Who: Fever, Helena, and those threading with them What:January non-event things. When: All month. Where: Across the isle. Warning(s): To be noted in threads individually
“The thing about all this is, it’s very hard to sprout thumbs in this form, no matter how much you want that goblet of cream. We’re going to have to train you in how to be a proper cat!”
Being plucked up activates some instinct she never thought would cross her mind - to instantly go limp and quiet, dangling as she's being carried. It's so simple, and she probably weighs very little. But being deposited, she's back to alertness, feeling her tail - gods, there's a tail - flick in annoyance.
"Of course you're a proper cat! A tiny proper cat! I'm pretty sure most cats start at this size, or around it. Can you imagine if you started out a mountain-sized cat and had to get smaller? Bah! What trouble you'd have!"
"Well, you've had time to grow into a person. I don't think you've had much time at all to grow into a cat!" It makes perfect sense, in a Sheogorath sort of way.
It makes sense to her as well, but it doesn't mean she likes it. Rolling over on her back, she decides to stretch, all limbs extended as far as they can go, and -
oh wait a minute, now she understands why cats do that. The full body relief of a good stretch can cure many things. Stomach up towards the winter sun, she's going to get chilly sooner rather than later.
"Well, first thing you need to know is that showing your belly like that is going to be taken by any other feline as a sign that you want to play rough."
He's clearly fighting the urge to pounce.
"I think first thing first, we need to find you a nice silky ball of yarn to chase."
Flipping back over, her fluffiness is undaunted from her lying down. Clearly, she'll remain like this for a while, the new shape she's found herself in.
"Then let's go find one. I don't know if one's out here precisely, but someone's got to be knitting."
"Ooh, yes. Why, we might even stumble across a mouse along the way, and give it a swat, and hide it in someone's shoe! Do you know anyone who might have some cream to spare? We could sit on someone's doorstep and mew and meow and give them the biiiiiiiig sad eyes until they give us something to eat."
“Well, to the bakery we go, then! I hope you’re ready to look good an pathetic! Wide eyes, sad little mews, and try to look extra bedraggled in your fluffiness. The mortals gobble it right up.”
He shakes as if trying to shed water, instead shedding his vest into a spray of glittering gold and purple that vanishes on the wind. His eyes also grow less luminous, now making him possibly mistakable as a particularly handsome blue-eyed ragdoll.
Then, he scoops Fever up by the scruff again, and starts strutting down the road.
Before they can reach the bakery, however, Sheo catches sight of one of his favorite purveyors of both snacks and mortal sincerity: Max Maximum.
As he approaches, he tries to walk with a little bit of a drag to his step, like he couldn’t be hungrier or more tired. The Storm Kitten still dangles from his mouth.
Well, that does it. Max almost looks like he might cry as he babbles out, "Awww, you poor thing, it's so cold out. It must be so hard to feed your kitten like this. Come on, I'll get you fixed up."
He bends down with intent to pick up both cat and kitten, so he can put them inside his coat for extra warmth while he takes them home.
The 'momma' cat allows them to be picked up, but places 'herself' in such a position that 'her' baby stays close to her.
Now's the part where you start mewing as weakly and as sadly as possible, Fever hears in her head, while Sheo twists his head to fix an unflinching gaze on Max.
The kitten is easy enough to pick up - a small, extremely fluffed out thing, looking vaguely like it stuck a fork in an electrical socket, letting out only a tiny, pathetic mew as she gets settled. Max is warm, and she's basking in it, letting herself be carried away. Actually, this is the one perk to being small, she's finding - she can find situations to be carried around.
The question though is where they're going. If it's Max's house...well. She hopes Valdis isn't home, for she'd sense the ruse immediately. Anani will be another hurdle, if he recognizes her. But perhaps he will be too bemused by the form to do much about it.
Max coos softly to them both as he walks, cradling them so tenderly. Though, he must admit the fixed stare of the older cat is slightly unnerving.
