|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 26, 2010 9:18 pm

The young female had a dark purple cape draped around her shoulders. From the ends of the sleeves sprouted even deeper plum-coloured spiderwebs, woven intricately and falling gracefully around her pale blue hands. Within those hands were grasped a variety of different batons, all bright and intricate, put together to grab attention and greatly contrast what she wore - some of them were even made to look as though they lit up. Not that they did. The dark velvet hood of the heavy, fully-covering cloak was pulled up over her head and, from beneath it, one could see nothing but pointed cat teeth biting at a pale blue lip, the shimmering of quiet tears reflecting the pervasive light of the moon.
The cattaur walked slowly away from the Autumn Festival, where she had been turned away, her talent not being something suitable for them. And she had... she had tried so hard. She'd been practicing for years upon years to perfect every part of her act, searched for the stage for hours, searched for the stage manager for even longer!! A sob broke from the young cattaur's throat as she let herself fall to her knees beside a strong river with almost no bank.
A wind whipped gently around her, pulling with it the warmer winds it could find, trying to comfort her. In retaliation, she buried her face in her hands, trying to bite back tears that wouldn't stop coming now that she'd let them start. She was stupid, so stupid, to think that they would like her! To think that she could ever be famous!! She was from the country, she lived in the forest! That's all she was. She would never be able survive in the city, let alone thrive there...
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 26, 2010 9:40 pm
Not so far from where the caped cattaur knelt by the stream sat another cattaur, hidden well by his mottled coat in the shadows and moonlight. He, too, had found little reason to participate in this 'Autumn Festival'; the activities had been childish, the food dismal compared to what he could find in the forest, and the entertainment had been distinctly lacking. After only a few minutes, he had retreated back into his solitude in the forest without speaking to a single stranger. He had faded like a ghost.
However, to his chagrin, his beloved privacy had been invaded. He had watched the caped creature retreat from the festivities as well, hidden as he preferred by the foliage. He had planned to merely keep a tab upon her, heaven forbid interact with her, but the way she collapsed had caught his interest. From the way she was dressed, he deduced that she had been a performer in that asinine Festival. But then, he couldn't understand why she was here; he could still hear the ruckus raised by the celebration from where he was. The lights glowed from beyond the treetops, making it clear that the party was reaching its peak. Why, then, should such a person be kneeling by the banks of the river in such a defeated fashion...? After a moment's deliberation, he sighed lightly and decided he wouldn't know without asking her directly. Bother.
Soundlessly, he emerged from his concealment and walked softly until he was standing a few feet away. He was careful to make sure he was within eyeshot of the other cattaur; he didn't want to surprise her and scare her away. He looked up at the sky for a pensive moment, and then spoke in a casual, almost bored tone. "Why are you crying? Shouldn't a performer such as yourself be busy entertaining the masses at the Festival? This is rarely what one could call a stage."
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Sep 28, 2010 5:24 pm
It didn't take Tsukasa very long to notice the male who was standing so near to her. He seemed to have risen from the shadows that he appeared to have been made from. Beneath her hood, her ears perked up just slightly, tweaking in interest at the cattaur that she had never before seen. Gently, the tip of her tail swayed in the cool grass and she slowly turned her head toward him. Only her lips were visible from beneath the dark shadow cast by the moon, the stars, the darkness that so greatly contrasted them and was found easily beneath the velvet hood of her's.
It was slightly longer before she truly acknowledged him, not until he made it apparent that he was not merely a spectre, not simply there for her to guess at his origins. When he spoke. That was when her attention was called, though certainly not directly. What he spoke of only had those tears that had ceased for only a moment surge back into her pale blue eyes, pouring out in rivers. Rather than bury herself once again in her hands, she got to her feet, gently removing the hood from her head. Ethereal sky-blue hair shone in the bright moonlight, seeming to almost cast a halo around the young female's head. Her face held a bitterness to it, scorn reserved only for those whose dreams had been shattered.
