User blog:SalemtheCruel/Grey Gardens

Hello, this is a collab story written by Wolf985 and I. She writes some, I write some :) NOTE: Please refrain from reading if you HAVEN'T read a Little Night Music!

Introduction
It was a quiet, somber day for an estate sale but there was an estate sale going on anyway under the murky gray skies of Malkariss. Various oil portraits, swords and longbows were propped against a magnificently-carved oaken table, as well as a blue family crest depicting a black crow with spread wings above a gold crossed banner.

There were torture devices too: A huge, decaying wooden breaking wheel, a brass-and-silver cat’s paw for tearing flesh, and a pair of sharpened tongues for ripping out one’s tongue, as well as an ornate little set of fancy daggers lying on a faded velvet cushion.

A few creatures milled around the great lawn of Gideon Blair’s estate, selecting a few choice items that they liked, paid the appropriate amount of gold and hurried off before it rained. This was the estate sale of Gideon’s infamous former mate Vilaya- the Sable Quean.

One of the creatures still lingering was a somber tan-white wildcat clad in a black cloak and tunic, with a faded whitish scar above one eye. He walked with a slightly arrogant step, but there was a cold and slightly haggard look on his face even though he was still young in his seasons. He glanced quizzically down at the fine rapier in his paws that he’d just bought and gave a slight shudder, remembering who had owned it.

The wildcat looked up, feeling a light touch of claws on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw a male otter in a deep blue tunic somewhere in his mid-thirties standing in front of him.

“Looks like we’re the last of the stragglers.”

He shook his head.

“Some crazy sale…What’s yore name, cat?”

Naturally a loner and not used to the company of others, the wildcat took a moment to reply.

“Isaac. Yours?”

The otter shook his paw warmly.

“Tad. Tad Jenkins-Strong.”

Tad paused.

“My old dad knew her…. Skelton; the Sable Quean, I mean.”

He shuddered.

“From what he told me about her, she was one strange an’ real evil beast all right.

Isaac hesitated before answering. So this creature’s father knew the Sable Quean. So had he, then again…….The cat paused to reflect on this. He had known Vilaya, but was uncertain if he had actually known the REAL her. In the month they’d spent together, for the most part, the sable had been grim and quiet, bearing her pain well but rarely if ever speaking about her life and past.

“I knew her too.”

Tad looked surprised.

“Did ye now? Well then, matey, I think I have a story t’tell…..”

He cleared his throat.

“It all began way before I was born, when my father Matty was a youngbeast….It all goes back to the Skeltons and their bad blood…. Oh yes, the Skeltons….”

And so the otter began to tell his story…..