Hopping up to the ledge, silver leather bound journal in mouth, Sabbat the Midnight Cat sat it down on the window sill to read. Her pupiless yellow eyes even in the midday Port-à-Lucine Sun glowing. How she hated it here, she hated her homeland of Barovia as well, but this place with its pomp and pageantry, and sunny late spring days annoyed her to no end. Nudging the journal open with her nose she stretched then cuddled up for a nice little read, her pure ink black feline form curled about the book.
“Dear Journal, it happened again this morning.”
Almost right away Sabbat had to suppress her urge to giggle. Neville’s dramatics were to be savored like fine cognac. Best to let it build as she read, till she came to the apex of it.
“I do not understand this, her name was Gennifer,”
Rolling her eyes, Sabbat simply thought on how they all seemed to have such pretentious names.
“and she is a young lady of some aptitude in the mystical arts. She is in Port-à-Lucine pursuing degree at the university in the sciences arcane. And she really does sound rather gifted.”
Here Sabbat couldn’t help rolling over onto her back, meowing with utter scoff. For if Gwenn, Jen, oh whatever, was a model for the type of arcane student the University produced, it was a miracle that any could summon fire, with matches.
“Gennifer also comes from a well respected family of Mordentshire.”
‘Oh well respected Neville’, thought Sabbat, ‘Like the type of respectful who stays up with a man she just met on the street, past midnight, wearing the gentleman’s silly hat as they act out a rather disturbing bit of mistress witch and man slave? Quite right Neville, she is what Mordent female grace and class are all about.’ A crackling hiss escaped from Sabbat as she finished her thought, amused with herself.
“We met in the evening about dusk having nearly run into one another as we both were in hurry to be out of the slums. I coming from the hospice, her from a trip to the firearms factory for a school study. At once when we apologized to one another for near colliding, we made pleasant company, birthed with her glowing smile and ink well bottomless dark eyes that she laid on me.”
Rolling her eyes again. ‘Oh please Neville... Stop putting these common girls whom will have you on such pedestals. She was rather pretty, if pretty can be applied to those a tad plump, and by that I mean obese, for a horse, soon to give birth. I also think the poor sow was unaware that she appeared to be wearing a dress that looked like she had been caught in a wrestling match with a curtain...And the curtain won’ Again a self amused hissing laugh erupted out of Sabbat before she then pureed with content at her own cleverness.
“After walking the Quartiere Publique and Savant for some time engaged in quite stimulating conversation, we rather brashly retired for a night in a room at the Governor's Inn. Mind you I conduct myself as a gentleman, looking for no sort of, uhm, satisfaction.”
‘Oh I am sure you don’t man slave Neville, at least not until your mistress witch commands you to...’ It was almost too much for Sabbat as she nearly rolled off the window’s ledge with purring laughter. Catching herself with her claws before she completely went over the edge, she went to read more as she climbed back up to her spot.
“But yet, things went well, at least I hope they did. And in the morning, all was fine, just as the last. She was still there, a smile to greet me as we woke still in bed together holding each other. And as before I set out to go fetch us some food for the morn“
A blood thirsty hiss came from Sabbat. ‘Oh, and then my fun started with her dear Neville’ Still recalling it all, Sabbat scratched at the wood of the window frame with a pathological fondness for the memory.
“As the last, when I returned, she was gone. None of my possessions taken, Sabbat still asleep in the room on the couch, but of Gennifer’s things there was a few bits of her garment remaining as if she had suddenly come to some awful realization of what she had done spending the night with me, and had hurried off”
Sabbat licked at her lips, she could still taste... whatever her name was.. blood. Oh how fun it had been. First pouncing on her as she laid in the bed. Then raking her claws across the silly girls bare back as she tried to get her gowns back on. Than the chase from the bedroom to the small hall. The most amusing thing to Sabbat was how after her ankle was bit, the clumsy girl fell forward on her own dress, and smashed her nose broke and front teeth cracked on the hardwood door out of the inn room.
“I hope I may understand what it is that I do, that makes such fine ladies feel a need to go without so much as a goodbye after we seem to find such, well, potential for more in one another.”
Here Sabbat could read no more.. It was Neville’s usual loneliness expressed. All wanting to meet the one for him, yadda yadda, yad... Sabbat would have none of it. Despite her utter revulsion for Neville and his childish romanticisms, she did love him, in her own way. Perhaps it was the hijacking of his familiar ritual, as Midnight Cats were want to do, that did it. Or perhaps it was when he had saved her life after that Vallaki scum child had tried to murder her... Too bad for that brat and his little sister that the job was botched. Regardless of how, Neville was Sabbat’s bounded one now. And the last thing Sabbat would tolerate after she was finally out seeing the world, was some silly harlot catching Neville’s heart and tying him down someplace drab and boring.... Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all... And with a gleeful purr, Sabbat went to place the journal back again, for she would get no small amusement out of seeing to it that Neville was always her’s alone.