☾ SHOOT THE MESSENGER — INTRO

[guts]

She got lonely sometimes.

She tried to be happy--being happy was nice, better than being sad, of course--but sometimes, her attempts were futile. Sometimes, no matter how she tried to preoccupy herself with things, she didn't feel light and cheerful like she usually was. She knew why, knew it better than anyone around her, at least, but she tried not to acknowledge it. She pushed it down because she didn't want to think about it, didn't want to make others worry. Her siblings did their best to keep her happy and she wanted to keep them thinking that she was.

Isabelle was good at pretending, acting like everything was alright. But she wasn't now, the smile on her face genuine, as she sat in the empty hall and stared at the pictures that hung on the wall. Some were old, and others were fresh, but they were all unique. She liked to think it was a monument of their history, things that had--and will--withstand the passage of time.

Her mothers' pictures were probably on here, too. The thought made her smile falter, the shine in her eyes dull, but she quickly masked it. She would be happy, try and celebrate the fact they even existed at all, that there was still some trace of them left. But she was, too, she was what remained of them, along with her brothers and sisters.

But that wasn't why she was there. A piece of paper at her paws, the kitten went to work with her crayons, which were scattered about the floor. Once it was done, she picked it up, holding it out to admire it before nodding, satisfied with her work. Then she put it up with all the others, taping it to the wall.

Now everyone could see her family portrait, consisting of her, her siblings, and Margaery and Suiteheart. They looked like blobs of color, but to her, they looked just right. They stood in a field, the sun peeking in in one of the corners.

"speech"

[ONISION.]

[table]
[tr]
[td]

ONISION M.F.

— WHEN WE'RE IN YOUR BED

[size=8pt]tags - plotting - reference

the ascendants
- lunar lieutenant
mentors watson
10 months old

physically varies
easy to piss off

demihomosexual
homoromantic

tsundere asshole
dating alexander

were-vampirism
known to shift into aloysius

[/td][td]

Onision hadn't visited the same place where all of the family pictures had been in a very long time. The last time he did, was the first time he even went there. The pictures, lined up on the walls and dressers, were a sight for sore eyes, painful in ways he couldn't begin to explain.

His other siblings had better opinions of their mothers deaths, that they had died together, happy. But.. Oni just couldn't think of it that way. Maybe it was because they had died so abruptly, that they never told him goodbye, he didn't know. All he had left to remind himself they loved him was the recording of Suiteheart singing a lullaby. He had hidden the recorder in his and Alex's room, but now he held it in his jaws.

The chocolate felidae had walked into the room, a single, glowing blue eye staring at the child which had crayons sprawled out all around her, the drawing she had taped up onto the wall glowering back at him. Family, something Onision had valued for so long- and now that they were all here again, he couldn't be honest with himself.

Carefully, Onision set the recording on the ground, before sliding it over to his little sister with a paw. "Here, Suiteheart sang this song to me and my twin when we were just kits. Warded off nightmares and helped us sleep." He spoke calmly, not daring to look at her yet. If he did, he'd cry again. He didn't cry in front of others often- he cried when he watched Suiteheart die in front of him, he cried when he felt Margaery's presence leave this earth.

They were so lucky, to be able to die together- to die at all, really. Onision wished that death came to their kind faster, but it wouldn't. Not to him, not ever. Not unless his soul was ripped from his body, and only a God could do that, apparently. "They were kind, y'know. I got my foul mouth from Suiteheart, I'm sure Margaery had her hands full with me." Came the bittersweet laugh from the male, feeling his aura shift a bit from Aloysius muttering soft words into his head. Calm down, he knew.

all you give me is a heartbeat —

[/td][/tr][/table]

[W]isker

[agathe.]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 11px; color: black;"]As quiet as can be, the cloaked figure found herself padding down the hall lined with pictures of people she failed to recognize. She sometimes stole glances at them as she hurried towards her next destination, never looking too long in fear of seeing something she didn't want to see. It was a strange thing to admit, but Agathe often times felt judged by these smiling faces. They had never committed atrocities such as she had, and even if they had, they probably never slept as soundly as she did each and every night. She was confident in her past and did not regret a single life she stole- but others might see that as monstrous and Agathe possessed no desire to be judged. None at all.

It was a shame that she found herself obligated to stand in this hall a little longer than usual today, a frown coming alive upon her pale features as she saw two clanmates that all but signified polite conversation. Rounded ears would perk in spite of her growing desire to just continue on her way, paws itching to keep moving as she might back home. She just had to remember that things were different here as she slowed to a halt, golden eyes widening ever so slightly as it occurred to Agathe that she was intruding on something that might be deemed personal.

Margaery and Suiteheart. There were their names again. They had been mentioned so frequently in the recent days that she had begun to wonder who they were and what they did to warrant such fond talkings of. "Were they your matrons?" She inquired finally, the question more so extended to Isabelle. She'd stare at the child for a few, heavy moments before recalling that manners were important here and not everybody had some pre-explained idea about who she was. "I'm Agathe, by the way." Was it bad that she hoped that the pair would accept her introduction, answer her question, and send her on the way? Each passing second in their presences was agony not because she wasn't fond of them (hell, she didn't even know Isabelle enough to determine whether or not she was fond of her) but because she hated this sense of intrusion. She was trespassing in familial affairs and it made her stomach absolutely knot.

[guts]

Her attention is turned away from her drawing, instead going to Onision as he approached. She watches him, offering a smile, her eyes lowering when he slides something towards her. She recognized it somewhat. It was a tape, containing a recording of her mother's lullaby according to her brother. She couldn't remember the last time she heard either of her mothers' voices, much less Suite's singing. She could recall the one or two times she had sung her to sleep after a rough dream.

It was a nice gift, one she would keep and cherish for a long time. She was slightly surprised he was giving it to her. But he did seem like he wanted to distance himself from any memory of their parents, as sad as it was. The worst part was that a part of her could understand.

"Oh." Isabelle stares at it for a moment, able to feel the weight of tears at the back of her eyes but managing to keep them at bay. "Thank you. This means a lot." she would have said more, but it took a lot of effort to keep herself from breaking down, her voice wavering as she spoke.

Then she looks over at Agathe, thankful for the distraction. Really, she didn't mind the intrusion. If anything, it was just something to keep her mind off the urge to cry. She simply nods at the female's question, dipping her head to glance down at the tape in her paws, then returning her gaze to Agathe.

"I'm Isabelle, it's nice to meet you!" she smiles, wishing they could have met under better circumstances. But she guessed it couldn't be helped.

"speech"

[darci]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 70%; text-align: justify;"]Rodion knew what it was life to want to be happy, but sorrow always had a stronger pull. While he was happy here, the constant reminder of his absent mother always chased the happiness away sooner or later. As for his father, well, he remember very little of his father. According to rumors, his father had been attacked by dogs, killed only a few days after he was born. While he wished he knew his father, the sadness was little to nonexistent. It was hard to miss someone you do not remember. Rodion always swore to avenge his father, but all he knew were rumors. When he questioned his mother, she always told him that he was too young and that she would tell him when he was older. Now being an orphan, he would never know. Maybe he had a distant relative who knew what happened, but he was clueless about where to start.

"Hello," the child greeted with a rather hushed voice. He could sense the sorrow in the air, and he was not sure what to say or how to act. Pale blue eyes looked over the pictures, his ears pinning back ever so slightly. From what he could gather, he was not the only orphan here who missed his parents. Jaws agape, he returned his gaze to the unfamiliar groupmate. "I'm Rodi."