[Infinity Manor] A Spat with a Cat

[Savis Maren]

78th of Winter, 518

Painted by darkness, the sky of Mizahar bowed to the presence of Leth. Clouds hung low in the sky, and the moonlight didn't reach Infinity Manor this evening. Savis Maren laid down on a sofa. In the fireplace, a hearty kindling burned as the Nuit reaped the simple pleasures of life in the Manor. Though the Manor's sentience might keep the flames alive of its own accord, the Nuit took matters into her own hands. Or, rather, astral hands. Undeath created its own breed of laziness, and once she was prone or otherwise off of her feet, she simply elected to stay in that position as long as possible.

Savis Maren had a single tube of black paint in her left hand, and the Nuit, finding the kindling beginning to spark, sought to perform a bit of relief for the situation. On each of her shoulders, the undead devised a focus, using the compounded glyph Korad-Sutla as an aid. Savis had a good amount of time before the kindling needed shifting, but already she took note of the yellowing flames that threatened to die out. She placed the glyphs on her collarbones, as well, then laid down and allowed her eyes to fall shut. Savis Maren willed the djed to rise from the depths of the soul. Immediately, power gathered at the glyphs she'd created, attracted by their presence. She utilized this power, lifting the astral body and separating it from the physical. Her shoulders, neck, and head rose up, and the entirety of her body fell limp as she found her chest stretching outward.

I imagine this is how Jomi feels all the time, she figured as she looked at her collapsed body and realized just how small she truly was. Then, without any further delay, she worked towards what came next. Savis Maren extended her left astral arm, pulling the poker and carefully lifting the logs at the base of the flame. Fresh oxygen fed the fire, and The Nuit did that one final time before she let the poker be. Savis Maren was elated, the manipulation of her astral body coursing waves of pleasure through the form. When Savis looked back to her corpse shell, she saw the midnight kitten, a tom that she'd seen in passing within the manor, approaching from beneath the sofa.

Unacceptable, she thought as she watched the kitten paw at the Nuit's inert right arm. Clearly, in her manipulation of djed, she'd kept her limbs in the air, actively manipulated until the astral body pulled away. Her left covered her torso, but her right fell, and her fingertips touched the floor. Her wrist was the plaything of the tomcat, batted between its right paw and its head in a queer sort of game. Soft mewls escaped the kitten, and it parted its maw in a silent yawn. However, that mouth didn't fall all the way shut, and Savis watched each moment of it as the teeth approached ever closer to the grayish pallor of Savis' skin.

WC: 511

[Savis Maren]

Oh no you don't! Savis thought as she extended her astral arms. Her projected form obeyed her without question, and her arms stretched towards their destination. One hand cupped at the tom's jaw, pulling its head up and away from her flesh as the other hand grabbed the cat right in the middle. It hissed out at the unseen attackers, its arms and legs like the tendrils of an aquatic beast. Over and over it seemed to attempt to gain traction. Claws retracted and the Nuit decided she'd play a little game with this oh so invasive little thing. She lifted it straight into the air, its weight dragging her astral form and she required both of her arms at full strength to fight both the cat's struggle and its mass. The kitten swayed as it rose higher and higher into the air, and Savis focused entirely on the task at hand. Little mischievous beasts need to learn not to mess with what isn't there, she told herself, and she unfurled her fists, the cat released entirely and began to plummet ten feet towards the ground.

A loud hiss filled the room, and the projected Nuit stretched out her arms, nestling the kitten into her astral elbow. The hissing turned to a loud meowl, bitter anger obvious from the tone of it. The cat lashed out again and again, in search of its invisible tormentor. Little by little, Savis lowered the cat to the ground, catching it next by its neck and holding its head to the ground while her head and free arm moved back towards her main body. Feeling that the punishment was well enough for the crime, Savis pulled back and let the kitten be. She brought her limbs, which had begun to grow heavier, back to the core of her form. The soul re-connected fully, and Savis opened her eyes to find herself back in place. Amusement curved the Nuit's lips, and she wondered to herself just how capable she might've been if she hadn't taken the time to apply her glyphs beforehand.

