revivalproject | [OPEN] The Lore Of The Highlands

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[OPEN] The Lore Of The Highlands

WHO: Reeve Tuesti, Open
WHERE: Temba
WHAT: Shadow Hauntings
WHEN: During The Storm
WARNINGS: CW: Big, predatory dog, eyes in the darkness

I. The Cat-sìth | Early Storm Days

There wasn't much to account for the first time let himself go outside into the fog. It was actually a strange thing for him, where he hadn't noticed it the first day at all. He'd been inside, and his unique forms of magic didn't really seem to linger in his mind or awareness except when he was actively using it to reach for and control Mini. Given he'd been so busy with working on getting logs into the storage room he'd taken for himself in the Ampitheater, he'd gotten tired and just settled into a cot by the door and slept. So passed the first day of the storm. And so it was that Reeve didn't end up finding out their problem until he walked outside on the second day.

Even then it had taken a moment for him to process. Fog wasn't, in and of itself, a problem after all. Weather could be like that. It wasn't until there was a strike of crimson lightning that Reeve realized something was wrong. Even then it was mostly because the flash of lightning cast a new shadow from Reeve's body, and it was behaving weirdly.

Mostly because it was behaving. The shadow swirled and swirled until brilliant crimson eyes were staring out at him from the fog. Cat eyes. Cat eyes at the level of a dog's head. The form stepped forward, hissing, bearing teeth that were as stunningly white as the spot on its chest.

"Cat-sìth," Reeve said in shock. How could he not understand what this was with a single sight? It was a story that had shaped him as a child, what had led him to making the original Cait Sith. A fairy-cat, one that stole the souls of the dead. Which, of course, meant Reeve should be safe, provided he didn't die.

That wasn't good though. Okay, how to deal with this... Reeve was frozen in place as he thought and the shadow continued to grow. To split. To spread. And soon Reeve was being surrounded by scores of felien eyes.

"A man goes out in heavy rain with nothing to protect him from it. His hair doesn’t get wet. How does he do that?" Reeve asks. The feline creatures pause in their advance on him, instead looking at each other.

They couldn't resist riddles after all. And, with them distracted, Reeve turned and fled. Maybe he wasn't dead, maybe no one was particularly weak to the soul stealing (he hoped), but Reeve rememebered what his power was. Inspire, after all, was a soul magic. He was perhaps at too great a risk.

II. The Cù-sìth | Late Storm Days

Fairy-Cats were hardly the most threatening of the fae that stories were told of when Reeve was a child. They were so easily held back, so easily driven aside with riddles and attention and even cold temperatures. So Reeve had come to be prepared for the cats, and was more willing to go into the thick fog. It's not easy, of course, but he has the maps memorized so with carefully counted paces, he can more easily find his way in the fog. Sure, it wasn't perfect, you couldn't walk in a straight line for any distance without points of reference, but he could try.

The flash of lightning wasn't enough to make him jump, he was used to the ghostly felines arriving. The growling made him stop though. Made him freeze and look back over his shoulder. What he found made his blood go cold.

A massive, shaggy creature like a dog, but the size of a small cow. Its coat was a dark shade of green, and its bared teeth yellow against the color. The creature's eyes were a bloody crimson and shining, and as it snarled those eyes were narrowed.

The terror was too much. This creature was one Reeve knew, and was as dangerous to the living as the cat-sìth were to souls. Reeve knew the stories said the creature had a bark that was low and menacing and carried impossible distances. One bark could reach miles, even over the waters of the sea. And to hear three of them would be to die from terror of the sound alone.

"Fuck," Reeve said, and he started running. Even though there was silence behind him, that didn't keep him from running. He was too terrified to stop. the hounds were said to be silent hunters, and all he could do was run. He needed shelter and to find a way to plug his ears, and he needed it now.

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He fell with the release, and he stumbled away, ready to flee. Except... Except still the rider is there, watching him.

"I... I have magic! I will use it on you if you approach," he says.

Too bad the magic isn't working.

The helmeted stranger seemed to relax a little as she saw him land without injury. Not graceful, but not with anything broken either. Reeve would get the impression that he was being stared at as he made his threats. If she had eyes, Celty would have totally been rolling them.

So she made an exaggerated shrug instead, lifting her hands with it. Right. Magic. If it were that simple then she wouldn't have run away from the cats.

Shrugging, her hands up. That's... an almost human gesture.

"W-what are you?"

He absolutely knew what the Cat Sith were of course.

Celty patted around her pockets, pulling out her communication device. At least he could see what that was and hopefully figure out she was one of them and hadn't stolen it off someone.

Meanwhile the horse turned the base of its headless neck towards him, the only real sign it was looking at him. Black wisps streamed languidly from the gaping space.

Ah, the device. Either she killed someone, or she was one of them. He... would err on the side of 'one of them' only because she hadn't tried to kill him. But the twisting of the headless head toward him has him flinch back once more.

"And I presume you come in peace."

The reaction Reeve had to the horse seemed to make the latter lower its head in mild dejection. Celty patted her mount consolingly.

The facepalm was a difficult gesture not to understand. Yes, she nodded emphatically, even as she slipped away her useless tablet. Turning slightly, she cast a wary look back in the direction they'd come from.

In some ways, the horse was doubly scary to him, in part because of the fact that horses were not native to his world. This was a creature not even his imagination could have conjured.

With Celty's attention turning, Reeve's does as well, and he shuddered to think of what they'd left behind.

