[size=9pt]The Underground Complex is pretty eerie. There's lots of white walls, blue light and metal. It feels like a lab, and Moon feels he's being tested on. Without consent. Like he was abducted and now he's strapped down, getting probed by aliens of emotion.

He's sat in a room, whichever room it was, and he's staring at the wall. But it's not just a blank wall. He knows that'd probably be more angsty and pretentious, but this wall is painted with the Leo constellation and he's... Projecting. Yeah. That's what he's doing, and it's fucking with his head. But he's locked in and there doesn't seem to be any hope in getting out any time soon, so now is as good a time as any to think about his mom.

She was a Leo. She was also a Lion, which is kind of ironic. But he's not thinking about that. He's thinking about golden fur that smelled like roses and antiseptic, fresh kills and Juniper. They'd never hugged- she didn't like physical contact like that, but the scent followed her everywhere and every time she passed him, busy, he'd breath it in like it was his life source. He remembers being a cub and watching her from afar as she fixed up someone else's wound. He'd make a show of gathering herbs and shit for her and she wouldn't even spare him a fucking glance.

It's dark stuff to think about and he realizes this and sits up, physically shaking it all off. Reminiscing on a dead witch isn't going to help him get out. There's no use in sitting in a room and rotting, surrounded by bad paintings, bitter. So he drags himself to the door and slumps against the wall, there, and lifts his good paw to the door. He sticks one claw through the lock, fiddling with it noisily, but he knows it's in vain. He's tried it before. So he's down to his last hope, and he's seen the movies before; this is the part where he loses it, closes his eyes, and breaks into song. And who is he to break tradition? Besides, he knows this one the humans sing, and it's kind of fitting. Lowly, he begins. "I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, because I'm-" his voice cracks, and he starts to laugh at himself, quietly. If he's going to die here he may as well abandon all shame. "Easy come, easy go, little high, little low. Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me... MAMA!"

If it comes down to it and someone actually opens the door to come in, he just fucking hopes they have the common sense that he didn't to know that once it closes, they're in there for good.

/ [member=598]imperia[/member]

[size=9pt]Moon quickly gave up after that verse. His voice wasn't too great, and, to be completely honest, he didn't know the rest of the lyrics. He hummed the tune, monotonous, as he lay there, tracing the constellation with half lidded eyes. Everything was silent if he didn't, and he wasn't so fond of silence. It would only add to the vibe of the place. He'd go mad sooner than he'd starve.

But then there were paw steps. Light and treading the ground like it was thin ice. There was a smell, too, that drifted down the corridor and under the door and Moon stood up fast, eager like he'd just been taken off the death roll. He didn't know for sure who it was, only that the scent was slightly familiar-- herbs and flowers-- but, realistically, he knew very few people in the Ascendants and so it could only be one of 2. Let's just say he was hoping it was one over the other.

The door opened, and with it came Imperia. Tail lashing behind him, the lion steps back to make space for her and grins, "Frenchie! Thank fuck. Jesus, I was gonna' die in here. I could feel my expiry date closing in." He's ecstatic. Finally he can get the fuck out of here, and with his Dame in Shining Armour, no less. They hadn't really gotten to know each other, and he liked her a lot more than he cared to admit. There was something lovely about her; Moon wouldn't be surprised if everyone who came in contact with the wolf felt the same way he did. "You're gonna' think I'm more of a dumbass than you already do, but I'll explain later--" Cutting himself off, the lion steps forward towards the door, but he'd been distracted by Imperia and he failed to realize it was already swinging closed. Quick and stealthy, like death swooping in and taking them both up in its talons, the heavy door clicked shut. It was such a resounding sound, the finality to it almost poetic.

He went completely silent. He stared down the door with a maw that hung slightly open, as if willing the it to defy gravity and locks and just open. But it didn't happen. Moon turned his gaze on Imperia, completely devastated, and then carried himself to the far corner and slumped against it, again. He let his head tilt back, shut his eyes, and heaved the most melodramatic sigh to ever be heaved. "Alright," says the lion, "Get comfy. And, like, lower your standards. We're officially rotting; may as well get to know my coffin-mate."

[size=9pt]So maybe he's being a little childish. A little inconsiderate. He realizes this when the shewolf's eyes well up, and at first he thinks they're just sparkling more by the day, but then he looks closer and it's not that. Those are tears. Instantly, he fixes himself. No slumped shoulders, no ridiculous tantrum, no pouting. He needs to be more self-aware, jesus-- look at her. "Hey, hey," He says, voice warm as he sits up. "It's okay-- it's fine. I've been here for hours, now, and the worst that's happened to me is some kinda' painful flashbacks." He tries for a smile, head ducked to Imperia's level. He had no idea she'd freak out like that. He feels like an ass. "We'll play Never Have I Ever, or, like, Would You Rather.