"Don't worry. I'll take you back to my farm house and put you both in front of the fire. We can all have some tuna sandwiches together. How does that sound?"
Valdis won't be home when he gets there. She's still on the clock. But Anani has something to say the moment Max steps inside with two other cats. The fluffy white cat's meadows are somewhat accusatory, and he paws at Max's ankles as if demanding to see what he's brought inside.
The gray cat seems to have settled in a little more comfortably into Max's arms, and is now purring intensely. This started around the time that tuna was mentioned, but that's probably a coincidence.
okay for some reason i'm not getting notifs on this thread?
Another soft, sad mew from the kitten, who is clinging onto Max, tiny claws dug into his shirt as if she will fall otherwise. Food does sound good, even if she knows it'll be strange to eat without hands, but she can hear Anani and wonders how on earth he'll react. Whatever Max does in the house, she's going to stay stuck to him as firmly as a burr, knowing his height is the advantage here.
Whenever he sheds his jacket, though, she's going to start climbing. Up towards his shoulders, if she can just wriggle her way there to be balanced and safe.
Max isn't sure he believes that's a coincidence, but it makes him chuckle. Yes, he knows, he's being played by these furry menaces but he lets them string him along willingly, and quite happily.
Anani continues to circle his feet like a shark, but he isn't acting aggressive. Not a single hiss. He does, however, keep sniffing the air with what almost seems like confusion.
"Whoa, hey... just be careful up there," he says to the kitten as she makes her way to perch on his shoulder. "You want to watch me prepare the food?"
A mew of affirmation to Max, as she adjusts her grip on his shoulder and settles, with small claws anchoring her to where she wants to be. From here, she can observe everything, while also feeling safe in an elevated spot. Right now, she's guessing at kitten behavior, hoping it's convincing. The fact that her tail (and it's still such a wonder, having a tail) flicks idly as she rests lends credence to the illusion.
Maybe Max has already guessed. Maybe he'll guess by the time they leave. Maybe it'll just be a strange and wonderful occurrence in his life, and Fever can never let this happen in front of him again lest she be caught out when she's trying to be sneaky.
The world really has strange new perceptions from up here.
"Aww, hello to you too," he answers back. It's so cute when animals do that. If these two aren't carful, Max is going to try to adopt them. (If Anani would allow it.)
"Okay, fishy time for kitties. That includes you too, Anani, if you keep being a good boy." Anani is easily bribed, it seems, because that gets him to stop circling Max's legs like a shark. If new arrivals means unscheduled food breaks, then maybe it's not so bad.
Max is none the wiser yet, but even if he knew, he wouldn't be upset. He's been guilty, himself, of running up to people in his dog shape to beg for belly rubs and scraps. He's got no stones to throw.
"Here we go!" Two bowls of shredded and deboned fish are set down on the floor for Anani and 'momma cat', while Max holds the third bowl up over his shoulder for the kitten. "Not too fast now, don't choke."
Oh, this pleases the Skooma Cat. This pleases the Skooma Cat immensely. He begins chowing down, doing that wacky things cats sometimes do where they audibly "om nom nom nom" as they eat. Whatever that's usually meant to indicate, he's doing that purely because he thinks it's hilarious.
Perhaps it's a side effect of the form, but eating from the bowl isn't as hard as it might have been. Her head's smaller, so she can actually angle her face and get bites. And either it's the cat senses or the exertion from magic, but this is good. If he needs to set down the bowl before she's finished, she's going to follow it, devoted in this moment to eating every bite.
Is it magic or kittenhood that fuels the appetite? Much to learn, much to understand. And for the moment, there is peace in the house as all feline presence is lost in snack time.
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“At least, that’s what I think the Khajiit would call you. Here,” he scoops her up by the scruff.
“‘Ow ‘he ‘ing a’ou’ ‘is is- ‘ait… ah, ‘y ‘ola’s ‘alls…”
He sets her back down.
“The thing about all this is, it’s very hard to sprout thumbs in this form, no matter how much you want that goblet of cream. We’re going to have to train you in how to be a proper cat!”
