milliways_bar | (no subject)

Faith all but tackles him as she catches up to him, panting for breath.

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?"

"Watch! We just made it." Grinning, he points towards the setting sun.

Just as the sun goes down, its light highly dappled by the leaves in their fall regalia of brilliant color, the last great golden beams shine through the autumn spectrum towards the clearing where Yrael and Faith stand, illuminating all the reds and oranges and yellows of the trees into such brilliant color that the whole forest before them seems aflame with light. An October breeze shakes the colors like a draft flickering a warm fire.

They watch as the beams of sunlight fade, and the colors dim to the twilight greys of ashes, and the sun is set.

Yrael is still bouncing.

".....................oh."

Faith stares, wide-eyed.

"......oh, that's........oh....."

"Yes, it really is." He beams, bouncing.

"....thank you. For showing me."

Cheerfully, "You are certainly welcome, Faith. I thought you might like it."

There's a moment of quiet. "Tag!" And he's off again, bright in the twilight woods.

Faith laughs and chases after him, making a mental note of the location of this clearing.

Hope Yrael meant for her to find it again.

It won't bother him if she does. He may run into her again out here. He hunts out here, occasionally.

He leads her on a merry chase, over fallen trees and across a creek, laughing the whole way. Soon, they're running along the shore of the lake, a flat-out run around the water's edge.

And Faith chases him, running at a speed she hasn't needed to run at for a very long time, muscles straining, aching, begging her to stop.

She loves this.

Even in his current state, he is lightfooted, leaping up on overhangs or jumping down onto the thin sandbars. His antics, cheerful as they may be, means Faith is gaining on him.

Gaining, indeed.

Which....leads to TACKLE.

"Augk-!"SPLOOSH is the sound of one not'cat falling off the little overhang they had been running along, and hitting the lake.

There isn't much sound after that other than the muffled fwooom, and the sudden cascade of bubbles as the lakewater around the Bright Shiner boils. With his self-control already weakened by his exposure to catnip, there is no way he can keep himself from reverting back to his true form as the water-

-nasty, cold and wet water-

-envelops him.

Faith barely managed to catch herself before falling in after him, and wasn't able to catch him.

Which is why she's sitting on her ass, backing away, as he reverts.

And this? Would be the sudden realization that Yrael=Dangerous.

Faith takes a while, sometimes.

Yrael told Faith once that Free Magic creatures were regarded as monsters in the Old Kingdom.

And it is a monster which pulls itself from the lake to stand upon the shore, the boiling water settling to steam in its wake, with the grass at its feet curling and bursting into short-lived flame. The Bright Shiner stands as an eight-foot tall pillar of liquid flame, blindingly white, like a miniature star. In shape it is vaguely humanoid, an emaciated torso upon a base of whirling force, with bone-sharp, bone-thin arms and a shapeless head of burning white flame with a face of most basic anatomy.

With it comes the smell of the Free Magic, overwhelming and nauseating, acrid and biting like ozone after a lightning strike, catching in the back of one's throat and stinging one's eyes. Nothing living has a smell like that.

It looks down at her, and tilts its head. Sparks fall as it opens its mouth. "I thought you knew I hated water," it says with a voice like a crackle of thunder.

Faith stares up at the creature in front of her, the horrifying, monstrous, and godawful smelly thing standing on the grass inches away from her.

It's been a while since she was this close to something that could kill her that easily. And it would be easy, she knows that now. A flick of his wrist, a twitch of his nose...he could kill her as simply as breathing.

She knows that now.

But she's not afraid.

Because it's still Yrael. Her friend. Yrael, who she's teased and tickled and tormented more times than she can count. Yrael, who lets her call him 'ickle kittums boy.' Yrael, who has held her while she cried, and offered her comfort when she needed it desperately.

".....I tried to catch you," she says, and gets to her feet. "Change back, willya, kittums? You kinda reek."

The light shrinks. Brightens for a moment (if that is even possible), enough to hurt the eyes, and and then fades as if it had never been.

And there is a cat sitting there, looking put upon as he makes sure all his fur is dry.

"Oh, the sacrifices I make, for the sake of your sense of smell," he says, dramatically.

"Thank you," Faith says, and reaches over to scratch him behind the ears.

"Feeling better?"

Satisfied that all the water burned off, he yawns widely. "A bit. Kinda... I am fine."

A bit sleepy, though. Catnip has that effect, when it begins to wear off. He blinks dazedly up at her.

"You are all right?"

"Fine. I didn't fall in with you."

Faith scritches him some more.

"That was a smart move." He purrs, closing his green eyes.

(In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?)

"I am glad you did not fall in. It would have been bad."

"Yeah, I figured that with the water boiling and all."

"You are smart in your reasonings as well as your movements."

That scritching is wonderful.

Faith now has a lapkitt~~ums~~y.

"I am well accustomed to getting out of the way of danger."

Scritch scritch bellyrub pet pet pet.

"Practice makes perfect, I suppose." He yawns, shifting luxuriously and enjoying the scritching. Bright Shiners, it must be said, do not happywiggle from bellyrubs.

No really.

Ignore him.

So very comfortable.

Yrael is the poster cat for Form Defining Function.

And if he isn't, he should be.

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mogget_cat - 2006-10-19 03:02 (UTC) - Expand

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faithful-slayer.livejournal.com - 2006-10-19 03:06 (UTC) - Expand