You're Like A Black Cat [Reese/Ashyyy]

Close up camera one, the hero sings in this scene. The boy that gets the girl gets to go home where they get married, but stop the tape. The sunset still looks fake to me, the hero looks like he can't breathe, the damsel just left everything. You're like a black cat with a black back pack full of fireworks, and you're gonna burn the city down right now, whoa, whoa. You're like a black cat with a black back pack full of fireworks, and you're gonna burn the city down right now, whoa, whoa. Oh, close up camera two, 'cause the hero dies in this scene. Your inspiration is the loss of absolutely everything. And flashback on the girl, as we montage every memory, and we bleed out in the bathroom sink, and we fade out as the soundtrack sings. You're like a black cat with a black back pack full of fireworks, and you're gonna burn the city down right now, whoa, whoa. You're like a black cat with a black back pack full of fireworks, and you're gonna burn the city down right now, whoa, whoa.

---

One must never forget what they are, for the world will retain and unspoken remembrance, however, in harsh contract to such a statement, a lion should never concern himself with the opinions of sheep. But, sometimes, he honestly wished he could amount to the monster some saw him to be. He wished he had enough fire for the lot of them, enough poison, for he would gladly give his life to watch them swallow it. The tragedy of life, as he apparently thought, was not that it ended so soon, but instead, that people refused to embrace it until it was far too late. We all died. The goal wasn't, and had never been, to live forever, but instead to create something that would. Death was the only pure, beautiful conclusion of great passions. One should dream as if they'd life forever, and live as if they'd die tomorrow. And he certainly did the latter. Maybe that was half through bringing the death of others forever closer, but he was living. That was what mattered, after all, right?

Darkened irises curiously surveyed the equally dark ink blotted onto a small, ripped piece of paper, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked upon the cursive lines, the scribbles upon bleached white possessing the capability to change everything. This was it. What all those years of searching had amounted to, this desperation to uncover the distant traced relations. And, to be quite honest, all he could do was wander back and forth through the empty room, eyes fully set upon the crumpled white sheet, and the address upon it. Tracking both the internet and discussing with the locals had lead to the eventual location, supposedly being the residence of his lost half-brother, Reese. The one who he once saw beaten, unable to do any more than watch for the fear of it being redirected upon him, taking shameful pleasure in the look within his brothers eyes as he was stuck. Such emotions had been erased long ago, and replaced purely with the need to uncover his lost family members, and his unknown half family. He needed to find them. He had to. This could bring him one step closer to finally discovering who he truly, or at least, who he was supposed to have been.

"... This is it, Devereaux," he informed the darkly toned canid, of whom had situated himself upon the couch, foreboding brown irises studying the pacing man with apparent interest. "This is the one, I can feel it. I know it." His words prompted a knowing scoff from the ashen doberman, a bemused snort provided from man to dog. Years of being let down, being given false hope, of trails going cold, could this finally unlock the key to his former life? And, let's be honest, what else did he have to loose? His mind, all the things he wanted, his dignity... But, that didn't phase him; he'd put it all on the line, just to know for sure. He just... He had to know.

"It would appear we're going on a little roadtrip, Dev," he murmered to the dark canid, the subtle trace of a smirk passing over his facials. Perhaps a man choosing a favourite dog was akin to a woman choosing a favourite child; they were supposedly man's best friend, after all. In spite of that, Devereaux was, and always would be, his utter favourite, of all the canids he came to possess. Perhaps it was the sheer scale of the Doberman's muscle, perhaps it was the silenced understanding between them, perhaps it was the fact that he was the first male he had come to own, who knew? But there was something in the dog that caused him to favour him. His irises trailed the dark canid as he moved from the couch, muscles rippling beneath the short pelt; the sight of the dog had always been an intimidating, but admirable one. "There's a boy," he mumbled near inaudibly, his gaze knotting away to one of the other rooms in the large household. Well, if he was going to finally reveal himself to his half-brother, what a better way to show it than with his dogs? After all, if his dogs didn't approve of this man, then what reason did he have to?

Immediately as the door was opened, a miniature red frame scrabbled about his legs, wobbling about between his limbs. Casting a bemused expression downwards towards the miniature critter, his frame lowered into a crouch, greeting her with a gentle push from pawing at his knees, and scratching at the back of her neck. "Alright, alright, fine, you little tyke. You'll be coming. Maybe we can burn off some of your energy." As if to deny that fact, the little brown pup shook her frame, before proceeding to bounce towards Devereaux who, evidently wanting none of it, merely gave a hushed growl and continued to observe Nikolai, awaiting their departure near the door. A hard glare was sent from the brute to the puppy as it nipped at him, though wanting to initial no contact, which in turn would likely only encourage the critter, though as the man approached the door, his haunches raised from the terrain and he ventured swiftly out into the open, soon followed by the smaller canid. He didn't bother putting leads on them; whether that was the fact that they could easily be replaced, or that he trusted them enough to allow them off, we shall never know.

Granted, it took him a good hour to arrive at the enscribed destination, though he fully acknowledged the fact it would be worth it, if only to know for sure. Clearing his throat briefly, his hand hesitantly extended to knock on the door with the brass knocker (what they were called he'd never picked up on what they were called; he had no need to know, hence didn't learn), awaiting any form of sign that there was life within the large household. "Fuck..." he mumbled, gritting his teeth together, trying to resist the urge to turn right around and be done with it, faint traces of sparks flickering from the tips of his fingers, extinguished as soon as he acknowledged them properly. Even little Nytocris seemed to catch on to the tension in the air, her frame held rigid, huddling close to the larger canid (much to Devereaux's disapproval). Ah, and what a sight the house was; must have a fair bit of money. And, from what he remembered of the beaten boy all those years ago, it was strange to think that he had actually accomplished something within his life. Heh, life had a strange way of working out, though, didn't it?

---

She said get your hands off of my star, it's not your part but all your fault . And this jealous actress has a habit of making things sound way too tragic. Get your hands off of my star, it's not your part but all your fault. And this jealous actress has a habit of making things sound way too tragic. And this jealous actress has a habit, of making things sound way too tragic. Oh this jealous actress has a habit, of making things sound way too tragic. You're like a black cat with a black back pack full of fireworks, and you're gonna burn the city down right now, whoa, whoa. You're like a black cat with a black back pack full of fireworks, and you're gonna burn the city down right now, whoa, whoa. You're like a black cat with a black back pack full of fireworks, and you're gonna burn the city down right now. Whoa, whoa. And this jealous actress has a habit, whoa.

 

W O R D S
God knows.

T A G
Reese Fountaine played by ASHYY

N O T E S
Hehehe, this shall be fun >:3

M U S E
Take Me To Church, Black Cat.