[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

[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.