Neuf Vies

|Erica Gordon | Vingt | Félin | Quiconque croit ce qu'un chat lui raconte mérite tout ce qu'il obtient.

[sebastian-sean-deactivated20130]

Sebastian let out a small groan as he leaned back into his seat, watching the teacher through sleepy eyes. Not only was he grumpy because he didn’t get enough sleep, he was also upset the class could never be more boring, it bored him to death. It was like learning the same shit all over again, he and his brother had been home schooled anyway, did they really have to infiltrate as students? Sebastian pushed those thoughts far away to the back of his mind and leaned on his elbow on the desk, rubbing his eye as his mind drifted off to another space and time, Sebastian no longer paying attention to his surroundings.

[ericagordon]

The familiar had intended to speak with her fellow professor, however that professor was in the middle of a lesson. She didn't understand why so many familiars who taught in the college did not take their positions seriously, it would only harm the witches that they were meant to be teaching. Young minds needed more than just the Rite and magic to be whole, they needed knowledge of the world around them. However maths, they just simply did not need to be bothered with that nonsense. Peering silently down at the professor the familiar sighed and simply took the laziest route that she could. Instead of thinking to return after the lesson she simply walked down the aisles of seats until she found an open one, her heels clicking quietly on the flooring. A few students cast her odd looks, she looked young enough to  be a student who was simply late to class. Another reason why they needed to be taught, so many simply assumed things to be true. It wouldn't make an ass out of them in the long run, it would make a corpse out of them. And frankly Erica would feel no pity to see so many lambs brought to slaughter. She had long since let go of most if any innate fondness she felt for witches. She still came running when they needed her. But she had lost a friend once and she did not intend to do it again, if these children were not to be taught so be it. Crossing her legs languidly hazel eyes glancing at the student beside her a smirk settled across her lips. A human. "I believe you're meant to be awake during lessons," She spoke in a hushed tone, French accent tugging at her words just slightly, it was hardly noticeable in all reality but she could always feel it there. 

[deadlyanathema-helps-blog]

hell: a playlist for your sins

o death...jen titus | | god's gift...shiro sagisu | | two steps from hell...dark harbor | | war...sick puppies | | grace for sale...terrance zdunich | | anti you...blue stahli | | stranger in a strange land...30 seconds to mars | | bad company...five finger death punch | | all nightmare long...metallica | | mercy...sumo cyco

listen and enjoy here [x]

anathema x

[doemeadows]

Alice had always had a particular fondness towards the sunlight, she enjoyed the warm touch of the UV rays on her skin and how the light brought out all of the deep colors the world had to offer. So it was then, on that fine sunny day that Alice sat on the field outside of the school with a worn and heavy book opened two thirds of the way on her lap. The book was a sensible one filled with the long forgotten battles of the ancient country of Athens. The words enthralled her and the intensity made it exceedingly difficult for her to tear her eyes away. She was so preoccupied by the sorry unfolding before her that she did not notice the company of another human being. Usually Alice had the uncanny ability to sense when another was close, but her visitors entrance had gone unnoticed.

[ericagordon]

There were few things that felt as ridiculously indulgent as lazing in the too hot sunlight, soft breezes rustling golden fur as the cat purred contentedly. Stumbling along the line of asleep and awake not wanting to be bothered she all but jumped out of her fur the second that a spider found it acceptable to crawl across her nose. With a spider in her stomach, wishing it's arachnid family well Erica trotted discontentedly across the grass until there was enough cover to shift back, she preferred being a cat in all reality. No one expected all that much of her when she was a feline, peering at people with wide amber eyes, irritated and enlightened all at once. Something that stuck in her eyes even as a human, although it came across with a lovely air of ice queen, something she was content to accept. It was royalty. Or at least something people of today assumed to resemble royalty. Compared to the regal figures of her childhood it was laughable. Careful in each step that she took, heels sinking back into the dirt every now and again, as if the ground was threatening to swallow her whole for digging her claws into it's flesh when she had laid down. Kneading the surface as always. But the earth and it's vengeance did not bother her for the time being. It could be maneuvered around, although a body was in the way of her maneuvering. A witch, Erica hummed slightly as she teetered with far less grace than she thought appropriate. All but giving up on walking as a whole while human the familiar folded herself down neatly, casting the witch a sideways glance. "I don't believe that i will be making it far in these shoes and this dirt," She admitted with a laugh that could have been whisked away on the air around them. "Is that history, or lore?" She questioned without sipping much of a beat, curiosity nipping at her senses already. 

>

[sofiawindsor-blog]

It was clear by her the look on her face that the woman didn’t like being interrupted, and Zornitsa half wondered if she’d attack her for intruding. If she was concerned that she’d have to share, Zorn had no issue playing the vegetarian card. Besides, she preferred her meat less on the rare side. The woman’s accent took the raven-haired girl somewhat by surprise. She had always found the French to be unrightfully pretentious, and couldn’t help but curl her lip at the overused expression. Zorn was about to surrender, throw her hands up and claim she saw nothing, but before she could exit from whence she entered, the other woman spoke again. Avoidance. Aha. So that’s how they would play this off. Well, Zornitsa was more than well-versed in the art of don’t ask, don’t tell. With a cocked brow she regarded the blonde, before giving her a curt nod. “Right,” she said, still unsure how to proceed from there. “Well, excuse me for interrupting your, um, nightly escapades. I should probably head back before someone comes looking for me and finds I’ve escaped past curfew.” Taking a few steps back, she gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I saw nothing. I heard nothing.” She pursed her lips, unsure if there was more to say between them, before turning around with the intention of heading back to the mansion.

