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 Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2014 7:19 pm
Backdated to Jun 04, 2014 , post this rp from responding to the meta prompt.Getting home from the University Library Quiet Room took Too Long. It was late enough that no one was out, reinforcing the isolation of the dream. It is stupid. I know it is a dream. I saw the librarians at the desk, moving, alive. But the knot won't assuage until I see him. Keys in the door, open, shut, shoes not even abandoned Quenton crossed the small apartment to the bed to find the pillow empty except the distinct circle of black fur. He scanned the chairs- empty. Finally his eyes and weight pivoted on heel to scan the levels of the shelves until he spied a fuzzy bookend next to some of the working materials and on top of one of the large sketchbooks.
To hell with propriety- "Faust." He scooped the Mauvian from the shelf, not caring for the moment if the giant thing had been sleeping. The name came pregnant with relief on an exhale. He cuddled the bobtail with both arms out of necessity of the size of the other, but he would have used both anyway. "You're alright."
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Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2014 8:02 pm
The feline dreamt seldom of cat toys, canned food, cardboard boxes or well-used sketchbooks. Lately his dreams found an ominous repetition of a thick, bleak column of darkness stretching toward the sky, surrounded by stony onlookers petrified in horror. And as the large Mauvian darted between legs, he caught sight of Quenton frozen in that very state. Halfway to the alley already, of Faust's earliest memory, he stood statuesque with form half-warped by basic reaction. Strange how expression looked on his face... So utterly wrong compared to what Faust knew of him.
And then The Spire loomed just beyond the corner of the building, ever thickening like some depthless maelstrom threatening to obliterate the city. Suddenly he came aware of a low humming sound, almost beyond his range of hearing. He felt it jitter and creep through his fur, his skin, his very bones before
hands found the recesses of his feline armpits and wrenched him from his nest on the sketchbook. Faust grunted with a start, attempting to twist in the usurper's grasp before arms and chest met with furred flanks. Faust huffed plaintively. "What the hell, man? Couldn't you see I was sleepin'? What'chu gotta go jam up my groove for?" Loosing another huff, he attempted another writhing struggle. Finally he simply pressed both paws to Quenton's chest and pushed before it became blisteringly clear that not only had the blonde no intention of letting go, but he needed this moment of furry hell.
Goddammit, Thraen.
"'Course I'm alright! What, you think I got turned into youma chow or somethin'? What's gotten into you?"
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Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 12:14 am
Faust's struggles were noted but ignored a few moments more. Quenton buried nose and mouth in fluff to take in the comforts of cat-smell, the tactile pleasures of fur- indulgences rarely allowed. The moment passed, and he let the cat push away to a regular embrace. Or to climb to shoulders if Faust showed inclination. Quenton crossed to the window, looked out with more wear than was usually allowed beneath his eyes. The fires of them, conversely, more intense. "I dreamt a dream of many nights. It occurs to me how oft it comes now. Every time I sleep since ...I don't know. It wasn't clear enough other times. Whatever the hours. Every dream ends the same. " "Every time the strength of my star is not heeded. I find you and everything stone and ruin and it grows. The breathing, towering, spiraling black. It is a column hateful and inimical to everything alive. I don't understand it. " "Every sleep. It cannot be that I am going mad. No one sees the same end to every dream. It is too coincidental. Does anything come to your memory to explain it?"
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Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 10:37 am
Faust allowed himself to be carried a moment longer, until the irritation of one leg flapping uselessly in tandem with Quenton's step gave reason to change position. The Mauvian then twisted in the sculptor's loosened grip and leapt from palm to shoulder quickly enough, though he shook when Quenton's hair sieged his face.
Carefully he crossed from one shoulder to the other, as the blonde's broad shoulders offered enough space for narrow kitty step. After shaking a foot to dislodge more blonde hair from between his toes, Faust collapsed into a seat that left him half-draped over Quenton's shoulder. He huffed gently. "It ain't jus' you, man. Actually you jus' woke me up from that same damn shithole of a dream. Sky goes dark, everyone's a greek sculpture, then boom! Whole damn city jus' gets annihilated." Faust glared toward the city with golden eyes, chasing the sky of black shadows and ominous clouds.
