|
|
Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 8, 2012 13:25:11 GMT -5
“Har du taget det?”
The Danish words sounded harsh against the man’s tongue as he sucked on a Cuban cigar, the cherry bright like the eye of a lingering owl. The man was fairly tall and with a large beer gut as round as the globe that used to sit in the far back of her history classroom in London. Her eyes wavered on his features; the rounded edge of his nose that was like a little moon in comparison to his gut, the way his plump lips left rings of saliva on the blunt end of the cigar, his eyes small like black beetles trying to claw their way out of a predator’s grip. She held a cigarette of her own, firmly between her own lips that seemed to perpetually be stuck in a pout; pale pink like the petals of a dying tulip. For once, she didn’t wear her beanie and it made her blonde hair look awkward, at least to her. She did, however, have on an oversize, slightly sheer, long sleeved top that reached just above her mid-thigh, leather pants, and some creepers on. Of course, everything was black right down to the boxer briefs underneath it all. Toying with the bullet on her collar, she reached into her back pocket and produced a small flash drive holding 8GB worth of information on the person he was looking for. She didn’t hand it over to him, though. Standing in the alleyway behind a Japanese Bistro was shady enough.
“Du fik kontanter?” she held it away from him when he reached over for it, one of her small feet coming up and landing on his stomach as if to keep him at an arm’s length away, “Nah ah ah, Mr. Copenhagen,” she said firmly, the British accent sweet yet blunt and to the point as she waited patiently. He seemed to almost growl at her as he dug through his coat pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed over a large wad of hundred wrapped up in a rubber band. He gave her the money first and she checked it in front of him. After counting out the full thousand, she handed over the flash drive without hesitation, “Adgangskoden er dit navn,” she said calmly before giving him a nod and a movement of her hand for him to run along. He took a long drag of his cigar while looking between the flash drive and her. Then, with another simple nod, he turned his back and walked out of the alleyway, flash drive neatly tucked into his coat pocket where he presumed it was safe. To her, there was no important information on there. None at all. To him, though, it meant the world.
Taking another long pull from her cancer stick, she clicked it off to the side and then folded the bills before slipping them into her back pocket, tugging her sweater over it so the bulge wasn’t visible. She then proceeded to heading out of the alleyway, turning in the opposite direction of the man and crossing her arms over her chest. Well, there was rent, utilities, and the chemicals she’d have to order to make the ammo for the guns she was working on…maybe she’d be able to buy new camera equipment too – if she bothered. She could make her own and the ones she bought always felt so inefficient. Her footsteps were muted on the slick pavement before she reached the restaurant she was looking for. Slipping inside the brightly lit mini mart, she was surprised it was still open. Granted it was only eight o clock at night but in Arc City, no matter where, things usually closed by this time. You never know what is out there in the dark, lurking, waiting for you to come out to snatch you up as their midnight snack – or shoot you for the hell of it. She started down her favorite aisle, attempting to find a few bottles of Coca Cola – in glass bottles of course – along with some pocky and some more ramen since she was running low. She was reaching over for some strawberry and chocolate pocky when she heard someone clear their throat and she immediately looked up. Her muscles tensed, ready for whomever it was bothering her. It was “late” and she wanted to get home, get online, and get lost in her other assignments. She wanted to binge on pocky and ramen and Coca Cola until she turned into them. But as she stood between reaching for the pocky and pulling away, she noticed the person staring at her and she narrowed her eyes.
“Can I help you?” it came out more defensive than anything, noodle arms going over to cross her arms in front of her chest skeptically…and defensively.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kohana Mijoro on Jun 12, 2012 21:26:47 GMT -5
He really didn't know why he was still in this city. Walking down the sidewalk, barefoot, dirty faced with dirty clothes, he felt as dirty as he looked. His pack was slung loosly over his shoulder. He'd gone back for it after the near miss accident. He was dressed in barely passed the knee, wood brown capri's that had several torn pockets and a shirt that had once been white but now seemed to be grey and black. His bare feet had long ago adapted to running in the forest, the small rubble of the streets didn't bother him in the least. His hair was loosly braided down his back, the ends tied up in bead and string, brushing the seat of his pants. His darkly tanned skin and facial features marked him Native American, Lakota to be exact. His bead and bone necklace hung loosely around his neck.
He had already gone through his 30 dollars, a few quarters, some nickles, and a penny was all that was left in his pockets. The thought of leaving and returning to the woods had crossed his mind not a few times. He could not exactly put his finger on it, but he had felt the magic of the city as soon as he entered. He had managed to get his pack, and felt drawn to return. A few days later when he wanted to leave again, the streets just kept twisting, and he could never find his way out, the maze of buildings had him thoroughly lost. He was a child of nature, and being in the city was completely out of his familiarity. Imagining the looming sky scraper buildings to be simply massive old oak trees helped, but didn't completely erase the feeling that he didn't belong here.
With no money, unable to leave the city, Kohana was starting to feel like the street rat he looked. Walking down the sidewalk in the Tokyo district, his gaze lit upon the small Mini Mart. It was late, and there were not quite so many people out as there usually was, so he quietly walked inside. His head stayed down as he wandered the ilses. He noticed the woman down the isle from him, but didn't see anyone else. He eyed her briefly. Barely lifting his head, his hand reached out for a can of soup, his other hand sliding his pack down around his shoulders, the zipper already open and ready.
He was just about to slip the can inside, when someone cleared their throat behind him. Kohana froze, biting his bottom lip. He looked up at the Proprieter of the store, and put the can back quickly, backing away from the man until his back bumped the isle behind him. His face burning bright red, thoroughly embarressed, the child spun and ran out of the store. The clerk glowered at the woman, giving her a thorough once over before going back to the counter, muttering about damned urchins. He'd been here plenty long enough to recognize trouble when it passed him by.
Once outside, Kohana slowed and kept walking a bit farther, getting some distance from himself and the store. He finally stopped, leaning his back against the side of another building, sliding down until he was sitting there, rubbing his cheek on a dirty sleeve. |
|
|
|
Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 12, 2012 23:49:13 GMT -5
She watched the tattered, homeless, hobo run out of the store as if scared the owner could actually do something to him for stealing a can of soup. Catalina glared at the man as he went back behind the counter before she walked on over to the same can and grabbed it after taking some extra packets of pocky and ramen. She headed over to the refrigerated aisle and grabbed a gallon of milk and a couple bottles of Coca Cola. She balanced these all carefully in her arms as she headed over to the register, set them all down, and let the same guy count it all up, "Thirty five," he said simply and she gave him a fifty. Grabbing her change, she placed it with the rest of her cash, grabbed her black bags and stepped outside. Immediately, she stuck a cigarette between her lips, lit it up, and took a deep and satisfying pull. Her eyes glanced down one end of the sidewalk and then the other before she managed to find the kid from earlier.