[ericagordon]

It wasn't as if she could simply allow a young human wandering around the grounds after dark to simply vanish after whatever it was that she may have seen. Erica couldn't quite figure out what the girl could have possibly seen, but simply seeing Erica in the woods at night was enough to warrant the familiar being irritable with the situation. But she was far too caught up in the knowledge of her age to show that irritation across her features. She was no longer a petulant young girl who purse her lips and stomped her foot when things were troublesome. She schemed as if it took no thought, and at this point it really took no thought for her. "If you say so, however you are quite right, out after curfew," She commented dully, features pulling together as if she was so deeply disappointed in this girl. She had a vague upper hand in this situation, not one that could destroy the child before, but one that could very well make her life just a hair more difficult. And sometimes that was all a person needed in terms of seeking odd little bouts of vengeance. Granted Erica had no proof that she absolutely needed to get revenge for just about anything. But she also had no proof that she needed none. It was a delicate balance, and she was contentedly swaying into the arms of...well...being a bitch. Cats tended to be so very good at it after all. "As a professor I suppose it's my position to ask just what you were doing out here so late?" She interrogated casually, as if she were asking about the weather. She didn't care to actually punish people, just to exert an odd form of dominance, to add to a power play that she wasn't even sure was happening. Feral instincts were mixing with human etiquette and it was throwing her off just slightly. 

[black-opal-karov-deactivated201]

There was something about the moment of silence between them that amused Adelric. Most would have considered it awkward and started fidgeting like the little children they were, but to him it was more of a tell. The woman was thinking, calculating really, how to respond to him. If he cared it might actually have been a good way to gauge just how old she was but instead he chalked it up to her personal level of control. Most women he’d dealt with, especially witches, would either act rashly and attack because of his presence or try to play the whole ‘head bitch in charge’ attitude and act like they weren’t afraid of him. A loose smirk played on his features as she opted for neither and spoke to him with poise and a level head. Laughing lightly, he decided he wouldn’t try and play the ‘creature of the woods’ card because it was obvious she was too smart for that so he opted for the partial truth. “Je suis Adelric, mademoiselle, et vous êtes?” He took another step closer to her, keeping a gentle smile as he did to show he wasn’t trying to intimidate her; not yet anyways. “As far as being a student I was under the impression I had special rights. You won’t turn me in will you?”

[ericagordon]

For a split second Erica allowed herself the grace to contort her features into one of sheer mischief. The face of a kitten staring at the frayed edge of a curtain, simply waiting for the chance to pounce, to tear it to shreds with needle sharp claws. Peering at the young human, that was just what he was she remained still, posture filled with grace, eyes filled with a keen sense of regal ice. Something that made it painfully clear just how Erica viewed herself, how she viewed the world. One did not grow up in Parisian estates simply to find all creatures to be equal. She had watched the French Revolution from the swanky side of the barricade, unamused and frankly uninterested as those wretches fought and died. Rank was fought for. And so far this young man had proven that he spoke French, and thought he had a sly tongue. Nothing that impressed her greatly. It wasn't as if every young man his age, human and witch alike did not fancy himself to be far slicker than he in all reality was. Although the French was a rarity. However, Erica would not show that card just yet. She would play along, a kitten with a ball of foil. Purring as she batted it around seeming so terrifically happy. Right up until she began to rip it apart with more fervor than seemed strictly healthy.  "You have the wrong honorific," She corrected with a gentle tut of her tongue. "Je suis professeur Gordon," She introduced cocking her head to the side slightly, features all too feline as she did it. An observant cat, simply observing her prey before she readied herself to pounce, and when she did, she would leave behind no traces. She was no witch, nor was she a hunter, she was lazy and preferred to sleep. That did not mean that she was not dangerous in her own right. "Therefore I believe that I have already turned you in, rather inadvertently might I add," She clarified with a delicate shrug of her shoulders, voice grave as if she held the whole of his fate in her hands. And perhaps she could eventually swing it to be that way. She couldn't quite tell yet.

[ericagordon]

Comme il est dans les cieux | Erica - Jason

[jason-doe]

“Poe wasn’t always my favorite either but there was something about his writing that just felt… raw. You’re right about the word repetition, and I agree that sometimes it gets a little old, but I think that’s just what makes him so relatable for most of the people who enjoy his work. His eloquence isn’t this distant, romantic twisting of words that we could only dream of achieving ourselves. It’s like our own thoughts, constantly mimicking themselves in an attempt for us to just hear ourselves.” Jason smiled softly as he slowed his ramblings. It was strange to find someone here that he could actually open up just enough to let his own thoughts come spilling out to. Normally he found the people here so taxing so he would just bury himself in another book instead of reaching out of his little shell and letting them see that he wasn’t really some quiet mouse of a man. His mind was constantly filled by all these ideas and thoughts he just felt they were things no one wanted to talk about. Why would one of his fellow witches want to have a conversation on their favorite pieces of art, on how men could capture the raw beauty of nature with a simple stroke of a brush and no magic? Why would they want to sit and discuss why Sylvia Plath, or even Poe, were authors that people often ignored because it might be considered a dark subject matter. No, around here they all rather spend their time with lips pressed against the theoretical asses of the glorious Covenant Four—that’s why he never made the first move in a conversation. They had to prove to him that they were capable of a meaningful conversation because he didn’t need to look up from his current read just to play along with the small talk.

