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goldcrestachromatic for ghost hunting!! excuse the length, i can never make this crazy chick shut up <3
"-and then we were runnin', y'know, and the thing you have to remember about Innocentia is she's little but she can move. And this trainee, the one who had escaped the Punishment District, he led us to this big, creepy farm - you know what werewolves are? It's like if there were gonna be werewolves anywhere, it would be on this farm. It was a full moon and this farmhouse shack thing was in the distance, all lit up, and everywhere else there were just fields of corn, all dark, with, like, half of them already mowed down already or whatever. So I was like 'Tia this place is creepy as ass', but she was already going after the little traitor. And I was like oh my God, here we go, she's in her element. So the trainee goes for the farmhouse, right, 'cuz he thinks he'll be able to escape from us there - and he does the full works, the kittypet thing, and gets let in. But what he," Eshek burst out laughing, taking a second before she could get back to the story, "what he didn't count on was Tia being a, cute as crap, and be, totally fearless. So she follows him straight in! And now the trainee's trapped in there with this little cannibal and I'm outside, like, tryna look like a menacing proxy through the window but in reality I'm lookin' over my shoulder every five seconds on the lookout for werewolves. And so-"
Eshek kept chattering on, totally oblivious to whether or not Bermondsey was even paying attention. She was trotting along cheerfully ahead of him somewhere in the dark woods near the League border, on one of the weird friend-date hang-out seshs the mismatched pair had been having more frequently; Bermondsey always pretended he was being dragged along, but the fact he still hadn't said an outright 'no' made Esh think he was secretly alright with being a little less alone. They made quite the clique-y friends, that special sort of unknowable and mysterious and better-than-you that came of no one being able to understand why exactly they got along.
Then, suddenly, she spotted a black cat - not League, not Regime, not kittypet or loner, not any of the Clans she was familiar with. "Hey!" she called to them, all friendly and extroverted, veering to the side to meet him. She was in an uncommonly wonderful mood. Eshek stopped in front of her; both she and Bermondsey were taller than the other cat, and far more imposing. "I'm Carriondare." It was the first time she'd introduced herself by the warrior name Lucistic had given her. She was extravagantly and unexpectedly proud of it, like if an alien were given a pair of socks and now showed them off and wore them at every opportunity like they were a fancy dinner dress, not realising that socks were not only generally expected but the outright norm. She was also incredibly smug about having one when Bermondsey didn't. "And this is Bermondsey. He's my husband!" She said this in an old, Gone With The Wind-style Southern accent so that it sounded like 'mah hühsbahnd', pressing herself against the grey tom and leaning her cheek against his shoulder. Eshek burst out laughing. "Just kidding! He's my friend. He only has the one name like a total loser." Like she hadn't only had one name until a few weeks ago, too. How quickly one forgets.
Pushing away from Bermondsey like he was a lame toy she was suddenly bored with, she started circling around the black cat, towering over them. "What are you doing out here anyway? Don't you know there's bad cats around?" She smiled, sharp and toothy.
So Swiftclan had gotten a little bit boring—not boring enough to leave, mind you, but enough that one were to go out and find more temporary fun. The best part is they had no clue where they were or how to get back. Honestly, the woods were fairly similar to the city, minus all the concrete and human garbage. Though, they would say, it was much quieter and a whole lot more peaceful.
Hey! A call, and while not particularly frightening, still startled them regardless. They flattened their fur, thankful for the darkness of the woods that would hide their embarrassment. So apparently they were still in clan vicinity—why was there so many? How far did they even reach?
Carriondire—another question, why did most of them have these weird patchwork names? Nothing but mouthfuls. Though, they did note, the tom next to this newcomer didn’t seem to follow those rules. They purred at the chattiness of this stranger, listening to her ramble on about things that didn’t really mean much to them.
Oh? A threat, perhaps, within the smile on her face. They didn’t quite mind the circling, but could practically feel the challenge. “Oh I’m aware.” They smiled back, just as sharp. “Though you might have scared them off with all your noise, I could hear you from nearly a mile away.” An almost insult. More of a I bite back. “Besides, I’m just passing through, no harm really, right?”
