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 Posted: Wed Apr 04, 2012 3:49 pm
 Ever since the incidents at the Hallow’s Eve Ball Chanda had found it difficult to sleep soundly through the night. Frequently her dreams, nightmares really, consisted of various figures, helpless strangers, in dire need of help against a shadowy foe but too far away for her to do anything to assist them in their moment of need. There was an endless expanse of space between her and the person and run and cry out as she might, there was never any reaching them until it was too late. And when she did reach them…well that was when she woke up in a cold sweat, blankets stuck to her figure like a second skin. She could never remember what exactly she saw but each time she woke up she was so sure she could smell blood. In her desire to regain her restful nights, Chanda had pushed through her tutoring and classes, doubling her study and work time so that she made it among the students eligible for the Grave of Fireflies trial. If she was a witch, she thought, she would be stronger and better able to protect those she loved as well as herself. She passed the trial amazingly enough, though not without some great difficulty and a bit of bloodshed. Her tea and the transformation it brought to her and her magic gave her a surge of hope and that night she laid in her dorm room for the last time, assured of a lovely night’s sleep. Only, it didn’t come. The nightmares returned, now worse than ever. This time the figures being attacked were people she knew quite well. They were fellow students, her tutors, and even her family. All cried out for help, calling out her name, begging and pleading to help them. She was so close she just had to run faster and then…then they were gone. Lifeless eyes stared up at her as blood pooled around her feet. “Why,” a chorus of voices chided in echoing hisses, “why didn’t you save them?” “I don’t know,” she sobbed, “I tried but…” “But you failed,” they cackled. It was a week later and the tiger mononoke woke up screaming, her voice a pained cry of frustration and sorrow as the same nightmare she had had after her trial haunted her again. Her whole body pulsed with the frantic beating of her heart, adrenaline causing her hands to shake uncontrollably as she regained her senses. There were no dead bodies here, no voices, it had just been a dream…another awful, heart-wrenching dream. Stumbling out of her bed she wandered outside of the small apartment she had rented. It was on the outskirts of Moonfall, which allowed for her to have quick and uninhibited access to the nearby woods. Eager to get rid of the sensations of the dream Chanda ran out of the city, forcing her two legs to carry her as far as they could…which was pretty damn far. In fact, she was near the heart of the woods when they began cramping up and she collapsed on the outskirts of a natural clearing. As she panted and gasped for air she could swear she hear the soft strumming of a guitar nearby…but who else would be out in the wood so late at night? “Witch-eater.” Her mind immediately jumped to the worst scenario, still riled up from the nightmare. “No,” she chided herself, “you have never let yourself be run by your fears. Do not start now.” The mononoke took several deep breaths and, when her legs had stopped burning, followed the sound of the chords, determined to meet the mind behind the music.
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Posted: Wed Apr 04, 2012 9:40 pm
 Long, black talons at the end of long, black fingers plucked and strummed away at a guitar's strings somewhere in the night, the eerie melody produced floating off into the still black air. Spring and life had crept back into the edges of the peripheral, just barely hinting at the renewal Salem had seen so many times over, but the demon witch still had a few evenings more without the thrumming vitality so sabotaging the atmosphere. For now, he enjoyed the emptiness of the dying winter that he could fill with his music, with naught but the delightful pangs of hunger, so sweet, so sweet, to fill his head. Not a bite to eat in days!
The music, though! Ah, the music. Salem knew nothing of musical theory, had in fact taught himself most of everything he knew on this guitar he'd borrowed from his accomplice, Orpheus, but he did know one technical aspect: He knew the minor scales very well. Something about the notes, a half-step down from their happier, brighter notes in the major scale, seemed rather eerie, and served Salem's tastes all too well. They were minor notes that drifted away from him into the curtain of night, from his reclined position just too far away from the light of civilization to see anything but a shadowy form. In the distance, he could see street-lights and suburbs through the lattice of trunks and branches. Salem had taken a comfortable position, or at least as comfortable as he could manage, at the base of a tree, his legs kicked out, his head thrown back and grinning as he played.
Practiced, really. In addition to KNOWING Orpheus, the great musician that he was, Salem had entered into a band with the man, and they played shows here and there in tiny hole-in-the-wall joints when Salem wasn't off doing just as he did tonight. So tonight he was practicing, polishing up several songs that he'd written. All of a sudden, his strums became rhythmic and quick, instead of the slow, flowing notes he'd been playing before, and his voice dramatically joined in on the song. He sang
Pay no mind to the Ragdoll Reaper
stalking in bare feet!
Don't look too hard into the night
for its shadow's where I creep.
Ignore the sound of your heart
when you know I'm right behind!
Pray I only flick your ear
before I'm off your mind!
This was a song he DIDN'T need to practice, but brought a smile to his face every time. He'd heard the snap of the twig and the rustle of a footstep in the distance, and his song had been his response. He held a certain love for Moonfall, and often hovered on its outskirts, because of the tendency of its human citizens to wander through the night, wander straight into Salem's open arms. He was hungry again, and looked around for the source of the sound, a potential meal or a potential conversation waiting to happen. He did so love company. The chances they afforded, always a surprise.
A girl, though, a young witch, barely old enough to be out of the academy, judging by the looks of her. Salem didn't know if he'd feel comfortable sampling from her energy, at least, not yet. He hopped to his feet, guitar still held in hand, his many belts settling back into the lowest position gravity would allow and his deadened, stitched skin catching a slight breeze he was oblivious to.
”A witch eater?” Salem began, stepping out of the night with a smile plastered on his ruined face, ”No, no such luck, I'm afraid. You're safe.”