"For fuck's sake," she muttered to herself as if scolding herself for even buying the kid food in the first place. What the hell was wrong with her lately? Oh yeah, she'd been like that at one point too, hadn't she? But she at least had a roof over her head. Maybe no food but she had all her technology and running water, and other essentials. This kid obviously had nothing. As she headed toward him while taking another pull and letting the smoke out through her full lips, she idly wondered where his parents were - if he even had any. Maybe they died, maybe he ran away from home. Either way, he really needed to learn how to steal if he was going to pull crap like that in order to survive in Arc City.
She stopped in front of him once she reached where he sat and squatted down, digging through the bag before she handed him a bottle of Coca Cola, a box of strawberry pocky, and the can of soup he'd originally been intending to steal. She placed them in front of him and hadn't noticed he was a gifted human, much like herself. No, he just smelled dirty and her feline nose couldn't get past it either from disgust or just because she wasn't paying much attention. Once she was down, she took another drag as she studied him, blowing the smoke up and away from him as she rocked back on the balls of her feet. Pity sat like a large vitamin pill in the pit of her stomach as her eyes went over his features and dirty clothes. Maybe sympathy? Curiosity spiked up within her but she didn't make it known until she finally spoke, her thick British accent filling her words with strange sounds.
"Where are your parents?" she asked quietly, cracking open another bottle of coca cola and taking a swig from it while her cigarette rested between her fingers, "Do you even have any?" she took a drag and waited, wondering what he'd answer if he'd even answer at all, "You shouldn't be out alone at night in this city, kid, " she gave him that bit of a warning as she eventually just sat on her butt across from him. Why not? He looked like he needed the company. She wouldn't ask him for his name or anything but she bought him food and a drink, he might as well answer those previous questions. No life story, no background check (though she as sure to do one on him as soon as she got home to see if he was in the database).
Maybe it was the sad look that burned behind his dark eyes that had caught her attention. Or maybe it was because no one pulled the kind of stunt he did where they put the can back instead of just bolting for the door and going to another store to jack more stuff. He couldn't have been from around here or even a city area to begin with. Either way he needed to learn to survive because most people wouldn't have gotten him anything yet she had and even now she didn't understand why, "Shit happens," she shrugged, taking another swig of the coca cola before ripping open a package of strawberry pocky and taking a stick to much on. Every now and then she'd keep taking a pull from her cigarette as she waited for him to speak - even if it was only to tell her thank you.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kohana Mijoro on Jun 13, 2012 7:21:50 GMT -5
Kohana sat there, trying his best to be brave. The few people that passed him by skirted a wide berth and pretended they didn’t see him. Those people had never been in his position, fancy clothes, briefcases, husbands and wives strolling hand in hand off to some restaurant, some people were even given towards obesity, and appeared to Kohana like they’d never been hungry in their lives. He just kept his head down and ignored them all, as much as they ignored him. He didn’t want to start crying here on the sidewalk, in front of all these people, simply because he had failed to steal something, his first attempt in his life. Why did I put it back… He was actually berating himself for trying to be a good kid and putting it back. It was his pride and heritage that his people were not known for such acts, always having been a self-reliant and good natured people.
He was so busy ignoring everyone, that it wasn’t until the woman had squatted down in front of him, and his nose caught the putrid scent of her cigarette did he look up, frowning at her. He hated the smell of those things, and to his sensitive nose, they blotted out all other scents. It hung on people for hours and made him unable to even bother trying to get any other scent from them. She was at least considerate enough not to blow it in his face, for which he was grateful, or else he would have been grabbing the knife from his pack and shooing her away. All things considered, he was still tempted to. He recognized her from the mart, and he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. It was going to depend on her first words as he shifted his pack closer to himself, as if to protect his belongings, and put the pack between him and her, as if it were a shield he could hide behind. With all the strange people walking around these streets, he wasn’t about to let his guard down, not even for a chick. This movement put the knife on his side, his right hand wrapping around the handle.
Instead of talking though, she had set her bags down and was rummaging through them, pulling out a few things, setting each down in front of him. The coke, pocky, and…when his eyes lit on the soup, he turned his head away so she wouldn’t see his shame. It was also because of this, that he didn’t grab the stuff and start munching on it immediately. He wasn’t that shallow. He still fully expected a lecture on ‘stealing is wrong’ or something to that effect.
Instead, she asked a quite simple question, followed by one that went along with it, then…warning him about being out here at night. He sighed softly, his hand dropping from the knife, and he seemed to visibly relax a little bit, the pack sliding back of its own accord to his side. He didn’t really want to talk to this stranger about his business, but she seemed genuinely trying to help. Still feeling a little defensive, he didn’t answer her questions at first. “I am not a thief.” He had the distinct Indian accent, as if English were not his first language, it wasn’t, and he either was not very good at it, or he hadn’t spoken in a while, each word was carefully spoken. All of the above were accurate. He almost whispered the words. His voice was a mellow timbre, and given his age, was about as deep as it was going to get, which wasn’t much at all. He fidgeted a little, still not looking at her. She must have actually expected him to take the things because she had the nerve to start without him, as if to say, it’s ok, here I’ll go first.
His head rolled back to the front, tilting down to stare at the offered items. Ever the fluid movements, his gaze lifted up to meet her eyes for the briefest moments, before dropping and he looked away again. He wasn't sure how to answer her question without raising others, so he settled for a half-truth. “They did not want me…” He whispered, his hand slowly reaching for the pocky. It was not exactly his parents greatest joys to have him, his Grandfather had raised him the most. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, half expecting her to take it away or something. The soup he would like to heat up later…somehow. Perhaps he would build a small fire in an alley later tonight. “And I can take care of myself.” This statement was undercut by him opening the box that she had just given him, and he didn’t even realize it. A very quiet, “Thank you…” preceded pulling out one of the candy sticks and munching on it, again avoiding her eyes. |
|
|
|
Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 13, 2012 10:01:12 GMT -5
When he said he wasn't a thief, she shrugged, "I didn't ask," the words came out blunt but not harsh, eyes watching him carefully as she picked up on his accent and how it sharply fell against her own British one. He seemed to go on, answering her questions and she nodded as if completely understanding where he was coming from. At least he was able to get out at an early age. Though she thought she cared for her father, as she grew older she realized he seemed to cast her aside in another country as if to hide her from others, as if ashamed to be a single father, and basically dumped her on her fallen angel nanny. It wasn't outright saying he didn't want her - his actions just gave her that brief assumption.