Carriondare listened to the black cat with a friendly, vaguely condescending sort of smile, her head tilted like she was letting a mouse speak to her instead of killing it. She was purring, her claws sliding in and out of the damp, musky-smelling leaf litter. Her eyes reflected the moonlight with a white glow as she looked down at them. No harm really, right? "Oh, man, I don't care," Eshek replied at once, stepping aside to gesture to Bermondsey with one paw. "You'll have to ask him. Do you care, Bermondsey?" She was now closer to him again, standing sidewards to look at the side of his head.
"I'm not from here," she explained in an aside to the black cat, glancing away from Ber to look at her. "But he fancies himself a really scary hunter. Don't you, Ber?" She looked back at the grey tom with a teasing sort of affection, rearing up on her hindlegs to ruffle the fur between his ears. She flopped back down to the earth, one foreleg still hooked around Bermondsey's skinny shoulders. "But he's not," she added to the black cat. "I could take him with all my claws ripped out. He knows that. So you're safe with me. Just doin' my duty, ma'am." She said this last bit in a deep, gruff voice, giving the other cat a patriotic wink.
Bermondsey didn't really know why he was here, but there were a few things he had learned so far about Eshek. One, she was completely and utterly insane. Two, she definitely had some daddy issues or something going on up there. Three? God, she never shut up. Literally. He didn't know a single thing she was talking about, some story about a cannibal? Some former proxy, apparently? Some murder? He was starting to tune her words out, going in one ear and leaving the other without actually registering...
When suddenly she was greeting a cat in the distance, talking about how he was her husband? He snorted in repressed laughter at the warrior name–they sounded utterly ridiculous, he couldn't understand why anyone would come up with names that were so damn difficult to say–and practically gagged at her comment about him being her husband. "Ew, get away from me," he replied, his paw pushing her off his shoulder with a scowl as he eyed Eshek with a look of disgust. Why he stayed...he didn't know, but this strange banter of theirs–where they constantly insulted each other and looked completely and utterly disgusted to be associated with each other in any way at all–was starting to grow on him, "not to mention, I don't know any cat named Carriondare. What kind of name is that anyway; it's too damn long. Couldn't you have chosen something easier? Eshek sounds less stupid than Carrie."
His eyes met the other cat's, immediately sharp and calculative as if staring the other cat down, wondering whether they'd flinch or bite back. It seemed as if the latter were to be true this time; their words weren't an insult but he could hear the edge to their tone, the way their eyes seemed a little too dark for the smile they had on his face, the way their fur was flat, almost unnaturally so...
"I do, actually," he replied, matter of fact, "you're not one of the league's, and we don't have prey to spare for strays. So either be gone or state your purpose." He had always been a little too blunt with not enough tact to be seen as his father's son. He raised a brow to Eshek, amusement in his smirk. "I'd love to see you try," he replied, his teeth glinting in what seemed like a grin; smiles on Bermondsey's face never really looked fun or happy. They always had a certain unnerving challenge within.
"Well, if you say so," he purred, finally directing his gaze towards Carriondare's friend. So he spoke! Wait, so her name wasn't Carriondare? Eshek. Perhaps these 'wariors' were always given a second, easier name? So where was his second name--not that he particularly wanted one, he quite liked his name.
I do, actually. Did he really? "Is that why you're not doing anything about me right now, then?" He raised an eyebrow, a smile all too teasing on his face. "Well, name's Jester. I'm..." he looked around. The League? He had no idea what this was, but it was another one of those clans, apparently, and he was on their land. He looked the two up and down for a second. Defensive, much? Except, supposedly, for close friends of the residents.
"Well, I'm staying in Swiftclan for a bit, thouht I'd get a feel for the territory," He stood, brushing past them with a flick of his tail, "I truly didn't mean to wonder this far, so do forgive me. I won't be staying long don't worry your pretty little heads." another purr. "I do quite like the ambience of the place, though."
ber: we don’t let cats just hang around jes: what about her? ber: she’s part of the furniture esh: i’m part of the furniture
“Shh-shu-shh, shut up!” Eshek shushed Bermondsey as he went off on his tirade about her name, flapping one paw at him while still looking at Jester all the while. “We’re not going to fight in front of this nice cat. Be a good boy. And for the record Bermondsey is just as long as Carriondare - count the syllables, you illiterate idiot. I don’t mean that, I love you.” She said the last line in an aside, glancing at Ber with genuine softness on her face. Also she was wrong, Bermondsey was one less syllable than Carriondare. But she was an illiterate idiot.