He paused. Amended himself. ”Safe for now, at least. The night is young, and probably full of men much meaner than old Salem standing before you, young miss. Good evening.”Solar Occultation oh god i hope you can get this
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Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 5:40 pm
The music, Chanda had to admit, was quite delightful; morose yes, maybe even creepy, but still, it managed to resonate with something deep inside of her. An appreciation for music she had not known? Or perhaps something dark and sorrowful long since repressed? It was too dangerous to linger on the thought too long or too hard and so she just simply pushed it aside for inspection later and instead enjoyed the melody as it floated through the forest.
But as she grew closer there was a sudden switch in the music that made the tiger mononoke pause in the middle of her silent stalking. “He knows I’m here,” she thought, and even in her head her voice was but a whisper. There was a sudden lightness in her chest as her heart jumped up to her throat as her nerves danced up and down her spine to the tune he sung. Her ears swiveled to make sure this man, whomever and whatever he was, was not indeed right behind her and, when she was sure of this, she continued in the direction she had been going, though this time she simply walked like a human. No need to do a feline stalk when the element of surprise has been lost.
Chanda’s body was tense as she approached Salem, ready to react should he decide to pull any fast moves. Her bright blue eyes took in his very unusual appearance and she couldn’t help but raise a brow in disbelief. “Not a witch eater,” she said, and there was a tone of skepticism in her voice. Would a witch eater ever admit they were one to someone who could possibly be prey? No. ‘You know very well that all predators hide in a variety of ingenious fashions,' her brother had told her in a letter. ‘As a tiger you have your stripes. But for those of us who aren’t mononoke, lies by far are the most popular way to hide from our prey.’
The mononoke sniffed the air tentatively, as though his scent could verify his claim. True he could probably hide it if he was a witch eater…but he certainly didn’t smell like one. In fact, he smelled very majin but with an overlaying scent of…death? Rot? Something…different.
“You’re certainly not human,” she stated, and stopped closing the distance between them as he amended his statement. “Forgive me, Salem, if I don’t inherently trust you to speak true about your intentions or my safety.” Her tone was cold and frank, but still polite. “Things have been far from safe lately,” she elaborated, “and I err on the side of caution these days.”
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Posted: Thu Apr 26, 2012 6:21 pm
Salem smiled disarmingly at the mononoke girl, as disarmingly as a ragdoll can, and spread his arms wide in the face of her skepticism, his guitar hanging in one hand's loose grip, the other merely drooping, the eye painted upon it barely visible in this half light. With a little chuckle, Salem set about to appraising the girl, walking about her in a circle, observing her in the same silvery moonbeams that obscured him. A true beauty, to be sure, and so full of life and energy... seemed to be troubled, though. She held herself with such stiffness, such nerves, and Salem could nearly smell it in his own way, rolling off of her like a musk. A predatory grin had taken hold of his pale lips, but by the time he'd arrived in front of her again, it had died away, replaced by gentle friendliness.
”No, no, no, not a witch-eater, as I said,” said he, placing his guitar before him for use as a support for both his hands, ”Nothing so enlightened.” Salem flashed his teeth, two rows of pearly white things that were filed down in illogical places, like they'd been filed just for the sake of it. While this girl seemed to be out of sorts, Salem was in his element; he felt damned good, and it showed. His grin and relaxed stance came easy, and the tension of the situation played a melody like music to the one-eyed man's ears.
”Not human, either, you ARE correct...” Salem continued, a pensive look creeping up into his face as he considered the thought. ”Though that IS the plan, isn't it?”
”Right you are, though, things HAVE been less safe-- You know,” Salem broke off suddenly, looking down, a single black-tipped finger held up in the common gesture of “wait a minute,” ”You never returned old Salem's greeting, kitten.” His eyes went back to her face, his whole head still tilted, and his hands went back to his guitar, tapping upon the headstock as he spoke. ”I give you a polite greeting and an even more polite warning when you wander into my path, and you don't even return my greeting!”
Salem straightened up, nodding in agreement with himself. ”For all your 'caution', you don't quite consider the gravity of the situation in which you now stand, I don't think. What if I didn't appreciate how you come barging up to me? What if I was a less pleasant man, with a set of... less pleasant tendencies?”
Salem reached up to delicately scratch at his nose, one of the few patches of skin that actually belonged to him and the finest expanse of unruined flesh he had. He took great care, for like his teeth, his talon-like nails could be vicious sharp.
”What then?”
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Posted: Wed May 09, 2012 12:43 pm
Chanda’s tail twitched in agitation as she watched the man stalk around her like prey. Her! Prey! She actually found herself more offended than worried now and let a low growl trickle from her throat as a reminder that she wasn’t some little rabbit waiting to be made into stew. When he finally faced her again his friendly smile was reciprocated with a snarl. “You can say you’re the master of the moon but that doesn’t make it true now does it,” she jibed back, her tone heated and caustic. “And I don’t find witch-eater’s to be any more enlightened than any other witch. In fact, I would say they’re considerably more…dense.” She said the last word like she was spitting it out of her mouth and returned his flash of teeth with a baring of her own. They weren’t nearly as threatening as his or her tiger form’s, but they still got the message across.
The sudden change in the flow of conversation threw Chanda for a pause and she let her lips ease back down over her teeth. Was he really serious? He was offended that, what, she didn’t give him her name? Or say hello? Her brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before returning to their angry stance as he seemed to now threaten her for her little social faux pas, as imaginary as it was.
“If you were a less pleasant man,” she spoke slowly, the iciness in her voice giving her words the illusion of calm, “and I still have reason to believe that to be true, I’ll make sure you lay in pieces before you can exercise any of those less than pleasant tendencies on me.” A single hand moved in a slow, fluid manner as she spoke, fingers curling and flexing, like she was warming up to grab a weapon, but in reality she was getting some of the necessary mudra out of the way should she have to use her magic to strike at the man in front of her.
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