Closed Cat Terror! PV Piérre Marchonné

@Kim Sato

House Colours: Slytherin

8 o'clock on a Sunday... The regular crowd rolls in...

Okay, so Piérre wasn't a piano man, but he had been toying around with the prospect of picking up and trying to learn how to play the mandolin more frequently as of late. He had had music that seemed to play restlessly in his head, and besides his humming that had no beginning melody or a determinate ending, there was no other way to let it free itself.

Digging around in the Practice Room had yielded mandolins their most common variations; the mandolin, the mandola, and the octave mandolin, but out of fear of damaging them due to his clumsiness and his general inability to find time to play them for himself, Piérre had had to content himself to tracing his fingers on the fine grain and the steady strings, plucking them with childish wonder at the clean, almost tinny, sound.

Taking a deep breath as he loosened the green and silver tie about his neck ever so slightly, Piérre ran a hand through his bubblegum pink crinus muto'd hair, the fresh color that he had settled on to use for the remainder of the month of June... And maybe for a while longer still. Maybe this would end up being his signature look for next year?

Hmph... Well, time would tell anyways.

“Lovely day, huh Figgy?” He smiled down at his loyal Bengal, who had its nose in the air and was currently flicking the black tip of his tail in curiosity of what elusive scents lingered in the temperate air. A broad smile crossed Piérre's face, causing his eyes to glitter with peckish mirth. At least he still had his loyal kitten who was always at his side. Right now, Figaro was on his leash, which was actually more like a small harness that comfortably wrapped about the feline's chest and forelegs and had the leash streaming from behind his shoulderblades.

Swooping down to Figaro, Piérre scratched under the bengal's chin, patting his head when Figaro started to purr deeply, pushing back on Piérre's hand with contentment. With a small chuckle, Piérre deftly unhooked the leash from Figaro's harness and then showed the kitten that he was no longer bound to his owner.

Pointing towards the landscape and the greenness of Figaro's potential roams, Piérre gave a quiet command in Italian. “Giocare. Play.” With a final firm stroke down the kitten's back and tail, Piérre nodded and got to his feet again.

There was a pause for a moment as Figaro scoped out the area... And then the silver bullet was off like a shot; off to explore and discover.

Only a ways behind him Piérre ran after, chasing his delightful little kitten over any hill or meadow that Figaro took upon the Hogwarts school grounds.

What a pleasant morning run!

- § ¤ § -

's Grace d100(75-100): 53 (Failure)

Under careful, if gently lax eye, Piérre watched Figaro as he was no doubt picking up the scents and markers of other humans and animals, what was fresh and what was older, and what would become strong again once rain fell.

The cat would nick out of the boy's eye briefly, causing him to sprint over the hill quickly to reassert visual confirmation of the silver Bengal heading for a small outcropping of trees. Figaro began to crouch and attempt to hide in the grass, indicating that he had spotted something if interest, though the grass was a little bit too thin around for the kitten to remain hidden. Figaro swished his tail over the grass softly, letting out a soft, almost creaky "Me-e-ew!" as it fixed whatever it was that it had spotted with a pair of wide green eyes.

Figaro rolled on his back, as if begging for belly rubs. More canine that feline, it seemed.

@Kim Sato

Piérre tipped his head slightly as his cat appraised something for a short while while it rolled about on its back, small burr-like claws catching on blades of grass. They would be gently ripped at in a kneading fashion, those pale green eyes looking curiously up at the source of its curiosity.

Rolling quickly to his feet, Figaro let out a n almost mouthed "Me-e-e-ew?" as the black tip of his tail swished along the grass.

Piérre observed Figaro batting at the something bright pink in the grass nearby. Maybe Fiagro had spotted a mouse? He liked chasing around the little squeaky mice that lived in Niffler Nook, as well as the dust bunnies and moths that flew around lazily in their air, after all.

Piérre ran down the hill towards him, and with the enthusiasm of a dog that had chased a squirrel up a tree, the cat in turn sprinted to his boy and then back towards the tree, indicating to him that there was something of interest to investigate, though not able to explain exactly what. When his boy came close, the Bengal would ATTEMPT (Nat1 + 10Acc = 11) to excitedly take the fuzzy pink thing gently in his mouth in order to present it to his master like the cat would any other still-living prey that he captured.

