disparage: [ ELENA ] (there you go.)
caroline forbes, VAMPIRE BARBIE. ([personal profile] disparage) wrote in [community profile] pivot2014-03-14 12:38 pm

( i'll remember someday )

It was difficult to play Chinese Whispers in Abax when one person could simply log onto the network and broadcast the whisper in question. This morning, she had awoken to an announcement about a black cat — or dozen — that had made themselves at home in pivotal locations in the city. One, they said, was rumoured to be that of Cleopatra's, one to be Julius Caesar's, and another, Marc Antony's. While Caroline was positive that much of this information was untrue, it hadn't prevented her from blur-running to Christine's door and demanding they find Cleopatra's cat at once. It might be good luck, she thought and even voiced, to find the cat of such a pivotal historical figure.

Searching for a black cat, with little to no proof it was, in fact, Egyptian, kept her mind from wandering. Many people she had thought would remain with her in Abax for her tenure were gone. The streets were quieter, the ghosts had multiplied by the dozen over night, and the worry gnawed at her bones that she would, one day, awake and find Christine Chapel gone.

It was this thought that prompted Caroline to loop her arm with Christine's the moment they stepped away from her front door. And she kept her arm tightly hooked to her faux sister's, from her apartment all the way to the museum.

The Sphinx stood, foreboding, in front of them. Caroline wasn't sure if she had seen anything so scary in her life — and she had seen the cruel face of Death. It loomed, gigantic and historic, before them, waiting, patiently, for them to approach and request a riddle. Caroline leaned away from Christine, arm still looped, to peer around the big body of the creature. She had always suspected there to be another way around, a crack in its rather hard, stony armour, but she had not been able to find such a thing, even in the deepest of night when she couldn't sleep and the nightmares of home had kept her awake.

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She'd been to the museum a few times before, but she had never been the one to answer the riddle. Even with Christine by her side, she felt uneasy, as if on a boat in unruly waters, standing before the doorman. "We have to remember," she said, her eyes never leaving the Sphinx, "that seeing a black, Egyptian cat that may have been Cleopatra's is so worth it." She nodded, convincing herself, then turned to face Christine with a smile. "So worth it."

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