2020-10-11 - The World Through Green Eyes

The Little Flowers of Perpetual Annoyance Animal Shelter.

The name tells the observant reader two things. One, whoever runs this place reads too much Terry Pratchett and expects you to get the joke. The other, it's an animal shelter. A place where unwanted pets and strays are <s>dumped</s> re-homed. Most of the time. Assuming that they are not sick, have too many special needs, or prove impossible to find homes for. Humans generally feel very good about shelters. And they should -- most volunteers are genuinely good people who want to help animals in need. Very little money comes in, though; any shelter worker will tell you that the cost of neutering, vaccinating, and paperwork for re-homed cats and dogs by far outweighs the symbolic adoption fees. The shelter relies largely on donations and unpaid volunteers.

Most people who work at shelters are good people. Kind people. But from the point of view of their charges...

Nine kittens in a pen that is really more suited for five. They are not cramped but at eight weeks of age, these little balls of activity need more space and more stimulation than they're currently getting. Not two kittens look alike. Their mum is a regular grey tabby with a white chest spot. Their father? There's probably more than one. Girl cats are perfectly capable of having multiple sires for one litter. There are toys in the pen. Chewy rubber toys, fluffy balls, jingly balls. They are all so very boring now.

Imagine waking up as a kitten.

You can do that? Good. Because that just happened.

Knowing who you are supposed to be does not equate knowing who you are. Right now, you have four legs, sharp teeth, and a stumpy tail. This is fact. There are eight other kittens next to you. You know their scents. You know that they are brothers and sisters. And that mum is no longer here. What you don't know is why mum is no longer here, or where she went.

It's not the best feeling in the world.

And then there is that other feeling. A presence. A something that is very much not human and very much not feline.

You want to know what it's like to be helpless?

This presence, whatever it is, is not friendly. It is not kind. It is not forgiving, and it sure as heck is not without juice. A veritable powerhouse of the shine. Something dark and angry out of the woods. Something that you probably wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley even when you had two legs and two arms and opposable thumbs.

The man will come, the presence purrs in your ear, still unseen. He will take you. He will neuter you and put a chip in your neck and when you are recovered, he will hand you over to -- somebody. Some of you will live happy lives. Some of you will get given to human children and soon neglected. Some of you will end up with dogs. Some of you will get sick but the family can't be bothered to do much about it. You're just cats. When a cat gets sick, humans just get a new kitten.

This is what it is like to be helpless.

You have four legs, sharp teeth, and a stumpy tail. You're a cat. But below that, you are a person who has lived in Gray Harbor long enough to know that this cannot be real. Except that it is real, and the way these things work, -- let's just say you may not want to actually end up spayed or neutered.

There has to be a way to find out if the other eight fur balls in here are actually cats too, or dreamers like you. There has to be a way to communicate -- but all you seem able to say is "Mew!"

There has to be a way out of this pen.

One of the kittens, a gold-eyed white and brown tabby bicolor, wobbles to his feet and stares around. "What the hell," he says.

Well. That's what he tries to say. What he says, is "Mew."

That makes him stop. Okay, being a teen was one thing. Being a tiny cat is another. He honestly can't say which is worse--being his clueless, trigger happy, gangly, young self with no idea of who he actually is, or...this.

Well. He knows his name. His real name (August), not 'the white and brown tabby'. And he knows they need to get the fuck out of here. He's sure of that. Like this, they're food for a lot of things in the world. Only one step up from a snackpack. (Maybe not even one.)

He starts examining the other kittens. Is he alone here? Are these people too? 'Who else is here,' he tries to ask.

"Mew."

Goddamnit.

Dahlia had most definitely gone to sleep a human. A human with three fuzzballs of unkitten snoozing not too far off from her in their safe pen. But that is not how she had awoken. Instead...i was all cat. A black cat with a few white spots and green eyes. This she knew. Perhaps reflections in the water bowl. The looming, unfriendly presence and voice...it must be the same one right? The one from before...from human her. That had warned her. She looked downward at her paws, and then to the others with her. Familiar, and yet she wasn't sure who they were. Surely they could not be all normal kittens right?

A mew from one of the others has her looking in that direction. The bicolored Tabby. Another mew. She tries to ask, "Who are you?" But, well, it also comes out at a Mew! That's all that was coming out. She tested it with a few random words. And so? She tried something else. Tried to reach out with her mind to the bicolored Tabby that was August. and see if she could communicate that way.

He would feel her mind reaching out, tentative and uncertain. Hello?

In the corner of the too-small cave is a petite kitten. One could even call her the run. But she is a pretty little thing with fur as soft and fluffy as feather down and multi-hued and patterned. A calico with a black stripe nose and bright green eyes, cheeks of flaming orange with white brows and chin. Black ears with the very tips a darker orange. The rest of her slim form is splattered in patches of white, black, and vibrantly striped orange.

With her littles black front paws tucked under her, she is a sleeping loaf in the corner. Voices stir her from a pleasant doze. Expecting those voices to resolve into an infant babbling beside her, she is surprised to see a little of kittens. Her vantage is all wrong and those green eyes go wide. Staring at the other two 'waking kittens' with growing alarm she says, "MEEeeEeeeeeeeow!" In a high and piercing feline voice that carries in their metal enclosure. The sound alarms her so that this small body jumps and she falls over somehow while laying down. A blink of surprise and she rolls to sit again.

Without thinking paw comes to face and is licked, then swiped across ear and cheek. Kailey stops miq_lick on the second go and sets her paw down, not realizing her tongue still protrudes slightly. Mlem. Her mind says in a wavering tone, 'Well this is new...'

