On September 1st, during the rainiest week the city had seen in years, Sir Precious' masters were away on a holiday.
Sir Precious was a black housecat from a prestigious line of felines with the most silky fur and the most golden eyes. He, just like his mother cat and father cat had been, was long and well-behaved and elegant, and born to a privileged existence under the care of well-endowed masters.
The collar he wore right now had a red silk bowtie, adorned with a gemstone brooch and little diamonds. His name and his home address were pressed into the leather of his collar. He had his very own pillow in every room, he had a full bowl of food at all times of the day, and he had the comfiest bed near the salon window.
And now, while the rain tapped on the window next to him, there were kittens on that bed.
There was one, two, and three. All tomcats. And unlike Sir Precious, they were tiny and mostly white. Black blotches covered portions of their body, some on their legs, backs and even their round faces.
They had just appeared on his bed one day. Sir Precious didn't know how, but right away, he had been trusted with looking after them. It was a task which he took very seriously.
He bathed them and guarded them, kept them warm, taught them how to use the litter box and play gently, and keenly watched over them when his masters fed them milk through a little tube until they were big enough to lick it from a bowl.
They weren't much bigger now than they had been once they first arrived, but they looked more like proper cats. And they were sleeping. Sir Precious gave them a sniff, as if to make sure they were all still breathing. All was well, until lightning struck somewhere near their yard. The little ears of the calm kittens suddenly perked up, and one wailed with his little voice.
"Shh," Sir Precious whispered, despite having been frightened himself, and bathed the most frightened kitten's forehead until he and his brothers fell back asleep.
It was likely due to his keen concentration on the storm outside the window that he failed to hear the faint sound of a window opening in another room, and the alarm system getting swiftly disarmed. And before he could as much as register the footsteps that crept near him and the kittens, a large fabric was placed over their bodies, and swiftly scooped up like a bag of groceries. A sweet, strange scent wafted around the cats' new prison and made Sir Precious and the kittens' heads fuzzy and incapable of escaping. They were carried outside the house and tossed into the trunk of a car.
They drove for a long time. Far from the familiar scents, far from the safety of Sir Precious' calm neighbourhood. And by the time they were outside the city limits, the sky was completely dark. It felt like a dream to Sir Precious, who still felt that strange, sweet scent in his nose. He couldn't tell what was happening, where he was and whether he was even awake. The only thing he could register besides the unusual scent was the itchiness of the fabric and the soft mews of his likewise dazed kittens.
The burglar hadn't taken the weather into account. What had started as heavy rain in town had become a dangerous storm just outside it, and the road which he drove became flooded.
The burglar lost control of his vehicle, and it slid across the road as if on mirror ice. The brakes couldn't stop the car's trajectory towards a tree at the side of the road. It wasn't an impact at full speed, but the car was old and worn out. The trunk flew open at impact with a loud thump, and the bag containing the cats fell out. It rolled down the wet ground, all the way down the steep side of the road to a canopious forest, and there it lay until the crack of dawn.
Sir Precious woke up with a startle. The sweet, intoxicating scent had dissipated in the fresh, wet air, making him once again alert. He found the opening of the bag and crawled out, instantly shocked as he greeted his surroundings. Trees, bushes, roots and grass. He had never been in the middle of such vast greenery, much less one untouched by man.
Where was he? What had happened? Where were-
The kittens!
With an anxious arch of his back, he circled around his immediate position and then poked his head back into the bag. One, two- Oh no!
He retreated from the bag once more, ears anxiously flicking as he scanned the surroundings. The two kittens woken by his trashing emerged from the bag too, curious of their predicament.
"Frank!" Sir Precious meowed, too concerned for his kitten to hide his voice from any possible predators lurking about.
"Here!" came a little squeak from a bush nearby. Frank, completely covered in leaves and wet, was fortunately otherwise unscathed. He sneezed as he emerged from underneath the little branches.
