milliways_bar | (no subject)

Alec likes cats! And, generally speaking, cats like Alec. (Though how he will explain the white cat hairs on his dark grey sweater and/or dark jeans to Church when he gets back is uncertain at this point.)

"Hello, you," he says as he sprawls his (considerably longer) form across the couch. He's long enough, in fact, that his heavy boots are propped on one arm rest while his head settles comfortably against the other. "Are you the bar cat?"

He offers the cat fingers to sniff. If Church has taught him anything, it's that you shouldn't assume a cat wants to be pet, even if they're looking sleepy and fluffy and pettable.

The Very Lazy Cat, lying in a fluffy puddle of fur across the back of the couch, sniffs the offered hand in a perfunctory way. It seems quite at ease in the bar room, and meeting new people. Satisfied, the sleepy cat plops its chin down on the fingers in an unspoken request very like how a sleepified zombie might articulate the word Coffeeeeee. There is no rudeness meant by the request, but the finer points of please and if you would currently elude them.

Edited 2018-07-09 19:16 (UTC)

Alec is pretty well-versed in cat communication, and he's also very pleased this sleepy cat does actually want to be pet. He crooks one long finger under the cat's chin and rubs slowly.

With his other hand, he pulls a book from the side pocket of his pants and deftly flicks through it one-handed until he finds his place.

The cat purrs drowsily into the hand, its contented laziness absolutely decadent and self-indulgent.

Just... you know... ignore how its liquid, boneless form eventually (around the time Alec settles into reading) slides down the back of the couch to lounge across Alec's side and chest and get in the way of his view of the book. It remains terribly cute throughout all of this. The cat only wished to be at a more convenient distance for scritches, that is all. It was helping!

It is, indeed, terribly cute, which is why Alec just shifts slightly to be able to rub agile fingers behind the cat's ear and lifts his arm higher so as to still be able to read.

Sort of.

Honestly, Yrael is not even the most difficult thing he's had to read around.

The cat is comfortable with letting him read while providing ear-rubs; from this angle, it could read as well if it wanted. If cats could read, that is. Sometimes its eyes open enough to show slivers of bright green, though not often. The cat is still mostly in the sleepy-purring-nuzzling phase, not inclined to get up. Sometime amid the lazy purring, the boneless sprawl of a cat sniffs Alec's hand and arm - or rather, the runes there - with mild curiosity.

Alec's sleeves are pushed haphazardly up his forearms, so there are quite a few runes showing, as well as the faint, white-silvery lines of scars from previous runes, twining through and around and over each other.

Between the bright green slivers and the sniffing of his runes, Alec starts to (very slowly) come to a realization.

"You're not just a cat, are you?" he asks, like someone who's become resigned to everything in Milliways being not exactly as it seems.

The cat, more awake now but still quite comfortable and drowsy, looks at him and blinks slowly.

"Who, me?"

Even though he's just asked the cat a direct question, he startles a little when the cat actually answers. He's torn between thinking this is pretty cool, and thinking that this could actually be bad. "Yeah," he says, blinking bright blue eyes. "Yeah, you."

A beat.

"Sorry I called you the bar cat."

The cat does not look particularly perturbed. Much the opposite. It is quite comfortably lounging, green eyes blinking slowly at the young man's turmoil. Are there still scritches? Scritches would be nice.

"On the contrary, you asked, which is a different thing entirely. In any case, I did nothing to dissuade you of the notion. There is nothing to forgive."

There are still scritches, largely because Alec doesn't know what else to do with his fingers.

"Oh," he says. His previous Milliways experience has led him to believe people get cranky when you mis-categorize them. "Um, okay."

Beat.

"I'm Alec. Alec Lightwood."

"Pleased to meet you, Alec Lightwood," purrs the cat, pressing its chin down against the scritching fingers. "I am Yrael."

"Where do you come from? The Marks set into your skin are unfamiliar to me."

"Um, New York," Alec says, a little surprised. It's the first time he's been asked.

It should be noted that he does not sound like he's from New York. His accent is sort of...mostly British with undertones of vague central European origin.

"They're Angelic runes," he says. "I'm a Shadowhunter? A Nephilim. It's...sort of a demon hunting thing." He has yet to meet anyone who knows what he's talking about.

"I have heard tell of angels, and demons, and all manner of beings in between, though Nephilim and Shadowhunters are new to me," remarks the cat. "What use are the Marks to you? They are not mere decoration, or identification - though there is some of that in them. They are... strength? Protection against that which you seek to slay and that would seek to slay you in return?"

Those would be the most sensible guesses.

"Some of that, yeah," he says, glancing down at his Marks. "These are just the permanent ones."

If he'd been out patrolling, he'd have several more.

"More general-use Marks, then," murmurs the cat, sniffing curiously at a faint line that echoes the temporary rune that used to be there. "And signs of less lasting, probably purpose-oriented ones for whatever specific task is at hand?"

"It is not quite the same," he explains, "but is similar enough to how things are done in the world from which I came that the idea is familiar."

"What do you use in your hunting? Spells? Weapons? Spelled weapons?"

Alec watches the cat with a mix of fascination and wariness, which is how he views most things in Milliways.

"Sort of," he says. "Hang on."

He twists, so as not to dislodge the cat, and pulls something from his pocket. It looks a bit like the hilt of a sword with a scroll tied around it.

