A Paw In Two Worlds
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In a bygone era, Legacy was merely a feral feline, a stray born to the savage beauty of the wild. For six precarious years, she survived on cunning and stealth, observing humans from the shadows with a curious yet wary eye. That was until the day a benevolent soul plucked her from a treetop refuge. This human was an enigma, his voice a gentle melody that seemed to understand her very essence. Entranced, Legacy found herself ensnared in a mystifying domesticity that would last three bewildering years.
Coexisting with humans proved a confounding enigma. Their minds worked in inexplicable ways. She'd mew plaintively by the door, desperate for freedom, only to have her human respond with maddening chin scratches. Did they not grasp the simplest of feline language? Her demands were clear: liberty, not affection!
Gradually, her human grew attuned to her needs, though the process taxed her feline patience. Still, the shelter and protection he offered were a balm to her wild soul. Yet, proximity only deepened her fascination with the human enigma. What lay beyond those inscrutable eyes? How would the world alter if she strode on two legs instead of four? What wonders could opposable thumbs unlock? To experience the tactile marvels denied her species... the very idea was both exhilarating and heartbreaking.
Tragedy, however, has a cruel way of reshaping lives. After three years, Legacy found herself cast back into the wild, her heart burdened with loss and her spirit shattered. This desolate chapter brought her closer to true despair than any prior hardship. Even had her human friend lived, their companionship was by nature fleeting. Humans were blessed with an infuriating abundance of years, while cats were but brief, flickering flames. For two years, she drifted amidst human settlements, a ghostly observer consumed by their mystifying rituals. Why were they entranced by glowing rectangles, their faces bathed in the pale light of those tiny windows to the soul? Why did they bellow at these inanimate objects as if expecting a response? And what possessed them to emit those grating, cooing sounds that set her very teeth on edge?
Amidst this sea of incomprehensibility, one human stood out. An aged crone named Agatha, her skin sagging like well-worn leather, her teeth a testament to decay. Yet, despite her fearsome appearance, a gentle kindness radiated from her. The townsfolk dubbed her the "crazy cat lady," and it was she who brought food to the feral kindred. One day, as Legacy mingled with the colony of cats, Agatha's voice rasped against her ears. "You, little one, are not like the others. A shadow that hungers for a life forever out of reach."
The woman spoke cat!
Deal with the Devil
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"Strange human, your words are a riddle, a secret language only cats may comprehend. In all my years, I've never known such a marvel to be possible. Yes, I find myself entranced, observing and pondering the great 'what if.' What form would I take as a human? What tones would my voice carry? Would I roam the world in solitude or amidst a tapestry of loving kin and companions? The queries swirl in my mind like a maddening whirlwind!" Legacy had exclaimed, her tail twitching with the fervor of her curiosity. Then, a heavy sigh escaped her, "Alas, I am old, human, and my vitality ebbs with the fading moon. Perhaps, if the cosmos favor me, I shall be reborn in human form."
The wizened crone had cackled, a sound like brittle leaves and malevolence. "Why plead with the capricious Fates when I, myself, can grant your heart's deepest longing?"
The specifics of the pact that followed are a tale Legacy prefers not to recount. Suffice it to say, she bartered with a being from the shadows. The evidence of their compact is forever seared into her very being. Only later did Legacy discover the hag's true nature: a weaver of spells, a wielder of the arcane. Legacy's transformation was not merely into human form, but into a vessel for the mystical forces she had never imagined existed. Suddenly, she was a conduit for powers that both thrilled and terrified her. A wondrous gift, one might think.
Yet, it is a curse. The cost of this 'blessing' is a burden she can hardly bear, a weight of remorse from which she shall never find absolution.
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Who's the Biggest Fool of All?
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Legacy stands about 5'8 and has a petite figure. Her long brown hair cascades down her shoulders in dark waves, and she often shrouds herself in a mysterious cloak. Her brown eyes, flecked with gold, glow with an otherworldly intensity when she's casting powerful spells or consumed by strong emotions. Though she doesn't have a true birthday, having been born a cat, she appears to be in her late 20s.
She still has the ability to take on her feline form, though it's now a younger version. Her medium-length fur is a beautiful mix of brown, black, and white, and her amber eyes gleam in the light. Despite her desire to live as a human, she's most comfortable in this form and can even speak while in it.
Legacy has only recently gained freedom from the witch who held as an indentured servent, so she sometimes speaks as if she were still a cat. She's alone in the human world, with only her past scars for company. She has the potential for great power, but there's so much she still needs to learn.
