Post by TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TE on Dec 16, 2010 19:12:49 GMT -5
She padded along silently, mopey, a cat in the blackness of night.
Her blue-gray fur glimmered ominously for a moment in the early morning moonlight before the Russian Blue feline darted into the shadows.
The witch had some interesting habits. When she was stressed or feeling lonely, she'd stay up at all hours. When she wanted to fit in with society, she changed her appearance. When she went to work in Coslada, she was raven-haired bruiser named Anna. When someone scared or threatened her in some way, she pulverized them, pummeled them, terrified them. When she was depressed, she studied or worked on projects--that was one reason why she earned such high marks in school. And when she didn't know what to think of herself or the world around her, she walked.
This time, she walked as a cat. Her confused mind was stuck in a portal between two worlds, one real and one fake. One desirable, one less so. She felt that her thoughts were twisted, mixed up, and mashed up. They weren't nearly as confounding in this form.
Perhaps her brain had finally been ground into a soup. It contained some bone, some flesh, claws here or there. Occasional book pages, their scripts or fonts melting quickly in the hot red liquid. The soup even had a heart. It was worn, old, nasty, and battered in more places than she could count. She thought she'd seen a happy patch there for a moment, but no... It was all a dream.
The clean spot on the ruddy heart in the soup of her soul had all just been a lie. An illusion. A joke.
She walked along silently down a narrow alley, ears instinctively twitching at the scuttling feet of rodents. She knew how to be an animagus. A good one, even. When Teagan worked for the mayor back home, she'd remained a cat for several weeks, even eating cat food or her own fresh kill. After endless repetition, the food didn't taste too pleasing to her palate. Of course, the charm that perverted slytherin lad gave her once upon a time was extraordinarily useful--as far as even magic could tell, her animagus form was the real thing.
She sniffed at the rubbish. It was cold outside. It was still only October, wasn't it?
The feline found a dilapidated shop. Her green eyes gazed in there, her nose gave it a whiff, and her ears pricked forward, testing out the scene before she wiggled her little body through a hole. It smelled like someone blasted it with a curse or something awhile back.
Stupid Orca. Her tail twitched in agitation.
The worst part wasn't that they'd kissed, that he ditched her for another man, that she had this really annoying headache for the past hour or so, or that he loved Cobalt. It wasn't even that they'd played baseball at the lake at three a.m.
No. What was the most horrible, the most painful thing of all... was that she'd liked it. She felt that, for once, she didn't have to endure this agonizing loneliness, that she could be happy. How likely was that to happen, though? For the Monolayre, it probably wasn't the least bit plausible. She was actually jealous of her drunken love-potioned self. For once, she'd felt complete. She felt a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, that she could live and die a free and fluttering butterfly. But that wasn't the case at all, was it?
Would she always be the lonely kitten who pawed at those rainbow creatures with silent amusement and envy? She could scratch them with her claws, dust the scales from their feathers, rip them to pieces joint by joint.
But no... That wasn't satisfying at all, was it?
Her sturdy paws padded meekly at the dusty ground. Her tail moved slowly, sweeping lightly against the ancient boards.
She was only as alone as she'd ever been, wasn't she?
DERP!Her blue-gray fur glimmered ominously for a moment in the early morning moonlight before the Russian Blue feline darted into the shadows.
The witch had some interesting habits. When she was stressed or feeling lonely, she'd stay up at all hours. When she wanted to fit in with society, she changed her appearance. When she went to work in Coslada, she was raven-haired bruiser named Anna. When someone scared or threatened her in some way, she pulverized them, pummeled them, terrified them. When she was depressed, she studied or worked on projects--that was one reason why she earned such high marks in school. And when she didn't know what to think of herself or the world around her, she walked.
This time, she walked as a cat. Her confused mind was stuck in a portal between two worlds, one real and one fake. One desirable, one less so. She felt that her thoughts were twisted, mixed up, and mashed up. They weren't nearly as confounding in this form.
Perhaps her brain had finally been ground into a soup. It contained some bone, some flesh, claws here or there. Occasional book pages, their scripts or fonts melting quickly in the hot red liquid. The soup even had a heart. It was worn, old, nasty, and battered in more places than she could count. She thought she'd seen a happy patch there for a moment, but no... It was all a dream.
The clean spot on the ruddy heart in the soup of her soul had all just been a lie. An illusion. A joke.
She walked along silently down a narrow alley, ears instinctively twitching at the scuttling feet of rodents. She knew how to be an animagus. A good one, even. When Teagan worked for the mayor back home, she'd remained a cat for several weeks, even eating cat food or her own fresh kill. After endless repetition, the food didn't taste too pleasing to her palate. Of course, the charm that perverted slytherin lad gave her once upon a time was extraordinarily useful--as far as even magic could tell, her animagus form was the real thing.
She sniffed at the rubbish. It was cold outside. It was still only October, wasn't it?
The feline found a dilapidated shop. Her green eyes gazed in there, her nose gave it a whiff, and her ears pricked forward, testing out the scene before she wiggled her little body through a hole. It smelled like someone blasted it with a curse or something awhile back.
Stupid Orca. Her tail twitched in agitation.
The worst part wasn't that they'd kissed, that he ditched her for another man, that she had this really annoying headache for the past hour or so, or that he loved Cobalt. It wasn't even that they'd played baseball at the lake at three a.m.
No. What was the most horrible, the most painful thing of all... was that she'd liked it. She felt that, for once, she didn't have to endure this agonizing loneliness, that she could be happy. How likely was that to happen, though? For the Monolayre, it probably wasn't the least bit plausible. She was actually jealous of her drunken love-potioned self. For once, she'd felt complete. She felt a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, that she could live and die a free and fluttering butterfly. But that wasn't the case at all, was it?
Would she always be the lonely kitten who pawed at those rainbow creatures with silent amusement and envy? She could scratch them with her claws, dust the scales from their feathers, rip them to pieces joint by joint.
But no... That wasn't satisfying at all, was it?
Her sturdy paws padded meekly at the dusty ground. Her tail moved slowly, sweeping lightly against the ancient boards.
She was only as alone as she'd ever been, wasn't she?