Heart of Stone
The air of Scaris is that of unique, a fantastical aroma mingling the old with the new into a mesmerizing blend that saturated the entirety of the city. Like Monster High, the city displayed a populace of gorgeous creatures with a wide demographic to show, albeit the majority being lithe, shorthair werecats that mingled in the cobblestone streets. But, to say that that was all that Scaris held would be the furthest stretch of the truth, rather, it held the ability to stamp itself within one's heart and soul the minute they stepped within its perimeter. That fact was none truer for Rochelle Goyle.
Rochelle had been away from Scaris too long, she had decided it was so the minute she had gotten off the plane and nearly teared up at the sight of the Eiffel Terror. Being nearly night, Rochelle and the group had decided to head to her family home, each of them looking forward to the promise of a soft bed and hearth to call home for the extent of their trip. Rochelle's grandmother, though stoic in demeanor, was happy to see her granddaughter's return and welcomed the ghouls with as much of a warm smile she could manage with her stone visage. She watched the ghouls settle in for the night, donning their elaborate sleepwear and shedding their makeup, it was somewhat tender to see her friends in their most organic forms. Each bid one another goodnight, while she found herself energetic and curious. It was almost like she had never been at Monster High, she was right back in Scaris and nothing had changed except for a slight sheen of dust on some things. While her friends slept, Rochelle took it upon herself to become familiar again with her former hometown. She doubted that she could sleep with all the nervous energy she had within her, from what she didn't know, but she decided that she may as well try to quell whatever urge was stirring within her. Rochelle pulled her luggage up a flight of stairs and into her childhood bedroom, setting her beret on the edge of her rolling suitcase's handle. She propped herself in the window nearest to her, dangling her legs outside and peering down unto the unsuspecting Scarisians who happened to be out. She had a two story height advantage to her efforts. Many often forgot that the Goyles watched over the city, primarily because those like her grandmother seemed to never move nor blink an eye, and they blended right in with the architecture. None noticed Rochelle's watching, and if they did they surely didn't mind. She looked down at ground below her, and imagined her shoe slipping from her foot and instinctively curled her toes in to ensure that that didn't happen. From her perch, she lay witness to the night's offerings: a couple experiencing a tender first embrace after a confirmation of mutual feelings, a child drawing on his doorstep with an array of chalk in washed-out neon hues, a vendor hopelessly peddling tourist-aimed goods, and a street artist sketching away at something...
She had had her fill of monster-watching shortly thereafter, it seemed it wasn't necessarily what she was looking to see since the anxiousness in her core remained. Being in Scaris again was almost dreamlike, especially seeing the luminous city at night. When the warm light of the sun started to fade and the crisp, white glow of the moon took overhead, Scaris illuminated itself by its own means. Bioluminescent monsters would emerge from their dull daytime colors and brandish incandescence in fantastical shades of xanthic yellows and beryl blues. Within the Eiffel Terror you could find lanterns filled with flames of all different colors due to the specific minerals added into combustible compounds, the tower looked so frighteningly fantastic even from where Rochelle was. And the sky lanterns that took flight nightly added the last element to creating the Scaris midnight ambiance. Every ounce of the city was bathed in varying intensities of this universal glow, and it made it feel so special. It was easy to lose track of time when fixated on the city. Rochelle stretched her wings and sighed dreamily at the release of the knot betwixt her shoulder blades. She could feel that the energy she had once had was starting to diminish, the city was obviously what her heart wanted to see. She would see it in the morning for all of its glory with her cluster of friends, and with that she made promise to be up and early tomorrow to spend the wee hours with her grandmother, and the rest of the day with her friends. Rochelle leaned back into the space of her room and twisted her legs in as to exit the window, when she heard a gentle call from outside.
"Pardon mademoiselle!"
Rochelle turned back to the window and looked out, she wasn't sure who had called her, but the voice was smooth and feminine. Her eyes eventually caught wind of the hand waving for her attention, being that of the street artist's from earlier who was situated on the opposite side of the cobble stone road. The werecat smiled as Rochelle noticed her, her tail swishing in a way that convened an air of satisfaction.
"Pardon mademoiselle, I am so sorry to bother you. But may I ask that you sit in the window once more?" called out the werecat artist.
Rochelle was unsure how to answer. As much as she was a native to Scaris, she had never once been the subject of a public artist, as far as she knew anyway. She had always been aware that someone was trying to paint her, since the only one who had ever illustrated her was Garot.
"I was so close to finishing, it will only take a few more strokes, non? I promise it won't be long," she added on, grinning hopefully at Rochelle.
Her accent was a lovely touch to her plea, and how could Rochelle say no to such an enchanting face. Ice blue eyes, even in the monster world, were not that common.
"Oui, I will."
Rochelle gave a sympathetic expression to the artist and shook her head as she saw how happy she was for her affirmation. Rochelle resituated herself in the window, trying to make sure that she sat exactly how she was before. Right leg here, left leg there, shoulder forward. She looked down to the young ghoul with a question.
"What way would you like me to look, na?" Rochelle was sure that her accent was getting thicker and thicker every moment more she spent in Scaris, it was intending to come back with avengeance.
