WingsOfASong

August Rylow Fur color: Light brown Hair: Dark blond Eyes: Dark hazel Ethnicity: Austrian/German Species: Roof rat Occupation: Part-time German crime lord, full-time sociopath Weapon of Choice: Mostly words, psychological mind games, and if all else fails he’ll just shoot you Bases: SS Colonel Hans Landa, August Rosenbluth, Benjamin Chudnofsky Voice: Christoph Waltz Appearance: August is small for a rat, and as such he can pass very easily for a mouse much like Sarah can. He has a small scar under his chin from an incident when he was a whelp. He’s very slight and slender and able to slip through small, enclosed spaces i

The nearly empty purse sat in front of her, mocking her plight as she rested her elbows on the table in front of her. She sighed deeply, having cried her tears a few hours before her realization that her dear husband Johannes might very well go giftless this coming Christmas. And coming the holiday was. In fact, it was the very next day and she still hadn’t gotten him anything. They could barely afford to live in their little shack as it was, but she was of the firm belief that her darling husband deserved the best of everything. And she would give him the best if only she could afford it. With another melancholy sigh, she twirled a cur

She stares at him for a very long time as if she doesn’t believe what she’s hearing. He reaches over to tuck a curl of her hair behind her ear and his hand just so happens to brush her neck a little bit. She shivers and he pulls back, thinking he’s done something wrong. She raises her eyes up to his and he sees something in them he doesn’t recognize and yet does recognize at the same time. She rests her hand over his chest, over the small pendant that his mother gave to him before he left. His eyes have dropped to her lips now and he briefly wonders how they would feel pressed against his own. He shakes his head of the

Having another person in one's space was something Sarah would have scoffed at in her younger years. She was rather a private lady and much preferred keeping to herself after spending a great deal of the day pretending to be a creature of the utmost delicacy. To thine own self be true, Polonius said to Hamlet, and Sarah mostly exercised this when she was alone. That afternoon, however, seemed to be an exception as she and the gentleman she called friend chatted quietly in her bedroom. "It's been said that you can tell a lot about a person by the books they read," he informed her after the silence had become too much to bear. "So I've heard,

Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: Humans and Monsters. One day, war broke out between the two races. After a long battle, the humans were victorious. They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell. Many years later, they say that those who climb Mt. Ebott never return... Which was what had brought her to the very predicament she was in now. Frisk managed to open her eyes, blinking blearily up at the small beam of light that struggled through craggy rock and twisting vine. After patting and thanking the strangely pliant yellow flowers for saving her life, the child sat up, and looked around as best she could in such a dark area.

He stared at the solved theory on the back of the little doodle and that cheeky note that gone along with it. She'd gotten bored, she said. She'd gotten bored and doodled the entirety of Buckingham Palace as a result before attempting to solve it. And solve it she did. The details were worked out nice and organized so he could check the work (another mark for cheek, he thought around his grin). Oh, she was a treat to be sure. Intelligent, sophisticated, and vicious enough to hold her own against him. And she was a lovely little thing for a roof rat, he thought as he penned his neat reply. Ratigan wasn't quiet about his contempt for his rat-ki

Oftentimes when the weather was foul, a most peculiar change would come over Professor Ratigan. His normally affable personality would darken into something like the storm clouds above. He would be found sitting at his harp, strumming the strings while muttering dark tidings under his breath as his eyes darted around. His underlings had learned the hard way that it was not wise to approach him when he would get like this. His already hair-trigger temper was even more unstable and he would often lash out violently, mistaking them for either a phantom or Basil of Baker Street (the great detective was mentioned quite often when his mood darkened

We're about to go in for the kiss and I panic at the last second and blow air into your face AU She didn't get visitors in the evening, she'd told him as they sat and enjoyed a very interesting flavor of coffee (was it peach? It tasted like peach) over the living room table. "The bakery's closed then," she explained with a laugh that sounded too lonely to be real and he figured he was just imagining things. "I can come more often, if that's all right with you." He offered to his tea cup because he couldn't get the words out when he looked at her. She had the kind of face that froze a person in their tracks and depending on how she wore her