(OOC: I was told to repost this. I assume everything's been worked out. If not, you know how to reach me.)

...


When one has relied so long on the whisper of the wind for direction and information its easy to pluck its strings and cause it to sing the notes they want out into the air. For years Seven was not only Hadrian's lover but his pupil. An eager student in the dark arts of murder and sabotage. The wind was her vessel for more than just the words it breathed from gossiping maws but for relaying those words as well. Now, with Hadrian gone and her past far behind her, she's employed that same power once more, subtley.

Whispers would spread, key words that those speaking would not understand. Words meant to entice the feline population without alerting the whole goddamned community. From mouth to mouth, from graffiti masked signs of directions, until it spilled gushing forth, a well of information: Felines Come. It is time for us to unite. Stand among me beneath the city. We will talk and agree. A strange name attached, a number more than anything, Come for the one called as Seven.

Tonight is the night of truth. Will the community respond? Do they desire as she does a family to rely on? The strength that numbers provide? A leader with a streak for violence which won't become apparent until its too late, who will lead them all in an orgy of excitement and force through the city until everyone knows that they, this pard, is not to be trifled with?

Standing before an abandoned subway car, dressed in black on top of black, she may have been missed if it weren't for the candle lit on a crate before her, casting her features in harsh flickering relief. Sharp angular face hinting at the personality that lay coiled like a snake beneath. Her intelligent eyes scanning the area around her as much as her ears listen. She is ready.