When Ber switched on his cold, domineering League cat act - and there were subtle differences between that and the other Bermondsey emotions, thank you very much - Esh stood back and watched, a smile on her face and her tail-tip twitching back and forth happily. At Jester’s taunting question, the little cat refusing to back down or be intimidated, Esh’s smile grew into a delighted, open-mouthed beam and she glanced at Bermondsey with a scoff, like ‘the nerve of this guy!’
Eshek exchanged a look with Ber as Jester swept past them, still grinning that puzzled, chaotic grin as her eyes asked him a silent question. Don’t worry your pretty little heads. “Ber, he called us pretty!” she exclaimed in a gush, moving closer to the grey tom. “You do look dazzling in the moonlight tonight.” Her voice dropped to a drawl, her brows waggling. “Might I have your paw in mar-“
I do quite like the ambience of the place, though. Esh broke away from Ber to follow quickly after Jester. “Yeah, it’s kinda grunge, right?” she agreed as she loped along beside her, walking close and looking down at the black cat with cheerful eyes like she wanted to impress them. “But you should’a seen the old place, much nicer. Very haunted - y’know, we kept a demon in the crypt. Well, kept is giving us a bit too much credit,” she laughed that sort of performed laugh that a saleswoman does over the phone when she’s telling you how many bathrooms a property for rent has, “he was just kind of there.” She stalked along in silence for a few moments, but the silence hummed with the electricity of her thoughts. Ghoulish things were on her mind that night. Haunted, haunted… “Hey, Ber,” she called over her shoulder, still walking along beside her new and better friend, “you got any good ghosts in the League? Not counting me? Inside joke,” she added to Jester.
Post by achromatic on Jul 22, 2021 16:43:16 GMT -5
Did she always have to undermine him at every step? The tom's ear flicked in annoyance, there was no point in rationalizing with an insane cat after all. "You're an absolute coat hanger," he replied dryly, though it was unclear what he meant by that. Huh, maybe he was going just as insane as Eshek was. There were idiots, and then there was this idiot.
Choosing to ignore the she-cat, his steely gaze remained on Jester. "Would you rather we fight with claws?" he snorted, "and here I thought SwiftClan cats were usually cowards who ran away from a fight–" He was immediately interrupted by the gush of Eshek's words and gods, where was this woman even going with this? She really was illiterate. There was no way anyone could interpret this situation like that without being somewhat...off their rocker.
"Gods, you're literally showing someone around someone else's home," he replied dryly to Eshek's question; he knew a losing battle before the fight began, and with Eshek, everything was always a losing battle. You can't win in insanity with someone truly insane, after all, he grumbled to himself. The question was interesting; he still didn't know the city too well but...it wasn't all that far from the forest he had grown up in.
"There is a place," he shrugged, "where Primal Instinct used to live, years before we came to the city. There was a garden and there were these...ruins that they say were haunted by the evils that were committed there once." He didn't mention exactly what evils, but then again, why wouldn't their old camp be haunted? Primal Instinct's story started in blood shed by the first nemesis, and since then, each Nemesis had left their own bloody pawprint on the wall their ancestors built. "They say you spend too much time there you might see the ghosts of your own past...if you have any I suppose."
"Oh no need to get agressive," she purred, "maybe i'm just house shopping, maybe I want to start a life here with my future spouse and kids." Really, there was no harm in her being here, it wasn't like she was waging war or stealing. Well, the second one maybe would have happened had they not stepped in, but there was no need to bring that up. Cowards? Was that how everyone viewed Swiftclan? Maybe she had chosen the wrong clan to settle in, then. She may be stupid, and reckless and have a knack for not fighting her own battles, but a coward she wasn't. What's the definition of coward again?
Yeah, it's kinda grunge, right? "Yes! Just the right amount of dirty and grimy." a side glance at Ber-whatever the rest of his name was. So they had a history behind them, one that apparently consisted of old demons and every evil thing under the sun.
"I'm intrigued." They say you spend too much time there you might see the ghosts of your own past ... if you have any I suppose. "Well, I'd quite like to meet them, I think it'd help figure a few things out here and there." a chuckle, quick and nonchalant. "But, now that story-time is over, I think I should be on my way?" Another longer glance at the two, and Jester turned to leave.
