Previous Entry share Next Entry
(no subject)
c-sweetness and light
mogget_cat wrote in milliways_bar
Perhaps no one is immune.

On the couch by the fire, site of innumerable catnaps, is curled a small not'cat, tossing, turning, and occasionally yowling as he dreams.

His first clue that something is wrong is the very realization that he is dreaming. He almost never dreams, and when he does, it is nothing like this. Yrael, like most other creatures, usually dreams of what he knows: Milliways, New Orleans, Florence, the Old Kingdom beyond the river of Death. This is no place that he knows. The other clue is that this is nothing like the short flashes of images that tend to make up his normal dreams. This is much... more fluid.

He finds himself dreaming himself into his own bed, the shallow cardboard box with the soft, folded blue chiton, much loved, as his pillow. It sits on a flat metal table, as one would find in a morgue. The clammy air and the dripping of stale, cold water onto his fur and into his bed are what wakes him into his dream. He is too warm for the clammy chill, causing his fur to mat with the damp, and the chiton to stick to him.

He looks around, slowly. So this is the hospital he has been hearing about, with its dangers and its dreams. He doesn't think to feel worried. Now, Yrael might find this 'doctor' and put an end to him, the one who has harmed so many of his friends, and disturbed their rest.

When he turns, thinking to go and seek out that doctor, he sees a flash of familiar golden hair. It is still familiar, even though dulled by the dimness of the hospital. "Svava?" he says, incredulously, ears perking forward. "What are you doing here? It's not safe here."

The golden-haired figure lifts her weeping head, saying vindictively, "What am I doing here? What are you doing here? It really is not safe, now!"

He blinks, "I-" but she continues.

"Burns all over her body, Yrael! They couldn't save her!"

Yrael stares at her. "I don't know wha-"

"Don't think you can blame this on catnip or Atlantean!" Svava cries out angrily. "You were supposed to be watching her! We can't trust you with anything!"

Yrael takes a step back at the implications. "I wouldn't do that. Ever," he says, quietly. Firmly. "You can trust-"

"You also said you would never hurt me," Kassandra says suddenly, behind him, causing Yrael to turn. "Nor betray my trust, my Catlet." He goes tumbling as she pulls the chiton and box out from under him. "I was wrong, my Catlet, Catlet with the pretty collar and bewitching eyes. I did not listen to my own counsel. I regret letting you in."

"Such is the way with nithings," Teja says, taking his axe down from among the blade of medical instruments hanging on the wall. Teja's cloak is the color of dried blood in the darkness. Yrael struggles to get to his feet. He did not land well on the cold and damp linoleum, and his legs do not want to support him. "They will betray you, traitorous less-than-men."

"Less than anything," Axel sneers down, seemingly not noticing the ice-cold chill of the air around them. "Nothing."

"Worse than a damn, backstabbing rat," Kyo scowls.

"No," Yrael says, shaking his head, heavily. "It's not like that. I've changed." Even to himself, his voice sounds weak. He's totally forgotten where he is.

"But not enough, my friend," Dr. Lecter says with his strange smile, fastidiously cleaning a bonesaw. "And this is not the place for half-measures."

Yrael suddenly feels Ophelia's fingers behind his ears, scritching. "Not to worry, Yrael," she smiles down at him, surrounded with flowers and warm sunlight as she leans over the morgue table at an improbable angle. "We're your friends."

He clings to the voice, warm friendship breaking over him like a wave after such cold accusations. "My friend, my first friend," he pants, ears back and tail down. The not'cat seeks to wrap around her ankles, an automatic gesture for comfort, but he is prevented by the vines that suddenly wrap about him, carrying him up into the air. The vines grow directly from Ophelia's fingers. They lift him up to Ophelia's face, so that she might smile and kiss his pink nose.

"Do not worry, Yrael. We are your friends," she assures him with a giggle of frayed energy and her typical fey wildness. "We will not let you hurt anyone."

"What?" Yrael struggles against the tightening vines, trying to tell his friends that it's not his fault, to let him go, but he can't seem to get the words out. He mouths them without sound, trying to make them understand, but they are heedless of his protests.

Kassandra comes forward with his box. But... it is not his bed. It is another, familiar box, larger and much darker, with Charter Marks spelled into the very stone.

"I suppose a century was not long enough," Svava sighs, her voice cold and resolute now she has wiped away her tears.

Someone please come and loose him from the nightmare's icy grip.

(Tiny Tag: Thy Kingdom Come plot)

  • 1
Ginny smiles walking over she sits down and starts to pet him.

The not'cat, already flailing as one does when one is caught in a nightmare, might catch her petting hands with his claws.

She reaches her hand back and yelps as she gets caught by the claw. She gently reaches to rub behind the ears.

"Yrael, Wake Up"

Kyo wanders over, and pokes Yrael. "You okay?"

Yrael lashes out, still flailing in his sleep, at being poked by what he thinks is another of the vines holding him. He yowls. Rarely, if ever, has he been this close to panic.

Kyo blinks. And punches Yrael. It's the only thing he can think to do to wake him up.


Yrael's catshape erupts with a yowl, up into light as bright as the sun, eight feet tall and blazing white, made of bright flames and chaotic Free Magic. From the torso up, he is mostly humanoid, but emaciatedly thin, with long, bony arms and elongated fingers. The torso sits upon a whirling column of white flame and Free Magic.

The couch is burning.

Rem noticed the small creature. She walked over to him and picked him up.

"He little guy, wake up," she said cradling the cat in her bony arms.

There is a loud yowl from the not'cat, still flailing in his sleep, lashing out with his long, ivory claws at whatever is restraining him.

He's trapped and his own friends are about to lock him up for another hundred years.

Rem is not afraid of claws. She sat down cross legged on the floor and let the cat on her lap.

"Wake up," she urged nicely.

He'll need something more than a voice to get him awake. He is already being talked to enough, in his nightmare. And those are voices he recognizes. He continues flailing, yowling ineffectual protests in Feline.

Eirene is now taking up the other half of the couch, and does not notice the pale feline right off. It's to be expected - she's got a lot on her mind. When she does glance down, and her gaze falls on said kitty, the goddess leans over.


And then reaches out to shake the poor thing awake.

Edited at 2008-02-14 03:49 am (UTC)

Yrael yowls at being shaken, only flailing more as the dream turns for the worse. He's locked in the spelled-shut box, and his friends - his own friends! - are kicking it about.

Cannot trust you! Never again! Less than human, not even a person! Untrustworthy, unreliable!

He flails, ivory claws extended as he tries his best to get out. His pristine white shape is brighter than a cat's should be, almost glowing in his panic.

While claws dig into her skin, Eirene is far more alarmed by the glowing and the inability of what looks like a cat to wake up. Therefore she's going to try and pin him gently on the couch.

Wake up!

Edited at 2008-02-14 04:57 am (UTC)

He yowls like a creature being tortured.

For, in his mind, he is.

It's a pitiful sound.

  • 1

Log in

No account? Create an account