"Yeah, if I can take care of myself, so can you," she didn't smile though, not really in the smiling mood, "and no problem," she took a swig of her soda and blew the smoke out into the air. She didn't look at him as he ate since Catalin had her own issues with people watching her when she was eating a meal. Like most cats, they didn't like to be watched. She'd end up leaving her food all together and it was why she hated going to restaurants or pubs or anything of the like. People just starred and it annoyed the living hell out of her. How can people eat in peace when eyes were burrowing into your neck and head like maggots? She remained quiet to let him eat as much as he wanted and for a split second, she figured she shouldn't have gotten him that junk food but she wasn't his mother or a relative in such a position to berate him on nutrition; especially when she herself ate nothing but junk food - Mc Donald's nuggets being a favorite of hers. She did eat fish at least but she wasn't exactly a world class chef. It was why she was as skinny as she seemed. Skin and bones yet somehow, she had the muscles to keep her strong and her will even stronger.
"So," she blew the last of her smoke away from him, flicking the cigarette off to a puddle by the curb not far from them, "judging by your accent, I'm guessing you speak Sioux?" without noticing, the words had come out through that native, ancient language, even her British accent diminishing significantly, "Thought I'd never see the day where I'd get to meet one. Awesome," again those same words coming out in a language that would sound strange to any passerby. It was most definitely a perk to being a demon. She understood any and all languages, could speak them fluently, and could write them just as easily. It helped with business transactions and the like and if you understood someone's language, it was at least easier to understand the culture through the language. As an example, if the language put an emphasis on respect toward elders by having different words when speaking to them, it was obvious respecting the elders was a big deal and not doing so could earn you a death sentence.
But to anyone else who didn't know her, like this kid, she could have just studied the tribe or something along the lines. There was a million possibilities as to how she could know the language though she knew, knowing it so fluently, had to be downright creepy and even if he did manage to pick up her scent, it was more feline than anything. The demon aspect of her was mostly controlled in the horrible white collar of hers but apparently, should she somehow learn to take it off and get angry or frustrated, that would be it. She'd be killing people left and right. Though she didn't know she killed the boys who raped her when she was five years old over in London, it was only because she'd gone into some psychotic demon form she'd never seen before and blacked out shortly after - waking up with this thing around her neck.
Cat let her words sink in as she took another gulp from her soda and took out only one stick from her strawberry pocky pack and munched on it. The kid didn't know how to take care of himself. He claimed he did but he simply didn't and though she didn't plan on taking him under her wing and showing him the ropes, she could offer him a bath. Dear Lord did he need it. As a cat, hygiene was a big deal. It was normal for Cat to shower at least twice a day - once in the morning and once in the afternoon. Her fallen angel nanny used to tell her that was why her hair was so white. But she understood the connotations beneath his words. She had a thing with them - when she wanted to. She found it amusing that he thought he was strong enough to really hurt her. She was a motherfuckindemon. She'd shift into a panther or a lion and just bit his face off if he pissed her off enough though the chances of that were unlikely with the people walking around. No, she'd be civil as long as he was.
|
|
|
|
Post by Kohana Mijoro on Jun 21, 2012 4:41:58 GMT -5
He continued to scarf down one pocky stick after another. It wasn’t even that he was starving or anything, it was just so good! And he was too skinny as it was, he could stand to gain a few pounds. Taking the coke, he forgot that it was carbonated, so when he took a large gulp he almost got choked up on the burning sensation and started coughing a little bit. He finally laughed softly, drank some more, (slowly) and kept right on eating the candy sticks.
He still hadn’t looked up at her, not because he was shy by eating in front of her, but that he was still rather embarrassed. It wasn’t until she spoke in his own words that he blinked, surprise flowing across his face as he looked up at her. You speak Lakota? His own words in his tongue flowed like water. He started to get excited, if she knew Sioux maybe she knew a few Natives who could take him in? No…that wouldn’t work, as soon as they found out his name they would know he was the missing kid. It had been a year, but they would know he had to still be alive. He knew too much about surviving. If he were in the forest, he wouldn’t have been hungry right now. That he sucked at stealing was simple, he’d never had to before. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get a job any time soon, not only was he too young, but he had no papers. He would rather just leave but he was intrigued. That and…it seemed like this city just wouldn’t let him leave.
Lost in his own thoughts, trying to keep the shift from excitement to disappointment off of his face, it wasn’t until after she was still staring at him, thinking her own thoughts, seeming to be waiting on him to say something that he realized the rest of what she had said. She was happy to have met one? Now wait a minute…how would she know the language, and speak it so clearly if she never had before? Because surely, only someone native to the tongue could have taught her all of the double consonants, vowels, glottal stops, nasals, gutterals, and aspirates. The sounds had to be done correctly because even the smallest changes in a sound could change the whole meaning of the word. Not only that, but there were at least two sub dialects of the language, and three different Orthography’s with no set standard yet. Even he could not write or read his own tongue, and so very few people left who still spoke it. And she seemed to slip into it so easily, his own dialect as well, that even though she’d only said two sentences, he didn’t doubt her ability. She would not have taken so much time to learn the language and never have met one...
Suspicion rose in him, but he kept it to himself. He didn’t live a year on his own and suffer through all the stories of his Grandfather to not have a little tact. Besides, everyone had their secrets. His nose couldn't tell him much about her either, the cloying muck of the cigarette still hanging about her like a cloak. He didn’t know how she knew his tongue, but he would stay the way he always had been and not express his thoughts. It was much easier to do in his human form… The question was, how much would he trust her? He knew he could use a little help, as depressing as it was. And it would be easier to communicate in his own words. He would not ask her to help him any further than she already had, she didn’t owe him anything and he already owed her too much. But if she offered…
His surprise passed, and he looked away from her again. ”Yes….And now you have.” This last he said with a proud smile, looking back up at her. ”I am full. Thank you again for the food.” He was starting to gather his things, hesitantly taking the can and putting it in his pack and zipping it up. ”I think I will find a place to sleep tonight…umm, if you might excuse me?” |
|
|
|
Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 23, 2012 9:58:53 GMT -5
It was times like these Catalin wished, desperately, that she wasn't human. She prayed to be some other being that held no emotions - especially sympathy and pity - for those in compromising situations such as this one she was confronted with. She nodded when he asked if she spoke Lakota, though she knew it wasn't necessary to do so. She watched him carefully, mostly out of curiosity that stemmed from her feline abilities, but as he spoke about finding somewhere to sleep, she arched a platinum blonde eyebrow before she scowled. Seriously? The kid didn't even have somewhere to sleep? She felt bad...really bad. She'd always had a roof over her head and had lived a privileged and sheltered life in various countries. Hell, she had two homes; one she dubbed the halfway house that no one (at the moment) knew about deep in the woods and served as a bit of a storage place and getaway from the city, and then she had her apartment here in Arc, spacious but nothing special. She bought all her own things with her own money and for a second, she pondered whether she should ask him if he'd like to stay at her apartment - but only for the night. In the morning, she'd want him gone. She didn't like people in her apartment...it made her feel exposed and vulnerable - two feelings she was all too familiar with but didn't want to be.