A black and white kitten mews a couple times. August peers at her. He tries to use his cat senses to identify her--okay, he's pretty sure this is a female cat, at any rate--can't get much more than 'sister kitten, black and white variety'. To his kitten-self it's perfectly acceptable identifying information; to August, it's 'another kitten'.

Fortunately, she's on it. August shakes in that kitten-like manner of surprise; his mind is withdrawn, not evidencing the usual landscape of forest and volcano crater and river. A dark, wild expanse, as he's uncertain and tentative. <<Ah, hi.>>

A calico startles out of her nap, seeming panicked. He hears her mind too, half-turns. <<Well. That's three of us.>> It doesn't come natural to think his name; instead, a visual of himself at the shop.

Eleanor wakes up slowly, fuzzy-brained and...fuzzy in general? The little ginger tabby with bright green eyes opens her tiny mouth to shriek, but all that comes out is "Meeeeeeeewl!"

She startles herself and bolts from one end of the pen to the other, turning a 180 and bolting back again. She pauses, panting and lifting a paw to examine it with wide, freaked out eyes. Then she licks the paw and uses it to clean her face. It takes her a moment to realize she's doing that and she stops mid preen, making a 'gack' sound and looking around at the other kittens. Is it just her, are these other kitties people too?

Then comes the touch of other minds. She opens up hers as well. <<F-Four.>> she corrects tentatively.

A black kitten rolls over, stretching out its little body full length that way only cats seem to manage; 'ghost' stripes of tabby are just visible in his coat, and will disappear as he gets old. A big yawn, and the black of his face is further broken by the opening of a pair of big, yellow-green eyes. Which promptly get even bigger. There's a surprised, questioning little squeak that barely even rates as a mew -- and the touch of that (somehow familiar?) presence on his mind.

He's on his little paws in an instant, the fur on his back rippling upward, then down again as all he can see are kittens. His sibling? Yes. And also no. His mind reaches out as well -- first searching for what minds are around him and where they are, and then adding to the 'voices': [Five? Aidan.] It comes with a fleeting image of himself. He looks around at the cage itself and what he can see beyond, if anything, fur still somewhat raised and stubby little tail bristling.

August watches the ginger tabby rocket around in a panic.. 'High strung' is his first thought. Then comes the touch of the kitten's mind, and his second is, Ellie.

He wobbles over to her, licks her face reassuringly. He also purrs, because that seems like what he's supposed to do, at least in theory. <<We'll get out of this.>> He's not really big enough to curl up around her, which is frustrating on a visceral level, so he has to settle for sticking close to her and rubbing his head against her.

He watches the black kitten, wary until another mind has joined the group. Okay. So they can talk to one another like this. That's something. Will they be able to do anything else?

"So are the other four like us too?" She asked through the mental link. When Aidan flashed his human image, Dahlia did the same. She moved a bit closer the black cat that was Aidan, looking over the group and then towards the outside of the cage. Could they fit through the bars maybe? She lifts a paw, weakly swatting out one of the bars.

<<August?>> Eleanor recognizes the touch of her husband's mind through her haze of panic. She head bumps him and tucks herself under his chin as best she can. He is her shelter. <<What fresh hell is this?>>

<<They've been having fun turning us into...other things, lately. Weaker things. Or not letting us stop bad events from happening.>> Like teenagers, and Ferris wheel collapses. And now kittens, destined to be neutered or spayed and given to strangers. August is sensing a helplessness theme. Well, that's hardly a surprise; They do like to hit them where it counts. He purrs louder, resting his head on top of Eleanor's. It's not really a hug, per se, but it sort of counts.

He watches Dahlia paw at the bars. He'd frown, if he were himself; as a kitten, his face is simply open curiosity. <<We can do this.>> Use their minds to communicate, he means. <<Can we do the rest?//>>

Ignacio knows what it's like to be helpless. He spent 6 fucking months living it. Again. Now? He's looking up up up at the sides of a carboard box. He will find a way out and crawling into that box is absolutely part of the process. Must...scale...cardboard. The thing about kittens is all their limbs do not coordinate well.

This tracks for Ignacio.

It's like watching the small kitten try to march through honey. "Mew." His head turns to the side with an expression of consternation "Mew?" Oh hell no! Looking at his limbs the small author who tries like hell to let his rage be known with a flurry of Hey, yous guys. the hell you think you're doing? I have shit to do, asshole!. "Mew!"

Finally climbing to the top of the small box let in there that held Saltines before, He climbs up, the box tips over, and Iggycat comes rolling out. There's a sigh looking up to assess their position. "Mew." he's so resigned.

Kailey stares with those large green eyes at her 'litter mates' as they come awake or aware. Her little tail lashes against the side of the cage even as the tip of her tongue continues to hang out. Her kitten mind blurs things as August reveals himself. Biggest brother kitten. Her eyes turn to Eleanor as she also has a bit of a freak over occurances.

<< I'm a cat...I'm actually a fucking -cat-! >> Comes the tiny calico again, actually holding some enthusiasm.  Kailey's mind voice no longer has the smell of cotton candy and the forest. Instead it is muted and soft like sunshine peeking through blinds and perfect for sunning in. After a pause in which she stares at her thumping tail she, too, shares an image of herself. Bright hair and warm smiles.

The calico gets up and walks awkwardly over to August and Eleanor. They're not quite twice as big, but the size difference is notable. The runt glances at Alexander as he attempts to get out, her little whiskers going forward. A faint kitty smile of amusement as he topples. << Well...if we can talk maybe we can do the other stuff too? >> Slowly she approaches the door to their prison and eyes it with eyes that see in a different, and somewhat colorless, manner.