You’re an absolute coat hanger. Eshek blew a kiss at Bermondsey.
At Ber’s description of the haunted ruins’ powers, Carriondare tried to keep up her eagerness as she prowled along cheerfully beside Jester - tried to ignore the pain and fear flaring in the pit of her stomach at the thought of being faced with Funk, or their kits, or herself, or her father, or the torture victims that still haunted her sleep, or… God, she had a lot to answer for, huh? A brief flash of Funk materialising in front of her in some dark, overgrown ruin washed over her for a second, making her breathing falter - I love you, she said in that flash, her mate’s green eyes electric in the pale moonlight. I never meant to leave you. All I wanted was a thousand years together.
A rush of breath dragged her back to reality; she grinned past the pounding in her chest, eyes bright and careless. “Sounds great! Bet you and your messed up family have a ton of ghosts there, hey, Ber? It’ll be like a weird family reunion. I can’t believe I’m meeting the parents already.” I think I should be on my way? Jester’s words caught up to her and she whirled around after them. “What? No! No way! We’re best friends now - we’re going ghost hunting!” She stretched out a paw to grab at the black cat, her touch surprisingly gentle. Almost pleading. She offered an uncertain smile, brows quirked plaintively and head tilted. “I’ll make friendship bracelets.”
Her voice was dangerously close to pitiful. To lonely.
“Right, Ber?” She looked over her shoulder at the grey tom desperately. “We want Jester to stay.”
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
2,314 posts
Post by achromatic on Jul 25, 2021 9:32:34 GMT -5
He snorted at that. "It's not like I'm scared of ghosts," he mused, his green eyes gleaming as if finding this whole situation a little funny, "but I guess it'd be nice to know which ones from my family are dead and which ones are alive. It's been a while since we had a reunion you know." It had been years since he had seen any of his siblings other than Safiya.
The tom's sharp gaze turned to Jester again. Gods, spending too much with Eshek was making him soft. He knew he should've been the type to chase this cat away but then again, there was a sort of entertainment in ghost hunting, and in seeing whether this little legend of theirs was true.
"I suppose I'll let it slide for today," he rolled his eyes, "we could always use a sacrificial lamb for the ghosts." His lips twitched into a wicked smirk as he eyed the stranger once again.
It’s been a while since we had a reunion you know. “Yeah,” she snorted, rolling her eyes and fixing Ber with a playful, leering sneer from where she stood beside Jester. “Cuz you’re old as balls.”
At his next comment, she turned on him, hackles prickling up. “WE’RE NOT KILLING JESTER, BERMONDSEY!” Eshek roared. It had the same air as ‘we’re not killing our pet’ or ‘we’re not killing the help.’ It shouldn’t have made Jester feel any safer. She immediately settled down, fur smoothing. “If we need a sacrificial lamb we’ll use the grey twink. This way!”
She marched off cheerfully, with supreme confidence despite having no idea where these ruins were and most likely heading off in the utter wrong direction. “I’m fun, I’m sexy, we’re go-in’ to the disco~” she sang, just under her breath enough to make a cat’s ears prick in the most infuriating and uncontrollable way.
They stopped in their tracks, head turning over their shoulder as Eshek (or Carriondare? They still weren't quite sure what to call her,) placed a paw on their back "Well then, what's the harm." No hesitation, no thinking involved--almost as if they had been waiting for someone to stop them. Who would have known this old tom would agree anyway, may as well take advantage of the adventure that was so easily being handed to them. They pushed their touch away, less like a shove and more a gentle push.
Sacrificial lamb, that got a laugh out of Jester. What was the harm in a little death, honestly? What was death other than the next great adventure, as they say. WE'RE NOT KILLING JESTER, BERMONDSY! Another chuckle. "Well, I've practically been playing ding-dong-ditch with death for as long as I could remember, I'm sure this won't be too bad," was the necessarily true? Maybe! They couldn't really remember, and every time they grasped a memory it seemed to fuzz and fade until the details were indistinguishable. So 'as long as I can remember' really wasn't that long.
As the she-cat continued on, they couldn't tell if it had been a great decision or terrible mistake to tag along with these clowns. Speaking of clowns, the circus usually travels, and Eshek--Carriondare?--had taken off on a march. They skipped after her, just a few steps behind and not bothered at all as to where they were going.