- § ¤ § -

House Colours: Slytherin

With a broad smile as he gradually slowed his stride, Piérre watched his kitten sprint away. The further his Bengal ran away, the more Piérre thought about where he would be able to go from where he currently was in his life at that point. So far... While his errands of mischief had been wildly successful, a niggling part of himself yearned for more. As if he were missing something at his very core that was preventing his total success.

Was he taking these actions too slowly? Was he not doing enough to satiate that dragon? Could he keep chasing it? Did he want to? Or was he just close enough that he didn't realize just how close he was to success?

Twisting the cat leash in his fingers, the boy tucked it best he could into the waistband of his black pants, loosening the green and silver tie that had flown around behind his head from the run thus far. Despite himself, the boy knew that he was encroaching on something big. A breakthrough, a revelation.

He just couldn't see it quite clearly enough to make a guess as to what it was yet.

Taking up his easy lope again, Piérre slowly trotted down the hill just in time to spot Figaro running up to him in turn. Piérre's familiar flicked his tail excitedly like a dog; that telltale indication that there was something that Piérre's keen eye was likely to enjoy spying for themselves.

“What is it, Figgy?” Piérre asked, trying to reach down to pet his familiar.

Before his fingers could brush the cat's fur, however, Figaro had already begun to race back towards a small copse of trees. Glancing quickly, Piérre tried to see if there was anything that stuck out to him as odd at first glance. If he had learned anything this year, it was that perception and the ability to eye-spy strange things or curious items came in particularly handy. Sometimes it could preserve a person's life or give them a new spin on a situation they hadn't noticed before. A young voice calling for something also tipped Piérre off that some sort of odd treasure or knicknack was bound to be revealed as a person of some sort.

Though the boy didn't spot Figaro going for a pink puffball on the ground alongside a bookbag and a sketchbook, after getting closer, Piérre finally spotted a smear of blonde hair caught up in a tree, as well as a young face that belonged to a reasonably familiar boy that Piérre had tried to smear with paint a day ago and had then glanced with a spell of flowers upon Fiorescuro's exit.

Striding right to the base of the tree that the boy was trapped in, Piérre looked up at him with curious green eyes, tipping his head to the side as he tried to guess as to the reason for this. “Is the air fresher up there?” He asked, his expression as serious as death. Inside, his mind began to race as he attempted to come up with an internal dialogue for a potential conversation. “I'd join you if there was more room... But I wouldn't want both of us to fall.” Piérre tapped the wand holster on his thigh. “I can only cast a Descension Spell on one of us at a time.” A quirked left eyebrow.

“Is it your dream to be a squirrel-person, or are you stuck?” Piérre folded his arms, shifting his weight to his right as he popped out his left knee and rolled that food's toe in the dirt ever so slightly. Truth be told, this wasn't the strangest way he had ever met someone before. In fact, finding a squirrel-person and initiating a potential conversation with them about acorns sounded right up the kid's alley at this point.

@Kim Sato

House Colours: Slytherin

Piérre grinned at the boy's wit, though it was admittedly very easy to see through and not be fooled by the simple ask. Obviously he was stuck, Piérre knew when to tell when a person was stuck in a place they didn't want to be in; he knew that experience firsthand, as a matter of fact.

That didn't prevent him from being clever while he was at it, though: "Now why would I do that? Wouldn't you much rather I come up there so that we could hang out together and enjoy a conversation about the day or the weather?" The Jester smiled up at the boy. Meanwhile, Figaro, who had picked up the curled up Pygmy Puff by the critter's poofy pink fur, shaking it gently so as not to hurt the delicate mouse-like thing but still attempting to enjoy himself while in possession of the fuzzy animal, continued to paw at Piérre's leg, trying to catch his master's attention and have him take note of the little gift that he wanted to present to the Jester.

