[fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: 0px solid black; color: white; font-family: segoe ui; text-align: left; font-size: 10pt; padding-left: 65px;]think about the chance i never had to say[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: 0px solid black; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; color: #69cf86; font-size: 40pt; margin-top: -5px;]arabiannights &&[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: 0px solid black; color: white; font-family: segoe ui; text-align: right; font-size: 10pt; padding-right: 65px; margin-top: -2px;]thank you for giving up your life that day[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border-top: 1px solid white; border-left: 0px solid black; border-right: 0px solid black; border-bottom: 0px solid black; text-align: justify; font-family: segoe ui; color: white; width: 410px; margin-top: -3px;]
( "speaking" ) ( thoughts, telepathy ) ( ninetynineproblems )
Like so many, Arnab was there for the murder of his sister, Natalie Novem. It was all over the Tidal City headlines: "UNSTABLE, TERMINALLY ILL 20-YEAR OLD MURDERS SISTER IN HER SLEEP." It was true; he was deathly ill. He had been born a sickly child, always getting the flu and other miserable viruses. As an adolescent it had worn off a bit; he was beginning to participate in extra-curricular activities. Doctor visits dwindled to a minimum of 3 times a year and he even tried out for the football team. Everything was going great.
Until Arnab developed stage 3 brain cancer, and his world fell apart.
It was hard to feel the right way, hard to not laugh, hard to cry or smile. To move or think rationally. And one of the only clear thoughts he was thinking was, while his sister supported him, Natalie would never know what it would be like to die from brain cancer. She would know, however, what it was like to die from something totally beyond your control. Arnab killed her.
He was caught. Put in prison. Took his medicine. Was waiting to die. The boy in the orange jumpsuit collected his tray of slop and went to the outcast's table next to Lady, where he sat every day. After this he had his medical appointment and then he went to work in the agricultural department. They had found that the animals calmed his unpredictable rages when he started cussing, screaming, and crying all at once.
It was enough to depress anyone, Arnab thought, as he went to work on the "oatmeal."
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#arabwashere
#ninetyninenights
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arabiannights - warrior - unofficial fuckface - domestic feline - most powers - extremely difficult physically, mentally easy - 16 months physically - 27 months mentally - no capture/maim/kill - PM ME FOR PLOTS - black wings
He was a murderer, but better defined legally as a one who committed voluntary manslaughter. He was driven slightly insane in the void with no feeling, presence, or physical touch. Only thought. No sight, sound, or matter. He was born a stillborn, and without any good or bad deeds to place him in StarClan or the Dark Forest, Arabiannights went to the void. He then latched on to his sister's soul, the only surviving littermate of the 4 kits, and slowly grew himself a soul there. He talked to her, convinced her of certain things, sapping her life force each time until she was barely a wisp of a physical presence. He eventually appeared on the island of TidalClan. He often regrets his deeds, for he has no friends and everybody makes a point of showing their hatred towards Ninetynineproblem's murder, thus developing Arabiannight's depression.