"Seraph blades. Other weapons too, but they're the best against demons."

The cat's pink nose wrinkles as it sniffs at the hilt. "I imagine they are. Best to use what is targeted to an enemy's weakness. They smell like bell-metal."

(ooc: Forgive the sudden disappearance and lack of tags. Was without internet access for a good while, thankfully now fixed.)

"If bell-metal is angelic or holy in some way, I'd imagine they're similar."

Totally buys that this cat can smell kinds of magic. (Super doesn't believe other worlds don't have demons....)

"My sister has an electrum whip that's very handy. Won't kill a demon but I'm still glad to have it in a fight."

Gaster is in the bar and recognizes the cat who he first spoke to upon finding this place. He realizes that he never properly thanked Yrael for his welcome.

He'll float alongside the couch, carrying the laptop bar gave him. Gaster sets it on a coffee table nearby, and begins to type.

Words appear on the screen: "Hello. Nice to see you again."

Though the cat keeps up much of the pretense of sleeping, one green eye follows Gaster to the coffee table nearby. The black pupil bisecting the green contracts in focus as the words appear on the screen.

"So a way was found," he remarks. "Well done. Greetings again. You seem to be settling in well."

Gaster smiles and continues to type.

"Yes. Bar was kind enough to give me a laptop I could use. I never did thank you for your guidance when I first arrived."

The cat flicks an ear and purrs, amused. "No bother. You were a bit overwhelmed at the time, and I did not wish to interrupt."

For a non-corporeal entity, he had looked so happy upon seeing the outside area of the bar.

Gaster nods. "I'd been stuck where I was for quite some time, and suddenly I was here, and I could see the sun!"

"What keeps you from seeing the sun in your world, if I may ask? Now that I can perceive the answer," asks the not'cat, curious.

"My kind have been trapped underground for centuries by a magic barrier. I was in the process of finding a way to bypass it, when I had my... accident."

The cat wrinkles its nose, displeased by the idea. "What barrier would do such a thing? Who made it?"

And more pointedly, is it the sort of made thing where the death of the maker unmakes the creation?

"Humans. Our races were at war, and they sealed us underground with powerful magic. Only a powerful force - the equivilant of seven human souls - can destroy it."

Gaster shrugs.

"It's been that way long since before I was born."

Kyber has spotted his friend! His friend who is busy basking. Seems like a perfect time to sneak up on his friend and...

High-ground established.

Bum-wiggle initiate!

Pounce in 3... 2... 1...

The not'cat snoozes on, luxuriating in its decadent lethargy, seemingly unaware of the small, fierce doom that awaits it.

Bodhi sees it just too late to stop it as Kyber launches into full spring.

Rawr!

Waugh! The not'cat flails as Kyber lands square upon him, the mighty impact causing the two to tumble - a shade dramatically, to tell the truth - off the back of the couch.

Yrael makes sure Kyber lands on top of him, and yowls a cheerful challenge to the fierce little hunter pinning the much larger cat, play-snapping at the kitten's paws.

Edited 2018-07-10 14:56 (UTC)

Yes! Kyber is the mighty hunter! See how he traps his foe! And how to grooms his foe's ears.

Prepare to be groomed Yrael! The doom is nigh!

If a cat could giggle manically, Kyber would be.

Bodhi watches with a sigh. "Are you two having fun?"

What punishment! So fierce! Yrael flaaaaails! Only not so much, because being groomed actually is quite nice. Kyber gets groomed in return.

"Oh yes," Yrael replies cheerfully, upon hearing Bodhi's sigh and question. "It was a very good pounce. Kyber should be proud."

Yes! Mutual grooming is good! Only now Yrael's tail needs grooming. And reaching that requires more wrestling. Kyber attempts to grab Yrael's tail with both paws and almost falls off the couch.

"I'm surprised he managed to land on you." Bodhi chuckles. "I thought for sure he'd overshoot.

Kyber yowls, victoriously subduing the end of Yrael's tail.

Yrael laughs and only thwaps Kyber in the face with his tail once or twice during the struggle, and not too much. Just enough to show he's putting up a fight, and give Kyber something to hold onto so he doesn't actually fall off the couch. Kyber's ears get mercilessly groomed, as well. Yrael is so cruel, clearly.

"His aim is getting better, with practice," the white cat grins, chuckling. "Though it helps that I knew he was there."

Edited 2018-07-10 15:45 (UTC)

"You hid it well. I thought he had you there."

Myrrh comes over to watch, content to sit with the human and enjoy the madness from afar. Bodhi pats her gratefuiiy.

"I guess Kyber has been getting practice out in the garage. There have been winged insects he's taken to chasing."

Yrael bats a beckoning, playful paw at the distant Myrrh, with a mwrrt! of invitation. It's a good madness, grooming and being groomed.

"Those are good practice, indeed. Especially those like grasshoppers and crickets, which stay still before they leap away. They are perfect for practicing stealth and timing of pounces," Yrael remarks, cheerfully mussing Kyber's fur.

Myrrh is content to watch. She gets enough rough-housing with Kyber around. She's happy to sit this one out. She purrs happily and perches on the back of the couch.

Bodhi chuckles as Kyber does his best to get the upper hand. "Some of those grasshoppers and crickets got a long way before they became crunched. I think Kyber was enjoying the chase more than the snack."