Pink Poogle Toy Forum

((Just so you know... Kirae lives in a large 'Den', where she also stores most of her loot. I forgot to add that to her bio. Sorry if this post is awful - I haven't role played for awhile, so bear with me until I get the hang of it again, eh?))

Kirae Sneaktooth paced along the floor of her den, her ears flicked downwards and her tail swishing anxiously from side to side. Every once in awhile, she would pause from her pacing and look towards the walls to her piles of loot.

She was troubled, and she didn't know why. There were many possible reasons, but none of them really fit why she was troubled. Perhaps it was because she was leaving her mark in more and more items, and too often she tasted the bitter tang of something that was fake.

She sighed softly, and stopped in her pacings. Her ears flicked slightly as she gazed across the wall, deciding what she would do. She nodded as she made her decision, and mumbled something softly to herself.

She had made up her mind. Instead of going to her usual areas of thievery, she would go somewhere else - some place new. More danger, perhaps, but that was one of the main reasons.

With another nod, she made sure that she had collected everything she wanted to take with her, and left her Den.

Rae stared out the at the cool, hard sky, fighting back tears. She was sick of this, her needlepoint was thrown onto the ground unceremoniously a few moments before when she realized that it had no point. Carefully she picked up the piece of tangled linen, and smoothed it out on her lap. She looked at the few flowers stitched, wishing them to be real...magical...somewhere far away where she could go. But she was in her room, stitching- as normal as could be, or so she thought.

||Sorry all! I'm leaving for Washington for my cousins wedding. MY internet access is rare at best, and I may not be able to post at all until next Wednesday.||

The streets were almost completely empty, and the alleys eerily and utterly abandoned of their standard crowd of the dregs of society gathered to huddle in the relative warmth of company. Instead, a lonely, empty sort of atmosphere has settled over the darkening roads that wind like pinwheels, turning to utter blackness just feet before the bars of little prison windows... two maids peeks out from within one great household, scrubbing the stairs and depositing great bins of waste.

"Brr... this place gives me the chills..."
"Shush, Maria, just get on with it and we won't have to stay out here long."
For a time, the sound of scrubbing was the only one, and then came a loud, frustrated question:
"What I'd like to know is why it's always us doin' this!"
A louder shushing arose. "Maria!" came a shrill whisper, "Be quiet! You might wake someone... or something..." The second maid's eyes darted to the tiny barred windows.

They retired into the mansion to finish up the evening cleaning and enjoy a modest dinner, the last whisper echoing darkly about the grimy stones--

Too late.

[I gave Meiou a lot of grief so I could figure out this name. Didn't I, Meiou dear? So much that he had to poke me. In the end, we (well, HE decided on this, I just gave him names. When I told him what I was going to do, his reaction was quite apt... "oh brother") decided on Cierra Rebecca Alexander. I shall write up a bio and edit my first post later. For now...]

Cierra shivered, and looked closer into the window, watching the fire crackle. No one was in the room - the fire was burning unattended in the fireplace, and Cierra grew jealous of whoever could afford to leave a fire burning, even though they did not need the heat.

She pressed her nose closer, still shivering, wishing she was by that fire. Suddenly, a woman came into the room, and angrily shooed Cierra away. Cierra turned and fled through the streets, before stopping some way away and leaning, panting, against a wall.

Cierra slid down the wall and sat, hugging her knees, the icy wind beginning to chill her bones as she sat, shivering mercilessly, with her eyes almost closed to protect them against the wind.

After sitting in this spot for well over five minutes, a smell came to her nostrils, and it was not a pleasant one. Although certainly not pleasant, it was somehow enticing.

She stood, deciding to follow the smell. She took a tentative step forward, and then started walking, faster and faster, until she was running again, towards an alley, where the unpleasant and yet strangely enticing smell seemed to be coming from.

Cierra stopped dead. She had not known where she was at first, but now she knew where she was. She had come to where the gaol was, a part of town that even she avoided. She stepped backwards, but she suddenly felt daring. She took a tentative step forward, like before, and then once more found herself running, holding her breath as she ran through the alley, passing the people who tried to grab at her.

She stopped at a dead end, a barred window. Even though it was dank, and dark, to Cierra it glowed with radiating light. Cierra took a step forward, and another, and tried to reach the window, but she couldn't.

Looking around, she spotted some crates, and dragged them just below the window. With difficulty, her tired body climbed onto the crates and grabbed the wall. Blinking several times, she peered through the bars, ready to face what she was about to see.

[And what that is... I don't know. XDDD]

[[ Well, I know Erik smells like death, but I didn't think he was all THAT rank! So um, I'm going to wait for someone else to jump in as them. Plus, he's like... in a cell right now. ]]

[XDDDDDDDDD Well, you did say stench-ridden in your first post. I might edit that last post actually, I want to be down that darn alley, becase it's awesome and I want to peer in through the barry cell like gaol window! JOY!]

[[Well, um, now that you've edited yer post... *posts*

Oh, and the window is at the level of the ground, like a basement window. > >]]

It seems that nothing lurks behind the bars, and that the cell is thankfully empty in its dank, dripping blackness. No light nor movement can be seen in the morbid setting, save the reflection off an uninhabited set of manacles of the wall. That is, so it would seem until two great yellow eyes, like stars, blink out at Cierra.

[Oops. -shoves the crate out of the story- XD]

Cierra jumped, but more from the shcok. She wasn't a coward, and didn't move backwards, but stood her ground, her nose pressed between the bars. She gathered herself, and forced herself to ask the question. "Who are you?"

The eyes, like great amber coals within a demon's sockets merely blinked out again, staring straight at-- no, through-- Cierra's own eyes. It seemed that whatever strange creature held them, it would turn away... but no, it spoke!

"I am that you would not choose to be." A pause-- "And you? I suppose you are one of the fortunate few, making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo..." He spoke in a fervor of raging rhyme, and from within the shining eyes like a cat's burned a hate at once terrible and pitiful.

Cierra almost shrunk back - almost, but not quite. She liked the way this thing, man - but was it a man? - spoke, it was almost poetry. Cierra touched her hand to her blue eyes, feeling him almost look through them, through her.

"Why would I mock you?" Cierra asked softly. She was not afraid. "I am not fortunate, I have no family, no shelter... you, you at least, have shelter, from the wind, the rain. It is cold out."

((I'm reading the posts, and trying to figure out a way to get into it , I'll keep thinking.))

A low, deathly hiss sounded from within the cell as the rabbit-furre managed to stumble into the squalorous alleyway, and the eyes faded slightly with distance. Yet the prisoner spoke once more:

"Food, shelter, family. All overrated, I fear... what is refuge from the wind if one cannot escape the axe? Or the eyes!" The yellow stars within the black cell dissappeared for a time, and the faintest murmur could be heard:

"Oh, god... stop staring..."

At once they re-ignited, leaping higher to the bounds of a cold and hateful gleam. "If you need shelter, kindly investigate those barrels... if nothing else, I imagine they hold warm refuse," he stated coldly.

Yet by the bins of (one imagined) mold and rotten scraps from the feasts of the wealthy, there came a gleam that could not be seen within the darkness of a prison cell; there lay, abandoned upon the ground, two artefacts of the most unusual make.

One, cast in silver and steel, was a dagger of no marked origin; it look edneither Persian nor oriental nor French but a strange mix of the three, and upon the chase silver handle on either side was engraved a scorpion of a strange and unknown art.

The other, wound of catgut and bloodstained, was a rope, in a form startlingly similar to a noose.

[[EDIT: Ah, Forest, I can soon provide an opportunity, most likely. I suppose we shall assume that your char is in the mansion bordering the gaol?]]