However, if he did agree, she wasn't going to just let him stay without him giving her something in return. It wasn't monetary or materialistic. No, she'd need his...services? Though she wasn't sure he could do much. He'd have to earn his stay because she wasn't running a hotel...or, God forbid, a brothel. She only ever had women - one night stands - in her apartment and it was a beeline from the door down the hall to her bedroom so they went nowhere else anyway, "I have a proposition for you," she spoke in his language as she stood but she didn't offer her hand to him to help him up. She shouldn't have to. If he had left home for whatever reason and was on his own, he couldn't even be considered a kid anymore. She hadn't been able to leave until she was eighteen from being under her father's domineering influence and she never looked back. Even if someone abandoned him or disowned him - he shouldn't look back either. They weren't worth being in your life if they didn't care enough to be there when you needed them most.
"You can stay at my apartment for the night...but only for one night...But you have to do something for me in order to earn your stay," she crossed her arms in front of her, the black bag making a small crinkling sound throughout the motion, "What can you do?" she asked the last bit in English, "If you do take up my offer," the only other male to step into her apartment had been Nathaniel - but he hadn't been inviting. He had been breaking and entering and snooping like the private investigator he was. She still regretted falling asleep at his apartment for those two days but it wasn't entirely in her control so she was slowly starting to let it slide into the back of her mind, filed away under don't even go there.
Waiting patiently for his answer, she lit up another cigarette, again blowing the wind away from her face. At least her apartment didn't smell like cigarettes. She always smoked outside on her fire escape, a habit from when she went to boarding school and when she was living with her nanny - who said girls don't smoke. It's a man thing. Taking a drag, the cherry burned a furious red and orange before it relaxed to give off a gentle ember. She blew the smoke in a stream away from her and into the air serenely, "Oh," she didn't hold out her hand but the thought struck her quickly that she'd forgotten something fairly important, "I'm Cat," she introduced herself but that was about as far as she would go - her nickname. Last names would prove to be...dangerous...in this city so she kept her very well known surname to herself just in case. It didn't really matter considering he was a runaway and probably didn't know the important people in the city, but still. It was a habit.
[/div] |
|
|
|
Post by Kohana Mijoro on Jun 24, 2012 2:49:44 GMT -5
When she said she had a proposition, inside his head he grinned, but didn’t show it on his face. He stood on his own when she did, with an easy, fluid motion, not even putting a hand to the ground or wall to help stand; he just adjusted his legs under him and rose. His head was tilted slightly, in a distinctly canine fashion, if he had his coyote ears, one would have been perked, the other flopped over cutely but he didn’t. Still the face was the same. He listened to her proposition and nodded. He knew she couldn’t just let him go. Even if it was just for one night, at least he could get a bath and get some good rest for once. When she suddenly switched to English, he blinked and had to take an extra moment to process the mental switch in languages before her words clicked.
It was a good question. What couldn’t he do was the real question. His mind instantly dropped into the gutter, he couldn’t help it, he was in the middle of the raging hormone years and once those thoughts entered his head, his eyes kind of rolled upward as he thought for a second, but then he blinked and took her question more seriously. He didn’t think he should tell her too much of his abilities, she meant as far as helping her out with something. He mulled over the question for a minute. If this weren’t the city, he could hunt, skin the hide, make something out of it, and cook the meat into a fine meal, with a few extra ingredients he could have made a full dinner. Surely she had some things in her pantry and fridge he could whip up. He was still lanky, in another year his shoulders would broaden out, and he would gain a lot more muscle mass but for now he was still boyish. That said, he was fairly strong, maybe he could help her rearrange her apartment, move some things around? Or did she have anything broken he could fix?
He finally replied with his thoughts, in English. “I can cook…move stuff…fix stuff…umm…I can find things…and, My name is Kohana.” He had meant it at first as being a tracker, or good at just finding lost things, with a good eye for detail, and a decent nose if the item had a scent. But then he realized it could also be sensing magical things. That was a thought. He frowned as he looked at her again. He hadn’t noticed it yet, but when he said it, he realized that he had been feeling her collar for a while now but hadn’t noticed it. “Your necklace?” He couldn’t see all of it, and did not think humans wore collars too. “It is magic.” He said this simply. It was probably a profound statement, but he knew he had scored on something judging her reaction. He started to reach out to touch it, if he could touch it, he could have understood a bit more about it. "May I?" |
|
|
|
Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 24, 2012 11:52:40 GMT -5
As he mentioned what he could do, she tapped her slender fingers gently over her full lips, debating on what she could use out of everything he mentioned. Kohana? That was definitely a unique name. But then he was mentioning a necklace and her body seemed to instantly become a marble statue, "Collar," she corrected swiftly. It wasn't a necklace. Necklaces were fashion statements, could be taken off whenever and wherever the owner so desired. This was a collar. Like for a dog or a cat, for any pet really, it was used to show ownership and control. Whoever put it on her must have thought they owned her and it oh so obviously controlled her - and a bit too well at that. She disliked the white, glistening leather with the silver bullet hanging from it. It looked like it was still brand new and her eyes glowed apprehensively as he seemed to reach over. Without thinking twice, she took a nimble step back, watching him carefully and crossing her hands over her chest, "I get shocked whenever I try to take it off. I'd prefer if you didn't," there was a slight coldness to her tone of voice but at the same time, a shot of fear at being shocked down to the ends of her platinum hair was evident. She hesitated though, again regarding him carefully as if sizing him up to see if he would bring any harm to her should he touch her collar.
Pushing her fear aside, deciding instead to just get it over with, she reached over and grabbed his hand so she had control of it. No one ever touched her collar. When she screwed around and had her one night stands, she always made it clear her neck was off limits. It was mostly because she figured if she tried taking it off and it shocked her, wouldn't it do the same to someone else? Might as well put that theory to the test. She took a step forward, recovering the ground she'd stepped away from, and making sure it was only his fingertips, placed them only on the white leather. Slowly, she started feeling the heat of the glowing letters, soft but there and in a dull red. She didn't feel the initial shock she expected, but she could see the heat it gave off becoming increasingly annoying very quickly and though she normally had patience, when it came to her collar, she didn't have any of it.
She felt her heart rate quicken with the anticipation, her baby blue hues turning just a tad lighter before she let go of his hand and stepped away, the dull glow annoying the living hell out of her and her patience having run out. It felt like an eternity to her but she was sure it had only been a few minutes, maybe even less. She'd had the damn collar since she was five and the incident happened. She just woke up with it on and when she asked her nanny, a fallen angel, had told her she'd simply found her with it on and had no idea how it got there. If she only knew her nanny had put it there herself in order to keep her demon heritage from manifesting itself, maybe things would be different. Maybe she'd know how to get it off and she'd have had control of her inner demon. Maybe. Always with the maybe's.
