((Just wanted to show that yes, I am still working on updates! Sorry for the wait, everyone ; v ; ))

((Just wanted to show that yes, I am still working on updates! Sorry for the wait, everyone ; v ; ))

((If you feel like listening to some of Mudpie’s jams, give this mix a listen!))

((If you feel like listening to some of Mudpie’s jams, give this mix a listen!))

(to the mod) Somehow the interaction between Ickle and Inkweld remind me of the interactions between Christine and Erik from the Phantom of the Opera. (Not the musical, the way he was in the book). Is this a somewhat accurate comparison?

((MOD: Fair warning, character rant below!

((Aaah now see I wouldn’t be able to give you a fair comment on that, given the fact that I haven’t read the books…terribly sorry! I’ve been meaning to!

((From what I know from the movie, however, (eighties-ridden and overly dramatic as it was..) yes I’d say the relationship is very much akin to Erik and Christine: Inkweld was, at first, in love with who she was when they were young, but as he pushed her away with his macabre and grotesque explorations of his special talent (scaring others) they grew apart as old friends might, and he began to fall in love with not her, but an aspect of her: the inspiration she incurred in him. Then, step by step, he fell less in love with her and more in love with her talent, then her voice, then her body, until all that was left was a hollow, lustful, destructive shell. And while others might want to pull her towards the light and towards calm safety (like Raoul) what he desires most is to pull her into his perverse world of fear and shadows and to help him inspire fear in others. Because of this selfish desire, he’s become manipulative, shallow, greedy, petty, and most of all, his talent can’t flourish because he’s so fixated on plotting against Ickle.

((if you’d like a better look into these two, check out the tag for him on the blog! Thanks so much for your question!))

Post number three for Cat!Muse! Three posts remain~

[In response to..] [First post] [Previous] [More on Penwright]

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It had been a while since Ickle had last been in Penwright’s room, and especially from an even shorter vantage point, the room felt somewhat mystically foreign. Without meaning to, she took a long, drawn-out breath in, realizing that with her new senses she could smell Penwright’s signature smells in the room—this was where they all came from! 

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Different books of different sizes sat on the bookshelf lovingly dust-free, potted plants that seemed a little worse for wear sat atop a dresser, and from his desk she could smell the beginnings of stories, articles, and possibly private writings: parchment, stationary, quills, and—INK! Ickle’s eyes brightened as she realized that, even in this new form, she could easily pick up a quill and write a message to Penwright detailing her dilemma. 

"I can write him, Sidian!" She turned to where the pitch black companion lie on Penwright’s bed, leaning her head over and staring into her soul with those piercing silver eyes, tail twitching back and forth. Ickle’s excitement was slightly dampened by Sidian’s ever-intimidating gaze, but she proceeded to hop, scramble, and climb her way up Penwright’s desk to see a pad of unused parchment and a quill, still resting in the inkwell.

Grabbing the quill between her jaws, she struggled to find a grip that would allow her some measure of control over the writing instrument, almost unfamiliar in her smaller form. After a few missteps and spilled blotches of ink, Ickle finally managed to work out a comfortable system of writing.  Summoning all of her concentration, she carefully wrote out “I AM MUSE” on the parchment.  When she finished, she stepped back and looked over her work.

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*tmp*     *tmp*       *tmp*      *tmp*        *tmp*          *tmp* 

she could hear Penwright’s hoofsteps coming up the staircase, which only meant she would have the length of time between his trip up the stairs and across the hall. That wasn’t nearly enough time! With her whiskers twitching she turned to Sidian and pled “I need more time..please, please slow him down?” With a bit of effort the lept from the desk to the windowsill, letting out a high “mao!” when she realized she left ink prints on his sill. 

Once more she looked back at the placid Sidian and begged her “Please stop him before he gets to the room!”  before turning and leaping onto the tree. She was intent on gathering flowers and vines—it was her calling card, and her only way of reminding him who she was in that moment.

Shouts could be heard through the open window, though distance and desperation prevented her from hearing them clearly.  Leaping down the tree, she spotted a small group of daisies and a vine entangled in one of the bushes next to the house.  She ripped and tore with her teeth and claws, successfully grabbing a length of vine after an intense struggle.  Grabbing the vine and some flowers in her mouth, she scrabbled back up the tree and leapt back into the room, noting with some relief that the door was still closed and Penwright nowhere in sight.

She quickly dumped her cargo on the floor and went to work, twisting the vine around her head and stuffing flowers behind her ears as best she could.  Just as she finished, the door swung open and an irritated-looking Penwright walked inside, holding a small saucer of milk and an unamused Sidian in a glow of blue magic.

"Honestly, Sidian, I don’t know what gets into you sometimes," he said.  The magical field gently lobbed Sidian over towards the bed, disappearing and letting the black cat land gracefully.  She looked over her shoulder and glared at Penwright, then turned her attention to Ickle.  The force of the black cat’s glare sent a shiver down Ickle’s spine, and she resolved to make it up to her somehow once she got back to her true form.

 Perhaps a scratching post in her home? No, that seemed much too..undignified for a cat like Sidian. Perhaps a silver-set collar for her to wear? That is, if Sidian was the sort of feline to enjoy trinkets.. Ickle’s baby blues held her silver medallions and she realized she might not be. ”Ever the enigma…” she thought to herself.

With Penwright’s returned presence, her thoughts were cut short and she meowed loudly, 

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She padded around his hooves and brushed his legs with her tail, trying her best to keep the too-big laurel on her head. “Surely you must recognize me now?” A hopeful smile crept into her expression, and she looked up at him with eyes gleaming, hoping he might see herself in her eyes.

((Just a little sketch of Sunsetter and Sunrise sharing a bath outside while Shortsword stops by to visit! I’m trying to get better at making clear, concise sketches before going in with colors, especially for any future sketch commissions.))

((Just a little sketch of Sunsetter and Sunrise sharing a bath outside while Shortsword stops by to visit! I’m trying to get better at making clear, concise sketches before going in with colors, especially for any future sketch commissions.))