RP:The Death of Me
Synopsis: Um, well, Tiber may or may not have spilled a potion in Lanara's cat's bowl. It's fur changes color. If Lanara knew, Tiberius is dead.
Cenril
The night had been long prior to the morning lighting up the loft. The man kept his head under the pillow to bite off the morning hangover that clogged his brain. The fog was hard to depict. What had happened? He knew there was a bone that was throbbing on his upper cheek, but that was all he could really sort out from the mist of it all. Either way, the man is sunken within the sheets of the lit room.
Time ticked as the sun went into varying rotations within the pane of the window. ‘Meow’. Cenril heat was always one that vibrated easily to cast a series of sweats. ‘Meow’. Amber eyes began to open underneath the darkness of cotton. His head no longer ached, but he did feel lighter than normal—groggy. ‘Meow’. There was a cringe beneath the pillow.
There is a rumble beneath the pillow. Tiber is officially wrestling with the pillow to throw it off of his head, and once he does, he is staring face to face with the black cat in front of him. Amber eyes stare at the big green ones on top of him. There Salem is, perched on the chest of the lycan. ‘Meow’. “You’re kidding me, right?” The tone of the Catalian is unamused with a raspy tired edge. Automatically, hands slap his face to rub the sleep away from his eyes. “Why do you exist? What the hell do you want?” The lycan snaps, and in return, the cat hisses.
“Okay!” the rogue says defensively before scrambling out of bed. Dramatically he rips off the sheet before finding a shirt to throw on. Once that is established, he turns back towards the cat who is still meowing, staring, and jumping down to brush against his leg. “What do you –want-? I don’t speak vermin?” Amber eyes stare down so tensely. It was too early for this. At least for Tiberius’ brain. Then, the cat turns and prances out into the hallway, through the living room, and to the water bowl. ‘Meow.’
Tiberius approaches. “Can’t you just drink out of the plants or something?” The black cat continues to brush up against Tiber in the moment. Relentless. “Fine, I get it. I’ll get you some hydration too.” Like the cat drank, ha. No. Just Tiber. He leans down to grab the cat bowl. The man goes back to the washroom instead of the kitchen. Just to take a breath from… the thing. As the lycan approaches the washroom, he stares into the mirror to witness a shiner. He remembered. He told a girl to stop being so naïve and a dumb drunk, and the boyfriend clocked him in the eye. Right, keep the words to yourself, Tiberius.
With a long sigh, he shakes his head before knocking over a purple bottle of what he thought was Lanara’s old perfume. The liquid drips into the bowl while Tiber observes the black eye closely in the mirror. “Is it weird for men to wear girl powder?” He asks allowed as he looks over his ex’s cosmetic make-up supply. A hand swiftly picks up a powder and opens the lid. He gives it a whiff. “The hell?” He frowns, furrows his brow, but dabs into the powder anyway to cover the black eye. That did not look good for business. It looked… unreliable, so yes… Tiber tries on make-up…
He blinks. There was still a soft purpling edge, but it looked more like tiredness than a bruise. “Huh, I get why girls use this crap,” he says to himself before closing the lid and pouring the water in the cat bowl. On cue, Salem is slinking in the bathroom to check on the lycan. “Oh, gosh, hush,” Tiber begins before lowering the cat bowl for Salem to drink from.
Slurp. Slurp. Slurp. “You happy now?” Tiberius mocks while looking in the mirror again. ‘Mrr..’ There was a blink. “Huh?” And then amber eyes lower down to where the cat was. A vibration begins to ricochet through Salem’s body. ‘Mrr…’. Instantly, Tiber is lowering. “Salem, what the—Salem stop. Salem please no. Don’t die. Lanara would kill me. What the hell?” And with a blink, the fur on Salem begins to shed and fall in clumps on the ground. In another motion, hair begins to pierce through the cat’s flesh. A different color than black. Multi-colored fluff. “Oh… oh,” Tiber groans in panic before looking at the shelving of the sink. The purple bottle. A vial of potion. Something about hair color. “What the –hell- is this doing in the bathroom?!” With panic, he turns back to Salem who is completely poofed with patches of different colored fur. White, grey, orange, all the cat likes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” The lycan shouts in aching, grogginess before face palming himself.
“Meow.” Salem sits bright eyed and newly colored, bushy-tailed up at the lycan.
Lanara was going to have a hissy. Tiberius was sure of it.