“I’ve read some of the bibles and it’s not that I find them vague, I mean I do, but I actually find myself angered by them because people hold so much truth to things that are so easily interpreted differently. So many wars have been fought over such a small collection of pages…” he mumbled with a slight laugh as he realized just how much he sounded like his mother. Jason looked up at the woman he was speaking with and finally took in her appearance. She had this beauty to her that ageless but it was the way she carried herself, the air about her, that only convinced him to open up to her more; she seemed almost regal. “I don’t mind the lecturing, really. The more you do the more I’m tempted to talk to someone, maybe the Dean, about getting into one of your classes. It’s been a really long time since anyone has actually spoken the way you speak. Everyone seems so hung up on the short and sweet responses that the art of talking itself seems to be dying.” He offered a small smile as his nervous tendencies, like fidgeting with his clothing and the books faded away. Jason was quickly growing comfortable around her and it was all over books. With a twinge of guilt he remembered his conversation with Colton and the way he was almost willing to let him by just because he had a library; books really were one of his weaknesses. “I haven’t read Dante’s Inferno or Paradise Lost, so I think I’ll start with both of those. Surprisingly, I like morbid. It takes a skilled hand to capture that kind of emotion. Thank you for the help by the way, in case I forget later.”

[ericagordon]

Shaking her head, allowing her excessive amount of golden curls that fell around her like a halo, which was sardonically hilarious if you asked her, to swirl happily. The hair threatening to fall clumsily into her face. Not that anything about Erica could ever be described as particularly graceless, she was content to pretend that she did not know the definition of that word. "In terms of poetry, I am partial to Longfellow, or perhaps Frost if I am feeling particularly cliche," She admitted with a slight shrug of her shoulders. Robert Frost has been an interesting creature, one of whom that Erica had traded very few words with, enough to allow her to still find a darkly sensual note to the final verse of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. The man really was not a genius when it came to titles, however not every writer could be a genius in all ways. Gifts of beautiful art in some cases had to be taken without complaint for small details. "I can appreciate Poe's sentiment, the darkness, the macabre of it all, however in practice, I simply could never bring myself to grow excited over his works," as they were published. The words very nearly slid from her lips as if it was simply an amazing idea to admit to the fact that she had been a young adult when Poe was writing. Erica would scold herself later, for the time being she was content to focus on the conversation at hand. It would take too much focus away from her, allowing her to slip up in terms of what she said and how she said it if she were to focus wholly on scolding herself at that point. Clasping her hands behind her back, wordlessly categorizing each and every tick the young man seemed to have as if she would be using them for something in the near future, as if they had great weight in all that she would be doing with her life. They had no weight in terms of her existence, however Erica enjoyed to know every single detail about those who surrounded her. It made it easier to make prey of them when she needed to, even when in a more human form there was a predator of a cat lurking somewhere in the back of her mind. Something dangerous, and something that looked at those who surrounded her as either a demented form of a pride, or prey to be hunted and or left for dead. She had yet to decide if this young witch was to be left for dead just yet. She would figure it out at a later date when she wasn't too busy speaking about books. As a girl she had hated reading, although with age they had grown on her, the changing in tides and society had forced her to slowly realize the importance of the written word. Against her will.

Her laugh was soft and rich, something that carried with it decades of life. Far more than just nine lives. "If I saw the death of the arts it would be the death of most of my life," She admitted it carefully, choosing her words as if she were choosing just how she would be dying. Ambiguously phrased, it did not directly elude to the fact that the slow decay f the importance of these works felt to her like the slow decay of her youth. They were what tethered her to what she once was, who had had grown out of and into. It was simple to connect time periods to masterpieces. To the art styles of a time, the fashion worn, the architecture, the books, the music that filled halls beautifully. She was not sure if there was any other way to categorize her endless stream of memories. "Ah, that is something that I do tend to spend quite a bit of time on when lecturing in class. It is important to look upon religious things as lore, created by an unseen source, whispered by man, changed by the hands of time. Nothing that fallible should be treated as dogma, as something to go to war over. Although I was raised in a very religious home so perhaps that is mostly rebellion speaking," It was not a religious home that she was raised in. A religious time period. Staunched by wars and revolutions she was raised and forced to believe without question. And perhaps she had grown irritable of that. It is after all impossible to train a cat. Even in an older and wiser age bracket Erica found herself rubbed in all of the wrong ways when told what to do. Her gut always demanding that she do the exact opposite, or better yet nothing at all. "There is no need to thank me, I am happy to help. Je suis Erica, par la voie," It was a terrible habit to have when in a school of English speaking students, however Erica knew what phrases and words of her mother tongue that she could get away with and introducing herself was very likely something that even a child could understand. At least she hoped.