Kailey tilts her head this way and that. Small tail erect and twitching now and again as she works it out. When she does she attempts to climb the kennel bars to get to the lock. But this body is small and not as coordinated as she would like.

In fact it has her tumbling down and amidst her fellow kittens with a surprised mew. No landing on her feet from that height. Getting up she shakes herself and sits down to glare at the cage. << If we can get up there,>> She lifts a paw to indicate the latch, "And hit that latch, we can get out. >> Kailey-kitten tells the others. Before she moves again to try and climb the bars. << Does...does anyone else feel something lurking behind them? >> She asks after suddenly turning to peer over a shoulder. A little surprised jump included with it.

<<We may not need to get up there,>> Eleanor-kitten notes. She pads over beside Kailey-kitten. <<I'm Eleanor. I own Espresso Yourself. August over there,>> she tilts her head to look at the other kitten, <<is my husband. We both have some of the Mover Art. If we can do the telepathy thing, maybe we can do that too?>> She sits down, dainty paws making biscuits on the floor padding unconsciously, as she focuses on the latch and begins to try and use her mind to move the mechanism to unlatch it.

August watches Kailey approach, sniffing with apprehension until she identifies herself. He relaxes until she looks over her shoulder and jumps; his ears lower, flattening entirely when Ignacio emerges from the empty box they've been given to entertain themselves with. More mewing, more investigation.

<<Like this.>> He walks over, taps the Ignacio kitten on the head. He continues not to think of himself as a name so much as a visual. August, working in the cabin garden. It's simultaneously a request to chat with him.

Eleanor and Kailey's notions of how to get out draw his attention back. As does the voice's suggestion, though he ignores that. He can't force people to do things. Trying to pop a latch, that's more his style. He moves to the pen door, looking up, up at that latch. His kittenish mind makes him stand and bat at it even as his makes actual use of Glimmer to flip it. Or, try to flip it.

Ignacio is laying on his belly with those munchkin legs splayed out and not cooperating. He is booped. Ignacimew goes a wee bit cross-eyed looking up at Auggie-cat's paw on his head, then to him . <<"Jefe... you need to shave. You're more fuzzy than usual.">> Looking around he hears Kailey-cat and looks to her, half sideways. <<"Smart plan.'>> reaching up he flails with four legs to stand and work at waddling.

Then...the Un-cat 'speaks' and Iggy's curious mind goes from mechanical to people-able. It's that cat. He knows that cat. He tries to ask 'Are you okay?' and of course, "Mew?" How soon he forgets. The Iggy-kitten sits down and absently bats at the Saltines box to maybe wake up his compadre in kittenness. The future Feline-in-Law? Huh. There have been weirder dreams.

There's another kitten that's been heretofore unaccounted, because it's been napping while the others have been planning and conversing and trying to get out. And Ignacimew isn't wrong about it being fuzzier than usual; the kitten in question is a veritable puffball, like maybe dad was a ragdoll cat, and this one's gonna grow up bicoloured and big and floppy. But for now, it's a tiny ball of white fur. Its eyes crack open when Ignacio speaks to it; bright blue, they flick from him, to the others puttering around, and he turns his head and pricks his ears to try to get a sense for what's going on. Or, maybe, whether he should go back to sleep.

Their mother's suitors must have had an Oriental shorthair among them, for here's his scion: a bundle of legs, with an arched nose that only hints at the glory to come. And ears. Enormous, batlike ears. Is this a kitten or is it a baby goblin? He was snuggled up to ragdoll-Ruiz, and, sleepy blinking, looks up when he does. Whatever he tries to say only comes out as first an enormous yawn, and then a creaky, raspy, tiny "wew." This is surprising enough that he whips around, scrabbling to stand up. "Wew! Wao! Weeeeeew!"

Kailey flicks an ear towards Eleanor as she joins her. << This is a weird way to meet, but hello, >> She replies to the introduction. But wait, there's an idea! Why didn't she think of that? Using Force to open the cage! << Duh! Of course! >> Kailey-kit also gives a loud MEW! As tge idea hits.

As her green eyes stare at the latch they cross and her fur starts standing up. < Open open open, >> She doesn't realize she is broadcasting her focus, but the mantra cuts off as Itzhal spazzes out on his waking. The tiny calico turns to peer at her bat-eared psuedo-sibling. << Yep. You're a cat, >> She offers so helpfully.

Dahlia looks over as the two new kittens stir, sending over a reassuring << It's okay. It's just a Dream. We're working on a way out >> if they don't try to resist the Mental link. Then her attention is back on the Kailey-cat and Eleanor-cat. Letting the Physical people do there thing! Because Dahlia sure didn't know how to do any of that.

She does elaborate a bit on Kailey's question of the presence. << I don't know what it is. I've encountered it before...when I found the unkittens.Er. Veil-adjacent kittens? I've been fostering...it's not nice. And it really doesn't like people being mean to cats. >>

August isn't sure if the semi-sleeping kitten or the flailing Oriental kitten are one of them or not, but he meanders over to the flailing one and licks its face. <<It's okay.>> He doesn't say more, since if this is just a Dream kitten there'd be no point, and if it's not he'll know soon enough. He sends out mental inquiries to both, little taps of 'hi can you hear me?'.

He pauses in the midst of this to half turn and stare at Dahlia. <<The skinny black one. She gave me my kittens.>> He doesn't indicate their names, but shows them: Xylem and Phloem, a pair of gray tabbies, and Latte, a brownish tabby.

