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castle_perrault2016-03-05 01:04 am
regalduchess) wrote in castle_perrault2016-03-05 01:04 am
Entry tags:
[Open] Catgroove.
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.
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.
no subject
"Oh. Who is this Necromancer? He sounds..." she contorts her tail into a curlicue and allows that to finish her sentence.