[sofiawindsor-blog]

Zornitsa had never been one to pay much heed to rules. The curfew for students was irrelevant to her; before the first week of classes had concluded, she’d already mapped out an easy way to escape her quarters without notice. Being surrounded by witches, even with the power of the black opal, was uneasy. Though her mentor had gone undetected at the Covenant for years, she couldn’t seem to quell the fear that she may be discovered. Getting out of the house, away from mystical aura of the place, helped soothe her. Zorn made a habit of never taking the same path twice, confident her senses would always lead her back. But a faint noise in the distance made her wish she’d chosen a different path. Taking a defensive stance, she checked her surroundings, hoping not to encounter something she wasn’t prepared to fight alone. Her eyes landed on a predator feasting on its prey, and she felt herself relax. Zornitsa approached the scene, carelessly stepping on a branch and causing the animal to look up from its meal - and shift back into her human form. A shapeshifter. She should have known. Slowly, she clapped her hands at the golden-haired woman, a smirk playing on her lips. “Quite impressive,” she said, gesturing at her kill.

[ericagordon]

Every muscle in her body tensed all at once as if on cue, as if she were a feline ready to pounce, ready to tear the poor girl to shreds, and she would without a second thought. However she was no feral cat of the jungle, but a house cat with too much gusto in the way that she tore her prey apart. However like all cats she was gifted with far too much pride, something that still felt hot in her veins. Lifting her chin she peered down her nose to the shorter woman, features pulling together to seem unamused rather than all together irritated. Irritated would show too many of her cards all at once, but haughty, well that would just make her seem like a bitch. Something that she was willing to be in the face of this strange child stepping on her toes in ways that she was not fond of. "Excusez-moi?" She cooed easily, glancing down to the remains of mouse that filled with with a slightly sickening sense of pride, that did not show on her face in the least. She could do a few things, deny it all together, act as if she had no clue what the girl was talking about. Or she could simply wrap the child around her graceful fingers, play her like a well tuned instrument and then throw her to the wolves of the covenant. Like the carcass of an unworthy prey, unwanted and shamed in the way that it is disposed of. Erica had yet to make up her mind, and for the time being she would act disinterested, as if it could have been her, and it could have been another wild cat roaming the trees. It could have been anything, as long as she seemed uncaring of it all, she could smile prettily and wash her hands of it, at least until she made her mind up in terms of just what fate she would attempt to force upon the girl. "What a waste, so many cultures would spit upon the leaving of the pelt and undesirable organs," She sighed with a  vague shrug of her shoulders

[foxxycleopatra]

Visit Original Link

[ericagordon]

Lauren O’Connell | House of the Rising Sun

[ericagordon]

Juliana | Covenant Prompt 01

"I remember when you were so small ma cherie," The blonde cooed sweetly as she eyed the young witch before her, stepping forward as she wrapped her arms around a petite frame, adoration seeping out of her very pores. "Tu es si belle," She complimented decidedly as she released the young girl who all but laughed, her face scrunching up in the way that children's did. Except she was no longer a child, Juliana was stepping out into the world, into her Rite. Erica had been there the day that she had born, she had been there as the young witch had grown, she had looked upon her as a younger sister to teach and to love. For a short time she had considered consenting to being the girl's familiar. But she had thought better than to bestow that power to another being. Even if she trusted both the girl and her family with her life. But their lives were so fragile, broken from the start, heading to the grave from the very second that they were born. It was a shame. But it was also something that Erica had come to terms with. She had no other choice.

Juliana was wrapped in the finest of dresses. Erica could see the struggle on her face as she attempted the French that she knew would appease the familiar. "Non, ma cherie, your French is terrible," She giggled only to receive a heavy and exasperated sigh. She could recall when Juliana was a squalling baby. Little and red faced as she was cooed at. The little witch who had trailed after her sweeping skirts who had wept upon learning that she was a witch and not a familiar like Erica. But physically speaking she had surpassed Erica, she was an adult who was being courted smiling sweetly up at men who her father approved of. "Do you think he'll like it?" She mused quietly as she peered at herself in the mirror while Erica drifted closer, nimble fingers tugging and primping at her hair, making sure all of her was perfectly in place. "He would be a fool not to, ma cherie," She assured only to receive a bright smile. Erica had no siblings, however she assumed that this was how sisters felt. The love and the happiness for one another, the want to see the other receive all she could ever wish for. But Juliana had such little time to receive all that she wanted, she would be gone soon enough. But the days dragged on and Erica could easily forget that one day her friend...her sister would be gone. 

"Bonjour!" Juliana's voice carried down the hall clearly, her accent all wrong but at least she could speak French now. It was better than nothing with her wedding dressed balled up in her fists as she grinned. "Allô! Petite fleur, be careful or you'll trip," The familiar chided as she swept towards the overly excited witch. Her wedding day had fallen upon her, married a bit older than most if only because her family was picky and not desperate. They had the power and money to ignore desperation rather blatantly. Erica could see the fledgling signs of age on her heart shaped face. It broke her in ways that she could not quite explain. She had always known that death would come upon Juliana. But she had always assumed that it would not be very much of a shock to her. 