In terms of intimidating pack animals, the sliding scale pretty much goes from band of angry velociraptors to -- well, kittens. But as far as harmless-looking, adorable, cute puffballs go, these are puffballs possessed of human intellect and shine. Their abilities go far beyond looking cute, shredding jingly balls, and imitating sounds that trigger the human parenting instincts for reasons science is still struggling to explain. What they lack in terms of opposable thumbs they've got in other ways. Some of these kittens can move considerable amounts of matter with their fluffy little minds. Opening the lock of the pen is almost disappointingly easy as far as Kailey!Kitten and Ellie!Kitten are concerned. In very short time the latch is off and one wall of the pen collapses, spilling kittens everywhere.

The presence in their minds, the one that some have identified as a skinny black stray with some kind of ominous and quite considerable power, radiates a sense of approval -- albeit a grudging one. It's a feeling much like when your boss, teacher, or commander acknowledges that you made a decision and it may in fact not a bad decision, and we're doing this. It just wasn't the decision they were hoping that you would make.

It doesn't take an Einstein and three days' worth of meditation and trouble solving to piece together that if the lock on the pen can be moved, then doors can be opened. On the scale of things movers can do, turning a door handle is in the very shallow end of the pool. Escape seems -- if not guaranteed, then at least entirely within the parameters of possible. The door isn't even locked.

Oh, but you can run, the presence -- the Black Stray -- purrs in kitten ears. And you can hide. But can you survive? Can they?

They are the bunnies, the puppies, the kittens, the guinea pigs (and even the crayfish that someone brought in, claiming that it had championed in illegal bloodsports). The images of animals in cages (and tanks) dance and flicker across little feline minds that don't particularly care, and the human minds underneath who might.

Voices drift in from elsewhere -- probably just the other side of that door, but that qualifies as elsewhere, technically. Voices amplified by the same kind of strange power that might lift human minds out of human bodies and insert them into a rather mottley litter of kittens.

"Not a single one of that litter is worth a cent," a male voice states in a matter-of-factly tone. "They're cute now but we'll have half of them right back here when they grow up, only with added injuries and intestinal worms for roughing it after being abandoned somewhere. Putting them through an expensive procedure only to have to euthanise them all in three months is a waste of money and resources that The Perpetual Flowers does not have."

"I'm not euthanising nine perfectly healthy baby cats," a female voice declares but for all of the purpose of intent in the words, the voice itself wavers.

"It's not just the kittens," the male voice sighs. "Look, I don't want to do this anymore than you do, Agnes. We don't have the paperwork for half these animals. We can't even ship them to a medical testing facility because we can't document what they have been exposed to, or what they've been fed. You take in too many rescues. There is not enough money. You need to start making choices."

She will yield, the mental voice of the Black Stray murmurs. But don't let that stop you all from escaping. At least you will live. Humans are so good at that, aren't they?

This cat -- uncat, Veil creature, whatever she is -- clearly doesn't have a very high opinion of humans(1).

(1) Except Ignacimew. For some reason, her presence softens whenever her mind brushes against that of the Spanish kitten. He must have done something right at some point.

Kailey quirks an ear, trying to find the source of the black stray. She turns her little mutli-colored head. "Mew?" She queries the air with her small tail fluffing up slightly. But those voices, well, they come through to her. And that has this kitten frowning. Grumpy cat could do it and so can she. This little kitten struts towards the door and stairs at it as she listens. The tip of her tail twitches and she tilts her head to the side. Then turns to look back at the other cages and tanks. Mind settled the tiniest kitten closes her eyes and focuses on the male voice. Emotions are the easiest thing for her to manipulate. She's been doing it for a long, long time. One might say since she can remember. That doesn't mean you're always successful. First she moves to impart sympathy and adoration into the man who wants to -kill- them and the others. Next? Next the lady will get a huge dose of resolve and determination. In this case? She feels not one little bit of guilt trying to manipulate these people. Dream or not.

Eleanor-kitten is a ball of ginger emotions. She can't let the other animals die. She just can't. She will SO be having a fundraiser at Espresso Yourself for local shelters after this. The little fluffball's tail puffs up as she gets determined, and she begins romping around the room to try and open all the other cages with her Physical Glimmer. <<We need to get them all out. We can't let this happen!>> She looks towards August-kitten for help.

Javier-kitten, oxymoron as that is simply on principle, is made all the more absurd by the fact that he's this ridiculous little white puffball rather than some sleek black hunter of mice or something. Nope. Puffball. He stalks on over to the open cage door, tail flick-flicking as he observes the others. August-kitten's inquiry is returned, of course; and his mindvoice is immediately recognisable. <<Roen? Is that you?>> He doesn't wait to be told what to do; he simply hops down out of the cage in a skitter of little limbs and starts trotting along the line of cages to see if he can yank any of them open with his mouth full of sharp little teeth.

Ignacio shoves his leg at Itzhak for leverage to get those legs under his wobble munchkin self. The side of one paw rubs at his ffla little face, there's a pause, and a sneeze that leaves a very startled expression on hte orange and brown stripey kitten's face. Looking back to Itzhak and Ruiz, now on the go and says in observation to Ruiz, <<You're adorable. I see where Finch gets it from now.>> Not helping, Ignacio.

With a sigh he stays in the box bringing up the rear more cautious than anything trying to reach his mind back out to the black stray. Still he follows. <<'You okay? What do you need?>>

August responds to Ruiz in an affirmative, adding, <<Ellie's here. And Aidan, and Kailey, and Ignacio.>> It takes him a second to remember Dahlia's name, and instead of sending it to Ruiz, he just shows him a picture of a dahlia. Sorry, he's more literal as a kitten. Since August isn't sure about the kitten with the big ears, he has no name to provide there.