The boy took note of the fact that the tree-bound boy had his eyes tightly shut. Piérre tipped his head. "Say, what's the matter? Your eyes hurt or something? I mean... it's bright right now, but I think the shade would be more than enough to, y'know, let you open your eyes?" The boy gasped as Figaro pawed for him once more. "Awwwww! Figgy, you big brave hunter! Lookit what you caught!" Piérre stooped down to his cat, stroking the bengal and trying to coax him into letting go of the potentially terrified pygmy puff. Figaro resisted, lightly tugging against the boy's hand as he tried to gently take hold of the critter in his cat's mouth. "Figgy....?" Piérre warned quietly at his silver bengal. Conferire. Confer; in the context of 'give'" He commanded.

With a small kitten purr, Figaro finally let go of the fuzzy critter, licking his lips once or twice in and attempt to clear away the hair. Piérre 'tsk'ed him. "Ah, now see what you've done. You're gonna be hacking up hairballs all night. No!" Figaro looked up at him with universe pupils. "No. You did this to yourself. I'll help your tummy ache, but you have to live with the consequences of your actions." Piérre turned his gaze back to the boy in the tree, trying to gently cradle the pink puffball and calm it with soft hands despite Figaro getting up on his hind legs in an attempt to climb the boy and reach the pink animal safe in Piérre's protective hands. "Does this little sweetie belong to you?" He asked curiously. He smiled, recognizing the little question he could ask. "You're gonna have to open your eyes for this one. He almost got eaten by Figgy, big scary monster that sweet boy is. Piérre quirked a brow. "C'mon, the sun isn't that bad."

A small grin. "If you can't see from up there, I'll come up there myself and show you...!" He sang his words mischievously.

@Kim Sato

House Colours: Slytherin

"Bold of you to assume I wouldn't try regardless of how dangerous it is." The Britalian grinned with an almost audible undertone of something near malice in his voice. "It's dangerous to underestimate a Japer." He thumbed his nose and stuck out his tongue, regardless of if the treebound boy could see him or not. "Why so adamant? Well, because I'm curious as to why you're so eager to come down as opposed to being delighted for being so high up. Also, I just like to climb trees, and you're in one, so I want to be in one too. You know, for fun!" He twisted words into a slightly more confusing yarn, likely one that would cause someone to have to think twice before trying to unravel its inner meanings.

Piérre quirked his brows. "Soooo... if you want to get down, I don't have an issue with casting the spell. But, you gotta do something for it, m'kay?" The boy continued to pet the pygmy puff softly and calmly in an attempt to keep it calm in turn while also keeping him nice and protected from the very dangerously curious Figaro prowling just below and still trying to leap up on Piérre's legs. Despite a desperate and complaining "Prrrrrow!", the Britalian did not listen to his feline and would continue to refuse his bengal from trying to get his paws on the admittedly ball-shaped pink critter.

A smile. "It's really simple, I promise." The boy grinned up at the leaf-obscured boy. "It's such an easy spell." He was winding up for something, the inflection in the entertainer's voice was becoming particularly clear and building as a laugh began to rise in the back of his throat. "Very very easy, and very very fun."

When his agonizingly (almost mocking) teasing had reached its zenith, the boy revealed the proposition. "I'll cast the spell... once you jump as far away and out that branch as you humanly can." The boy let the implications sink in. "It'll be fun! Like jumping and having a parachute off your back slow your fall until you hit the ground." The boy used his left hand to finally unsheathe his yew wand. "See, I'll even Spongify the ground in case you miss, okay? All you have to do is open your eyes so that you know where your crashpad is. Aim for the squishy ground. Easy as counting or saying the alphabet. Spongify!"

So saying and casting [20 Wisdom], the ground just in front of Piérre became soft and spongy, almost like gelatin, ready to be jumped on. Piérre tested its tensile strength with his foot, and after finding it satisfactory, jumped on it lightly and bounced for a few seconds before being content with his spellwork and stepping off of it to look back up at the Tempest's Ariel.