Staring blankly at the baby that wailed helplessly Erica did her best to force a faint smile to her face. To be happy for the life that was now in the world, to be content to know that Juliana had died creating life. However Erica found herself bitter, she found herself turning gracefully and billowing out of the room in a mass of her own cloak. The child disgusted her, the loss of a sibling broke her. She would continue to exist, she would continue to remain young. With the memories of Juliana, of the wrinkle that split away from the corners of her eyes the graying shades of her hair. She had been told that she could not have that monstrosity of a child, that she would not be able to handle it at her age. Such fragile things they were, always dying, always shattering. Biting back tears she hardened herself. She refused to be touched upon by a thing such as death. It was inevitable for such small creatures. She was unworried and unbothered. Except...she was cracked in a visceral way that she was unsure how to really accept. There was such a small detail of the familiar that would never be the same. And she refused to accept even that, she could outrun it, out think it, and if worse came to worse she would simply curl up and sleep, forget it's even there. It could solve all of her woes, a simple nap could make it fade for a few hours.

[black-opal-karov-deactivated201]

So Adelric was adjusting, as well as he could, but everyone now and then he was going to need an escape. Using one of the windows, knowing it’d be too obvious for someone posing as a student to waltz out the front doors after hours, he climbed onto the roof and clung to the shadows as he moved through the cold air. When he reached the edge of the building facing the forest, he scaled his way down as quietly as a mouse. Discarding his shirt, folding it neatly and hiding it under a nearby bush, he stood in the open for a moment and let the moonlight kiss his inked skin. With a calm breath he moved into the trees and began his walk. It was peaceful in a dark and almost unsettling way so he decided this would become a nightly routine. Scare a few students, gather some information on the witches, go for a stroll through the woods. It wasn’t as active as he would have preferred, but his knives could use the break. Choosing a tree at random, he climbed the trunk and perched himself on one of the lower hanging branches and just watched the night. It was beautiful the way the shadow’s danced in the breeze as the somber glow of the moon kissed the forest floor—and then he saw her. Loose coat and blonde hair moving through the night. He quickly dropped from his perch, not caring as the twigs beneath him snapped and gave away his position. Lips curling into a devious smirk, he approached the woman as she turned around to face him. “What are you doing in my woods pretty miss?"

[ericagordon]

Her features remained blank for a moment, a slate that lacked any form of emotion. And while that could come across as cold on some, it was nothing short of distantly haughty on Erica's face. As if she thought herself to be above emotions, above existing on such a human plane. When in reality it was simply her attempting to figure out just how to react, decades of mannerisms attempting to flounce out all at once when she could only allow that which was proper for this day an age to show it's face lest this strange young man begin to find things out about her that he had no business in knowing. She could recognize a good many of the witches and familiar's on campus, as well as the humans, however there were the few that slipped between the cracks and his face must have as it wasn't automatically categorized in her thoughts. However if there was one thing that she did know, it was the fact that he was no professor. He looked roughly around her age, which in the long run meant that he was a student. Was he in one of her classes? It would be a bit of a shock if she hadn't noticed a student who stood out half as much as he did. She was losing her touch if that was the case. But no matter Erica was quick to fall back into place, into the ever present mechanism that was her thoughts. Ticking easily despite age, despite the fact that she wanted to do nothing but curl up and nap away the meal that she had just had. That and meticulously go over her nails to ensure that there was no meat left around her precious manicure. Anything shy of obsessively cleanly was simply not acceptable to her. "Your woods? I believe they are on school property, and I also believe that you should be indoors at this time of night, as a student. Monsieur..." She allowed the word to trail off,it was obvious that she was unaware of his name and she was far from ashamed of that fact. She had too many names to remember. She was a cat, not an elephant, she could not remember all of the names and faces expected of her. 

[sinetiimore]

Visit Original Link

Time waits for no one, so do you want to waste some time, oh, oh tonight?

[ericagordon]

Grass crunched beneath her tiny paws, the sound too faint to truly be heard among the woods that surrounded her, however that was exactly what Erica was using to her advantage. It covered any sound that she made, the trees swallowing up every single shift and protest that the terrain made beneath her slight weight. Although her golden fur was not particularly camouflaged among the jade grass. She stood out like a sore thumb in that respect, perhaps if it were fall she would be gifted with the grace of being hidden among the grass while she hunted. But Erica was blessed with no such luck on this particular night. But she didn't really need it as her amber eyes locked on her prey, pouncing on it and tearing into the mouse with a vaguely deranged fervor. Poor creature had woken her up from a late night nap out in the woods. And therefore it simply had to be punished, showed the error of it's ways. Or perhaps she simply wanted to give into her instincts, whatever it was her fangs were demolishing delicate bones as the shrills squeaks faded away into the darkness of the night. It wasn't much longer before she was licking the blood from her paws, and longer still until she was back in human skin, long coat floating about her as she strolled with an easy gait towards the school. Her long legs moving with far too much grace as she kept a keen eye on her surroundings. The students were tucked away in their beds, at least they should be. Erica enjoyed the notion that she had no rules to follow in that respect, with the taste of raw meat in her mouth and the satisfaction of a successful hunt in her mind. She could not imagine wasting her nights away in bed as the students did. The cracks of branches caught her attention just as she made it from the trees, whirling around, not a lick of terror to be found on her features, simply curiosity. She was not fearful of much, however she was wary, as any creature with half a brain would be as she peered out into the trees, eyes devoid of humor, devoid of the contented feeling that had just been swelling in her gut.