Though eager to experience life as a human, Legacy is naturally distant, quiet, and mistrustful. She's patient and a good listener, with a bookish nature that leads her to get lost in libraries. Despite her prickly exterior, she's fiercely loyal to those she cares about. She often observes humans in bars and taverns, and has a fondness for animals. As a feline witch, she can see and speak to spirits, sometimes appearing to talk to herself when she's actually conversing with the dead.
Her shop, The Sixth Cauldron, is her sanctuary. The garden, overflowing with herbs and plants, is the first thing visitors see. The shop itself is a small stone hut, but the interior is surprisingly spacious. Shelves upon shelves of potions, ingredients, remedies, powders, and books line the walls. A flock of beloved chickens calls the backyard home. Don't fuck with her chickens.
She lives upstairs. The wooden floors creak with every step. The wallpaper is peeling, there's no hot water, and she's pretty sure the microwave is on the fritz, but it's home.
"She will have a legacy that will reach beyond the forest."
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Witch 🐾 Cat
Single 🐾 No Interest
Late Twenties
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"Her destiny is beyond what I can see."
Comments
A little girl could not have looked more excited than Bee did watching Legacy transfer before her eyes into a cat. It wasn’t that someone had never transformed before her, that she had never seen a shifter. It was just shocking and exciting, especially a cat, dashing before her very eyes.
With a high-pitched, cheerful giggle, Bee turned around in Bee’s direction and ran right after her. Smart cat, getting a little energetic girl to run after her. She would certainly be worn out by lunch time.
X X X
Legion seemed not nearly as worried about the jackal as she was about him. Which made sense; she was right. Despite the fact that she was the one stalking him, he still had the upper hand. This was simply a fact, and one that the demon knew quite well. It was why he so often did not seem to worry, regardless of if he was coming face to face with what was supposed to be danger.
Ah, the voice in his head; he knew it well. He seemed unbothered by it entirely. In fact, as she spoke to him, remarking on what, to her, was a playful little trick, the cat simply tilted its head slightly, in the quiet, borderline disinterested way regal cats seemed to do. If her comments were meant to frighten him or inspire him into action or words, they did no such thing. The only response she seemed to get was the quiet perk of the cat’s ears, and nothing else. It was almost comical, throwing threats at a creature like him, no demon but a monster made from nothing, an unknown god of darkness and probably worlds and much more, though whatever power he seemed to hold was unknown by… well, by all. Not even Anna knew what he was, what he could do. It didn’t seem to matter to her. His sisters might have been the closest guessers, but then, what could be said about them? They were strange and demon-esque, too, but not quite.
The woman’s nakedness as she transformed seemed to bother him about as much as it bothered her. He raised a paw, and licked it, as cats do, nonchalant and blinking in that slow, quiet way cats sometimes did. If it weren’t for the full, empty blackness of his eyes, it might have seemed like the jackal had been having a conversation with just… a cat, all this time, unaware that it had no idea what she was talking about, or at the very least, didn’t care.
But no. There was simply an air of nonchalance, of apathy to that cat that the demon himself seemed to carry around him. It made him sometimes infuriating to be around, especially to people who really cared about him. Like Anna.
There was no response for so long it seemed very likely that the demon was simply blowing her off. Maybe he couldn’t talk in cat form, the way other creatures like her could. Maybe he was sizing her up, thinking about her threat. Maybe he simply didn’t think responding to her was worth his time or energy.
But then, when Nisha did finally grow quiet, when she was still staring at him expectedly, he blinked those sharp eyes up at her, and he did speak, in the way she had spoken to him. Simple words.
“Why should I care about your job?”
He did speak in her head the same way she had done to him, although there was something nearly spine-chilling about the way his voice sounded. It was not like the way he spoke aloud, with a voice that was human, a vaguely British and vaguely Hellish accent, slightly deep but gentlemanly, simple. No… it sounded so much less like a human in a way that was hard to pin down. It was deep, deep like dark oceans, like the empty pools of black water that were his eyes. Vast and all-consuming. But also… soft. A whisper on the wind. Made for nighttime. A voice that did not have to be loud to be heard. A voice that was always listened to.
Yes I would love to rp. I'm still editing my page. Trying to get everything added. So I can then add it to the new site also. I once played a cat character on here as well. Maybe I might bring her back. I don't know. She was a demon kitty. Nekomata bankeneko. Also a witch's familiar.