But she's settling slightly, it seems, and now they're both slumped against the far wall. If she were to voice her thoughts, the one about being trapped in a room together feeling weird, he'd be inclined to agree. It does feel weird. He's not completely sure why-- Moon isn't exactly socially gifted, but he's never been shy either. Not that he feels that way now; this is more of a self-awareness. Which is also quite alien. He spots flowers in her hair and he can feel the dirt on his hind legs and yep, there it is again, that feeling. But then Imperia speaks, and golden ears perk up. "What a relief." He says, and maybe there's some fumes leaking from the weird vents in the room, or something, because he didn't mean to say that. But then he thinks, whatever, he's gonna' die soon. May as well own up. He takes a deep breath again, fully relaxing into the wall, and stares at a cobweb to the left of the door, voice lazy when he speaks. "So. Take your pick. I'd say duck, duck, goose but we're kinda' lacking in the player department.""

[size=9pt]Huh. He's realizing more about her by the second. How easily she startles, how she won't look him straight in the eye, how she's so wholly innocent. He feels like if he brushes off her he'll instantly corrupt her and he doesn't really want that. It simultaneously makes him feel hesitant and giddy, and he eyes her awkward smile and outright laughs. This kid-- she's his opposite in every single way.

But then Moon sees her chew her lip, and her choice of game, and he raises a brow and now he's laughing again. Maybe they're not that different; he can tell whats on her mind. Rolling his gaze away from hers, he returns to watching the old, knitted web in the corner and speaks. "Good choice." A safe one, at least. He stares for a while, pondering, before coming up with an idea. "Okay. Would you rather give Feathers a mud massage, or--" the lion pauses, a literal giggle escaping his throat as he thinks of Yesterday's scenario, "Me."

His words end with a resounding sense of finality, and he flashes a grin. The lions golden cheeks are red underneath, but not so much with bashfulness as with the general heat of the fucking cage of a room they're in. Moon's used to saying shit like this, anyway. It's how he ends up in trouble.

But then he spots the snacks she's pulled from her satchel -- God bless that thing -- and a part of him regrets putting her on the spot, because he hasn't eaten in a while and his lips are starting to get chapped, too. It's literally impossible for Imperia to climb any higher on his list of favorite people. He takes a bite of one she offers, and it's bliss. "Jesus. Who sent you? Is this the grooming process? Are you guys fattening me up for the oven? Because it's not gonna' work. I've got a fast metabolism."

[size=9pt]He's not surprised with the reply. He'd known she'd choose him-- that's a given when Gabriel's the other option. He'd set it up that way, and he'd been expecting it, but hearing her say it made him grin, anyway. Somewhat because he'd been her choice, but also because she was so bizarre in the way she replied. A shrug of the shoulders and utter naivety to the undertones of his words. Not that he'd meant it in that way, anyway, but he'd been expecting to get shoved, or something, for his words. Instead he was meant with utter indifference and logic. It was funny, for some reason. A very Imperia response.

He wouldn't like to lose an eye. There's no hope one of those pirate patches would look good on him. As for a limb-- he lifts his one bad paw, still cut up, and considers it. "I mean, this one is already looking kinda' mangled." He purses his limps and then gives a deciding nod, glancing back at Imperia with all seriousness. "You think Roman will cut it off for me if I ask nicely?" He's teasing; Imperia's so caring and worrisome, he knows she's bothered his paw hasn't healed properly yet. Whilst it was still a somewhat fresh injury, his recklessness and lack of regard for himself wasn't exactly helping the process, and it wasn't looking too great. Still, he appeared completely unbothered, and dropped it to the ground carelessly once again.

He listens closely as she replies, watching her the whole time. She's flustered, and he doesn't even know why. Did he say something? It's not like he'd made any weird implications, and he's not that self ignorant to not realize, if he had. Maybe it's the compliment, which wasn't even much of a compliment in the first place. Her reaction is as intriguing as it is sad. Moon makes a subconscious note to compliment the she-wolf more often.

His thoughts, somewhat serious, come to a grinding halt, however, at her next words. His brows shoot up, surprised at her attitude. Who knew? "What?" He says, feigning offense as he knocks his shoulder into hers gently. "You don't think I'm tasty looking? What the fuck, Frenchie. Way to flatter a guy. I had my ass seasoned for the feast, and all."