[ericagordon]

Comme il est dans les cieux | Erica - Jason

[jason-doe]

When the woman, who he had thought young enough to be a student like him, mentioned being a Western Religions professor he suddenly knew why he’d recognized her. She was the one professor, the one class he never actually took. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to he’d just always found himself coming up with some excuse to get out of it. He’d heard the stories of her classes. The coursework was difficult at best but that wasn’t here fault, most people probably didn’t care to learn about something steeped in history and religion. To most people, at least people Jason knew and talked to, god was just an idea that people bowed to. “You’re probably right, I haven’t had my fill of lore’s yet at least.” He tried his best to smile playfully but something about this woman made him uncomfortable. It was the way she spoke, the way her eyes were full of life and mystery—she knew things, she had seen things he could only imagine. That had to be it. “A place of residence isn’t always a home. For me it’s more of a feeling, something internal. You can live in countless of places but still only have one home.” His fingers abandoned the books he’d been fidgeting with and moved to the sleeve of his left arm. Pulling at the light blue fabric, he nervously pulled out it as he stood there with her; a small glimpse of his inked skin beneath showing itself.

“Oh, I figured people came in here but between you and me? I prefer not being able to find them. When I come here I want to be lost in the pages of Poe, or Wilde, or Shelley not the personal dramas of my fellow students.” This time his smile was a bit more spiteful than kind. He used the library as an escape from all of them. The way they would all spend their days worried about the most trivial things, did you see that jacket Adrian had today? Like oh my god it was so cute! Omg, omg, Colton looked at me. He actually looked at me. It wasn’t just the talk of those obnoxious Four that bothered him, it was the way none of them seemed to talk of broken homes. Everything was perfect for them, they even knew so much more about their craft than he did all because they had their parents there to teach them everything. His mother Ellen tried her hardest to let him understand, but a drowning soul is never truly capable of teaching another how to swim. “I was looking for something to read, to expand my knowledge of religions actually. The most I’ve really read is Philosophy of Religion but really it was too broad to answer all of the questions I have so I guess I just wanted to start somewhere, anywhere, and expand from there.” Looking up, for one of the first times since they’d begun speaking, he met her eyes with his own. “You’d probably be the perfect person to ask then, now that I think about it. What would you recommend?” There was a childish excitement to his voice and his demeanor as he seemed to lightly bounce with anticipation. She could introduce him to some wonderful histories, she could help him find all the answers he’s needed in regards to religion and all he had to do was ask. Maybe talking to people in a library wasn’t as disgustingly bothersome as he’d thought

[ericagordon]

He was unlike most of his classmates, that much was painfully evident to her without any questioning whatsoever. Not a single one of her students actively wanted to go out and pick up a book when they could go out and lure someone into their bed. Then again that was simply youth at it's best. Wild and free, terribly vain. Her own youth was a distant memory, her vanity was still gracefully in check. Enough to keep her physically younger than most of her students. "I will keep that secret safe," She assured, denying any and all want to wink as if she were but a child again, a kitten looking for trouble to bat between her paws. She was no longer young. She was older than most of the dust that surrounded them, dirtying the air. It was probably unhealthy, but she enjoyed the smell of it. It reminded her of her roots,of her age, of her childhood. Although the conversation that they were having was doing a good enough job of just that. She had met each author that he spoke of. Bored eyes glazing over as she peered at Poe while he blathered on about ravens, as if she really cared about them. He was speaking in English before she had even learned the language, without a single care that she was simply staring at the contours of his face waiting for him to be quiet, she could see the age collecting on the man's face as she waited, hoping he would crumble to ashes sooner rather than later. But she had outlived Poe, she had outlived most great classical authors. Seen their works be published, first editions be handed out like gold while she smiled sweetly knowing just how fake they were. Age came with a fine layer of disdain she supposed. Or perhaps that was the feline in her. Erica did not care to investigate. "All fine authors, however, Poe has never been a favorite of mine. Word repetition is something that I tend to find slightly reprehensible," As she spoke quiet hints of laughter trekked through her words, settling themselves nicely between each and every letter. Nothing too much and nothing too soft. Everything was measured and perfect. She had learned decades ago how to hold herself, always with the manner and posture of the seventeen hundreds. 

