Poirot’s chief personality characteristic was undoubtedly his overweening - but lovable - egotism. On rare occasions he would present an appearance of modesty, but it was patently so forced and false that it fooled no one. Some of his own evaluations from one story or another: “Hercule Poirot… is of a cleverness quite exceptional;” “impossible to deceive Hercule Poirot;” “me, I know everything.” - Russell H. Fitzgibbon, The Agatha Christie Companion
Happy Thanksgiving, Tumblr! This year, we’re thankful that our house is finally back in a state that allows us to be out and about, which means we can finally make our return on Instagram (@black.cat.mafia)! We’re thankful for all our furriends there, who either stuck with us through our break or just started following and have been waiting for new posts! What are you thankful for?
Muppet was taken three months ago, and no one said anything.
See, Muppet had a habit of physically disappearing sometimes- she was a traveling type, and got antsy if she sat still for too long. No one questioned it is she went away for a couple weeks. No one would’ve really realized if she was taken like most students are. But that’s not what I’m talking about. Muppet didn’t physically get taken. She’s just… Gone.
Muppet loved the Fair Folk- almost unnaturally. Don’t get me wrong, she respected and feared them, but she would spend hours after dark hanging around the edge of the forest, no iron, no salt, just offerings of sugar and cream and cheese. When everyone warned her about being taken, she shrugged and continued her strange habits. But she wasn’t stupid. She had her cautions- salt on the doors, iron under the pillow, the lot.
Muppet was my roommate. She slept rarely, if ever, and she loved to sing. Her voice would drift through the campus at midnight, and whenever she sang, I could hear scratching at the windows. I remember I once woke up to get water while she was singing. She was sitting cross legged on her bed, staring blankly out the window. There were dozens of eyes staring back at her. I could see the shadows sitting attentively, watching her sway gentle to the music. None of them tried to enter- she’d refreshed her salt line on the window earlier that evening. But they watched her, pawing quietly at the window, occasionally opening their mouths (? I could never really tell) and whispering along in quiet, disturbing voices. I hurried back to bed and clutched my iron links to my chest.
She was well liked by the Fair Folk- musicians are always well liked, and she sang in strange, foreign languages, lauding them for their beauty and power.
I’m still amazed of how willingly she danced with danger, how willingly she leaned out her window on half moons and let her voice carry over the campus on the wind. I admired her, and feared her- those kind of people don’t last long at Elsewhere University. I can’t even begin to imagine how much courage- or ignorance- something like that takes. Her songs would drift over while I was doing homework, and it’d make me smile. You could here her voice in the Mimics that hung around in the corners, humming softly to entice people to look at them.
It’s no wonder to me that she got taken.
Muppet got careless. She started getting farther away from reality. She got careless, and They noticed.
Three months ago she forgot to put salt on the windows and in front of her door. She lost her iron necklace somewhere on campus. The next morning she was gone, but her body remained. She was careless. They were watching her. They knew that she got careless.
No one noticed, at first. She started skipping class, hanging around the theater more, singing for hours on end and ending up in places where You’re Not Supposed To Go. I just thought that she was getting a bad case of senioritis.
Then she started talking to herself.
I’ve roomed with Muppet for almost four years. I’ve gotten used to her singing at night, no matter how strange the company it attracted was. I started waking up in the middle of the night, hearing her voice rising and falling in a language that I didn’t understand, and I was sure that I didn’t want to understand it. I slipped out of bed, iron tight around my neck, ramen packets stuffed into every pocket. I crept to her room. Her doorway was open. She was sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor, staring out her open window. The Fair Folk stared back. She sang, her voice getting higher and higher until it was nothing but a choking sob. The eyes were all fixed on her.
“Muppet?” My voice was nothing but a whisper in compared to her wails, but the eyes all swiveled to me. She didn’t look up, her sobbing getting louder and more panicked. I could hear another voice speaking in a low, gravelly tone.
I hesitated at the doorway, and then I stepped inside. “You okay, Muppet?”
The sobbing stopped. “I’m fine.” The voice sounded strangled and not like the Muppet I know.
She wasn’t fine. The eyes stared at me, and sharp smiles started to curl up at me. I turned and walked out of her room and into the hallway, closing the door behind me. I stood there for a second, listening as her song resumed. I turned again and walked to the RA’s room and knocked on the door. A disgruntled student opened the door. “It’s three in the morning-“
“My roommate’s been taken over by the Gentry and they’re in my room now, can I sleep here tonight?”
He let me in.
That was two months ago.
Muppet’s started dancing in the forest, luring students into the deep trees. Her voice wails high and late into the night, joining the baying of the wolves. It’s hard to resist her- earplugs have become a necessity when you’re planning to walk.
I’ve got her iron necklace- I traded five heavy cream coffees to Magpie down the hall for it. I’ve got her favorite flavor of ramen- roast chicken mixed with beef. I’ve got my knife- iron, sharp, and brittle.
I’ve got hidden around me, protecting me. I can hear her singing. I’m going down the edge of the forest tonight, under the night of the full moon. The sound of her choking on her own words, the sound of her crying out for help on a moonless night haunts me.
I’m going down into the forest tonight. I’m not coming back without Muppet.
Our production assistant & set photographer. Gabby is originally from Long Island now based in NYC ; where she spends her days as a full-time internet addict. She is the founder and CEO of the tomboy style website- Dappertomboy.com