[Open] Catgroove.

[regalduchess]

The cat; small, lithe, and scared; runs through the aviary chased out by chirping birds, their beady eyes vindictive.

Once upon a time, there was a cheerfully tinkling bell on her collar. Now, it lies on the aviary floor as a trophy to the birds. The entire castle she runs through has a strange feeling to it, like everything is dead. Or asleep, or in mourning.

She finally comes to the throne room. Even cobweb-encrusted as they are, the silk seats are soft and comforting. The musty warmth reminds her of Bonfamille and her pink boas, her soft skin, the perfume she always wears-- always used to wear.

With a soft sigh, Duchess curls into a circle with her tail hanging off the edge of the throne, and tries to sleep.

Comments

[dustless]

"'S okay. I don't really either. Maybe I can show you Gretel later, they're a bird I'm friends with." Though he might be disappointed in how relatively boring that particular bird's plumage is.

"Didn't know that. That's cool. Although--" they give him a sidelong glance. "I'm not...hurting you, by being close, right? 'Cause of my...time stuff?"

[antitemporal]

"yeah, that'd be great. gretel sounds like a nice bird." Any friend of Frisk is a friend of his.

Though Sans-Serif does find himself stopping halfway down the stairs at Frisk's next question. The skeleton stares at nothing for a moment, rocking back on his heels, before replying carefully:

"it's okay. you, um...you kinda used to." And they sometimes still do, but if he focuses, he can make the feeling go away. "but i don't think they wanted my time stuff to get along with your time stuff, anyway. so i'd wanna fight you." And he had, before. Though Sans-Serif doesn't like thinking back to how he'd felt back then. "and the other human, i guess. i don't think they really knew which one of you would come to the underground."

He starts carefully down the steps again. "i'm glad you think i'm cool, though."

[dustless]

They gently tap their thumb over his fingerbones.

"...glad I don't now. You're a nice friend to have." Another wave of dissatisfaction washes through them at the thought of the 'they' he was referring to. Those scientists really should've done better.

Once the pair get to the door, finally, Frisk pushes it open with their foot. "Okay. If there's anywhere that's colder than the rest, there's probably gonna be meat there. So it doesn't rot."

[antitemporal]

Because all Sanses are more than a little prone to embarrassment where strong motion is concerned, Sans-Serif is suddenly, piercingly grateful that he's in the lead all of a sudden. That way, hopefully Frisk can't see the overjoyed smile that breaks out over his skull at their words. The skeleton doesn't know what a fistpump is. But he's seized with the urge to do one, anyway.

"you, too, frisk." He's very, very glad everyone stopped him from hurting them.

Once Frisk gets the kitchen door open, Sans-Serif moves without hesitation. There's a pile of barrels and sacks against one wall, haphazard enough that the gap might not be immediately apparent. However, he's taken this path enough times to know where to look. He hops up onto one barrel near the wall, and then drops down onto a small segment of empty floor on the other side, between that and another barrel. There on the floor is a trap door that, with a bit of hauling, he's able to heave up and over with a loud clatter of wood and creak of hinges. Colder air wafts up from below.

[lightofthestars]

Tauriel makes another small noise. Her hand stays lifted in the air, then uncertainly settles upon Duchess' back. It is...strange to pet one who speaks.

"I am from the Woodland Realm, in Middle-earth." Will it ever not be odd to tell the name of her world? "Do you know of it?"

[regalduchess]

"No, no, I'm afraid not. Is it pretty there?" Woodlands, she's never been to; not even the bubbling little stream she sees in pictures and paintings in the house, which is supposed to be only a mile away.

[dustless]

And they don't. He might be pleased about it, but Frisk would doubtless enjoy seeing it. Maybe some other time.

They follow his climb a bit more clumsily, climbing over the barrel instead of hopping up. "That looks right. Thank you for showing me the way." They squint--it's sort of dark--and start descending.

Ah. There is meat down there, hanging from hooks. Frisk makes a face. They're not sure what kind they are, but they all look kind of disgusting like that.

[antitemporal]

Sans-Serif makes an identical face, because it all looks quite disgusting hanging like that. "that's meat?" He points at it, staring skeptically at Frisk. "people eat that?"

Cats are weird. He shakes his head wearily, before moving over to a line of clay jugs along the opposite wall. "milk's over here," he adds, glancing back over his shoulder.

[andthebat]

The throne room is one of what the Batman's come to think of as the more stable locations in the castle, so it's easy to try and orient himself by passing it by- and he's getting used enough to the sight of it that he notices when something's different, such as a patch of clean white fur on the throne.

