Classic Horror [tag Gaunt]
Apr 15, 2015 15:57:21 GMT -6
Post by Deleted on Apr 15, 2015 15:57:21 GMT -6
The theatre was old and dilapidated. Quite obviously abandoned, cracks traced across the walls and girdled the neo-classical pillars. Water stains with a touch of mold coloured the walls, about the only decoration as everything had long ago been stripped. Through the broken windows behind the empty box seats came light and cheerful music from the world outside, almost eerily out of place inside the dead building. By the time it filtered down into the auditorium the light was quite dim. There nothing remained except the bare, rotting stage and the rows of empty seats.
On either side of the stage were thick columns. Once they had been used to help support the pulley system for the curtains, but like everything that had been gutted. Werefox was leaning against the one on the right (or on the left, looking from the audience), licking vital fluid from his hands. The mortal remains of several pigeons lay scattered on the remaining sound boards of the stage. Cyrus had been using this place as a place to cache food for a while now. He had considered using it for a permanent lair, but it seemed a bit too much in the middle of the city's life to be an effective haven.
His ears twitched, and he detected a foreign scent amongst the must and mold -- although it was not exactly out of place. He turned his head, suspending his grooming for the moment as he tried to pinpoint whether someone else had actually entered the theatre.
Gaunt
((Oh, just to be sure it's clear -- he's in his anthro form!))
On either side of the stage were thick columns. Once they had been used to help support the pulley system for the curtains, but like everything that had been gutted. Werefox was leaning against the one on the right (or on the left, looking from the audience), licking vital fluid from his hands. The mortal remains of several pigeons lay scattered on the remaining sound boards of the stage. Cyrus had been using this place as a place to cache food for a while now. He had considered using it for a permanent lair, but it seemed a bit too much in the middle of the city's life to be an effective haven.
His ears twitched, and he detected a foreign scent amongst the must and mold -- although it was not exactly out of place. He turned his head, suspending his grooming for the moment as he tried to pinpoint whether someone else had actually entered the theatre.
Gaunt
((Oh, just to be sure it's clear -- he's in his anthro form!))