Projection is potent enough, allowing me to perform tasks that separate the gap between humanity and this weak undead form. But, with the implementation of Glyphing... you can do things a bit better. Faster. Maybe there are more uses here than I imagine? I've used Glyphing primarily for detachments... Something to explore a bit later, she mused. The tom seemed rattled along, but watching the Nuit rise from the sofa seemed to embroil it. Spooks hissed loudly, his claws digging into the floor before it jumped forward. The crazy feline jumped onto the Nuit, and embedded its claws into the fabric of her shirt before claiming her chest as its resting spot and promptly closing its eyes. Savis had no way of telling if it was truly asleep, but the wretched creature certainly played the part convincingly. Savis, feeling the effort of her magical indulgence catching up to her, didn't resort to magic, but instead let it have its win.

There's no warmth here... no comfort here... Perhaps if I lay as still as possible, the cat will just... leave.

A full bell passes with Savis Maren focusing on other matters, trying to ignore the presence on her chest. In the passage of time, Leth moves farther along the sky, and Spooks stays entirely still. Rather, its movements were limited to jabbing claws into the fabric of the undead's shirt. Beneath the surface, ashen skin chafed with each movement, and there was no way to know how much longer it'd be before the accursed cat decided to get off of her. In a battle of wills between horrid cat and undead mage, it seemed that the cat was more than ready to win. Savis, at last, fed up with the absurdity of it all, pushed the cat off of her. Claws tore jagged holes into the shirt the Nuit wore, and at last, the rage overwhelmed her. Savis Maren rose to her feet in earnest, the shirt she'd arrived in Lhavit in torn to pieces. She summoned her djed, sliding it between the invisible crevices within the soul. Pushing apart the astral from the physical, one arm lashed out and flung towards the kitten. Spooks had no way of seein what was coming, and even in his walk away with some of Savis' shirt, the astral hand curled around its leg. The Nuit dragged the kitten across the floor, then whipped her astral arm back towards her in a flurry of movement.

WC: 763

[Savis Maren]

The kitten, helpless to Savis' onslaught let out a pitiful yowl, triggering the Nuit's ire all the more. She released its hand, flinging the tom through and halfway across the room. It'd collide into the wall next to the fireplace, and the Nuit clenched the fist of her arm still entrenched in her astral body. Then, she raised that hand, holding her shirt together to preserve her modesty in front of the house. She began to shout out obscenities and pulled her astral hand back to the core of her main body. Djed waxed around the elbow, and the Nuit attached the limb anew. She held her shirt closed with both hands after. A shambling pace took the Nuit towards the rear door of the house. She flung it open, her shirt falling off entirely, her on-and-off grip straining it against her back. It fell to the floor, and the indecent Nuit was forced to walk a treacherous path towards her room. The Nuit wrapped her breasts in bandages, a loud huff escaping her until she threw on her dress and mused about what she could do. This outfit was the best 'casual' attire she had, with the dresses in her closet not meant to be worn without being seen.

Savis decided to do what she could. She reached for her surgery kit, taking her personal needles and returning to the house. The elderly body she wore was exposed, her grievous scars from the major operations conducted in the transference rituals on full display. Carnage met on her abdomen, and the Nuit saw the ugliness of her being once again. Hatred spilled over her, filled and directed at that horrible cat.

The Nuit moved to the basement, the fireplace brought to life by the house, allowing Savis to find her needs far easier. Tattered pieces of her shirt in her right hand, the remainder of it in her left... Savis Maren used extra bits of fabric to make up what was left and took thread after thread to the horrible abomination of multiple colors and shapes. Undeath provided Savis with ample patience, but being flung into the recesses of sewing - something she had a meager understanding of - for no reason but the machinations of an evil cat... Something about that seemed to throw fire over the streams of consciousness. The Nuit's movements were haphazard and unfocused, and more than once she pricked her fingertips with the needle. Pain flickered over her mind, and she sought to ignore it, working through the repetitive occurrence until her shirt was restored as a patchwork wardrobe monstrosity. The Nuit would make sure Madeira heard all about this, and vehemently held the opinion that the cat deserved death for such a heinous crime. Frustration dabbled at the edges of consciousness, and Savis Maren let it at that. She had other things to do, always, and her considerations had been left for far too long for the purposes of 'relaxation'. The idea of it was absurd to Savis, for she never tired or grew bored of her indulgences.

And so, her shirt restored (somewhat), she left Infinity Manor and that wretched cat behind in favor of pastures that suited her sensibilities far better. She'd allow herself to calm down before returning to the place. For now... someone needed to suffer her ire with her.

WC: 558