His own tail poofs in response to those voices. (Well, he's a fluffy kitten, so it's already poofy; it just poofs more.) The options of how to deal with such a situation are limitless, and this man just wants to put them all down. Though it's them this ,an wants to put down, specifically, but August feels it as a broader collection--this man would rather be done with the shelter as a whole.

<<Yeah,>> he agrees with Eleanor, and makes to hop out of the pen, pausing to bat the big-eared kitten on the head once more. It's a, 'let's go' gesture, or maybe, 'is anyone in there?' Then he's off, running around and trying to open the locks with movement Art, or break them with shaping. All doors open! fly, be free!

Aidan-kitten (Straydan?) watches the cage open, listens to the voices, takes a step forward, and pauses. His first instinct is similar to Kailey's -- to give the man a good dose of compassion -- but as most of the others run out and start opening cages, he hesitates. And thinks, turning the uncat's words over in his mind. And then, like Ignacio, his mind reaches out for the Black Stray's.

[Hello again,] he starts, a bit tentative. {If we let them out they can run and hide too. But can they survive? I mean. I never saw a wild guinea pig. Or an alley bunny. Or a-- stray crayfish. Strayfish. It just kinda. Doesn't seem a lot better? Like they'll still be helpless. Just out there. Won't they? And that guy prolly shouldn't be involved with a shelter but do you really think they're always bad?]

The door opens. This is a good thing insofar that it saves the great kitten escape from having to come up with ways to magic it open. It also means that the fluffy horde gets a look at their captor. He is a slightly pudgy Caucasian male in his mid-thirties - no one you'd look at twice, brown haired, brown eyed, ordinary. And definitely without a drop of shine. A normie, as some would say. Someone blessed with ignorance, others might insist.

The shelter worker's eyes widen at the realisation that the kitten pen is open and the fluffballs are anywhere but where he expected to find them. "Fuck," he says with brilliant eloquence.

And then Kailey!Kitten hits him with the full impact of her powerful little mind tucked away in the tiniest kitten body. There's tampering with someone's emotion with a delicate hand, carefully rearranging tiny bits of reality in order to manipulate events. Or there's hitting people with the emotional equivalent of a steamroller. Kailey!Kitten seems to have opted for the latter, though whether her forceful impact is by choice or by miscalculation is hard to tell.

LOOK AT THE BIG, SAD EYES OF THAT LITTLE MULTI-COLOURED RUNT.

You almost have to feel sorry for the man as he stares into the eyes of that little ball of runty fluff. What does he see in there? Maybe some day the shelter worker will in fact tell. His therapist, probably. Or a wife who may then proceed to roll her eyes at him and tell him that yes, she's sure that that little kitty was something else but all little kittens are something else, and if he can't handle it, perhaps he needs to find another place to volunteer. He sinks to his knees in front of the tiny horror, fat tears welling up in his eyes as he reaches for the tiny animal with shaking hands.

It's almost peaceful.

At least for a second or two. Then, as if some avenging poltergeist swept through the room, cage doors pop open one by one. Some of them because Kitten de la Vega tears at them with all the rage and fury of a very angry man trapped in a very small and adorable fluffy body. Higher up, out of reach, cage doors spring open on their own as if latches were manipulated and locks opened by two strong minds hidden in two tiny bodies; the Roens release a veritable horde of guinea pigs, hamsters, bunny rabbits and even a few budgerigars -- not swatting at those takes effort, so much effort, because human minds may recognise them as pets but kitten minds see something colourful and fluffy that begs to get clawed and chewed on.

It's no wonder those birds get out of here in a rush. The various rodents certainly attempt to follow suit, only they have to dart around kittens and a crying human adult male to do so.

Except the crayfish. The lid comes off that tank as well but wisely, he decides to stay where he is. Or she does. Are you going to check?

Some of the kittens watch the proceedings with various degrees of confusion, indecision, or not quite having found their hairy feet yet. And out of the ones who have yet to start opening cages, two sit on their stumpy little tail and focus their attention elsewhere. And between them, Straydan and Ignacimew do that very well.

And there it is, the Black Stray. A skinny, lean cat sitting atop one of the shelves upon which sit the now empty cages. To the eye, a perfectly normal, smallish black cat with yellow-green eyes. To the eyes of some, a perfect copy of another skinny black cat that currently lives on a sail boat. To the minds of everyone, a dark and angry presence with a power that no cat should possess.

What do I need?

The Black Stray stares at Ignacio!Kitten in disbelief.

I need you people to stop HURTING CATS!

Her head swivels to Aidan!Kitty as she practically reels from the sheer force of his brush against her mind. The sensation of that touch does not go unnoticed by anyone in the room possessed of some mentalist ability, be they cat, human, or for that matter, combat crayfish. Being a kitten apparently turns it all up to eleven for several people. The uncat looks somewhat subdued even as her green glare fixes on the tiny individual.

Kill him, she hisses. Before he cuts your genitalia out. Before he puts you all in the little room that smells and you die in your sleep. You can run away. I will let you. And you will wake up in your human bodies and shrug your shoulders and walk away with your opposable thumbs. And you will forget us. And I will come for you, one by one, and I will do to you what you do to us.

The door is open. The woman -- apparently the person who runs the shelter -- is still out there somewhere. And here, is a horde of small fluffy animals, an army of cuteness lead by nine kittens with human minds. The only obstacle is a man crying his bravest tears, rocking back and forth, and sucking on his thumb. He's probably going to need therapy.

