Creature City Revival

Status
Not open for further replies.
Abner smiled. "It's Abner Fridgewalt." He didn't realize how strange it felt to introduce himself in the formal manor until now. Hell, most of his old friends didn't even know his last name.
"I reckon you're familiar to me." The spider squinted at him for a moment, trying to pin the Demon's face. "What's your full name?"
 
Galzra smiled. "Indeed, I am." He stood off to the side. "Please, feel free to come inside. It's rather chilly outside."
The Aster-Pitch family? That was Cecilia, wasn't it? He would need to let Jet know about that whole situation- perhaps if she met with the lady here, then they could establish that Cecilia was aware of their presence.
 
Azur grinned. "Azur Helarisi. Pleasure to do business with you." They were a few floors up; he had room. He stood up in the window, glanced between Abner and the hyenid, who was glaring at him, and smirked. "Farewell."
And with that, he simply leaned back and fell out of the window.
It was one of his favourite tricks; he fell down a couple of stories, out of the way, and then snapped his wings open. Catching the air, he soared out, and with a few powerful beats he soared over the city again.
 
With a gracious smile, Ellaria stepped inside and allowed the door to be closed behind her. She was glad of the warmth; the Aster-Pitch Manor was always blazing hot to accommodate Cecilia's ever-cold body, and that was why the handmaid's dress was made so thin. Altair, still stood in front of her, had his head high and one eagle-like front claw raised. Cecilia had wanted him to accompany Ellaria primarily because he was a status symbol; only the richest people in the city had Griffins. Wingless ones, bony and grimy, were common in the pits of the city - but creatures like Altair. Now, they were hard to come by. She looked around the house curiously. It had grandeur, but felt a little hollow. She assumed it was because the place was still half empty as the new tenants moved in.
"So what brings you to this part of the city?"
 
Abner turned from the window, his mind reeling. The Demon was Azur Helarisi. Family of Jet Helarisi.
"Holy fuck." The spider looked down at Vince on the ground, who seemed to have missed their parting dialogue. He was sitting up, one large ringed paw to his head. The Hyanid's face was turned upwards to Abner in a sneer.
"Hey, are ya hurt?" Abner knelt down, inspecting the Hyena in dumb silence.
"Musta read him wrong." Vince muttered. He stumbled to his feet.
 
Galzra smiled, leading her through to the study. This was more lifelike; they'd fully furnished this room with plush chairs and polished oak tables. Paintings hung on the walls, and a large piano, its legs intricately carved with flowers, branches and varying birds, sat against the wall to one side. He invited her to sit in one of the plush armchairs by the fire, taking a seat across from her and pouring tea. "We recently came into a large sum of money. One of the heirs of the family that lived here before was engaged to my sister. His family disappeared, leaving him head of the house, and he unfortunately passed away soon after by means we're still trying to find out. He left us the family fortune and business in his will. So, we figured that I was the best suited for the job, being the best mercantile businessman in the family, and we took up residence here to keep the house from falling into disrepair and suchlike. Would you like some tea?"
 
"It is incredibly easy to persuade children they will amount to nothing from a young age, my friend. When we brought her in, your Rook was a self-taught pupil nearly. You never told her otherwise. And, why would you? Suddenly, we have this girl, who would without a doubt devote herself to anything you told her to do." A resulting chuckle in the room. The woman perched in the shadows swirls the blood red wine in her glass, contemplating this. Her advisor talks on, prattles like the armchair psychologist they are.

"I will say this: she has found something big in you. You may as well be a God to her. And if you went ahead and treated her badly, kicked her like a dog in the dirt once or twice? Well, who says all Gods are lenient?" Volkof grins nastily as the figure across from her comes to the end of their diatribe. It is good to talk once in a while, and The Assistant has all the best words in their repertoire. They have studied Rook's mind for a long time, hovering in the foregrounds of her childhood, just out of reach. The only one who knows her better is Volkof herself.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Aelia knew how to work the pole. She'd been doing it for years now. It was alright. Not quite as fun as it had been originally, but it was still entertaining, and due to her skill it kept the money coming in.
Tonight there were a lot of customers. It was a Friday night; of course there were. They'd all finished up work for the week and wanted to spend their hard-earned cash in a sleazy place for some good entertainment. She was happy enough to oblige, provided they kept their hands off her; if they touched her, they lost their hand.
That was a well-known thing about her in particular, and some men liked to ask for her to dance for them specifically because of the danger that brought with it. She just let it happen. It brought the money in, after all, and she was perfectly fine with that reputation.

