*
The courtyard was not a bright, happy place, as the small ocelot kitten had hoped, yet nor did she have the sense of mind to find it particularly eerie. From the decor and the smell, the creature could guess that the citadel's courtyard served as a graveyard for those fallen on the island. The smell here, surprisingly, was not as potent as it was throughout the rest of the citadel, where she could not avoid the putrid smell of animated corpses roaming the darkened halls. She wondered why a graveyard was even necessary, when it appeared that even when you died, you were not dead.
Kalina had never given much thought to what happened after life; until very recently, the ignorant little kelvic had assumed that she was invincible. That was until she had almost been skewered by the antler of a deer... and then followed her desperate chase across the prairie, where she had felt death lick at her back legs as she ran. The ghost had cemented her knowledge of mortality, when she had been, for some reason, aware of everything happening to her but unable to fight against the movements of her paws, paws that would have otherwise walked her to her death. No, she had just recently come around to the idea that she was mortal. Only then did she think about what might happen to her then. Her conclusion was that she would most likely become either a white gas, like the ghost who had tried to kill her, or she would become just like the foul smelling creatures that dominated the island.
This morbid thinking lead her to decide that she'd rather become the white gas; the corpses moved slowly, painfully slowly. Furthermore, their movements sometimes even seemed uncoordinated and she dreaded to think how they could climb trees when they had trouble walking. Kalina couldn't imagine what her existence would be like were she not able to move freely like she could now. "And the corpses are so boring," she attached to her conclusion, "at least the white gas seemed to be having fun."
The smell assaulted her nose before she saw the corpse. It appeared to be a small child, but she had learnt that most of them where not fun, even if they looked like they should be having fun. Only one of the creatures she had met seemed to want to play, though she was not sure about it; it had frightened Kalina with its strange ways. But it was far away, a boat trip away, in the city with her Master in it, and she had come to terms with the knowledge that she would never see anyone she knew again.
Yet this new corpse-man, she would not be approaching, and she skirted around to the left of some of the tall, wide tombstones, keen to avoid detection. Her steps were slow, almost as if she was hunting, as if she was stalking prey. But now she wasn't trying to be stealthy to avoid someone - she was the one hiding. Her wide paws landed lightly on the ground, and her feet did not make a sound; her steps her far slower now that she was the one hiding, rather than the one stalking.
*
42nd Day of Spring, 514AV
The courtyard was not a bright, happy place, as the small ocelot kitten had hoped, yet nor did she have the sense of mind to find it particularly eerie. From the decor and the smell, the creature could guess that the citadel's courtyard served as a graveyard for those fallen on the island. The smell here, surprisingly, was not as potent as it was throughout the rest of the citadel, where she could not avoid the putrid smell of animated corpses roaming the darkened halls. She wondered why a graveyard was even necessary, when it appeared that even when you died, you were not dead.
Kalina had never given much thought to what happened after life; until very recently, the ignorant little kelvic had assumed that she was invincible. That was until she had almost been skewered by the antler of a deer... and then followed her desperate chase across the prairie, where she had felt death lick at her back legs as she ran. The ghost had cemented her knowledge of mortality, when she had been, for some reason, aware of everything happening to her but unable to fight against the movements of her paws, paws that would have otherwise walked her to her death. No, she had just recently come around to the idea that she was mortal. Only then did she think about what might happen to her then. Her conclusion was that she would most likely become either a white gas, like the ghost who had tried to kill her, or she would become just like the foul smelling creatures that dominated the island.
This morbid thinking lead her to decide that she'd rather become the white gas; the corpses moved slowly, painfully slowly. Furthermore, their movements sometimes even seemed uncoordinated and she dreaded to think how they could climb trees when they had trouble walking. Kalina couldn't imagine what her existence would be like were she not able to move freely like she could now. "And the corpses are so boring," she attached to her conclusion, "at least the white gas seemed to be having fun."
The smell assaulted her nose before she saw the corpse. It appeared to be a small child, but she had learnt that most of them where not fun, even if they looked like they should be having fun. Only one of the creatures she had met seemed to want to play, though she was not sure about it; it had frightened Kalina with its strange ways. But it was far away, a boat trip away, in the city with her Master in it, and she had come to terms with the knowledge that she would never see anyone she knew again.
Yet this new corpse-man, she would not be approaching, and she skirted around to the left of some of the tall, wide tombstones, keen to avoid detection. Her steps were slow, almost as if she was hunting, as if she was stalking prey. But now she wasn't trying to be stealthy to avoid someone - she was the one hiding. Her wide paws landed lightly on the ground, and her feet did not make a sound; her steps her far slower now that she was the one hiding, rather than the one stalking.
*
