If there is one thing worse for a long-furred cat than small children, it is rain. And possibly bubble gum, but that's a horror not to be conscioned. Misty is currently the sole occupant of the entire couch, sprawled in feline possession of the leather furniture and contorted into a furry pretzel to groom all of the remaining icky water out of the fur at the back of her rump. The scent of damp cat is, at least, less pungent than wet dog.
Rain falls with heavy drops upon the roof of the Wayhouse. Quite suddenly, and without fanfare, Nuit is revealed; Glamour diffuses, its power used up as her invisibility fades and the power of Smoke leaves her now in full sight of any who would be there to look. Nuit currently happens to be sitting in a crouched position; Her knees drawn up under her chin and hands pulling the dark cloak of shadows around her. It also so happens that she is doing so while sitting crouched against the wall... and not on the floor. Instead Nuit is up in the farthest corner from the windows and doors to the outside, with her back placed against the ceiling. The Darkling clings to the wall like a spider would, only this one has no web to warn of danger (or prey?). Instead three bobbing lights of a dark purple color hover protectively between her and the rest of the room. Their colors pulse through a gambit of dark blues and violets (and if one could see, well into the Ultra Violets as well). Each particularly loud pelt of rain against the window or sound of wind howling causes the Darkling to twitch in fear. Something haunted settles in the icy blue sapphire eyes that stare widely around; she doesn't seem to realize her invisibility has dropped yet...
The sudden palpability of WYRD PERSON HERE prompts the feline on the couch to freeze, then slowly examine the room, searching visibly and, nose in the air, taking a few good deep breaths to cast for any scents she...doesn't...oh.
Misty's fur first sleeks down, then starts to floof further as she gets her hackles up, edging up onto her paws and backing toward the cushioned seat-back of the couch to press herself against it as her tail lifts, eyes fixed on Nuit.
Ah. Hell. The stated expression slowly dawns through Nuit's eyes, causing a crackling of silver to shoot through the orbs that float protectively in front of her. Their purple hues shift to a cyan in a heartbeat, that same silver color wreathing around them as their bobbing shifts to a more frantic pace. Nuit, for her part, does mch the same as the cat on the couch, shuffling her legs and pushing herself back into the corner of the ceiling as much as she can. The Darkling might even start to contort her limbs to shift down even farther back, if things get much more ... hairy.
A clock somewhere chimes out the hour. Nuit, but for years of being the silent tracker, the hushed, the wordless, looks as if she would scream in sudden terror as the chimes continue counting the hour. When they finally stop, her eyes are even more darting this way and that; for all the power that oozes off her in waves (no longer hidden by Clause and Contract) the Wisp is more paralyzed by fear than one with her power should be. Perhaps that is why she is here, in the Wayhouse; the closest place of safety when the terror gripped at her mind.
At this dramatic moment, the door from the mudroom opens to admit Amity, bearing with her some bags of supplies--she's on one of her usual grocery runs for the benefit of the Wayhouse and its denizens, hair still damp from the wind and rain, her clothing thankfully preserved by the rain coat she's hung up behind her. She hesitates in the doorway, struck first by the cat's distinct unease and then the wave of Wyrd that seems to smack her across the face. Eyes go briefly wide and she stares at the half-crouched figure in... the ceiling? She stands there, eyes darting back and forth as she tries to work out what's happening. Who is this here with all her power?
Misty isn't having any of it. The cat hisses up at the Darkling in the corner, then NOPE NOPE NOPEs her way out of all of it, streaking over the leather of the couch seats and darting behind Amity to hide. No, make that springing up to -cling- to Amity and hide, claws digging into the back of the Chatelaine's clothes and, possibly, her skin in some places. The feline trembles there, and will scrabble around Amity as if the other Changeling were a climbing pole, just to stay out of Nuit's sight, if Amity tries to turn.
Nuit suddenly seems to calm down. Her eyes change color; a deep emerald green flickering to life within the sapphire blue. The three orbs of light that tremble before her calm remarkably fast. Nuit's lips move, silently, talking to herself. The darkling seems rather strangely calm as the flows of her Wyrd slow and ebb, coming more under control. The green fades from her eyes and a bit of agitation returns to the three orbs; but markedly calmer than before. Slowly the Darkling untangles from herself, long translucent limbs pulling out of unnatural tangles before she pulls them fully free. Slowly she stands, perpendicular to the wall, and walks her way down it.
Once standing properly on the floor again her translucent form can be seen to hold a glow within it, no longer obscured by living shadow that was pulled around her. Inside it glows a nether light, a dark black that pulses, while streaked with dull pink. Occasionally silver wreaths over it like lightning, gone in a second.
"I ..." Nuit's voice is hoarse and rough, even for her natural whispery state "I apologize." she says to no one in particular. "You don't... don't have to worry. I have it under control..." The three balls of light have moved to settle around her left shoulder, dancing quietly. One of them bobs upward and seems to chide her. "Yes," Nuit says turning her head to it "I do. She knows. So do you."
Nuit turns to Amity and the cat that darted in fear. "It has been... a long while... since I was ... out." she says in that same hoarse whisper; though now it is clearly directed at the Changeling in front of her.
Amity is a bit distracted by the cat using her as a climbing tree. There's a yelp of pain as claws dig through jeans and prick at skin and Amity whirls, her bags dropped to the side as she tries to get a hold of the extremely frightened cat. She half-looks at Nuit, her focus mostly on the sharp animal attached to her.
"It's alright--hold on--!" She makes a grab for Misty, trying to get hold of her. Of course, trying to grab a cat that doesn't want to be grabbed is like trying to grab water...