Krala swept through the streets, her lower scaly body snaking a path along the cobblestones. People were used to seeing her by now, so they didn't stare. She made her way through to a small shop- a florist's, on the end of the street. The bell tinkled lightly as she swished inside.
Nagai like herself were well-known for their ability to hold mass amounts of information in their heads at once, spilling it with perfect accuracy at any given moment. Many, like herself, became info dealers in the lower areas of the city as a result. She was one of the few who took the dangerous path, dealing in the upper district as well. That was enough to scare off most would-be dealers; but not her. She loved the danger, the risk of being discovered as she slid through the streets late at night, dealing information as she went.
"Evenin Krala." the lady behind the counter said, cleaning a vase. "What do you want?"
"Oh, you know," Krala said, waving her blue-scaled hand absentmindedly. "The usual."
The lady grinned. "Head on through, they're waiting."
 
The glittering, spiralled church stands there like an insult, and in front of it, the proud man who resides in it all. He appeals to her, says something about being saved. She laughs, showing too many teeth. There is something wrong about her, the pastor thinks. Something keen and biting.
"I am already saved, my man! A Volkof Girl through and through." Rook shouts in mock exhalation. She leans in close so the pastor can smell the raspberry gum on her breath. "Would you like me to give you a leaflet?"
"You are shameful." He hisses in response, darting away from her.
"And you are senile." She responds, waving him away. Mr Manaw was getting much too old to remain a pillar in the community now anyway. Only last week did he have to stop mid-preach to drink greedily from a glass of water and clutch his shoulder as if he was wounded. In two more years he will either be dead or out of a job, she supposes. It strikes Rook a comforting thought. The sun shines on her, favors her in a spotlight as she passes the church. Eyes fall upon her as she leaves, wary and nervous of the symbols on her jacket.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Minerva watches the silhouette on the pole, mesmerized. The lights in the joint were dizzying, the hoots and hollars loud enough to distract her from her own thoughts. This felt right. Felt like a good way to end a crummy evening. She feels a gaze on her, and muses on what these men with families and jobs waiting at home think of her. Perhaps to them she is only another dancer out of costume. Unlike her companions, the spider is silent as she watches the particular creature on the pole. Her movements are precise and graceful. Although she looks shy and gentle, no one so much as leers at her. She intimidates them. On the platform the dancer appears sixteen feet tall, bold and absorbed in her own thoughts. Minerva wonders what its like to be her. She sips her brandy. Listens to the baby-talk a young lap dancer offers the table next to her.
 
Aelia caught the eyes of a particular spider-lady as she swung round to a halt at the foot of the pole, stepping forward with a swish of the hips to bow low, her ears twitching forward to brush near a man's hand, who snatched it away swiftly before she could come in contact with him. A couple of creatures rushed to sweep up the cash flung onto the stage behind her, gathering it into bags for her to take home with her. She sashayed off the stage, hip-checking the next dancer to come on and sharing a grin with her.
 
Minerva offered up a soft smile, and then quickly avoided the gaze of the dancer. When she saw their faces they always morphed into something else before her eyes. She drained the last of her glass and got up to leave.

Rook was a sharply angular creature; her armored, dull green skin placing her as a Lizard of the Nile. She was not a tall woman, but her shoulders were as broad and imposing as a man's. She gave the impression of being top-heavy, with her thick neck and large arms twinning with a tapering waist and short legs. Her close-set eyes examined the crowd in a nonchalant manor.
They were afraid of her, she decided. Rook decided she liked that a whole lot. On her jacket she adorned the symbols of Volkof's group, the same symbols that covered the expanse of her body underneath. "Write a check and make it out to me! You can be my sacrificial lamb!" She warbled, chortling at the image of the ragged pastor. She was once like them, scared to move, scared to breathe for fear of the power that waited above her like an anvil waiting to drop. Now she was one of Volkof's. Hers forever.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Aelia made her way down through the crowd, grabbing her coat and money and slipping out the back door. She leaned against the wall, her thick coat shrugged over her shoulders, and took out a cigarette, holding it between two fingers and lighting it, taking a long drag.
 