He thinks briefly of Asriel, but when Batman pauses and turns his head he realizes it's a cat. Something of a surprise, considering how few animals seem to be here outside of birds and, arguably, himself.

The Batman walks lightly, despite his size. "Hunting dust mice?" he murmurs as he approaches.

[dustless]

"Usually after it's cooked, though." At least for humans. Maybe cats in Duchess' world?

"Can you get it?" Frisk asks over their shoulder, creeping towards the nearest whatever-it-is. They can probably rip off a chunk with their fingers...or one of those big square-looking knives. They hum, thinking.

[regalduchess]

Even though she's a housecat, her ears are still sharp, and she hears him.

So it's so her surprise when she turns and sees a bat-man thing, but-- ever the lady-- she refuses to be perturbed and simply sits up, eyes fixed to his. People keep coming, perhaps led here to say hello, perhaps drawn in by their own wanderings-- she doesn't mind it, especially since this place really is awfully big.

"Aristocats do not hunt. That's just awful."

[antitemporal]

"maybe."

First, he has to remember where the almost-empty jug was. The full ones are too heavy for him to even move, let alone lift back up out of the pit.

On his third attempt, he finds one where the sound of milk is just the barest sloshing at the bottom. Perfect. Sans-Serif heaves it up into his arms, just barely managing to wrap them all the way around, before pointing the best he can towards the ladder. "if you go up first, i can pass it up to you." This is good. A lot of meat, a lot of milk. Duchess will be full up in no time.

[andthebat]

Oh. Well. The Batman stares at Duchess for a moment, cocking one eyebrow. He can't say a talking cat- or Aristocat- is the strangest thing he's seen, but he can't say he expected it either.

"Sorry," he says, "I guess I had you confused with something else."

He steps forward until he's respectably close to the throne where Duchess is seated, and kneels so he's closer to eye level with her.

"I'm the Batman. How long have you been here?"

[lightofthestars]

"Indeed it is. Though much of it has been corrupted by evil, those places that remain untouched are wonderful indeed."

For a moment, a look of longing is upon her face, but she hides it away to ask, "From where do you hail, Duchess?"

[regalduchess]

"Oh, that is terrible. I am so sorry that your-- your home has been corrupted." Her face falls, ears laying flat against her head.

"I hail from Paris. It's a lovely place, simply lovely."

[regalduchess]

She straightens up, sits like the queen that must have sat on this throne once upon a time, and looks the Batman in the eyes. Her ears point straight up, stiff and attentive. "Oh. If I may ask, who did you mistake me for?" She tilted her head.

"And it is nice to meet you, the Batman. I am Duchess. I suppose I arrived just this morning."

[lightofthestars]

"Paris," she says, trying to remember if she has heard this name before. "Is this a...place in Middle-earth?"

She does not know whether that is the name of a realm or a town, a forest or something else entirely.

[regalduchess]

"No, no, just a place on regular Earth." Duchess hops down from the chair and paces, tail flicking behind her. "Paris was so beautiful-- the canals, the cobblestone streets, our house-- what was Middle-earth like?"

[andthebat]

"No one in particular," the Batman says. "Just a... different sort of cat." The kind that doesn't talk, for one thing.

He holds out a hand to Duchess, wondering if she's more likely to sniff it or shake it. "Don't expect to leave anytime soon," he warns her. "This castle's floating a long way off from the ground, as well as other magic that keeps everyone stuck here."

[regalduchess]

"Oh. I suppose some cats are different from others." Like how they can talk to people, like she can, or like they meow at their humans, like she used to.

"Have you explored this castle? It looks quite stately, from what I have seen."

[lightofthestars]

She looks away, a little ashamed. "I cannot say. This is the first time I have left the Woodland Realm in all my days."

[regalduchess]

"Oh, that's perfectly alright." She leans forwards to nuzzle Tauriel's cheek. "Tell me about this Woodland Realm?"

[lightofthestars]

She startles; the touch of fur was not something she had forethought.

Looking back at Duchess, she says, "It is my home. One can sit in the tree-tops and look upon a sea of green. At night, the stars stretch away and cast their glittering light as far as sight allows, and the air is sweet indeed. Though the servants of the Necromancer ever strive against us, there is still great beauty to be found."

[regalduchess]

Duchess lets her speak; in truth, she herself is captivated by the idea of rolling oceans of green leaves, stars covering the entire sky and not blocked out by the yellows of streetlamps.

"Oh. Who is this Necromancer? He sounds..." she contorts her tail into a curlicue and allows that to finish her sentence.

[andthebat]

"Like how people are?" the Batman says lightly. (He feels a little thoughtless immediately afterwards.)

"Somewhat. Parts of the layout like to change." Which makes exploring the castle an ongoing issue.