"Thank goodness, Frank! Come here," Sir Precious urged, beginning to tidy the kitten up as soon as he nuzzled against his body. The rest of the kittens followed Frank's example, pressing against the warm fur of the eldest cat. They were not used to the coldness of the wild any more than Sir Precious.
"Where are we?" Frank asked.
Sir Precious searched for a proper response before he cleared his throat.
"I do not know. We seem to have found ourselves in the realm of an adventure of sorts," he said, trying his very best to not let his voice tremble. "But it is alright. We are together. And we are smart."
Sir Precious urged the kittens to crouch underneath the closest bush, though he told them not to go back into the suspicious bag.
"Stay here. I won't go far. I will just take a look to determine how to get back home."
Or so he hoped.
The black housecat sniffed at the air but couldn't latch onto anything he could recognise. Nothing but his kittens. He tiptoed the unsteady ground, ears perked for danger as he tried to make sense of their current whereabouts. Were there humans around? Were there other cats around? Or perhaps dogs?
So listen, Lark's not having the greatest time right now, but a promise is a promise. He told Alastor he'd bring ham on sunday, and that's what the fuck he's doing.
Wearing his best snake sweater...and accompanied by Raven. Raven held onto Lark's hand, leaning on him to minimize wobbly steps as they stepped through the gate into The Cooler Hell. Lark felt like he was forgetting something, but he checked the bag again, and yup, ham dinner was still there.
The walk was...weirdly non-treacherous! Lark and Raven were scarcely even LOOKED at, and that was kind of weird! Lark usually had to be at least a little careful on the way to the hotel.
He felt like he was forgetting something.
Lark and Raven entered the hotel, Lark looking Very Lost, and Raven looking around with wide eyes. The kitten brushed his hair back so all three eyes could take in the place.
Lark checked the bag again, the smell of fresh-baked ham and a side dish of potatoes au gratin wafting up, before he closed the bag and wandered further inside to look for Alastor.
Carrie gasped awake, shooting up, taking deep gulps of air. Though her sudden red skin, even longer hair than she had in life, and other "fun" features like a tail shocked her, she didn't have time to rest. Red... it had to be red. It made her want to scrub and scrub until not a hint remained. She couldn't focus on that now however. She just needed somewhere she could collect her thoughts. Anywhere was better than wherever she currently was. Bombs were going off left and right as some sort of battle was going on. This new demon needed to stop and think. Quickly, Carrie ran away from the battle. She'd be able to test her powers once she was out of firing range.
She ran until she couldn't hear the fighting, or at the very least, not large scale fighting. It seemed there was one going on pretty much everywhere. Finally she came to a building, she didn't know how she hadn't noticed it before. A giant glowing V stood on the very top of the luminescent building. The pentagram in the sky was baffling. It seemed like she was near the entrance, at least, based on the way she had been shoved out of the way.
Carrie couldn't stop the way she bristled, her new tail whipping from side to side in aggravation. The anger the fueled her before her death seeming to reignite with a vengeance. She wasn't going to be pushed around again. The amount of anger was unreasonable, deep down she knew that, yet she somehow couldn't stop herself in this moment. In a twisted and strange place. Angry at her death, angry that after all she had been through she was very likely in Hell
Carrie stumbled in a rush to get up, angrily stomping towards the figure before her. Her hand shot out, summoning the muscle the existed within her that was her powers and flex. It took a moment, as if she hadn't used it in a while. The girl turned red, a panicked look on her face, then started the smoking and her screaming, then finally she was set ablaze. Carrie, being very focused on venting her anger, didn't see the other approaching her from behind.
Gangle had remained distant once more as she normally did when something big happened. She was honestly tired of being about to explode at any given moment because her masking attempts to manage her emotions broke down so easily. It also didn't help that something strange happened that never had before. A new mask was created and it spoke to her in a way? You could argue the point since it had been shown that people losing their minds was common in the circus. It was the aspect that often caused people to abstract. Gangle herself had almost done so once if not for Pomni offering her kindness.