His question took her off of her guard in a way that unsettled her just slightly. However Erica assumed that she would simply have to get used to the young man and the fact that he did not quite behave the way that she was used to youth behaving. Never had a young man asked to be lead to reading. They asked to be lead between legs and found home there. He was a confusing boy, however Erica tended to be far more helpful than most would assume her to be. It was simply what familiars were there for,for the right price, or perhaps the right creature. "Well, I would always suggest reading one of the thousands of bibles if you're looking for religious lore, however that could be to broad as well," She mused glancing up at the books, an odd reverence in her eyes that seemed to filter out when she looked upon other beings. They carried age and died, there was no room for her to hold them dear. However things like art, and books, and architecture, things like lore and teachings they remained no matter the decades that past. She found an adoration for that which aged with her. What was the point in that which decayed? She wasn't sure. "The Divine Comedy or perhaps Paradise Lost. They are very obvious classics. However even things by Lovecraft have mentions to religious lore, speaking about Hastur. Although contemporary literature cannot exactly be trusted in terms of how they portray the original notions of the story. But all myth is myth, the tales can be twisted without much of a fuss. I'm lecturing you as if you're my student," For once laughter actually bubbled out of her instead of fluttered quietly around her words. Eyes lighting up with a confusing sort of glee, although that reverence faded the very second that her eyes met the student before her. One of the few that she did not tower over in her heels. "In the end, if you have not yet read them, Paradise Lost as well as the Divine Comedy are the best suggestions, however morbid and hell based they may be," It was easy to lose herself on a tangent, a cat carried away by an oddly interesting thread of yarn. Something that held her attention such as speaking about that which she enjoyed. Not region per se, the lore that revolved around it however was astounding. It aged, it branched off, it had more lives than she could imagine and it just continued to grow exponentially. Very little could amaze her quite like that.  

[limitlessplaylists-deactivated2]

Visit Original Link

Sacrilege - Yeah Yeah Yeahs from Mosquito 

[ericagordon]

“What's your name," Coraline asked the cat. "Look, I'm Coraline. Okay?" "Cats don't have names," it said. "No?" said Coraline. "No," said the cat. "Now you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names.”

[ericagordon]

Comme il est dans les cieux | Erica - Jason

[jason-doe]

Home—home is supposed to be the place where you feel you truly belong; where you’re surrounded by faces that all feel warm to you. Wandering through the aisles, calloused fingers tracing over beautiful spines, Jason lost himself in the only home he’d ever really known; the library. Here he wasn’t the bastard child, he wasn’t his mortal mother’s biggest burden even though she’d never admit it. No, sometimes he was narrator to a whirlwind romance, sometimes he was simply riding along watching the adventure of a hero play out before. Today felt like a day to live in reality though, not fantasy, so the young blonde found himself pushing deeper and deeper into the books written of sound mind and honest voice. There were so many choices, so many histories to immerse himself in that he knew it’d take more than one day. The library was quiet, it was always quiet, so if he truly wanted to he could probably hide himself away in one of the corners and only leave when he had his fair share of knowledge. A smirk played on his features as he questioned people quietly to himself. How could so many people avoid this place? Was it because they couldn’t or didn’t find the will to read? To him, they were all missing out on one of life’s greatest gifts. You could travel the world if you wanted to and you wouldn’t even have to leave your favorite chair.

He finally stopped walking when he found himself in the religious histories section. Jason could almost hear his mother teaching him about religion when he was a little boy. “Sweetheart, darling, I know it’s boring to you but I need to tell you about him. I know all the kids in the neighborhood go to church every Sunday, dressed all nice and pretty, and come back with their parents. I know they tell you stories about what they learn in church, about a man rising from the dead or being swallowed by a whale. I don’t want you to believe in that. I don’t want you to rely on an idea. Religion is something you choose to believe in sweetheart, gods and all of it combined. I want you to promise me that when you’re older you will believe in what makes you happy, not what some old book tells you is right or wrong.” She would go on for hours like that, destroying everything modern society would say about religion. Standing there, looking over all the different histories to learn, Jason took his mother’s teachings with a grain of salt. He couldn’t claim that he didn’t believe in something, most days he just didn’t know what it was. As much as his mother hated it he actually found it comforting. To be able to just think to yourself, to call it a prayer, and know you aren’t alone in the shadows—how could he turn his back on that?

The young witch wanted more, he wanted to find something deep in religious history to challenge himself with, so he turned the corner. Instead of finding more choices he was greeted with a phrase that sounded French and a pair of wicked, but welcoming eyes. “I, uh, sorry… I’m not used to running into people here either. I was actually started to think of this library as my home away from home.” Jason smiled softly; his own meek eyes fell to the books beside him as he avoided her stare. “It’s kind of sad actually, that more people don’t come in here. Then again I like it that way. I don’t have to share my books with all of them.” His laugh was gentle, as he nervously toyed with one of the books; pulling and pushing it in and out of place. “Do you come here often?"