"You can make dinner and help me find someone," she added in, not really wanting to bring up the collar and pushing the subject aside regardless of whether he brought it up again or not. He got to touch it - he got to play the part of Curious George. That moment, and very rare chance, was over, "I'm strong enough to move stuff on my own," she didn't look it though with how thin she was, "and I can fix things myself," she added in before taking a deep breath. She watched him again, paranoia prickling at the nape of her neck. If she was in one of her feline forms, her back hairs would be standing straight up in defense. She gave the smallest motion of her head as she started walking and though she didn't live far, to took the long and complicated way to her apartment just in case. She didn't really want him to be able to trace her again after this - and if he was as good of a tracker as he let on, he would be able to find her anyway. Most people didn't seek Catalin out. They contacted her and she met them in person elsewhere. Rarely did she have business conducted in her sanctuary.
Reaching her apartment building, she punched in some code and then was buzzed in. She held the door open for him before she walked ahead of him again, up to the fourth and top floor, and at the far end nearly tucked away in a corner by the window was 4C in large lettering. She seemed more at ease as she took out her keys and opened all the bolts on her door. The apartment was spacious but entirely that big. The kitchen was toward the left on the far end. The living room was the first place one walked into and it held a sofa that looked worn but most definitely loved. Then there was a hallway down the end and a bathroom peeking out from the door that was ajar. Her bedroom was the door to the right wall. Everywhere there were stacked of papers with paper weights on them, filing cabinets along the walls of the living room, and a few guns on the coffee table in front of the couch, a torch propped up on the floor by one of the legs, unplugged. A few canisters and boxes, small, sat under the coffee table with labels on them and every single wall was white. She had some news paper clippings pinned to some of the walls, stories she was following as leads to whatever she was doing for a client. Her bedroom was almost as bare as the rest of her apartment, a queen sized mattress on a box spring on the floor with dark sheets thrown haphazardly over it with a couple pillows.
"There's some food in the fridge if you're still hungry," she bolted up the door behind him, dropping her own plastic bag on the small kitchen table and picking up the small net book that was there and opened. She replayed the footage off the tiny cameras strategically placed on the outside of her windows and door as she perched herself on the wooden chair, "You can have the bed tonight and the bathroom is right next to it at the end of the hall," she looked up, a bit distracted, before looking down again, typing a few things into the computer. She didn't think a tour was necessary. From the doorway you could see the apartment in its entirety. She then stopped and looked at him expectantly, wondering what on earth he'd be able to cook. She didn't have much, though she was sure he could do something with what she had. There was chicken in the freezer, a small package since she didn't eat it as often as she should. She usually ate fish...she had a thing for it - must have been her feline side.
[/div] |
|
|
|
Post by Kohana Mijoro on Jun 26, 2012 11:50:20 GMT -5
As soon as he touched the collar, he knew it was definitely magic. But it wasn’t the normal kind of magic. He felt, more than knew, the different wards put on the collar. If he could have described them in the simplest of words, suppression…binding…hindering…sleep…fire…electric…he could sense the effects of each, light caresses. But he couldn’t feel any darkness to the magic. It was the purest he had ever known, and his Grandfather had shown him a several magical artifacts. This hadn’t been made by a simple mage, but he had no idea what else. Spirits? His ancestry did not believe, was not aware of angels and demons. They knew only about the spirits, souls, and they were either friendly or unfriendly, there was no good or evil in their understanding.
As soon as the contact was broken, his eyes snapped open, the grimace, not of pain, but of the intensity of the spells, slowly faded from his face. He blinked, several times, and tried not to stare at her. Whoever had put that collar on her…it was not meant as the controlling, demeaning thing she had described. It was meant to give her a normal life that whatever else she was would not have allowed. Some part of her nature was being silenced, and then of course, she couldn’t take it off, and couldn’t trigger whatever would have brought it on. Someone put a lot of effort into that collar; someone had loved her enough to want her to have a normal life. Did she know that? He didn’t think she would have seen it like that. She saw it as something that kept her locked up. He didn’t want to know what would happen if it ever did come off.
Rubbing his fingers, removing the last traces of the tingles of the magic, he kept silent. If she wanted to know what he had felt or seen, she’d ask. He could only imagine she must be a werewolf or something like that and the collar kept her from changing? He had no idea and didn’t really want to know. As far as what he had seen from her, she was a decent enough person and he liked her. He did not want to taint his thoughts of her with worry about something that wasn’t a threat. He nodded as she spoke. Sure, he could cook something. And find someone? That could get interesting.
As she started walking away, he followed a few feet behind her with his small pack slung across his back. He tried to pay attention to where they were, but he was instantly lost again as they made a winding trail across streets and too many turns. It wasn’t as if he were going to return uninvited or anything. He just wanted to figure out the lay out of the city somewhat.
Eventually they arrived. When they entered, he couldn’t help but to slightly lift his head and sniff. He could strongly smell feline and the hair on the back of his neck prickled, as if he had hackles. Cats didn’t like him usually, neither did other canines, dogs, wolves, didn’t matter. Well, wherever the bugger was, it was hiding, for which he was glad. He didn’t feel like getting hissed at right now. There had been others through her apartment, but nothing he could pinpoint right now, the scents were too faint and he wasn’t in his coyote form. He didn’t really care, everyone had visitors.
He was super excited to be out of the noise of the city, and able for once to relax He wanted so much to run around in his coyote form and sniff everything, explore, chase his tail in the middle of the spacious living room. He could have whined with eagerness but he didn’t think that would have been normal so he kept quiet. He did have a small smile stuck on his face, and his eyes were bright. He looked off to the kitchen when she mentioned food, his ears could have perked. It was indeed a small enough apartment that he could see the doors and nodded slightly. A BED!!!?? Oh he hadn’t slept in a real bed in AGES!! The kid practically vibrated with giddiness. He bit his bottom lip and breathed, quickly chilling out.
“Okay. I will take a look?” He nodded at her once, before going into the kitchen. He set his pack on the counter, and was grateful she had wandered off and wasn’t staring at him anymore because now he was able to really sniff, and investigate her pantry and ice box for what she had he could put together. He noted the chicken, and…there was little else. Lots of spices, some of this, some of that, and not much else. He tilted his head, and pulled the can out of his pack. It was vegetable soup, the water based kind with a few different veggies.