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"I'm not even a proper cat now."
She's not even half his size.
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Ugh. She's flopping on her side in the grass.
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oh wait a minute, now she understands why cats do that. The full body relief of a good stretch can cure many things. Stomach up towards the winter sun, she's going to get chilly sooner rather than later.
"What do you do, to be a cat?"
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He's clearly fighting the urge to pounce.
"I think first thing first, we need to find you a nice silky ball of yarn to chase."
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"Then let's go find one. I don't know if one's out here precisely, but someone's got to be knitting."
cw: brief mention of violence against animals
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Getting back to her feet - all four of them - she turns her head to look back at the direction that she knows it is. But...
Like this, the trip feels like it will be very long indeed. And she feels no closer to being a mer again than before.
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He shakes as if trying to shed water, instead shedding his vest into a spray of glittering gold and purple that vanishes on the wind. His eyes also grow less luminous, now making him possibly mistakable as a particularly handsome blue-eyed ragdoll.
Then, he scoops Fever up by the scruff again, and starts strutting down the road.
Before they can reach the bakery, however, Sheo catches sight of one of his favorite purveyors of both snacks and mortal sincerity: Max Maximum.
As he approaches, he tries to walk with a little bit of a drag to his step, like he couldn’t be hungrier or more tired. The Storm Kitten still dangles from his mouth.
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He squats down and puts a hand out cautiously. He doesn't want this momma cat to get spooked thinking he's trying to take her baby.
"You look so hungry. Want some buttermilk?"
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He bends down with intent to pick up both cat and kitten, so he can put them inside his coat for extra warmth while he takes them home.
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Now's the part where you start mewing as weakly and as sadly as possible, Fever hears in her head, while Sheo twists his head to fix an unflinching gaze on Max.
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The question though is where they're going. If it's Max's house...well. She hopes Valdis isn't home, for she'd sense the ruse immediately. Anani will be another hurdle, if he recognizes her. But perhaps he will be too bemused by the form to do much about it.
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"Don't worry. I'll take you back to my farm house and put you both in front of the fire. We can all have some tuna sandwiches together. How does that sound?"
Valdis won't be home when he gets there. She's still on the clock. But Anani has something to say the moment Max steps inside with two other cats. The fluffy white cat's meadows are somewhat accusatory, and he paws at Max's ankles as if demanding to see what he's brought inside.
"Anani, be nice. They're just visiting."
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okay for some reason i'm not getting notifs on this thread?
Whenever he sheds his jacket, though, she's going to start climbing. Up towards his shoulders, if she can just wriggle her way there to be balanced and safe.
rude, DW. I'll ping you when you're up <3
Anani continues to circle his feet like a shark, but he isn't acting aggressive. Not a single hiss. He does, however, keep sniffing the air with what almost seems like confusion.
"Whoa, hey... just be careful up there," he says to the kitten as she makes her way to perch on his shoulder. "You want to watch me prepare the food?"
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Maybe Max has already guessed. Maybe he'll guess by the time they leave. Maybe it'll just be a strange and wonderful occurrence in his life, and Fever can never let this happen in front of him again lest she be caught out when she's trying to be sneaky.
The world really has strange new perceptions from up here.
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"Okay, fishy time for kitties. That includes you too, Anani, if you keep being a good boy." Anani is easily bribed, it seems, because that gets him to stop circling Max's legs like a shark. If new arrivals means unscheduled food breaks, then maybe it's not so bad.
Max is none the wiser yet, but even if he knew, he wouldn't be upset. He's been guilty, himself, of running up to people in his dog shape to beg for belly rubs and scraps. He's got no stones to throw.
"Here we go!" Two bowls of shredded and deboned fish are set down on the floor for Anani and 'momma cat', while Max holds the third bowl up over his shoulder for the kitten. "Not too fast now, don't choke."
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Is it magic or kittenhood that fuels the appetite? Much to learn, much to understand. And for the moment, there is peace in the house as all feline presence is lost in snack time.
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