Very true. Misty is, indeed, cat-shaped water for at least a little while, though once Nuit starts -talking-, she scrabbles up to try to hide herself behind Amity's head, hunched down and trembling, ears flat. Because clearly, Nuit can't see a great big floofy twenty-pound cat if she is hiding there. If Amity does try to get her off of her shoulders, which likely now have claw marks in them, the cat will permit it as long as she can try to hide in the crook of Amity's elbow/chest or otherwise cling to the larger and, presumably, safer person.
Nuit shys back slightly at the commotion a cat makes while scrambling for protection and safety. The darkling pulls her hands together, drawing the shadows that cloak her together, hiding the strange glow that infuses most of her body. "Moonbeam," she says in that same whisper "Please go find my shoes." Oh. The darkling is barefoot. Translucent limbs that are now near invisible obscured by flowing shadows of Wyrd stuff does make that a difficult situation to notice. "I hope they are still in the Wayhouse."
One of the orbs of light (not the one she spoke to before) dips in its flight in quiet acceptance, and darts off. It doesn't seem to have to search hard - flying unerringly out of the room. It returns a moment later, buzzing beside Nuit's ear. "Thank you. I will retrieve them soon," the Will-o-Wisps murmurs, before turning to see if the cat and its unintended climbing post have calmed. "Bonne apres-midi, mon aimee. I apologize again. I am Nuit; I am not certain if I have made your acquaintance yet... There are ... issues." she frowns at herself at the last word, before shaking her head.
Amity is rather bedecked in scratches now, that linger from leg to shoulder and everywhere, it seems, in between. Thankfully though she has the poor cat tucked into the crook of her arm, where the poor thing seems to be trembling away. She runs a hand over it, trying to soothe Misty with gentle pets and touches. There, there. She understands. Wyrd is terrifying. She takes a breath as Nuit addresses her, her posture seeming to straighten as if by instinct, some unspoken long-remembered attention to duty.
"Bonjour, madam," she replies in a quiet, flinty voice. "I am afraid we have not met before, no. I was... Bringing by some things. Ah..." She trails off. "I would remember you if I had." In her chest, there is a writhing mess of anxiety and fear but she does her best not to let it show. Of course, anyone who has known Amity can tell when she is under stress once they grow used to the small signs of it.
While the petting doesn't stop the frightened cat from trembling, it does, at least, stop her from digging her claws in and giving Amity more puncture wounds. That's a perk. Misty's ears stay flat, head low, and she refuses to budge now that she seems to have found a sympathetic point of shelter, though she'll adjust her weight as need be if Amity tries to pick up those dropped groceries she had been carrying. Congratulations! Now Amity gets multiple shades of grey fur all over her clothes AND gets to smell like damp, terrified cat!
"Mademoiselle is fine, if you must, but Nuit is prefered," The darkling says as she steps back away from the trembling cat; In control once again, no longer plagued by whatever fears gripped her mind, she recognizes the effect she has on others; and unlike *some* she tries her best to alleviate it. "Please. I will not hurt you. I am not like that," Hollow words said by one radiating power to one who does not. "I did not catch your name..?" She has continued to step back until she reaches the couch where the cat once rested, placing one hand out behind her to steady herself. "If you said it ..." she trails off, shaking her head. "Memory becomes harder, sometimes. I often wonder, as the rest of me fades away, does my memory flow with it or is it simply a byproduct of ... well no matter. Not something I am permitted to speak of." Her eyes are distant; Amity is noticed, catalogued, put in a place, but as Nuit calms from whatever heightened fear she was in the lesser changeling is slowly dismissed as ... not a threat.
Amity continues petting Misty, as much to calm herself as to calm the cat. Being in the presence of the Wyrd is a harrowing experience. She manages to maintain normalcy in the presence of some, like November, through gradual exposure and rigid self-discipline. Being thrust into the unknown all of a sudden is quite the different experience.
"My apologies. I am Amity," she says quietly. "Well met, Miss Nuit." She looks at the other Changeling with a mixture of fear, disgust, jealousy, pity. To be so far gone from one's humanity must be a terrible thing, but... surely to have such power is gratifying in its own way?
Misty squirms in Amity's arm, but not to get away, no. She only moves enough that she can begin restlessly grooming the fur near one of her elbows, small body vibrating with an anxious purr, ears still flat, hackles still raised. She doesn't resist the petting, however, and doesn't make any moves which would -deliberately- hurt Amity, now that she's a bit more in control. While she isn't LOOKING at Nuit, her posture, body language, the angles of her ears, all state more clearly than words that if Nuit does anything she considers threatening, poor Amity is going to be getting more piercings, and the cat is going to be gone-zo.
A small shake of Nuit's head follows the last words from Amity "Just ... Nuit... s'il vous plait. Please. I am... no ones ... mistress." She shudders internally. Turning her back on the other woman and the cat she walks toward the door that 'Moonbeam' had so recently darted through. She is through it not more than 30 seconds before she returns with a pair of mud caked black boots. "Hmm. Novy will scold me for these being in the Refrigerator," Her eyes frown, as much expression of distaste that can be seen on her almost invisible face. Pink streaks through the three orbs followed by a teal color. Where the colors before were like lightning bolts through the faint glows, this teal spreads until it encompeses their entire surface; Nuit's inner glow shifts slowly to match it. She laughs. It is a strange laugh, a dry barking sound like concrete being jerked across asphalt. But it is a laugh. "Novy may tell me the cold was good for them. Gets the mud off easier. She is the cold, after all, my dear Novy." Nuit shakes her head ruefully, before she turns facing a random direction. She studies something in the distance for a moment, then turns back to Amity. "That is a large cat. I did not know human's house cats were able to grow that large. Does it have access to the Contract with The Steel Glass of Mirror somehow?" Drifting away from humanity indeed.