Post by achromatic on Jul 25, 2021 15:13:42 GMT -5
Bermondsey rolled his eyes, as he began heading off in one direction. "Yeah yeah," he flicked his tail dismissively, "if you like him so much I'll use you as a shield instead. I might be old as balls but that just means I've gotten pretty good at throwing others under the bus," he pointed out with a shrug, as if this was as light of a conversation as just talking about the weather.
Jester's words almost evoked a chuckle from him, but it only showed as a brief smirk, his eyes darting towards the cat. "Yeah, make sure when he opens the door you have an excuse for him, you know?" he spoke, "you ring enough doors, he's bound to answer."
It didn't take long for them to reach the outskirts of the city, and into a deeper forest, one away from the clans. Bermondsey had learned to ignore the irritating noise that Eshek would call a song, and soon, they were deep in the darkness, the canopy shading everything within, the birdsong loud, almost gratingly so, until they slowly faded away, a mist settling down, the dew of the grass sticking to the fur of his paws. He slowed down, lifting his muzzle to scent the air briefly. It was a familiar scent past the mildew and petrichor.
As the scraggly city-side woods began to give way to dark, silent forest - forest that breathed and watched and hated - Eshek’s song slowly petered out and drifted into uneasy silence. When mist started to gather around her paws, the white of her paws disappearing into the swirling depths, she let out a tight, strangled hum of anxiety and stopped to raise one paw out of it, hanging back like she could shake off the mist. She cast an uneasy look at Bermondsey, but he’d grown more serious. Ruminative. His glowing green eyes and Jester’s wide amber ones were disconcerting in the suffocating darkness. Her chest felt constricted. For once in her life, she doubted something she was doing. Eshek was good with demons and monsters and tangible things; she wasn’t so good with her own life. What if, now that she was alive again, some greater power realised their mistake and took her back? She wanted to move closer to Ber, just to feel someone warm and alive, but she held back.
After a few more nervous seconds, Eshek took the easy, cowardly way out and scrambled up the slick, gnarled trunk of an oak. She followed along above Jes and Ber, matching their pace step for step from the safety of the trees as she crossed lightly from interlacing branch to interlacing branch; she felt better now she was off the ground. It was a juvenile solution - they can’t get me if I’m up high - but it eased the tightness in her throat. She could breathe again. Esh had always thought she was immune to ghastly things, to horror and fear; now she got the distinct impression that Ber was much better with the cold reality than she was. Her monsters were carnival creatures in red and white tents, made for late-night TV movies; these were far more real, and it frightened her. And Jes seemed just fine, though she couldn’t tell if that came from being genuinely empty-headed or from having some cheerful death wish. She hated being the only one afraid.
We shouldn’t be far. “Oh, great,” Eshek called down from the trees; she mis-stepped and sent a shower of damp bark and moss raining down over Jester and Bermondsey. “Well, y’know, I love ghosts and I’m really brave and fierce and also- I mean have I ever mentioned I used to be a proxy, y’know, and a torturer, so I’m obviously scary, if you get my drift, and- so if you guys need me to stay out here and, like, keep guard or fight off any marauding spirits I can totally do that. So easily. So like don’t feel pressured for me to go in with you when we get there. I’d love to, and-and I will, y’know, because I used to be a proxy even though it was-well, it was Foreign Affairs, so I mostly just did paperwork,” she spluttered a faux-easygoing laugh that just sounded like a trainwreck, throwing her balance off as she picked her way along the branch by using her paws to gesture about as she spoke, seemingly not learning from each time she stumbled not to do that, “but I’m just saying if it’ll make you feel better I can totally not, it’s literally no hassle and I just want you two lovebirds to have a good time.” You know that scene in the first Jurassic Park where Nedry is giving that over-explaining speech about going to get a snack and all the power might go off for a bit because he’s rebooting the system but that’s totally normal? Imagine that.
She grinned down at them, eyes tight around the edges and teeth bared enough to make it look more like a fear grimace.
As trio continued, silence between words seemed to grow longer and longer. Jester, surprisingly, wasn’t that loud of a cat. He preferred well placed words, soft remarks that still cut deep, things like gentle teasing and instigating that weren’t veiled enough to go unnoticed, exactly, but said in a way where one couldn’t quite tell if he was serious or not.