"I'd say you were jus' thinkin' 'bout when Alois went freakshow and it got translated to some giant-a** column of black, but... There ain't no way in hell we'd have the same damn dream about it. Gotta be somethin' behind that. Magic does a lot of quirky s**t, and I'll be damned if we're the only ones who suffered through some jackass nightmare. My guess is it's definitely magic that's the cause, but it's up to us to figure out where it's comin' from, and why. Most importantly, what we're gonna do 'bout it." Faust was loathe to endure nightmares for the duration of his feline life, or however long the projecting magic intended to last. He sank claws into Quenton's shirt shortly before descending to the sill, rendering yet another tear in an already tattered article.
"I don't like this s**t. If it's a dream, then there ain't no face I can kick in. You feel me?"
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Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2014 9:14 pm
"If it were about Alois, there'd be more blood and less pregnant dark...." He didn't dream of Alois in nightmares, anyway. Not other than to find the man in multiples in the stone, staring with a horror he'd never seen paint the pale face as Alois, Bischofite, or whatever his new state happened to be. Triplicate like a parody of the sanzaru. "Quirky is one way to look at it. I don't like this, either. Neither of us has answers,...we ask around. We need information. What are the variables- Whom is it affecting. Is it senshi related? So we'd need to ask knights if they are so plagued. We should ask Zirconia- she's from a separate dimension entirely. She also has contacts within the Negaverse, so she might be able to garner information if this is their doing, or if they also suffer the same. Cornering a lieutenant and asking them before killing them is also an option. And senshi of the Mirror. " "It isn't affecting the general populace. There were reports on the news when those monochrome shades were running about. The media has grown savvy enough, it seems, to at least mention it when there is widespread magical runoff. " Quenton's eyes slide to catch Faust's silhouette in his peripheral, silent to give the Mauvian time to offer other variables and suggestions. It didn't take a moment to open the window, climb out onto the porch and start navigating down via other people's porches to the ground level. It was good practice for civilian urban dexterity. Its a given we're not getting more sleep right now. We need to get out there and find answers. I need to transform.
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Posted: Mon Jun 16, 2014 1:30 pm
"Yeah, I can hop around town and see if listenin' in on the Chatty Cathies in the park gives me any idea. I might not know too many powered folk, but you bet'cher a** I've got my paws on the pulse of this damn city. The media might be tight-lipped 'bout it, but if there's any kinda discussion on the street between powered kids or not, I'm bound to hear it. And if I find someone who's got more info on it than us, I'll text you with a heads up on that. In the mean time, you should hunt down this Zirconia person as a contact to the Negaverse. We need to know if it's part of their bullshit... Goddamn reeks of 'em." Faust huffed gently, a thin haze of moisture collecting on the windowpane near his nose.
Faust knew nothing of any monochrome shades but figured it unaffiliated with current activities, thus he never ventured to ask about it. "How 'bout this: you check with your senshi contacts and hunt down this Zirconia, and I'll hit the streets the ol' fashioned way. We'll keep each other updated on text. Later tonight we'll meet up to hit up some lieutenants and bust their chops before we bust their faces. Sound like a plan?" He looked to Quenton for confirmation - and offered a stare that demanded the window open regardless.
Fool, you got thumbs. I sure as s**t don't. What'chu standin' around with that dumb look on your face for? Open the damn window for me already.
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Posted: Mon Jun 16, 2014 10:16 pm
You'll text me? You got around to remembering you could produce a phone for yourself? I wonder when that came about. No use asking a question about what is obviously stated. You have a phone, and you can use it. Can you be bipedal then? What is the trick of it, I wonder. "Typing with paws or fingers?" "It's a plan. " He lifted a hand to pet Faust's chest once, then Quenton opened the window wide to the porch.
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Posted: Fri Jun 20, 2014 10:10 pm
"Goddamn paws..." He grumbled. "Easier to hit keys than fatass sausage fingers like yours." However, Faust vastly preferred opposable thumbs over dexterous kitty paws given their propensity to unwrap raw meat, effortlessly murder peeps, and manipulate bowls to serve dinner. The Mauvian's stomach growled, and he considered nabbing a snack on his way to investigate.
Then he imagined a great big fish lying atop the ground, staring skyward in a stony look of horror.
Sighing, Faust leapt out the window and onto the porch before he darted down the nearby tree. Daydreams could wait.
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