Though it would be extremely invalid to throw a book at the Baba Yaga's face. Very lucky he restrained this terrible impulse.]
Tch! Why do you think? [She plucks a dried lizard off the wall, one of a set of five.] Because they would want to help her.
[She holds it by the tail as she pops the whole thing into her mouth, pulling it back as her teeth rake the desiccated flesh from its bones.
Silly as it may be, the books do tug at the mind. Vying for attention, for the chance to throw an assist. Maybe lend Shoma a little of what they'd offer, should they be standing in his shoes.]
[WHAT SHOMA can't women EAT??????????? she's hungry goddamn
Anyway this is a pretty great choice actually! Shoma will feel imbued with a sense of cunning and quickness, and also a sharpshooter's aim. Two daggers will appear at his side. They are carved from the fangs of a big, bad wolf, and are just as deadly.
Also he has cool boots now.
More importantly, roll a d20 to see how catlike he becomes.]
[Well the main thing is that he's little and he's small. While Shoma is indeed a full cat, he is at least a little less mangy and underfed than the guy he's emulating. Still big Le Slinkus vibes though.]
Awwww, such a cute little kitty-caaaaaat... [She reaches one sharp nail out and scratches behind an ear. It doesn't pierce but it is a close call.] Kitchy-kitchy-koo!
[Then her face shifts, no longer mocking but serious. Fearsome.]
Now. Begone!
[The fur rug opens beneath him and Shoma falls into darkness. Pages with burnt edges and active flames alike flutter around him, whispering to him in the void in voices that echo, vary, create a cacaphonous chorus with the same beginning line, over and over and over.
Once upon a time— Once upon a time onceuponatime
—There was a beautiful princess.
Then he lands in briars. A huge thicket of them, which is odd because if he looks up there is a roof direct over his head.
To his left is a window, partially obstructed but clearly facing an open, dismal grey sky. It's very high up, that much is certain.
Then to his left, obscured by a maze of thorns, is a bed ensconced in the tangle. There's a noise there, a bitter and dry choking. Is there someone on it?
The good news is, as we've established, that he is little and he is small. A human might have trouble crawling through all this, but a teeny tiny kitty cat might find safer passage through the gaps, and step lightly to avoid most of the thorns.
[ first of all he absolutely despises when people tease him about being cute, so his instinct is to try and swat at this woman's hand, though he flinches back when a nail scratches behind his ear. me-owch! but the void opens and he cries out with the sudden falling, suddenly very much alarmed of what kind of life rosamund led before all of this before he finds himself landing in the briars with another groan. ]
Why is there so much falling in fairytales... [ he says this to himself, but at least he landed on his feet. cats, you know? he takes a moment to look at his surroundings, frowning softly. the way he figures it is that he's an itty bitty kitty, so he can come and go as he pleases. it's for that reason that he hears the sound, ear flickering as he starts to crawl through the thorn maze. he's trying to listen for the sound, but as he goes, he eventually calls out again. ]
[There's another choked sound. He can see movement. A hand, not too far away, but it's reaching up to the head of the bed. There's a figure now, he can make it out. It looks like something is being pulled.
Then a keen of pain, a sort of retching. It's only seconds but the sound is wretched enough to stretch those microscopic moments into an unbearable eon. Then there's a wet sound, wet coughing, a bit of spitting.
And a familiar voice, hoarse and frail but searching.]
[ dislike...he sneaks his way forward, crawling over thorns and trying to push his way ahead as he listens for the signs of life. but he immediately perks up and begins moving faster when she calls out. ]
[When he reaches her she's still struggling to get up. There's blood running down her chin and from her nose and a few long tendrils of thorns slicked with blood cast off to the side. Two short, one quite long and tipped with broken roots.
She coughs some more, and the blood spatters. But she speaks clearer now.]
Little cat? How do you know my name?
[Then she stiffens. She speaks urgently, glancing all around.]