We shouldn’t be far. Far from where exactly, he honestly still had no idea. Now technically, these strangers were leading him along to some unknown place—one which may possibly get him killed, or hurt, or maimed. Could this count as a kidnapping? Or maybe not, since he was all too eager to tag along. “Well—“ He looked up as Carriondare started talking from the trees; how he had not noticed the rustling of branches above or the fact she wasn’t alongside either of them was beyond him. More preoccupied with his own thoughts, maybe. It could be the forest, dark and labyrinth-like, a place where one could blink and forget where they had came from—sure of themselves one moment, suddenly lost the next.
His eyes switched from the ground to the trees to back again, trying to stay right under Carriondare as if it were a fun little game while also listening to whatever she had decided to ramble on about next. He had not a clue as to what a ‘Proxy’ or ‘Foreign Affairs’ was, but if it was more like paperwork then it obviously couldn’t have been that important. He chuckled.
“Lovebirds? Only if he wants to be.” He purred, flashing a playful glance at Bermondsey. “But I might take you up on your offer.” He didn’t think he would need too, obviously. It may have been the twinge of fear in her voice—or maybe it was untamed excitement, but that seemed almost unlikely.
“Are we there yet?” A subject shift. “If we aren’t, I could start singing that one song about the bottles—y’know, something something I forgot the words … on the wall! I know just how much Bermondsey loves songs.” He jogged his memory a bit, nothing but the tune coming to mind. Oh well, wasn’t that important, really only used to steer them in a different direction. He was quite bored of her rambling about things he had no idea about.
jes trying to stay under esh is so cute and funny i love them
“YES!” Carriondare suddenly shouted. She leaned over the branch, hooking her little kitten front claws in to the slippery bark so her front half was almost in thin air and her tail was waving above her. Her wide eyes locked with Jester’s, a sharp, mischievous grin hooking around her face. Taking a huge breath, she sang, doing a little bounce all the while, “NINETY-NINE BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL, NINETY-NINE BOTTLES OF BEER, TAKE ONE DOWN PASS IT ROUND AND THEN WE FALL DOWN, NINETY-EIGHT BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL.” She continued on, her voice echoing through the eerie, silent woods. “NINETY-EIGHT BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL, NINETY-EIGHT BOTTLES OF BEER, TAKE ONE DOWN PASS IT ROUND AND THEN WE FALL DOWN, NINETY-SEVEN BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL.”
The noise was startling, causing Jester to break the eye-lock her and Carriondare were currently in to force her fur flat. A beat passed. “Yup, that one!” Now settled, she hummed along, occasionally singing the—extremely repetitive, ear-grating—words under her breath. “Y’know I tagged along with this other group a while back—would not stop singing this. And now every time I’m walking for a while with others it always gets stuck in my head,” she laughed, still scrambling to stay below Carriondare.
“Come on, Bermondsey join us, make this a tercet.”
Post by achromatic on Jul 28, 2021 18:12:00 GMT -5
I love how this scene plays like shrek and donkey and puss in boots LMFAO
If Bermondsey rolled his eyes any more than he did, they might get stuck up there. Actually, they were probably rolling more than his father did in his grave right now. For all the tough talk Eshek gave, she really was...something. Not something important, nor something mindblowing, but....something. Her rambling sounded like fear to him. A smirk appeared on his face as he gave the she-cat a smug grin. "Don't tell me you're too scared?" he spoke in a deadpan despite the teasing gleam in his eye, "who would've thought that you'd be a scaredy cat, after all that talk of beating me up or whatever, you're actually scared of ghosts? I wouldn't have guessed."
He gave Jester a look of disdain, and if the other cat's face got any closer to his, he would've pushed it away. "In your dreams sweetheart," he snorted, "you can get in line after her." He continued to lead the way, his eyes glancing up to Eshek for a moment. In this light, she almost reminded him of the way he had trained when he was younger, leaping from branch to branch without a single touch of the ground the way he had been taught, the way his whole family had been taught. Strange how the forest truly brought back these memories he had long kept buried within.
Then suddenly, a screech came from above and he almost cringed at the sound. Really, hanging out with Eshek should've taught him one thing; expect the unexpected because gods, her songs kept getting louder and louder....and worse. The most irritating part? This song was insanely catchy, and it only took a few moments for the tune to get stuck in his head like a broken record.
