[ at any point in the day, you'll notice it. you, innocently enjoying the privacy and comfort of your home-away-from-home, blissfully unaware that at any point in time your peace could be ruined.

like right now, when suddenly you hear the light pitter-patter of quick feet scurrying across your fake hardwood floors. don't worry, it's just fig, currently making himself comfortable on the softest possible surface in a room you aren't currently occupying. he'll lift his head to glance your way whenever you decide to pay him a visit, eyelids heavy with sleep. ]

Could you shut the door? You're letting a draft in.

[ he heard murmurs of a graveyard not long after he gathered he arrived. he'd made a point to ignore it for as long as he possibly could, lasted even a whole four days before — well. you know what they say about curiosity and cats.

he's not even sure what he expected. obviously her grave would not be here. she doesn't even have a grave, after all. still, something stupid like hope dared to blossom in his chest when he heard, so here he is, scanning tombstones like they might actually mean something to him.

he sighs, reaching out with a foot to kick over a vase holding wilted roses. the sound of ceramic shattering isn't nearly as satisfying as he'd like. ]

Rest in pieces, huh?

[ fig decides he has a love-hate relationship with the art building. the lights and shadows? fantastic, amazing, gorgeous, world-stopping. 10/10 would chase them around again. the colored rooms? the whispering flower hangings? hate them, he'd burn the whole exhibit down if he could.

but one area in particular quickly gains his extended interest, to the point if you yourself decide to partake in the interactive portion of it you may soon find a pair of shockingly bright eyes watching you unblinking. fig, buried up to his chin in plastic balls, judging you with every fiber of his being. ]

Can you stop your flailing? [ were you even flailing? fig's so still, that it's very possible any sort of movement would count as flailing in comparison. ] It's ruining the atmosphere.

[ or maybe you happen upon him when the vibes were just right long enough that he's taken a break from judging people, and has fallen dead asleep. curled up into a loose ball, half-buried among smaller ones, snoozing soundly......... with just the occasional twitch of a paw i mean hand. ]

( open to wildcards! fig is an ex-familiar of the feline variety; more info & lore can be found here. because of his past he is generally distrusting of everybody, but he is quicker to warm up to women than men. )