Yet, it hadn't been because Gangle asked for help. In-fact she had deflected in a way trying to push on while ignoring her issues. She blocked them out, pretended they weren't there, and disregarded their impact as anything worth thinking on. Because in the moment she felt in control for that small moment. Yet, time and time again by trying to be normal in a normal setting it just went to show how much Gangle was forcing herself to be in a mold. To pretend to be someone she wasn't for the sake of another or doing her job as perfect as she could.
The only difference in this behavior was when she let out all her emotions like a deluge from a dam bursting to the worst possible people to open up to. They wouldn't care, they likely never would, but yet she still had torn open parts of her to them without thinking. In this moment she was contemplating why, but the answer just wouldn't come no matter how she reflected on those moments she had.
So she simply drew the two of them over and over Jax and Alastor. The black and white mask close to her but not put on for some reason. The ball then came in knocking her notebook over showing one the subjects that she had been watching him again. That she was drawing him.
It was like with those two it was either all or nothing, she either said nothing or she went way too hard into trying to "get through" to them somehow for some reason? With no real plans and just doing the first action that came to mind which often just made her look more foolish.
She heard the deer's words but didn't say anything back instead picking up her notebook then going back to what she was already doing just drawing...drawing forever...and ever...and ever...and none of it looked good. Gangle clearly liked to draw but her style was rough around the edges clearly lacking mastery to someone with real skill.
Gangle did as he asked showing a taller drawing of him in her own style. She then touched the black and white mask again with one of her ribbons as she looked toward Alastor. Part of her wanted to ask him how it happened, because nothing like this should be possible. Caine was the one with all the power yet her and him created this mask. It had to be more Alastor than her though because she hadn't done something like that before. The mask now mocked her within her mind, not that Gangle didn't already have voices doing that this one was louder though, so much louder and it demanded her to ask him.
But, in the end she didn't instead just wanting to be normal for once.
"Does that look better?"
A simple question despite the many thoughts and emotions spinning around within her. But, she didn't let them out this time she wouldn't. That wouldn't be fair, besides when they first interacted even if some parts were creepy she actually preferred that because it had felt better to have small momentsl like that. Even if her questions were never answered, she couldn't just put things on people anymore. Certainly not the two worst people to do so for that. Gangle needed to find the answers herself she needed to do that, and she didn't want to take an easy way out or force the issue anymore. She would take her time, at her own pace, not rush but still move forwards in her own way.
"I'm trying to improve have you drawn anything else?"
Drawing wasn't easy she understood that first hand. There were many failed attempts before you got anything good. Not if you didn't have talent for the subject. So, her trying to take this time to improve was the best way to try and unwind but also reflect things in her own way.
Well, he intended to just wander on by and give a small bite to Kou's shoulder. Something small and teasing, but now he's got claws touching his too-soft ear. And, while the touch is a bit of a surprise, it is by no means an unwelcome thing.
Hence why he's not in the mood to pull away now, and returns this favor by biting just a little bit harder. Like it's some sort of a reward.
At the end of the week, Valentino texts Alastor just like he said he would, sharing the time and location for their next date. A jazz club with a backstage band room, on a day its doors are closed to the public. No staff, no patrons, just two Overlords and a bunch of instruments.
The pimp once again dressed for the occasion, wearing a glamorous, sparkling gown with high-waist slits on both sides. His metallic pink high heels glint in the light as he sits atop the piano, waiting for the other demon to arrive. It feels a bit like he's hiding from him, even though he gave the deer a detailed description of where to find him. Bathed in the warm, orange glow of dimmed light fixtures, Valentino looked around, tempted to try out the drums in the corner of the room.
But for now, he remains perfectly poised, one long leg crossed over the other to show off his lilac, rhinestone-covered stockings. Adjusting the garters, the moth hums and eventually strikes up a song befitting his surroundings.
ཐིཋྀ "For you I was a flame, love is a losing game ♫ Five-storey fire as you came, love is a losing game ♫"