"Cat-sith. They seek the souls of the dead, to take them before they can rightfully pass to the afterlife. They say you can keep them away with music and dancing and riddles. Thus the Late Wake came to be."

Ah, I've heard of these... Celty thought, a puzzle piece clicking into place from her hazy memories of the past. She wouldn't be able to say how she knew them, although she figured it was simply because they were along the same lines as her. She imagined if they were real and her regular abilities were functioning, she'd be able to sense them as she did fairies and magical beings back home.

Her helmet turned back towards Reeve then, tilting as though in question. It was as best as she could hope to convey without words, but she hoped the general idea would get across: What now? Did he have anywhere to be? Aside from away from those creatures.

"I would think it would be wise to avoid them," Reeve said with a sigh. "Perhaps find some shelter they would not appreciate. I just cannot fathom why they are here. They are... They are just stories!"

She was more than just a story but that probably wouldn't help matters. The dullahan nods at the suggestion to avoid them, although that did make her wonder if anywhere was suitable. Cats were cats, after all.

I thought they were after fresh corpses... Celty wondered, trying to call up ancient memories. I'm usually the one people would rather avoid... What if I...

Maybe she could fool them into thinking she's staked claim on Reeve? She glanced over her shoulder at the man before looking back out at the fog.

Cats were indeed cats. That was always such a problem wasn't it?

"Isn't it better that we go find shelter? YOu seem like you're staying."

Celty wondered where ideal shelter would be. The welcome center, perhaps? She tried to picture the city map in her mind. No telling what else one could run into in this fog.

She didn't feel at ease sending him off alone, so turning to him, she held out a gloved hand. Did he trust her?

What was she asking for? Not shaking hands he thinks. Hesitating he took the offered hand, ready to see what happened after that decision was made.

Her grasp was firm, and with a nod, maybe a head's up (hah), she gave him a slight tug as she gestured to the horse. They had time that he could get aboard properly, at least. It'd be safer for him if they had to make a hasty retreat again.

Well, there's... that. Reeve took a deep breath and then let himself be helped up onto the terrifying creature. If he perhaps had to close his eyes, that was a thing that could be accepted too. Hopefully.

Maybe that would be for the best considering what Celty had decided to do if they came across the cat-sìth again.

Once Reeve was up, she made sure she was holding on before urging her horse forth. She cast an anxious look back where they'd come from. Maybe they'd just vanished? The fog was an annoyance to be sure!

Looking back was probably a good choice, though there was flashes of golden eyes in the distance behind them. The Cat-sith had clearly come to find them.

"I don't suppose you know any riddles, or can play music," Reeve said, his voice soft.

The helmeted rider's shoulders shook in a silent laugh. She was never much for riddles and hadn't used her spare time to take up an instrument. It had never occurred to her.

Ah, but here they were. She steadied Shooter, not that the headless horse seemed too bothered. If he still had a head it would be held high, but he was most definitely looking in that direction as well.

Come on then, Celty thought as she watched the glint of eyes in the fog.

There was hissing in the darkness, usually from the direction of the eyes. Some would blink out, and others blink open in another position.

"The times when we could use Cayde and his propensity for parties," Reeve said, thinking on the multiple times the man had invited people over for pizza.

And then a cat lunged out of the night, trying to claw at Shooter's flank.

There were probably so many more people more diplomatic than she was. Celty was but a courier. Well, aside from being an urban legend.

Beneath them the horse shifted, a hoof slamming into the offending cat. Despite being headless, Shooter still somehow emitted a ghostly, chilling whinny. He stomped his hooves as the felines circled, and Celty drew herself tall, sweeping an arm out to get the cats' attention.

Leave us, she thought, though unsure that they would hear her. Still, she put every ounce of authority she could summon up into those unspoken words, and then she deliberately lifted her hands to her helmet, removing it to reveal...nothing.

Settling the helmet in the crook of her arm came instinctively despite the fact that she hardly did so on a normal day. She imagined had she her real head it would have rested comfortably in the same place. From the base of her pale neck seeped a thin wisp of black mist.

This one is mine.

Oh yes, Reeve is definitely whimpering in shock and fear at this revelation. Sure, he's seen some truly terrifying things, but how had he escaped one demon to find himself with another? Had she some magic that made the communicator appear, some illusion?

The man shook with his panicked terror. Sadly his fight or flight had chosen 'cower'. Apparently that was an option.

The felines, though, hissed in distaste. Fairy creatures wanted nothing to do with that reveal, and soon they, even the injured one, melted away into the shadows, fleeing what they saw as the bigger predator.

Celty waited, watching as the cat-sìth retreated, and it wasn't until they had all vanished from sight that her posture relaxed in what could have been an exhausted sigh. It was hard to find even a headless being imposing when she adopted such human expressions, regardless of having no face.

She reached over to pat Shooter on the side before replacing her helmet, and only then did she glance back at Reeve. She'd felt his trembling and heard his frightened sounds, so she wasn't sure how else to reassure him other than to do nothing.

"What are you?" he whispered when he finally found his voice.

Death, he thought, he feared. His death.

She upraised her hands, not necessarily in uncertainty, but she looked down at them as though trying to figure out how to answer that. What was she indeed? Celty knew what she was supposed to be but wondered if that were even applicable. She was incomplete.

Her next gesture was a question, an offer. Did he want to leave on his own? Or did he still trust her to take him somewhere safe?

Pantomime, sadly, wasn't Reeve's native tongue at all.

"Forgive me, but I've no certainty as to what you are saying."

[OPEN] The Lore Of The Highlands

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