Not all the tension left the room with Maleficent. The knowledge of upcoming pain was enough to make anyone tense, and Legacy was no exception. Removing the symbol would cause her a great deal of pain, but it was the only way for her to truly be free of Agatha. Malphas had freed humans from dealings before, but usually those were deals involving the demons he was responsible for. Many of the demons were willing to do anything if it meant spending time in the mortal realm.
Alastair was always the worst offender.
As the president grabbed a few bottles off the shelves in the study, a more determined Alastair peeked his head back into the office he had been summoned to nearly a day before. Malphas was still nowhere to be found and fortunately for him, Zev was no longer in the room. This was the perfect opportunity for him to escape. A wicked smile crept onto his face as he sauntered into the room.
“You don’t give up do you?”
A small smile formed on the president’s face as he returned to the couch placing a few bottles on the table. The transparent glass contained an assortment of colors, and each was unlabeled. Malphas spent enough time in this dreaded castle to know where everything was. Certainly, Maleficent would not mind if he grabbed a thing or two to make Legacy’s life easier.
“You do not have to tell me. You are not the only one here who has been tricked.” It was a vague statement, but Malphas was referring to the position he despised. It was not a choice despite what many believed. He thought of another question just as his scythe reappeared behind him.
“Why a human?” For someone who could transform into anything he desired, Malphas was genuinely curious why she wanted to become a human of all things. The president waved his hand at the scythe in a dismissive manner causing the blade to twist and contort into a much smaller blade, the size of a large knife. He muttered a short incantation under his breath and quickly brought the blade down against her skin slicing down her back in one fell swoop. It was brief, but the pain was excruciating. Malphas watched as blood poured down her back in several streams, all collecting in a basin he had placed between them. He allowed the circular skin excision to drop into the basin and placed a large cloth against her back he had already soaked in the variety of potions from the shelves.
The cloth felt as cold as ice numbing her to the pain, but every drop of the potion that touched the large gash in her back was working to rebuild some of the cellular structure. By the time he removed the cloth, the wound reduced significantly, and her bleeding had stopped. Malphas did not have much of a bedside manner, but he knew what he was doing.
“Are you all right?” He moved the cloth down her back removing most of the dried blood. “I will just need to stitch this up.” It would leave a large scar, but nothing her body could not heal over time.
There was something truly joyous about watching a child dash around like that, uninhibited by the world around her, entirely willing to get into mess because it mattered very little to her. She wasn’t the one that was going to have to clean it up, now was she? While Legacy’s own fretting made complete sense, neither Anna nor Navy likely would have cared about the wet. Like Legacy, their main concern probably would have been her catching cold. They were both cold blooded creatures, and though Legacy didn’t know this either, Navy got sick quite frequently. It was something they were both watching out for with Bee.
All that was to say, Bee seemed entirely unencumbered by her wet state, and was giggling even as she received the light, worried scolding from Legacy. She gave a nod, and a bright little “Yep!” As an answer. It was cold outside, and the water was cold, and she was cold, but not cold enough to be worried about it. And as Legacy drew little symbols around her, Bee watched with wide eyed wonder, grinning. All kinds of magic were fascinating to her, and though it was easy enough for Legacy, it was truly inspiring to Bee.
As she warmed up and her clothes mostly dried, Bee was giggling once again. “Okay!” She seemed immensely fine with doing anything at all, and with that she turned away from the pond to wander off elsewhere down one of the dirt paths, toward open pastures and fields meant for wandering and meandering. “Where should we go? What do we do next?” He task of greeting the animals was done. On to new things.
X X X
Well, as a demon it would not have been surprising if he could sense the magical creature lurking about him, watching him hunt. He wasn’t an especially nervous creature, though; he knew his power and knew that other creatures had more of a reason to be afraid of him than vice versa. He was used to attracting attention from other supernatural creatures anyway, be them well-intentioned or otherwise. It didn’t seem to bother him, not that much really could, though his gaze did shift. For a moment, that jackal would feel horrible eyes boring into its body, almost so strong as to be a searing hot pain. It was the definition of someone feeling eyes on them.
And those eyes glowed, too, a brilliant and intense white, like car headlights. No longer the dark black pits they once were. He paused in what he was doing, and watched as the woman was dragged away. It did not seem like the shadowy monster had any intention of stopping her from doing so. As she rounded the corner, she’d hear the resuming of eating, nasty sounds of bone ripped from flesh, of bones crushed and squishy, popping intestines.