Is my prince on his way? Have you seen him? He's supposed to—
[ he physically recoils upon seeing how bad of a state she's in, more out of frustration that this has happened to her rather than repulsion. but he pads his way closer, getting a look to see if there's anyway he can help her or at least find the real reason she's bleeding this much. ]
Never mind that. Your prince...has to be on his way, but we can't wait for him. We have to try and help you now while we can. [ yeah. don't wait on a man! he guesses. right? especially since he has a sinking feeling no one's going to come. ]
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no subject
Though it would be extremely invalid to throw a book at the Baba Yaga's face. Very lucky he restrained this terrible impulse.]
Tch! Why do you think? [She plucks a dried lizard off the wall, one of a set of five.] Because they would want to help her.
[She holds it by the tail as she pops the whole thing into her mouth, pulling it back as her teeth rake the desiccated flesh from its bones.
Silly as it may be, the books do tug at the mind. Vying for attention, for the chance to throw an assist. Maybe lend Shoma a little of what they'd offer, should they be standing in his shoes.]
no subject
why is baba yaga eating lizards. why is this happening. again, he hates it here!! but okay...can he pick up puss in boots? what does that offer him? ]
no subject
Anyway this is a pretty great choice actually! Shoma will feel imbued with a sense of cunning and quickness, and also a sharpshooter's aim. Two daggers will appear at his side. They are carved from the fangs of a big, bad wolf, and are just as deadly.
Also he has cool boots now.
More importantly, roll a d20 to see how catlike he becomes.]
no subject
but cool! he has weapons now and fancy boots, good for him. he watched shrek 2 during last week's curfew. he's ready.
hands you my roll of 7 while he's still staring down this woman and wondering what the hell he's walking into. ]
no subject
Awwww, such a cute little kitty-caaaaaat... [She reaches one sharp nail out and scratches behind an ear. It doesn't pierce but it is a close call.] Kitchy-kitchy-koo!
[Then her face shifts, no longer mocking but serious. Fearsome.]
Now. Begone!
[The fur rug opens beneath him and Shoma falls into darkness. Pages with burnt edges and active flames alike flutter around him, whispering to him in the void in voices that echo, vary, create a cacaphonous chorus with the same beginning line, over and over and over.
Once upon a time—
Once upon a time
onceuponatime
—There was a beautiful princess.
Then he lands in briars. A huge thicket of them, which is odd because if he looks up there is a roof direct over his head.
To his left is a window, partially obstructed but clearly facing an open, dismal grey sky. It's very high up, that much is certain.
Then to his left, obscured by a maze of thorns, is a bed ensconced in the tangle. There's a noise there, a bitter and dry choking. Is there someone on it?
The good news is, as we've established, that he is little and he is small. A human might have trouble crawling through all this, but a teeny tiny kitty cat might find safer passage through the gaps, and step lightly to avoid most of the thorns.
Which way will he go?]
no subject
Why is there so much falling in fairytales... [ he says this to himself, but at least he landed on his feet. cats, you know? he takes a moment to look at his surroundings, frowning softly. the way he figures it is that he's an itty bitty kitty, so he can come and go as he pleases. it's for that reason that he hears the sound, ear flickering as he starts to crawl through the thorn maze. he's trying to listen for the sound, but as he goes, he eventually calls out again. ]
...hello?
no subject
Then a keen of pain, a sort of retching. It's only seconds but the sound is wretched enough to stretch those microscopic moments into an unbearable eon. Then there's a wet sound, wet coughing, a bit of spitting.
And a familiar voice, hoarse and frail but searching.]
H-hello?
no subject
Rosamund?
no subject
She coughs some more, and the blood spatters. But she speaks clearer now.]
Little cat? How do you know my name?
[Then she stiffens. She speaks urgently, glancing all around.]
Is my prince on his way? Have you seen him? He's supposed to—
[And she breaks off coughing.]
no subject
Never mind that. Your prince...has to be on his way, but we can't wait for him. We have to try and help you now while we can. [ yeah. don't wait on a man! he guesses. right? especially since he has a sinking feeling no one's going to come. ]