Getting out the chicken and a pot, he washed his hands then went about boiling the meat, spooning off the white foam. Draining the can of it's water, he would make his own, he set the can aside. When the chicken was fall off the bone tender, he peeled the bones of their meat and brought a fresh pot of water to boil. He added a couple boullion cubes to the water, and sniffed the broth. He would have rather made his own, but she lacked a few things. He added the veggies, and chicken. He sniffed the spices and put what he felt would go best. He found an onion and some celery, and crackers, added half the onion, finely chopped. Bringing out two bowls, he poured a bit into both, putting a few stalks of celery to lean out on either side, with crackers on opposing sides. He smiled to himself, pleased with his work.
He carried the two bowls with him as he found her in the living room, and stood back patiently until she broke from what she was looking at. He gave her a bowl, the spoon was inside already as well. He spoke in Lakota, ”I hope you like it.” He didn’t want to invite himself to sit with her, so he moved off to sit Indian style against the wall, and started eating. |
|
|
|
Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 26, 2012 14:29:57 GMT -5
She was wrapped up with the search she was starting on the laptop on an old Slavic tribe when the smells of the kitchen wafted into her nose, caressing her full lips in a tantalizing manner. It had been a while since she had a home cooked healthy meal. Mc Donald's happy meals were her food of choice along with drained, plain canned tuna and ramen noodles. Mostly, this stemmed from never really learning how to cook. She tended to make it up as she went along but she knew the one thing she could cook was breakfast. She was a genius with her bunny, cat, star, heart shaped pancakes, bacon, and fluffy scrambled eggs. She was also good at seasoned hash browns but she only knew all of this because every father's day and his birthday, she used to insist on making the glorious feast for him - one of his favorites - for breakfast since she would rarely see him the rest of the day. She used to watch her nanny cooking all the time while Cat was in her feline kitten form sitting on the island with her small tail wagging with curiosity...She missed her nanny and she wondered idly if she was okay wherever she was - if she was even still alive.
She was brought out of her reverie when she was handed a bowl. Her eyes darted up to Kohana, having not forgotten he was there since she never had visitors in the first place, and then she looked down at the neatly presented bowl with the mouthwatering dish it held. She had been listening to him, absently, as he'd been cooking as if trying to pin point what exactly he was trying to make considering her lack of food. She'd go to the grocery store in the morning or something and buy some stuff to make pancakes. She hadn't made them in a while...she had no one to make them for since she never finished them herself. Too bittersweet were the memories attached to the fluffy, golden cakes drizzled with maple syrup. Putting her laptop on the coffee table after moving a couple things to the side, she was about to start eating when he moved to the wall and sat down. She frowned and patted the couch next to her, the empty space feeling surprisingly cold, "It's big enough for two people," she replied without thinking twice that she had switched back to Lakota with great ease.
Waiting, patiently, until he sat next to her, she started eating then . She was normally uncomfortable with people watching her eat so whenever she thought she noticed his eyes peak over at her, she would stop mid chew, wait till they were averted, before continuing. She finished quickly, biting into the celery stalk with a surprisingly loud crunch and then downed the rest of the broth. Leaving the bowl on the coffee table without a second thought, she placed a hand over her stomach in satisfaction, "Compliments to the chef," she continued in Lakota, noting he was easier to communicate with that way. She didn't look at him as she spoke, though, and didn't move to pick up her laptop again, the screen still bright and half of it with a simple Google search while the other half showing the views from four cameras placed around the outside of her apartment by the windows and doors.
Catalin remained silent for a few, long moments until she was sure Kohana was done. She felt uncomfortable having him there. It wasn't him personally...but the simple fact that he was of the male gender and they, generally, just put her on edge. She was far too used to the company of women who would only use her the same way she would only use them - for sex - and she came to the conclusion she was much too antisocial. She had no friends, save for a few loyal business clients, but they didn't really count. Her life was so wrapped up in research, hacking, playing chemistry and weapons manufacturer that she'd lost sight of having companionship. It hadn't fully hit her until she'd ended up spending the night at Nathaniel Devlin's apartment and then he so rudely invaded her own. But Kohana...she had invited him of her own free will. The feeling of him intruding wasn't as great as with Nathaniel if only because he was her guest and she, for some reason, felt like they had certain things in common - enough for her not to be alarmed for her safety.
"What did you see or feel when you touched my collar?" she asked quietly, barely above a whisper, staring intently at the camera end of the computer screen like she normally did when she dazed out. She watched a few people walking down the street from the view of camera two by the window in her bedroom, the shadow of a bird fly by the window outside her door disrupting the moonlight of camera one. No one had followed them, no one had chased them but her mind had continued to jump from subject to subject, ending up on Kohana's facial expression when he'd touched her collar. She idly wondered if she should ask him what he was but she didn't want to extend the same courtesy. He could see what she was well enough considering tonight he'd be in her bed and she would be curled up on the window sill in her white cat form. She usually slept better that way and stayed much more alert. In her human form, she tended to be a bit of an insomniac. Finally, she looked over at him, the curiosity burning in her bright blue steel orbs. It didn't seem like a good reaction though what did she know? It wasn't like she expected any less. The collar was just another way to control her and she was sure whatever he told her would only justify her reasons for taking it off.
[/div] |
|
|
|
Post by Kohana Mijoro on Jun 26, 2012 15:48:01 GMT -5
He had smiled shyly at the invitation to sit with her. He hesitated before sitting, being careful not to be too close as to be invasive, and not fall off the couch at the same time. He opted for a suitable medium and sat down.
With his bowl in his lap, he waited until she started first then ate, slower than he had before with the pocky, really enjoying his meal. He peeked at her computer screen a time or two, trying to understand what was on the screen, without staring at it or being too nosy. Any glances at her, he quickly realized she would stop eating, so after two, he stopped looking at her altogether, taking the hint. She was done rather quickly, he noted, having seemed to really enjoy it. Still, he was quiet, nodding slightly at her words of approval.
He could just tell, by scent and her tensity, that she was mildly unsettled by his proximity, by his presence, and he had to agree, it was a bit awkward. He was much more relaxed though. He was still so naïve! He did not feel her as a threat at all. Whatever else she was, the collar kept it under control. He could smell a cat, especially here near the couch, but he just thought it was under it or something.
Finally, he set his bowl down. He was about to take them into the kitchen, starting to shift his weight to rise, when she spoke. He froze. He had been expecting this question to come around eventually. He mused, before settling back onto the couch. He did not look at her, though he could feel her eyes on him. He just stared straight ahead, thinking, stalling. What should he tell her? And how much?
He spoke carefully, in English. There were too many words that would not be in the older language.
”The collar is magic, yes. It feel like…suppressing. It keeps something quiet. It stops you from making active whatever it suppresses. I felt tired. It makes you sleep?" He glanced over at her, at the bullet there, then went back to staring forward. He didn't know anymore than he had said. "You cannot take it off. Even if you want to, you cannot. Should not. Even I cannot take it off, I feel magic, I do not work magic. It does not feel like normal magic. It is pure. No dark taint that a human made in anger."