Minerva watched the dancer filter out of the crowd, her shadow covering the outside cold. She moved faster, and then caught the dancer's image. She was smoking in the afternoon light. It made her crave her own cigerettes, despite the fact that she'd told Abner she was quitting.
"You got a light?"
 
"Please."
The Harpy settled herself like a bird in a nest in the armchair, legs crossed and fingers laced neatly in her lap. She looked around again; this room was pretty. The Baroness would like the paintings.
"Forgive me, Sir - I never caught your name."
Her dark eyes stilled on the stranger's face, lit golden by firelight. He was handsome, she decided.
 
"I don't live like a rat no more," Rook had babbled three years ago, on her knees and gripping at the skirts of her lady. "I find it easy to be true now." She'd promised earnestly. Volkof had looked down at her, this sniveling young wretch, and smiled. To see another girl, somewhat of a leader, turn to her in her bovine stupidity was pleasing.
"Oh pu-lease of please don't throw me out, I'm worthy. I'm yours!" The lizard had continued to shout, tears in her heated face. Her arms were burnt, and she had been initiated. She saw promise in this one.
"What are you?" Volkof, shrouded in the light of stain glass windows, leant down. She placed a hand on her ear, cocking her head mockingly.
"A fool." Rook had gasped. "I'm yours!" A sharp, ringing slap. The lizard barely reacted. She pressed on with a cold, indifferent voice.
"What are you?"
"Yours!" It seemed the girl's mind had left her, replacing itself with only a holy love for a heavenly creature. The name Volkof rang in Rook's empty head, for she had saw her potential and let her stay.
 
Aelia pulled a cigarette out and handed it to her, along with a lighter. "Sure, help yourself. You look like you need it." She shared a knowing look with the girl; a brief analysis told her the spider-girl worked the same line as she.

Galzra poured her some tea. "That's no trouble. It's Galzra Helarisi," he said, settling into the chair opposite. "I don't believe I caught your name either?"
 
Minerva placed the cigarette in her mouth firmly, and then held it steady as she lit it. She handed the lighter back gratefully, leaning back against a wall and breathing smoke up to the sky. She pulled the sleeve of her arm up, laughing.
"I've got six nicotine patches, one for each arm, and it still isnt enough to help me quit!" The spider complained, mostly to nobody. This was just a passing encounter, she knew, but it helped to make conversation.
"Your dancing was really neat."
 
Ellaria's eyes flashed briefly, but she was too expert to let it be noticeable. Her surprise, and the joy that bubbled up along with it, was promptly swallowed.
Helarisi. Jet Helarisi!
"Oh. It's Ellaria," she said with a gracious smile. "Ellaria Nira - Baroness Aster-Pitch's handmaid. This is Altair." She waved a deep bronze hand down to where the Griffin had curled up by her chair, his beak resting on its arm.
"So you live here alone?"
 
The dogs at the compound scared her more than anything. They were feral, and only Rook was privy to the fact that some of them had previously been the human children's best friends. Before Volkof had sold them off to the highest bidder, of course. Humans couldn't take the pets they'd brought with them. Nothing stopped the dogs from leaving the compound's grounds entirely, running into the wilderness, but they stayed. A mangy furred dog prowled across the mud-streaked earth in front of her. It barely even glanced at her, listless grey eyes simply looking ahead of it. Looking for its next meal. Mostly they would bark at her as she made her way to the storage areas, but this one didn't. Maybe it hadn't aquainted itself with her boot yet. She gave the dog a kick that sent it backing away whining, and bared her fangs at it. She hated them. Didn't know why her fellow sisters of Volkof refused to set down some meat sprinkled with rat poison once in a while to get rid of the packs that roamed. Rook couldn't place why they instilled fear in her, they just did.

"To Rook. My loyal, rabid hound." Far away from the compound, Volkof clinked glasses with The Assistant. Her ruby image posed in the stain glass windows, pristine.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back