Thalas Manse - Chyril 26th Late Morningtide

[Aerin Penna Seleratus]

Aerin wandered back over to the cat after the hole was dug, looking for signs of recovery or activity beyond the wheezing breath. Finding none, she gathered its hind legs together, being careful not to allow herself to be scratched anew, and dragged the cat to the hole, partially because she didn’t want any of its blood to get on her legs or skirt as she walked the short distance to the impromptu grave site and partially because the tom still owed her for the claws.

Had the tomcat been a lion or tiger, Aerin would have felt fear and shock at being mauled, so she saw no reason whatsoever why she should feel guilty about the kill – it was the law of the jungle, as it were, and Aerin saw herself as no different than any other predatory animal who had another come into her territorial circle. With a small, satisfied grunt, she placed the cat in the hole and gazed once more into the glassy eye.

“You don’t know me…” she confessed to her second living victim, in almost the same words that she had given the first just weeks earlier. “…no-one does. Your life is not meaningless to me and I do not wish for you to go wherever it is that souls go without knowing that.” She reached down and stroked the cat’s fur along the edge of the collapsed bone. “Whatever god or goddess you believe in knew of me, I am sure, and knew what would transpire today. Was it a failure on their part that you were not saved from this fate? Or was it intentional that you come to me to die because it was your time to die?” Aerin gave a glance upward to the skies, where she had always assumed the gods to live – it was not that she did not believe the gods existed, but merely that she did not believe in them faith-wise, much like a man who does not savor the taste of alcohol acknowledging the existence of pubs and taverns, yet never calling upon their services himself.

“You think about that, on your journey, and ask your god for that answer, mmm? Why did he or she care so little as to let your death drag on like this? Had it been up to me, a gentle petting would have been the last thing you felt in this world, little cat, I promise you that.” Her eyes narrowed at the sky for a flicker before falling back onto the cat. “Through blood, bring beauty…” she whispered, scooping handful after handful of dirt onto the tabby body until the ground looked smooth once more, the redhead having worked with compost enough on the farm (it was a rare break from her studies and ‘surrogate mother’ duties) to know that she would have to return in time to tamp down the dirt and add more as the body either decayed or was eaten. For now, though, the first part of the evidence had been covered up and Aerin went in quick search of something new, her green eyes searching the remains of the vegetation for thorned switches. She knew ahead of time that her plan would hurt and that the cat scratches might raise questions, and so her intent was to take the thorns and clear them up, allowing her hands to be further scratched by the brush as she resumed weeding.

Three lone scratches might raise an eyebrow, but a multitude combined with deforested garden plots would likely not. Besides, it was a task that needed to be accomplished even if the cat and birds had stayed well to leeward.

OOC: I think we can call this thread finished once you determine her successes/failures on her intended actions.

[Grey Wolf]

The discussion on the disillusioned Gods was probably lost on cat, and had her victim been a human or an adhiel, she might have made him or her suffer even more through the heartless recounting of how even the Deities abandoned him and left him to die by Aerin’s hand. One day she might discuss similar subject with a person who could provide a different outlook, but this once all she managed to do was watch as the still living and breathing cat’s body disappeared under handfuls of dirt she piled atop of him. That he would die, there was no doubt, and also that her actions may have shortened the tomcat’s suffering a little bit, though perhaps lack of oxygen would ultimately lead to the slowing of its metabolism and prolonging of its suffering. Hidden by the dirt as the cat was, she would never know that.

Weed and even thorns were easy to find in the garden and hurting her hand further proved to be an easy task, the stinging lines the cat left still deeper and more pronounced that the thorn marks, but casual observer would not know the difference. Clearing the entire garden was out of the question, lest she risk to have her wound fester, but a quick work at clearing a nice patch of it was quite possible. Quarter of a burn later, both of Aerin’s hands and forearms were covered in tiny scratches, the bits of weed gathered into a neat pile.

OOC: I think we are indeed done here.

[Turi]

locked, skilled, summarised and archived