head                       would permit. it         was almost laughable, how                       much the character    resembled himself; he just                       hoped their appearance was not all too similar to                                                                                     his as well. 

                      ❛ at  least  our  names  are  pretty  far  from  each                                                                                             other. ❜

[ecriivain]

                               ' speaking of which, what is your                                name, if you don't mind me asking? '

                                            he's naturally curious. the writer sticks his                                             hand out in a friendly, welcoming manner.                                             for someone as closed off as he, he's being                                             generally open with the boy -- maybe it's some                                             kind of fatherly instinct, like the feelings he                                             has for each character he creates. and, he                                             supposes, it wouldn't hurt to make a friend,                                             right? but the interest has to come from both                                             sides.

[glaieullux-deactivated20160214]

           “Really? Well, what about.. gettin’            scratched    behind    the    ears?”

[ecriivain]

                            ' to that, i don't suppose i would object. '

[glaieullux-deactivated20160214]

          "Oh? But, I thought cats liked being pet there.”

[ecriivain]

                        ' you'd be surprised how one cat varies from another. '

[teaseyfeasey]

☾✿☽

               ”A whole city of you…guys? I thought you might have just been in a mascot suit for a second there.” Bringing a hand up to rub nervously at her neck, Theresa shyly let her gaze fall back to the ground. Although she had avoided meeting his eyes, she did manage to return his smile. As strange as the situation had become in almost no time at all, she felt like he was genuinely interested in helping her. "I have to go back home, my parents are probably wigging out right now."

[ecriivain]

                             ' getting you out of the city will be easy enough --                              but will you be able to get back to your home once                              you're out? '

                                     he's truly concerned when he asks that. he doesn't                                      like leaving the city, so he will most likely have her go                                      off on her own once they got to the outskirts. ears prick                                      forward in curiosity, and he cants his head to one side.

[thequeenalone-a]

                        ❝ The best clothing makes a statement.                 I choose to make a loudone. ❞

[ecriivain]

                       ' well, you've succeeded in gaining my attention.                        what sort of statement do you wish to make, if i                        may ask? '

[teaseyfeasey]

☾✿☽

               The situation felt safe enough, at least. Dangerous people were the ones who acted very friendly right from the beginning, and this man (?) seemed like he’d probably rather just do what he could to send Theresa back on her merry little way while he had his nice, quiet smoke. The thought of occupying too much of this gentleman’s time was, admittedly, a bit uncomfortable for her. She drew a breath to gather her words and responded, "Right. Well, I’ve kinda been wandering around for a while, and I don’t really know where I am anymore."

[ecriivain]

                                   when he leans forward, she can more than likely                                    smell his smoke-coated breath from where she                                    stands. the writer gives the best smile he can                                    muster, then nods.

                                               ' right. you're in a city of cats. '

                                   he rumbles with a chuckling purr.

                                               ' do you need instructions on                                                how to get out, or money for a                                                hotel? '

[andyjmac]

Visit Original Link

[monitore-blog]

Mmh.

[ Give him a moment. he’s actually considering it, surprisingly enough.

he’s wary of the other, mostly because of the fact that they had just met, but… he didn’t seem like a bad person. cat? he blinks for a moment, before nodding slightly.

kiyotaka ishimaru, your parents would be ashamed. ]

I… suppose I could.

[ecriivain]

                                the other seems almost hesitant to come along,                                 but he supposes that kind of behavior is to be                                 expected as well. especially from a young gentle-                                 man that's so... well, uptight.

                                             ' then if you'd please, follow me. '

                                 and he takes off in one direction with a slow stride,                                  humming lowly in his throat. he's taking this boy to                                  the very same club he first met le chat blanc--where                                  he first saw her perform. it would bring back memories                                  undoubtedly, but he does not care in that moment.

[teaseyfeasey]

☾✿☽

                “Um—oh.” She must not have noticed before approaching the man that he wasn’t exactly human. Being a student at Norrisville High, Theresa had come to expect some oddities here and there, but he actually looked like a…giant…cat. She considered how desperate her circumstance was and if talking to a possibly hallucinated feline was really her best course of action. "Oh…could you maybe…help me?"

[ecriivain]

                             ' of course, if you'll only tell me                              what you need help with. '

                                        his stub of a cigarette is dropped to the                                         ground and crushed beneath the heel of                                         his shiny black shoes. his voice is as kind                                         as he can possibly get it right now, but he                                         supposes it will be enough to encourage                                         her to open up more.