The puck grinned once more. "I'll cast, I promise. Do you trust me?" Piérre looked at the pygmy puff, fixing it with childishly wide 'kitten eyes' "You would trust me, right little fluffy babu?" he cooed at the fuzzy thing, which invoked yet another jealous meow from Figaro. Piérre scritched the Pygmy puff gently and politely while waiting for the boy in the tree to jump; he was legitimately ready to cast.

Already his lips were reciting "Arresto Momentum!" and his wand was lightly tracing the sigil in the air, ready to be spoken aloud only if the boy chose to jump out of the tree.

@Kim Sato (Aoki)

House Colours: Slytherin

By this point, Piérre was so tired of waiting and listening to the nonsense that was coming from the tree-entrapped boy that he couldn’t help but let a loud yawn escape him as he continued to pet the little puffball of a critter and defended it from the unabating pawing and light clawing of Figaro at his pant leg. Blinking slowly up at the obscured boy, Piérre’s left brow arced with amusement at the (with complete honesty) the most rational ideas the kid had offered so far.

He rocked on his feet for a few seconds before hearing a small mutter (though admittedly he didn’t quite pick up what was said). “Pardon? Doya have a ball of cotton stuck in your mouth?” He inquired, trying to push Figaro off of his leg. “Didn’t your mama ever-a tell you not to mumble when you talk?” The boy couldn’t help but let an exotic lisp slip through his teasing words. It was both amusing for him and also a bit of a caricature of his nationality, and either way he didn’t care what kind of reaction it provoked. “It’s-a little rude, if Imma be honest.” He whisper-shouted with an edge of tease. Poor Kim Satoki (forgive me for the blursed hybridization), don’t you know that it is always in Piérre’s nature to tease? It is his natural state of being, just like the natural tendency of dry ice wanting to evaporate at room temperature. You can’t stop or control the nature of the fool, only try to work around it or accept it with grace.

Climb up after him? Well… duh! “You wanna know something? That’s the most rational thing you have said so far. I applaud thee.” Whisking a hand out and a leg behind him, Piérre performed a mock curtsy, “I shall do so, and keep your precious companion close to my chest so as to prevent him from being nommed upon by my own lovely familiar, capisce?” Piérre would try to tuck the fuzzy pygmy puff of an identical hair color to his own into the shoulder of his shirt, encouraging it with a gentle promise. “Okay little guy, I’m-a gonna put you just here by my collarbone. Try to hold on tight, okay? I’m reuniting you with your owner… At least I assume that’s your owner, right?” The Britalian glared down at his cat. “Figaro, firmo! equivalent of ‘stand firm'”

Obediently, Figaro sat and proceeded to curl his tail around his front paws, staring up into the green eyes of Piérre expectant of some sort of praise. With a small harumph of appreciation, Piérre nodded his approval down at his kitten before setting his sights on the tree. The boy was a rather good climber; it had been something he had done incredibly well in his youth and it was something that had stuck with him throughout the years. The higher he climbed, the more he felt like he was indeed defying gravity. The more he climbed, the more he was freed from the shackles of the Earth and those who walked so boringly upon it. The further he climbed, the more he also began to let a small smile creep across his face. Of course he had noticed the kid’s sudden change in tune.

Things like that didn’t happen unless there was an ulterior motive at its roots.

But heck to that! Whatever the motive, the boy had a nasty habit of not caring. It was part of his nature, that simultaneous existence of his ability to have an uncanny insight concerning certain matters combined with his tendency of exercising strikhedonia much to the chagrins of others. There was likely a nasty surprise waiting for him once he got to the level of the boy already in the tre, but cheshire-grinning Piérre was more than ready to face whatever was coming his way. He kind of wanted this kid to try his best. He wanted to see what interesting turn of events that this individual was going to bring to the table. “Heeeeeeeeyyy! I’m up here now. You can open your eyes.” (expressing such sentiment only if the kid’s eyes were indeed closed). “Wanna look out at the sights… and then jump together?” He whispered mischievously as he started to sidle up to the same place as the kid. Piérre lightly patted the chest holster that his wand was sheathed in again. “Believe me when I say I’m ready for anything that could happen, hm?”

What the implications of those words meant to the blonde boy was only up to him and the interpretations that his mind was most prone to theorizing about.