(no subject)

[cyfor.livejournal.com]

[Cy appears on the Plane, looking totally out of it. She's sitting, small and wide-eyed and confused, amidst the scattered bodies of dead cats. They're sad, grotesque creatures, some missing eyes, or a leg, some unnaturally large, almost all missing hair around the face and neck. Most have wounds, some shallow and unhealed, others recent, signs of a brutal fight. Many of them are charred. The one closest to Cy has wires wound up into one of its eye sockets.

She walks over to him, dabs gently at his face, and starts trying ineffectively to clean the soot from around his nose.]

Wake up, brother. There's dances to be done. Wake up. You can find the road again. Please?

Comments

[soimpressive.livejournal.com]

[he's been listening intently, of course, expressioning getting darker by the second]

That wasn't right of them.

3/?

[cyfor.livejournal.com]

[She laughs again in that old, rich voice.] Right and righteousness. To hear man tell it, those spheres are theirs alone.

But no. It was not.

Eventually they left their caves and spread over the Great Cat's creation. We avoided them, most of us. Watched from a distance with distrust and dislike and more than a little bit of scorn.

But our small cousins, our curious little Felis cattus drew close to them, saw the human cities ravaged by plagues of mice and rats. Instinct drove them into the cities to hunt, and humanity blessed them as saviors. In Egypt, where they first gifted man with their willing association, cults sprang up, gods were born in the image of the cat. And the worship was willingly accepted. A cat is a cat, after all.

[Long silence. She stares at the bodies, her pupils massive.] It was the third life of cats, and the second betrayal by the humans.

4/?

[cyfor.livejournal.com]

They treated us well. They held a festival each year in honor of their cat-headed goddess, and each year they interred the bodies of dead felines in her temple and on her grounds. They honored us, and brought our mummified bodies to Bast as offerings.

Humanity. [A pause.] They have a fondness for celebration. What species does not? The festival, with time, became riotous and drunken. They used it as an excuse to run wild along the Nile, to dance and expose themselves to the bright eye of the Great Cat. They would lose their offerings. They lost many offerings. And the prophets of Bast saw opportunity.

Cats disappeared. They took them from cities, from streets and from homes. They took them from the storehouses where they drove back the feeding pests. They took them from the wild when they could catch them. And they killed them. Gently, they did it, but they killed them, embalmed them, and sold them to the revelers. And the more the revelers bought, the more the prophets killed. All in the name of their cat-headed goddess. All in twisted honor to our image.

[soimpressive.livejournal.com]

I know.

I was there. Great civilization, a little overzealous. [his mouth opens as if he's going to say something else, but he abruptly shuts it and waves Cy on with a zipping-his-lips motion afterward]

[ooc: sdfgsdf Sorry about short tags, but if I let him go he'll interrupt with his own monologue and we'll never shut him up |D]