He could not describe that any better. He stopped talking for a moment, tilting his head to the side, head turning slightly cocked as he looked at her sideways, a small smile forming.
“Someone wanted you to have a normal life. Be a happy girl. Someone loved you a lot.”
He could tell this would be an important statement for her. She needed to hear this, even if she would not believe it. He drew in his bottom lip, biting it as he glanced away. He didn’t really want the inevitable question of ‘what are you’ to be asked, but it shouldn’t matter too much right? She was just a girl, harmless with her collar right? |
|
|
|
Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 26, 2012 18:34:29 GMT -5
Her crystal blue orbs wavered as he explained what he saw, in English. She felt her jaw lock up and her muscles tense as she looked away from him, absently playing with the single bullet hanging around the end of the collar like a charm. She couldn't imagine it being something positive. It had been placed on her after the incident when she was five years old - something she would rather not think about. Losing your virginity in such a harsh manner in an alley way in London wasn't something that would be deemed memorable in a good way. Not at all. She started biting on her lower lip, suddenly freezing as he mentioned that someone probably put it on her to give her a normal life and the only person who seemed to ever want that for her was her nanny...still, Cat's life had been everything but. She nodded when he asked if it puts her to sleep, "When I get too angry or overly emotional in any way, when I hit a certain limit, it glows and I black out." that was simple enough to explain. She listened as he continued, wishing she could just turn into her cat form and crawl under the couch and not really have to listen to all the...nice things he was saying.
"I..." but she seemed to cut herself off quickly, hesitant as she looked between the floor and Kohanna, her platinum blonde eyebrows furrowing together to form a small v in the indent between them. She took a deep breathe and decided she might as well just say it, "...my nanny would have been the only one to do want that for me," she ignored the love part. She didn't believe in love. It was a figment of the imagination - something made up to keep people from going crazy and it always back fired, "She was a fallen angel," she mumbled, "It would explain why it's supposedly pure," she frowned. It hadn't been what she expected. SHe paused for a few brief moments, tapping her slender fingers against her pull lips in contemplation, starring intently at the screen of the computer, "If she made it then I can't take it off unless I find her...and chances are she's dead," yes, the chances were high. Her father was all but kind to her after hearing about all the incidents. He hadn't noticed the collar until it was pointed out and that had been the final straw. He figured Cat was old enough to take care of herself anyway.
Truth was, her nanny had essentially been her only mother figure and if it wasn't for her, Cat would probably be extremely destructive and cynical by now - much more so than she already was. She shook her head, drawing her out of her thoughts, "You should get shower and get some sleep," she sounded like a parent speaking to a child as she abruptly stood, obviously deep in thought over what he'd said. She walked over to the hallway closet and rummaged through it for a few seconds before producing a fluffy black towel. With ease, she tossed it in his direction. She had showered before going out - she'd end up taking another one in the morning anyway. She let him do whatever it was he had to do - the tone in her voice having been very final and commanding - no room for protest unless he wanted an evil glare and a possible kick to the face.
And once she was sure the door was firmly closed behind him, she went into her bedroom, slipped off her clothes, folded them up and tossed them on top of a filing cabinet in there, and then shifted into her tiny white cat form. She was ready for bed - she wanted sleep...if she could get it. Chances are, she wouldn't get much of it with Kohana here. Her paranoia would keep her up all night regardless of whatever form she took. Swiftly, she jumped up to the window sill, the window closed and locked and the curtains drain up enough so her feline form would block out the sun from coming in in the morning and it effectively blocked out the moonlight. She purred as she seemed to roll up into a white fluff ball, ears and whiskers twitching whenever she heard him make a sound. She was paying attention, the bedroom door wide open and her laptop still on but only the light of the kitchen was on. There wasn't a light in the living room - she didn't need it. She had perfect night vision and it was the same in her bedroom. She didn't bother with any real lighting other than the kitchen and the bathroom for obvious reasons.
When she heard shower turn off, she remained in her spot, the most gentle of purring sounds resonating from deep within her throat before the scent of canine hit her nose. She sniffed the air once more, ears standing up on alert and in anticipation. It couldn't have been Kohana...but she sniffed the air again. She couldn't find another explanation but she remained in her spot, patiently, like a panther waiting to spring on its prey. The second her eyes landed on him, she was up on her four feet, feeling her tail get large from seeing a canine in her home. Damn it! What the hell was it with her and dogs? Were they just attracted to her like she was their owner or something? Maybe she smelled like dog food? This was getting ridiculous. First Nathaniel and now Kohana....life couldn't get any easier could it?
[/div] |
|
|
|
Post by Kohana Mijoro on Jun 28, 2012 4:17:11 GMT -5
((Ok so here ya go, I think this will go better than the other way, so if you want to make the little edit at the end, to make sense.)) Clearly, he didn't need to worry about her asking him any uncomfortable questions. His words had struck home, and as he listened to her, he relaxed a little bit. He pondered over her statements. When she got emotional, she blacked out? How did she manage that, being a woman? She probably passed out all the time! He suppressed the urge to giggle, this wasn’t a good time for cutting up. It was something he would remember though. It gave him another reason to think about werewolves suddenly. Why did it always go back to wolves, good grief. Thing was, he had never smelled wolf on her yet, even his human nose would have detected that stench. No, she just smelled like a cat, wherever the thing was hiding. He went back to staring straight ahead as she fidgeted, her eyes flicking back and forth. He smiled softly when she mentioned her nanny though. So, she really did have someone who cared about her. He would have liked to meet her nan.
But then she said something that confused him. Fallen angel? He didn’t particularly believe in the angels and saints and demons his mother had tried to preach at him on. He agreed with his ancestry. Why did his parents try to reject all of the old ways? Especially his mother. They seemed jaded by life on the Reservation. They complained about the government often...He had stayed with his Grandfather a lot. He really enjoyed learning about his culture and heritage, but once things started getting more pushy, he had left. He knew he always had a home to go back to, he just didn’t really want to. He felt kind of bad for Cat, after she said she thought her nan was dead. Did that mean she had no one else? He at least had a place to go, folks who cared about him. He really hoped what he had said had helped her in coping with the collar. Maybe it would be something good to remind her of her nanny now.