Although, to be fair -- that Black Stray sounds like she needs some serious therapy too. That cat has issues.

Kailey watches this man crumble and realizes her job is not done. For once she can distract while everyone gets away. With sudden determination she gives the man a soft mew and moves forward to nuzzle against his knee. Her purr is surprisingly loud for such a tiny thing. Up into his lap she goes and nuzzles at one hand. << I got this. You guys take the horde and go, >> She urges the others. Drawing as much of the bawling man's attention as two bright green eyes can. It's Puss in Boots, except real.

But even as she plays up her part her mind reaches out to the black cat. It isn't words she shares. It's a series of images. A starving kitten not making it on it's own. Wet and freezing in the rose bushes of a yard, it's sibling already passed beside it. Kailey finding her, bringing her inside despite rules about talking before they got another animal. Drying her off, warming her up, feeding her tuna and water. Tenderly burying her litter mate with tears and apologies for not finding them soon enough. Keeping the kitten, convincing her partner and roommate to keep her. And of course the last image is of this calico kitten laying curled around an infant. Soothing her when she starts to cry with a headbutt and purr. << Don't tell me I'll forget or don't care. You don't know me. >>

August watches the insanity. The hunter in him sees those budgies, and the kitten wants to swipe at them, try his hand at snagging one. He's a good shot; he suspects he'd make a capable predator too.

He stops himself. No--no. That's not what they're here for. His attention turns to Kailey, watching her response. He considers, then adds some images of his own:

Hawai'i, flooded with feral cats, starving, matted fur, native species decimated by their presence--as predators, as vectors of disease. Soon there will only be the starving cats; no more Hawai'ian geese, no more seals.

Birds' nests, ransacked, destroyed. Empty trees, still grass. They hunt too well; the most efficient land predator ever to grace the planet, and unlike many of their competitors, they can also call a human home their shelter. To let them live unchecked would destroy the environment. Yes, humanity brought them into being; domesticated them, failed to take responsibility.

He's not unsympathetic. He wishes it wasn't needed. But they're too fecund. To let them freely reproduce would be catastrophic for the world. It's an ugly reality...but reality is what it is. They're not in balance with the ecosystem.

He sits there, a fluffy white and tabby bicolor, trying to reason with this wild creature. He's not sure it will care about the world at large, though August is sure gonna try to make it care.

Itzil-kitten, who is pale with a magnificent smudge-stache over his muzzle, announces his opinion of all this with a "WAAAEEEWWW" and, clambering over literally anybody in his path, tries to climb the cage. Needle-sharp little claws splay out of his weird fingery paws and hook on the bars. <<I DON'T WANNA BE A CAT!! I DON'T WANNA BE IN A CAGE>> comes his kythe, a wailing violin.

The cage door swings open while he's clinging to it and he promptly falls off. Thump! Then he's bolting, scrambling with too-long legs amidst the chaos of little furry creatures. Where is he going? Hell, he doesn't know! Not Here, is where he is going.

Ignacio takes his time. He listens and... he wanders. This place is scary but it's not exactly a hospital.. maybe... okay it's daunting. Iggycat lags behind the others and tries, again as he can, to reach out and assuage the rage and replace the ire with pity. *<<People are really stupid creatures. Sometimes they are mean. I think they do their best but don't know. Hell their as bad to their own because everyone's... afraid. It can change, but... everything is out of balance."

Tiny legs mean tiring fast and he sits down and looks up trying to find this phantom Mama Cat of theirs. Forgiveness. It's a hell of a weapon at a time swallowed by fear. "neeew?" And those big brown eyes translate to "I'm sorry our people are dumb and failed you. Please forgive them and help them change."

Dahlia quietly slinks out of the cage, moving to help the horde. She isn't a pet person. Even though she's harboring three of the unkittens and, at this point, there's no chance she's letting them go. Even though she's warmed up to Justin's dog, Caleb...animals have never been her thing. She's a neutral party on this topic and doesn't feel like she has anything to the pictures that Kailey and August are trying to put together or the Hallmark Moment Ignacio is trying to elicit. Though, looking at the chaos that is slowly accumulating with the freed animals, she can't help but look in the direction of the Black Cat. The Uncat.

<< Most humans want to do what's right. Sometimes they have to make hard choices that have no good endings. A lot of people treat their animals better than they treat other human beings. Just because someone might have wronged you, doesn't mean that all humans are bad. >>

And then she goes about trying to keep the horde of now free animals in some kind of order. Which is surely going to be a task all on it's own.

[No,] Straydan replies quietly, [I'll try to save cats, but I won't kill people. And I won't forget.]

The little black kitten seems to steel itself, perhaps, sitting a little more drawn in, just a little bit hunched. The communication shifts to images:

A toddler Aidan, a sense of aloneness -- almost strayness, really. Vague forms of people, mainly legs; an old cat sitting near him in a corner as he watches these strangers. A slightly older Aidan, more strangers, hunger and fear; a little older again, more strangers, wariness and relief in equal measure, a hand offered. Kindness. Perhaps a couple years older, loss, more strangers, fear, pain. Fleeing, an alley, hunger and cold and more fear. Glimpses of stray cats that don't come near, a young skinny dog that briefly does. People again, the sense of time blurring and vague repetition, kindness punctuated by cruelty and neglect.