[ericagordon]

Sometimes it entertained her to play the pretty Parisian, a beautiful young woman with a thick accent. It was how do you say...irresistible to deny. Just another form of trickery that she entertained herself with when she could think of nothing better to do with her endless amount of time. And perhaps that was simply because of the awkward combination of senses that filtered through her thoughts at any given point. Human and feline intertwined, something that still confounded her to a point. Although she so favored a quote that she had read once, anyone who believes what a cat tells him deserves all he gets. Truer words had never before existed to her. They had caused her face to light up in delight a sharp laughter spilling from her when she had first read them. However that was a rarity, Erica was more than content to keep her features trained in a steady sense of mischief and calm combined together with an odd sense of lethargy. Something that was settled so pleasantly across her features. Although the tail end of his words brought a single brow up as she regarded the boy with a vague smirk, a soft huff of laughter escaping her. Nothing to alert a single soul who could not spot the slight jerk of her body that went along with the laugh. "As a Western Religions professor, you could say that I find myself here often enough," She replied with an impish sort of glee tinting her words. "One can never read enough religious lore, or enough lore in general to be frank," The French accent that clung to her words was faint enough to be lost as she spoke in perfect English. If anything she could be taken as English. And she prided herself on that, an innate ability to blend with the time and the location. She had never seen a cat who could not make itself at home in a new place. 

"A home away from home, within your place of residence? A bit of an oxymoron I suppose but to each their own," She did not count herself as having a home. Perhaps a nice field where the sun shined down on her golden fur while she dozed, only half aware of the world around her. Or maybe up on the high shelves of the library, watching quietly, hidden in the shadows as she simply observed the inner workings of people as they assumed no one to be near them. Something absolutely amazed her about the simplicities of what people did when they thought no one was watching. But she wasn't thinking on that at the moment, nor was she thinking about the dukes of Hell she was meant to be teaching about sooner than not. She was focused on the conversation with the odd creature before her. "And people do enter the library, you simply need to know where to look for them. That is the trick to finding anything and anyone," She knew this trick well, if only because she used it to her advantage when hiding from others. It was a true accomplishment to get a hold of her when she wanted to be invisible. A cat too slippery for the hands of most. Then again who actually could grapple a cat into their grasp? Not a soul that she had ever met. "Was there a particular someone or perhaps book that you were seeking out?" She questioned with a light laugh, something airy, and something that portrayed the image that she had to keep up when on school grounds. A teacher who so deeply cared for her students education, rather than a teacher who would rather be sleeping.

[ericagordon]

Comme il est dans les cieux | Open

All but slinking through the library surrounded by the lovely thickness of silence, it provided her time to simply fall away from her own thoughts. She was far older than her features would ever allow her to portray and she was vainly contented with that fact, unwilling to appear as a wrinkled old woman when she could whisk about as a wraith like young facade of a young adult. She looked younger than most of her students, however they knew what she was, and they knew that she had seen the religions that she taught grow and morph. Evolve with the times while chunks of it remained untouched by the cruel claws of time. She could understand those classical piece better than her students who simply inquired about why how such a concept could possibly exist. It is easy to believe in something when a political figure head threatens to lop off your head if you do not comply. She had accepted that her words could not be trusted long ago, however a king with an executioner at his disposal would never once lie to you when it came to the matters of life and death. She had to conjure up the thoughts to create a lesson plan of some form. However as per usual, Erica was not interested in planning, nor was she interested in teaching. She enjoyed speaking and learning, she enjoyed wisdom. However, she did not love forcing young minds to wrap around concepts far beyond them simply because she was a familiar attempting to blend in with their population. It wasn't as if it was extremely difficult. It was simply that it took far too much effort to get the whole of them to listen to her. Especially when she knew very well that she was meant to be simply posing as a professor, not actually being one. But she far to akin to her feline mentality. She had to do her best, and to be better than others. A high and mighty sort of game that she played, batting others between her paws as she watched with bored eyes. It was something to pass the time when she had time to spare between naps. However it wasn't like she could very easily do it with the students, she was meant to help the witches, not smile coyly as she held herself above them. 

Running long fingers trained to be graceful through centuries of life the familiar sought out books to teach with. It wasn't as if she did not know the ins and outs of Western Religion. Simply that she would prefer to let students read while she contemplated taking little cat naps at her desk. It was better than actually standing up and lecturing a single soul. She was unsure as to how anyone made it through that particular crucible alive. A frown slid across her lips as she continued to come up with no actual form of success. At this rate it was beginning to become clear that she wouldn't be finding a book in the least. Something that was darkening her doorstep more than she would like to admit. Sure she could name each angel in heaven and their demon correspondents, that didn't mean that she wanted to. It simply meant that she could. Although her steps soon enough came to a halt, the clicking of her heels no longer ringing through an otherwise silent library. Something to feel guilty about at a later date. For now she was far too petulant considering her inability to find a book to really care that the slow steps that she took could be heard throughout the whole of the room. Eyes scanning a new shelf only to find the same thing that she had found in the previous shelf, a thick layer of dust and failure. This was beginning to become tedious, perhaps something could be found in town.

She would simply have to go out to find a stack of books big enough to make up for her inability to find one here. Actually...she would curl up and nap on a windowsill before she did anything else, and then she would go into town with the intent to buy. Or perhaps more than one nap, yes, she'd just get the books tomorrow. Footsteps  caught her attention however as she glanced over her shoulder through the blonde curls that fell around her at all times. "Quel choc," She mused easily, the French flitting across her tongue perfectly, the way that it had when she was just a young woman in the busy streets of Paris, peering down disdainfully upon the world from her perch. "I thought that I was the only one to really know this school even had a library," She spoke with an oddly wicked light to her eyes, something erring on cunning. She could be called a snake in the grass if not for all of the fur.