When the creature did turn around and come back, it would not find a shadowy monster there any longer. It would find a large and spreading puddle of blood and ripped clothing. There was a leather wallet pulled from the pants, emptied and thrown aside now soaked and ruined in red that would never come out. And there was also, strangely enough, a cat.
Legion had been told many times that he was cat-like. And it was not surprising, perhaps, to learn how he could shapeshift, take the form of any creature he wanted. After all, he took the form of a human, did he not? But now, assuming the aura was correct and not a lingering sensation from the horrors that had happened there only moments before, he was a cat. A black cat, of course, the color he seemed to favor, or perhaps it was the only color the shadows could make themselves if they weren’t mimicking skin. It was rather large, for a cat, but still a normal cat size, short haired and silky and hidden almost entirely in the shadows apart from an occasional catch of the swish of its tail in the light. The eyes were black, too, but they caught the light of the street lamps and the moon occasionally, when it blinked.
He did not move. Instead he sat, silent, still, and regal. And he watched the jackal right back.
( I consider myself a very open person in the sense that I am willing to hear out any idea that someone might have. I have thought about what might find once he returns home but not how he might get there.I have even considered the possiblity that getting home is no longer an option. Perhaps, she could. Lorien certaintly wouldn't shun the help if it was offered. He might even seek it out if he heard along the grape vine she was capable of providing such services. Honestly, I find the whole infant idea intriguing--especially Lorien's potentional reaction. I rather like combining the two idea. It would be a good way of showing how two worlds and two different yet equal set of conflicts can come clashing together, and maybe along the way they have to decide between aiding the other and risking having an undesireble revolution to their own conflict.
Don't sweat uour creatvity. Sometimes the most complex things comes from the most simple ideas, and I think this idea could be one such case. As you said this could have a potientional for a lot of side quests.)
The child was more than happy to listen to Legacy talk about her own home, far away from here. She didn’t have an English accent, though Bee was not quite old enough to realize that that meant she lived elsewhere. After all, neither of her mothers had English accents, and Legion only sort of did. It had an odd curse to it, Anna would say, and she was right. It wasn’t quite English, only more that than anything else.
“I want to meet the chickens!” She exclaimed, almost before Legacy could finish telling her all about her own animals. “I want to have a kitty cat, mommy says that one would keep the foxes away, but mama isn’t sure cuz she thinks if there’s one here we won’t have time to care for it. I said it could live outside but she said that’s not good for kitties.” Bee was good at talking, it seemed. She leaned her entire body onto the fence, outstretching a hand and wiggling her fingers while a curious sheep took a nibble of them, making her giggle. It turned its head away, uninterested in the chubby meaty things.
After the sheep had their fair share of child attention, they finally turned away, going back to grazing as sheeps often did. Bee pulled her hand away, then, and turned to skip off to their next destination. The worn path took them around a bend, following the hedge fence, and toward a pond. There were plenty of trees around it, enormous weeping willows and stately oaks, slowly beginning to drop their leaves due to changing seasons. Yellow and red leaves floated in the pond, which was surrounded by tall watery grass, and full of lily pads. There was an occasional croak and ribbit from there, indicating that it was not just ducks living in those shallow waters.
Waters that Bee, going full speed down the dirt path, ran right into, boots a-splashing. If Anna or Navy had been there, they probably would have stopped her. But how was Legacy to know she’d dive right into the cold water, where white ducks with little orange beaks were floating around peacefully, and who squawked and immediately fled or honked and swam away when she splashed right in?
Well, she was giggling the whole way, anyway. She disappeared briefly under the water and reappeared still laughing and splashing. Only a couple of ducks were unphased, to which she exclaimed, just as excited, “Hi, ducks!” One honked at her as it swam by. The other, with three trailing children behind it, ignored her. Even as a child, Bee seemed to have enough sense to not bother the babies, or the mother duck. Eventually, she turned to make her way back to the shore. She was much too small to touch the bottom, but Bee seemed to be a fairly adept swimmer. It made sense, given the fact that one of her mothers was a siren, but it would have been shocking nonetheless.
X X X
Legion tried not to hunt in the town he lived in; it was bad enough when real murders happened to innocent people in London. After all, it was far too easy to trace things back to him when he did. Not that he’d ever been caught, but why risk it at all if he didn’t have to? Which was how the demon ended up in New York City. Larger cities made it easier to hunt without being noticed. He far preferred hunting at night, too, but that night he’d gone home and slept like a log, the same as Legacy, for over a day. It was only incessant calling from Anna that had woken him up. And he was awake, now starving even. He could heal without food, but the process was slow and sapped him of energy, understandingly.