The black kitten's tiny ears have folded down a bit, and it glances toward the Iggykitten, then back to the Stray. [I won't forget. But most people mean well. Most of them try the best they can. So I forgive. It's better. Than always being angry, or turning into the worst of them.] He gives her big yellow-green kitten eyes as well; he hasn't got much choice, right now, but he would be anyway. Their message is much the same as Ignacio's, and he tries to share the way that feeling is for him, as well. [I'm sorry your people let you down.]

At least one smudge-stached kitten with a New York accent has its priorities straight; it bolts for the door, skirting around the crying man on legs that seem too long for its tiny body, stumpy tail sticking out behind for balance as it runs. Mewgeddaboutit!

Others focus their attentions on the guinea pigs, the mice, the rats, and all the other little things that are scurrying around in confusion. Some head straight for the door in a flurry of little clawed feet. Some run in circles. Some bolt for the nearest thing to hide under. A couple of gerbils zip up the trouser leg of the crying man, resulting in a rather awkward dance on all fours as he tries to cry, cuddle the little runt that nearly broke his mind, and evict a family of small, clawy rodents before they reach his family jewels.

It's almost comical to watch. Probably would be pretty hilarious, if one was not part of the confusion.

Yet others take a more meditative approach, spearheading an attempt to communicate to the angry ball of black fur up there that humans can be good. That sometimes, humans have to make terrible decisions, sacrificing some for the good of the many. What seems good at first may be a horrible blessing. Introduce a pregnant cat to an island as rodent control, one might find the entire island's population small birds wiped out -- and the cats starving to death. A questionable blessing -- the freedom to roam, and hunt, and die.

Habitats, destroyed, by careless pet owners. Humans abandoning not only cats but also their own young. Cat-humans, human-cats, souls blown about by fate, at the mercy of strangers, with no say in their own destiny.

The Black Stray's mind flails under the impact of so many determined voices.

Jumping from a car, running at full speed into an alley behind the shelter, climbing a fence, escaping. Abandoning her kittens in that car -- three little helpless tabbies. It's his fault! The man whose mate ordered him to get rid of the cats in the towel cabinet. She pictures him; Samuel Thompson, the man whose wife, Mary Anne, was found dead in a dumpster on Main Street. Beaten to death, the autopsy said. Chewed to death by kittens.

By the idea of kittens.

She snarls in rage and her tail fluffs up until she resembles a giant black bottle cleaner. But still she reels, as memories are part ripped from her, part volunteered. She wants to remember. She wants to tell.

Thompson did not want to pay the nominal fee to hand in the three mackerel tabbies to the shelter. He never asked her to get out while in heat and come home pregnant. He swore as she ran off and for a while he sat in the car, thinking, deciding.

There are many ways to get rid of unwanted cats. Thompson stuffs the little pests into the empty Amazon delivery cardboard box and tapes it shut. He thinks about dumping it in the woods, near the river -- some fox or wolf will put them out of their misery soon enough. Or on the beach -- some sucker of a tourist will find them and take them home, no doubt. He tries to not think about little cats suffering in the dark, cold and hungry. In the end, he drops the box off on the shelter's doorstep and speeds away into the night. He forgets to remove the label with his name home address on, but at the time the shelter lady starts to call him, he's already been arrested for the murder of his wife.

The uncat spits in rage and her green gaze meets Ignacio!Kitten's. For a moment, the Spanish kitten's right paw glows, with three little stripes, like old scars after claws.

She screams. A high pitched wail of rage and frustration, but most of all, of grief.

"Ray? What's keeping you? What's going on in there?" The woman's voice calls out from the other side of the door. "What the hell? Some of the rodents got out!" The sounds of human feet in clogs, approaching.

I was just a cat! I just wanted to be a cat!

The Stray leaps from the top of the shelf, straight at Ignacimew. And burrows her head into him, trying to hide under him. She's a small cat, but he indeed, is much smaller.

Ellie-cat, meanwhile, is doing her best to organize the rodent exodus. <<Come now, hurry, through that door, find the ways out, there must be many at your size.>> She herds them like a sheep-cat, quelling many an urge to pounce on the wee things and use them as playtoys. <<Quickly little ones!>>. Eleanor adds her memories to the others. The three cats she and August have taken in now. Their home full of animals living in peace and harmony, well loved and well cared for.

Kaileykitten takes the distraction of rodens in pants legs to jump from the man's arms to the ground. It's not graceful and she doesn't quite splat on landing. But wow, this body -is- made for jumping. That second or two of awe is turned towards the Uncat as she rails in anger at them. Instead of heading for the door she slowly and carefully trots over to the large black cat. Her cat instincts telling her to be wary of stranger cat. Kailey, though, just wants to come up and give that kitty love. << I'm sorry you were hurt. And yours. >> She says it simply as she comes in to gently head-butt the black mass of fur. That loud and rattly purr starting up in her throat again. << Life isn't fair. >> And there is weight in that. Loss of a mother. Running all the time from, 'The Bad Things', and then never having a family. Foster home after foster home. Not until now, and that includes the calico that is at home curled protectively around her baby. << But there are those who do what we can. It'll never be enough, but we try. >>

Ignacimew makes room for Kaileykit. The scars on his paw flare and he lifts it up protectivly. He's not the sort of cat built to defend itself or assail... well much of anything. Then the stray is there. Setting his paw down he lets the angry little black kitten bury her face into him. Small eyes damp he does what any kitten would do. He starts to clean her face and dry her tears...and hope to god this doesn't result in a hairball. Those seem fun not even in the slightest. Looking to Kaileykit he gives her a small headbutt. Really it emphasizes the point he was making that StrayNoir is not alone. Rubbing his little fuzzy face on her he says to her head <<You can come be just a cat. If you want. The help doesn't need to stop either. It will get cold soon and your people are going to need you. I know from experience.>> Looking up he lets the tiniest hiss at the humans. <<Shame! This... there's more than all of this. Listen to Eleanor. Come see. Nothing is perfect but it can... it an be better.>>

August weathers the stray's storm of a response. He regrets that it's like this; that, as humans, they have much to answer for. In more ways than one, as far as this stray is concerned: they meddle in the Veil, sometimes without taking care, and have impacts far beyond their ken. (Speaking of creatures not in balance with their ecosystem.)