She suddenly switched moods, suggesting…no…demanding almost…that he go get a shower and sleep. He silently chuckled to himself. She sounded so motherly, and she wasn't but what, a handful of years older than he. "Uh...yes ma'am. He could tell she seemed upset. He bit his bottom lip, watching her cross to the closet, throwing him the towel which he caught and draped over his arm. It was very soft and fluffy he wanted to nuzzle it but he didn’t want to get it dirty too soon. Grabbing their bowls, he headed in the direction of the kitchen, but stopped as he was about to pass her. “I hope I did not upset you…” That was all he said, and he moved on. He cleaned up his mess, rinsed the bowls out and put them in the dishwasher. He made sure the kitchen was as clean as it had been when he got in it…actually…it was cleaner, before grabbing his pack and quickly heading into the bathroom.
He hadn’t had a real bath in…geez had it really been an actual year since he’d had real soap and running water? He shuddered to think of it. He’d had plenty of baths, rivers, lakes, puddles…there are different things you can find that make good scrub brushes, and certain plants that secrete bacteria killing oils that you can make into a soap by mixing them with water. But to finally get a real shower...it meant more to him than she could have known. He had no idea how he could thank her. At least his clothes were mostly clean and in good shape, he had hardly worn them the entire time. From his pack he got his old brush, and took a rather long shower. He spent almost twenty minutes alone standing there just combing out his rather hair after putting in conditioner. He did not leave the water on the whole time, only when he needed it. When he finally was done, his body simply glowed, albeit red and raw from all the scrubbing. He then let the tub get a couple inches of water, and tried to wash out his clothes with some soap. At least they wouldn’t stink for a few days. He left his clothes draped over the tub and wrapped the towel around his waist. Gently wringing out his hair, he left it loose.
As he left the bathroom, he noticed the kitty on the windowsill. Aha, there you are, finally. He knew he hadn’t been crazy! He was actually grateful to have found it, it put his mind at ease about Cat. Was it short for Catherine or something? She must love cats. He was not bothered, especially glancing down the hall, noting the computer light was still on. The kitty was too small, as far as he knew, at least in the example of werewolves, most shifts got bigger. He got smaller, but that was because his was magic, not anything to do with genes, of which he was grateful, because those changes HURT from what he’d heard. He wasn’t particularly thrilled to share the room with the kitten, but he would be nice and leave it alone. After one more glance down the hall, he closed the door, leaving a small crack. As a fellow animal, he knew he’d hate to be stuck in the room. He hadn’t noticed any litter box, but it was probably behind the couch, and she had some really good, fresh litter in it too cause he hadn’t smelled anything. That or, she let it out when it needed to go? He shrugged the whole thing off his mind.
He turned and whispered softly to the little cat, in Lakota. “Hello little one. She is out there if you sleep with your momma Cat. Or you can keep me company. You can leave when you want to.” He did not feel it strange to talk to the cat. His voice had always been soft and smooth and gentle. He talked to them sometimes, and of course they didn’t understand him, but calming voice usually helped him make friends with the dogs and horses, heck, even a couple cats from where he grew up.
Crossing to the bed, he put his pack on the floor nearby, and pulled back one side of the covers enough to lay down, still wrapped in the towel around his waist. Glancing up at the kitten, he bit his bottom lip again, before whispering to it again in Lakota, “I will not bite if you do not bite.” He grinned to himself. It was too little to be any threat to him. Kohana pulled the covers over his head, moving the pillow down to over his middle, and tented the covers a bit, opening the towel and adjusting it to be kind of tented in that spot too, before he shifted centering the shift to be the center of his body. The towel was now around the little coyote. It would keep his wet fur from making the bed wet and trap his scent. His little opening let in fresh air, and the pup curled up, tucking his head under his tail, head closest to the opening. He was asleep within minutes. From anyone looking at the bed, the space his body had been occupying was gone, and now seemed to be only the pillow over a spot that didn’t seem totally flat, so he hadn’t simply disappeared completely, but there’d be no way to tell what was under there. |
|
|
|
Post by Catalin Holiday on Jun 28, 2012 16:35:07 GMT -5
She remained crouched as she watched him, ears perked up and her tail hidden curled around her thin frame. Cat, in general, was a very thin and small person. She wasn't any taller than maybe five feet four inches on a good day (lol) and as a cat, she resembled more of a kitten with her large ears and large eyes - her ears making her look like an albino bat at times. Either way, her nose was still tiny and like a pink button, whiskers twitching at his words. Funny how he hadn't figured it out yet. She listened to his words but remained completely quiet, watching him intently as he said she could leave to go sleep with her mother. Ha, if she only knew who her mother was, she wouldn't be cuddling up against her. She'd probably be sticking a knife into her back. Then he was saying he wouldn't bite if she wouldn't and then doing something on the bed. Seriously? Naked?
She was about to turn into her human form and yell at him that he was such a weirdo for sleeping in a stranger's bed naked when he suddenly shifted and she purred with anticipation, head moving slightly to get a better view. All she saw was the nose and part of the muzzle of the coyote sleeping in her bed. She was totally taking those sheets to the laundry now...it was necessary to get the dog smell out of it.She watched for a couple of minutes, making sure he was completely asleep before she silently hopped down from her perch on the window sill and slipped out of the room, heading for her computer. Jumping onto the coffee table in swift and barely audible graceful movements, pushing with a paw on the computer to close the laptop up. She liked doing these things in her cat form - it was entertaining and a challenge. Then she was headed into the kitchen, hopping up onto the small breakfast table where the light switch was against the wall and, again, using a paw to turn it off.
Then she was silently back in the bedroom but her paranoia got the better of her, as well as her curiosity and she found herself unable to sleep. Of course she couldn't! There was a coyote shifter in her damn bed! Hopping up onto the bed so she was in front of him, she remained in a crouched position as if ready to spring on him. Her long tail wagged back and forth as she watched carefully, sniffing the air around him in case she needed to figure anything else out about him. After watching him for what felt like too long, though, she didn't notice she'd closed her eyes and fallen asleep for a few hours until the sun came streaming in through the one crack the curtains provided that she normally blocked. She dreamed of over crowded city streets and being swallowed whole by the masses, trying to climb out of them like they were a tumbling sea and the waves just kept pulling her back under.
Her bright blue orbs slowly opened to realize she was still in the same position, starring at the coyote. Without thinking twice, her paw darted out, no claws, and hit his muzzle, right by his nose. She was purring, deep in her throat, her tail in the air wagging slowly from side to side like a dancing white snake. Then out came the other paw and she hit him again to wake him up. Stupid dog...she shouldn't have let him stay the night. She wasn't a fan of canines and yet she kept running into them. A loud meow escaped her throat and when it seemed Kohana wouldn't wake up so she could pester him with questions as to what he was, she shifted into a snow leopard, though small for her size and the spots barely being noticeable. She had made sure to picture it perfectly in her mind before doing so and then she hit him again with her paw, putting a little more force into it as she sat up, waiting for what felt like an eternity. A deep purr stirred like low rumblings deep within her chest.
This kid had a lot of explaining to do.
[/div] |
|