The time difference was staggering, but New York was large enough and far enough away that it would never be linked back to him, if the murder was ever found in the first place. Which… it rarely was. He cleaned up after himself. He was careful. And that morning, just before dawn had taken over the sky, the demon hid himself in one of New York’s many alleyways, flitting between them like flickers of shadows caused by the slowly rising sun. He always waited for the perfect victim to come around. He couldn’t say he loved being forced to eat humans, but at the very least he always chose one he felt deserved to die.
That morning, he came across a terribly drunk middle aged man, and his… not quite eighteen year old girlfriend. A sight for sore eyes, to him. He was bad at telling age by appearance, but her mannerisms gave away her age. He watched with a quiet caution as they argued, drunkenly stumbling down an alley, her in a too-short dress and heels stumbling, bracing herself against a brick wall for support, and he in jeans and a plain t-shirt. He stumbled as well, but when he yanked the younger girl by the arm, spitting something ugly, Legion already knew he had his target. He waited moments longer, until the arguing got worse, until he saw the man push her too hard into the brick and her head bounced off in a way that could not spell anything but disaster.
Before the man could even regret his actions, before he could even make a decision to call for an ambulance or turn and run, the choice was taken from him. When a monster twice your height appears behind you, your time has already run out. Drunk people often didn’t think well, anyway. If it was any consolation, at least the man would feel very little. Sharp, long, curved talons meant to catch in flesh would make their way into the side of his throat. Before he could even curse, or scream, a force that could not have been a human ripped out his trachea, leaving him open mouthed, gasping for air he would never get again, able only to stare wide eyed at the creature who loomed above him, all shadows and dark pits for eyes.
Legion only looked human because he chose to. He did not look very human just then. Teeth that were thin, razor sharp and needle-like, sank into the man’s shoulder, caring little for the fabric they took with it. Another hand would sink its claws into his stomach, spilling intestines over onto the ground where the woman lay.
Devouring a human was easier than it looked. With a jaw that could unhinge and a body contained only by quivering, sentient shadows – or maybe not contained by them, but made of them – this was no human, this was not even close. Not even resembling one. And in a matter of minutes, the only thing that would be left behind were scraps of fabric and a puddle of deep red blood. All bones, intestines, skin, eyes, tongue, teeth, and soul would disappear into the ether, never to be seen again.
His efforts in stroking all that fluffy fur continued for a good minute or two, especially on top of her head, where his palm ran across it. Eventually, both short arms wrapped around the upper section of her body for a gentle hug, squeaking in delight. Since domestic felines had a tendency to be shy, it was a shocker she was so open to letting a stranger give her attention.
Should Legacy ever sniff him, his scent would be unlike anything she had ever inhaled before, not a mammal, reptilian, avian, or identifiable creature. It was a slightly sweet aroma, mostly consisting of alien plants due to a few natural products he used not of this Earth. If his ghostly appearance wasn’t strange enough already, this would further reinforce that he was something else entirely, especially with his advanced vocabulary.
When that voice was heard, both black eyes suddenly grew wide, his heart skipping a beat. Abbitt had to pull himself back from the hug to gaze back at her in silence, listening… Once the second sentence came, a hand was suddenly placed over his mouth. “A talking cat?!” He exclaimed in a mixture of shock and awe, wondering if she was some kind of runaway experiment.
Turning for a moment, the diplomat glanced all around for any beings that might be playing a trick on him, then back to Legacy. By performing a very, very minor mental scan over her mind without breaching her thoughts too much, he sensed it- another sentient consciousness, in the body of an animal that wasn’t supposed to have this.
“B-but I’m not a child though…” The Mici told her in a low tone, “Ambassador Abbitt Strellous of the Epsilon Republic!” Deciding to accept the feline for whatever she was, he gave her his name, title, and the government he claimed to represent, which did not correspond to any known country on Earth. Now that the Diplomat answered, it was his turn to ask questions, and he did so with a smile.
“Did somebody do a soul transference into a cat body for you? There’s very few beings who know how to even do that safely.”
That was one of his theories: Her being a victim of alien abduction and experimentation.
(Hello, I am very open to new threads)
||Thank you! Love the design of yours too ^^ and yes, I'm open. Any ideas in mind by chance?||
//Sure I am open at the moment.
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