"I am no performer..." she murmured disdainfully, voice cracking despite how quiet she had been. A small, sharp tooth bit gently at her lower lip to block out a sob, shoulders trembling gently. Suddenly, anger overtook her, overtook the sorrow and, in a fit, she hurled her batons into the river. They splashed upon hitting the surface, but didn't even sink before bobbing up once again, dancing their merry way down the stream. She regretted the decision immediately, but did nothing more than sob only further, shaking her head as her eyes fell once again to the ground. "The festival will do better without me... after all, that's what I was told."
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 11:11 pm
It only took the sight of the tears reflecting the moonlight for Sylas to realize he'd said exactly the wrong thing. Much like the pale-hued cattaur beside him, a tooth sneaked out to bite at his lip, inwardly regretful. He hadn't meant to cause the girl more distress, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him and done away with his tact. And, if he was going to be honest with himself, he didn't have much of that to begin with. His tail twitched sporadically as the situation grew uncomfortable. Part of him wanted to leave the conversation at that and melt back into the shadows, but he was sure that the teenager would only grow more despaired if he did.
A light sigh was the only sound he made when the girl tossed her props into the river, and Sylas stood simply watching for a moment, respectful of her grief. But then, when the bobbing sticks were almost out of sight, he swept a hand across the bank. There was a slight rumbling from the bank as dirt was shifted, and then the roots of the trees emerged, interlinking to form a net that easily caught the props. A twitch of the black tail, and a vine emerged from the overhanging foliage and tossed the batons towards Sylas, who easily caught them with one hand. Despite his bitter company, he couldn't help a small satisfied smile; all of his training alone had certainly paid off.
His golden eyes were at the ground as he stepped forward and deposited the sticks at the girl's feet. At first he was hesitant to say anything, in case he said something just as wrong as his first statement, but after a moment's reflection, he muttered quietly. "I'm sorry. You obviously cared a lot about succeeding." He shrugged one shoulder as his eyes flicked towards the bubble of light past the woods. "If my opinion counts for anything, it wasn't the most compelling festival. Perhaps your act was of too high a caliber for them to appreciate." All of this was said without humor or sarcasm; Sylas rarely ever spoke in jest, and he almost always meant every word he said.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 08, 2010 5:45 pm
Worry steadily overtook the girl's countenances as she watched the batons creep down the river, but still she didn't make a move to retrieve them. Maybe she would finally get a hold of herself and realize that she wasn't meant to be a performer if she watched those batons, that she had spent such a long time making for herself, float slowly down the river and completely out of sight. Sadly, she whimpered, slowly let her head fall back into her folded arms, sobbing very quietly to herself as she trembled gently. She wanted so much to be a performer... that was all she had ever wanted to be.
That was why she didn't know how respond when her batons were retrieved from the water and dropped to the ground in front of her. Slowly, she looked up at the male, a gentle smile coming to her face despite her red, swollen eyes, the whole combination making her look only like a more tragic wreck. Sighing softly, she rubbed at those tear-filled eyes of her's, tail flicking gently from its place on the ground.
"Thank you... I-I suppose that helps, though it c-c-certainly doesn't help th-the fact that I st-still haven't had a chance to perform in front of a real audience..." she said softly, taking the many colourful props and placing them back in the quiver that she had made specially for them. Faintly, she smiled up at the older male and chuckled softly, eyes taking in his ghostly appearance, including the ones that were either painted or naturally occurring across his black fur. "You certainly seem to be dressed for the occasion... Especially for seeming so sour 'bout it."
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 11, 2011 7:13 pm
Sylas glanced awkwardly to the side when the girl looked up, tail flicking nervously behind him. He had never been good with people, hence his solitude in the forest. So, he had to ask himself, why would he bother trying to cheer up a despairing young girl? He flicked his ears backward and fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable. He wasn't going to do any good here, he might as well go back to his skulking...
Still, now that he was out of his self-imposed exile, he didn't have the heart to leave the girl crying there. He smirked at her comment and rolled his golden eyes, looking at his mottled coat critically. "Yeah, I get to hear something along those lines every year around this time. Quite a pain when you think the entire festival is a load of tripe." He scoffed to himself, remembering why he usually stayed especially well hidden during the time of the Autumn festival.
"And I don't know," he continued, "I'm a real person who wouldn't mind being a real audience." A hint of a smile played on his lips. "I'm Sylas, by the way. And you are? Or do you have a stage name?"
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|