"gods woman, what are you doing to me," he grumbled under his breath, feeling very much like he was kitsitting right now. Evenie and Aleksy had never been this annoying. He turned to Jester with a dead-eyed stare. "I can't sing," he lied smoothly without a missed beat, "lost my voice this morning."
The forest was getting darker, and there was a strange statue ahead, or what appeared to be a statue. Broken and covered in moss and vines, it was barely recognizeable. Was this it? Was this where the ruins began? It had been years since he had come across this place. The fog grew thicker.
Who would’ve thought that you’d be a scaredy cat, after all that talk of beating me up or whatever? Eshek broke off from her singing just long enough to lean over a branch again and shout down at Bermondsey, “if the ghosts are just a bunch of haughty, baby-faced pretty boys, I think I can take them.”
Yup, that one! Eshek purred. She liked this cute little nomad. They had an effortlessly charming way about them, so unlike the conscious effort so many cats - especially League ones - made. Bermondsey was effortlessly charismatic grouchy; Jes was effortlessly suave; Esh was effortlessly Esh. As Jester spoke, Carriondare looked down at her with an indulgent smile, listening as she waltzed along the branches with big, marching steps.
I can’t sing; lost my voice this morning. Crouching down and wiggling her haunches with her tongue between her teeth, Eshek launched off into a mighty leap and landed neatly between Jes and Ber. “He’s lying. He has a beautiful voice. He’s just shy because last year he entered this talent contest and lost dismally to an apprentice from SpringClan. It affected his ego terribly.” It was a lie. She’d taken up spreading strange, conflicting lies about Bermondsey almost as soon as they’d met; this was the first time she’d done it to his face. “You’ll get over it eventually, Ber,” she purred, turning her head to him with a reassuring smile and bright, devilish eyes. Leaving Bermondsey behind, Eshek nudged Jester along and fell in step beside them like a mother walking her kid to school, still humming the song.
As the woods grew darker, Esh’s song faded once more until it was just a vague, lacklustre whistling. She edged closer to Jester and slowed them with a paw so Ber could catch up. When they came to the crumbling statue, Eshek stopped in front of it and stared up at its ivy-covered face, still whistling. Her cheeks were blown up like a chipmunk’s and her eyes wandered over it like she was a tourist in an art gallery. After a minute or so of staring up at it and whistling, she wandered away wordlessly. This place certainly wasn’t nouveau riche. In fact, it was very much like home. Now that she was here and the fear of the unknown had dissipated, it felt more comfortable than DayClan; the uncared-for pool back at the Mansion, the ivy-covered tiles of the kitchen, the crypt - this felt very much like all that. Suddenly her whistling stopped and she roared at the top of her lungs, throwing her head back to the shadowy canopy obscuring the sky and squeezing her eyes shut, “THIS PLACE IS DOPE.”
In your dreams sweetheart. “Dream on I will, then,” A sound halfway between a laugh and a hum left their mouth as they matched the look Bermondsey gave them. They fell into silence as Carriondare screeched from above, only speaking to relay a quick memory and push Bermiundsey a bit more.
“That’s too bad,” they tutted, disappointment well over-exaggerated, “maybe try some honey, get that cleared up for you.” They trotted up beside him, giving a pat that was honestly closer to a push before moving away, if only slightly. A chuckle as Carriondare landed beside them, spinning a truth to what Jester already knew to be a lie. “Oh really! Well, no need to dwell on the past then—I’m sure it wasn’t too bad.” They grinned—one of those grins that was all teeth and teasing mixed with the natural charm that they seemed to possess.
Jester hardly noticed the slight change in scenery until they were slowed with a paw. It was dark and musty, almost haunting in its atmosphere, a place where they could see someone getting caught up in the ghosts of the past. A statue stood lifeless, tall and intriguing. Like it was letting them inside some fancy, yet incredibly strange, party. They looked around, drinking in as much of their surroundings as they could. The place honestly wasn’t so bad, would do incredibly well with some repair though.
THIS PLACE IS DOPE! Jester startled beginning to grow annoyed with how many times Carriondare had scared them—they were seriously going to get her back some time. But, besides that, they couldn’t help it agree. “Yeah it’s pretty cool.” They bumped past her, a bit rudely, head close to the ground as they stepped forward.