"If you could look to your right, s'il vous plaît," she purred out, placing her own head in the fashion she wanted Rochelle to pose. "Oh! Can you stretch your wings out as well, you looked tres angélique".
She had never considered herself angelic, nor graceful. Rather, she felt tragic fit the bill slightly better, because she made tragedy seem very beautiful with her furrowed brow, sloped wings, and cracking exterior. People would always love to paint sad and forlorn imagery because it is such an easy emotion to convey, she felt that was perhaps why Garot painted her portrait so often. But as much as she didn't consider herself angelic, being told she was felt very nice. She posed as the artist wanted, and indulged in the notion that she may be pretty in an appealing sort of way to someone at least. She sat for roughly ten minutes when the werecat let out a mewl of delight. Rochelle sleekly slid out of the window and leaned on her elbows, getting comfortable and watching her.
"C'est tres magnifique!" she sprung up from her seat, folded it, and sauntered across the street with it tucked under her arm towards Rochelle's roost. "You are the perfect model, you are as still as stone".
The ghoul smiled at her words, of course she was a still as stone, she was made of it. Rochelle leaned down as she neared, interested in hearing what she had to say. She watched as the cat unfolded her chair and proceeded to step up onto it, allowing her to be within arms reach of Rochelle The werecat wore a sly grin as she asked,
"May I ask what the name of my muse is?"
Her muse? Rochelle felt her cheeks warm but she was compelled to send back the same flirtatious look. She hated to say it, but even though she was made of granite, she was such softie when it came to flattery.
"My name is Rochelle."
At the mention of her name, the werecat mouthed it back and produced a genuine smile so sweet Rochelle could feel her teeth dissolving. Acid rain held no candle to her intensity.
"Who are you talking to mate?"
Rochelle froze when she heard the conspicuous voice of Lagoona Blue. Rochelle turned around to see her standing in the doorway of her room, logically having just come out of the bathroom across from across the hall with toothbrush in tow. Rochelle stuttered as she tried to grasp at the words she was looking for, though it was apparent that they were purposely avoiding her, or maybe that they didn't exist at all. She could understand how odd the situation appeared however, it being near midnight and here she was fully dressed in her street clothing still, talking out of her window to some mystery monster. Rochelle turned back to the werecat while still bemused for words.
"It was so nice meeting you, perchance we will meet again soon," the artist purred endearingly, making sure to draw out the "per-" in perchance with as much kitty charm as possible.
She slowly stepped down from her chair and began to walk away and Rochelle felt her heart drop into her the pit of her stomach. Any sort of jovial enlightenment from their encounter was turning back into weight as she feared she may have sent the wrong message with her worried expression. She was enjoying the beautiful company of her artistic admirer, she hadn't wanted them to part so soon. The feline was already packing up her paints and pastels and donning her leather jacket.
"Are you gonna ask her what her name is or what, love?" chirped Lagoona, baring a friendly smirk that insinuated a possibility of understanding what was happening.
She leaned against the doorframe and motioned for her to go ahead. Rochelle at that point was more than happy to call Lagoona one of her best ghoul friends. There may be plenty of fish in the sea, but there would always be one Lagoona. She turned back to the window with renewed vigor.
"Wait, please! What is your name?"
The werecat's ears perked up and her tail swayed with fervent intrigue.
"Catrine."
Catrine beamed as Rochelle relaxed, blithesome that her muse appeared to hold a mutual interest in her. She nestled her carrying case under her arm and held the portrait of Rochelle close to her, making sure she was the only one who could see it.
"If you would like to see your portrait, maybe you can come find me tomorrow."
Catrine winked at her, and then strolled away with a man-killer strut, owning every step with leisurely confidence. Rochelle watched and hurriedly drank in the features of the girl with a sort of latent desire, chewing on her lip as what lay dormant during their encounter was suddenly feeling much more bold. Catrine had a rapturous set of legs, long and elegant and coated with spotless white fur. Even from the window, Rochelle could see the glisten of blue opalescence from Catrine's fur, giving her an evanescent surrealness that seemed more than unbelieveable. She couldn't help but wax envious at the sight of her perfect paleness, as she herself was stippled in every shade of gray known to monsterkind. Catrine's lavender locks were perfectly coiffed, her ears were wholly precious, and the beauty mark under her left eye was to die for. All in all, everything together produced an ambrosial divinity that surpassed even Scaris in beauty. She was ashamed that she had skimmed over Catrine's beauty earlier whilst she was monster-watching. What side of town bred cat-femmes that gorgeous and where could she find more? Rochelle closed the window's rot iron bars, nearly forgetting that Lagoona was in the room with her. Lagoona gave her the most sheepish grin she had ever seen, and Rochelle knew she was caught in something, but she didn't say anything about it in the end. Lagoona herself knew the trials and tribulations of tragic attraction, so she wasn't there to judge, but it was impossible not to feel a bit saucy at the sight of her friend lip-nibbling at a stranger.
Lagoona left shortly thereafter, she imagined that her friend may have wanted some privacy to digest what just happened between her and Catrine. Rochelle settled onto her bed, gently removing her shoes one strap at a time, and then sliding them next to her night stand. And with her last bit of energy, she settled into the impression in her bed, and welcomed the rush of satisfied sleep.