He wishes the man hadn't wronged her and taken her babies from her. He offers one possibility: that they might go to that shelter, and find out where they went. It'll take work, to convince them to reveal the kittens' whereabouts, but it can be done.

But right now, right now, Eleanor needs his help herding a mass exodus. He hops out, begins romping around and trying to get other things to escape. He calls to the gerbils harassing the crying man. So much food outside! Amazing treats! The best toys! Come! Let's go!

"WEEAAAAAOW! WAAAOW! WAOW!" Itzitten-the-Flailing collides with the door to the cat room and scrabbles at it. <<Lemmeout lemmeout lemmeout!!>> The violin of his mental 'voice' is not artful or ringing or musical in the least right now. It's just a blare of panic, bow scraped along strings. <<I don't like this LEMMEOUT!>> His tiny kitten claws peel dainty ribbons of paint off the door.

That he's completely losing his shit in front of his boyfriend and his closest friends doesn't even register.

Aidan looks over his small furry shoulder at the sound of the panicking Itzhakitten, with a small and uneasy shift. [Do you want me to try to make you calmer?] he tries to offer to his currently-sibling.

It's difficult, though, to really focus on anything but the Black Stray at present, and he watches her a touch warily as her memories wash over him, and as she bristles; he tenses and skitters back a step when she leaps toward them, that howl of the soul echoing through his. [Do you still want to be just a cat? Can you?] A couple careful steps padding nearer, and the little black kitten risks giving the larger black cat a headbonk along her side as well. [You could live with one of us,] he offers, which probably means him if no one's inclined and better suited -- or preferred, if that option's available. [And. I think I might've seen your kittens. I think they're happy and cared for.] An image of Dahlia's trio, playing together happily in their pen; there's a touch of question to it. He remembers the detail of the box, he thinks.

Everybody loves Raymond. At least if we assume that by 'everybody' we mean the small family of gerbils that are currently moving into Ray's pants. Of all the creatures possessed of teeny tiny brains, of all the things that should just quietly fall over obey a mental suggestion from a kitten possessed of a powerful human intellect. Can't save them all. These little guys are going to a dark place.

The others, though. The horde of small, furry things scrabbling around on claws and pads appear to acquire some kind of -- herd mentality? At least they circle around those kittens on the floor whose minds are focused on restoring some semblance of order -- or at least purpose.

A purpose spearheaded by a frantic kitten trying to cut a door to ribbons with his tiny little claws. When the door opens, indeed, to admit the owner of the female voice -- "Ray? What are you doing in there, Ray?" -- that kitten bolts like a feline out of a pond. And so do, indeed, an army of guinea pigs, gerbils, rats, ferrets, mice, and even a few zebra finches that had kept their heads down until now. In his tank, the crayfish pictures himself following them out. And in the lead, directing their way to freedom like some tiny, adorable general? Eleanor!Kitten.

The woman screams, of course. "Oh God, Ray, what are you doing? What did you do?" Agnes makes a grab for a guinea pig as it passes her by. It tells her off in a high pitched squeak as it bolts out of reach.

Beyond the door lies a front room -- much like a veterinarian clinics front room except with more motivational posters, and a few dream catchers. The furniture is clearly second hand and the place looks -- well, it could have been rustic and folksy, but it couldn't quite afford to aim higher than 'well used'. It is the kind of shelter run by someone with a heart of gold and little to no business sense. Agnes the shelter owner needs to find proper financial funding or she needs to go out of business. This is a disaster months in the making.

There is no air condition. Hence, there are open windows. Guess where the glorious rodent revolution goes.

In the back room, several kittens are still next to -- or in Ignacio's case, upon -- the Black Stray. Not so much an imposing, curious entity of vengeance and rage now, that one, as she curls up in the attempt to somehow seek comfort from the tiny bodies around her.

I'm not even real, she whimpers. They said I'd be real.

Even as she is being offered not just a home but multiple homes, real forever homes she -- falls apart. Fading from view like an old-fashioned celluloid movie cell held to a lit match. One moment she is there. The next, she is not.

Only an idea.

Now picture waking up somewhere that you ought to be; your bed, your sofa, or the floor that you face planted on. Counting your limbs. Checking your fingers for claws. Looking behind yourself and finding, probably to some relief, that you no longer have a stumpy tail. Relief? Frustration?

Hoping that the Adorable Brigade made it to safety, and that all those little animals can in fact survive? Or that they were all just the backdrop of a dream, one of Gray Harbor's little experiences?

It's not all bad for one of those experiences. You didn't even end in hospital this time.

Kailey's last memory is of a furry pile of cats sharing love and comfort with Uncat. << I'm sure one more cat won't be a problem here too, >> She had offered in a kind of agreement with the others. Home. Heart.
Happiness. It's the last words which ring sadly in Kaikey's heart and mind as she wakes up on the couch.

Bean or Everett had draped the couch throw over her and turned off the tv. For only a few seconds is she sleepy. Then she is sitting up with wide eyes. Her mind calling out to a being that may or may not exist or be there to hear, << But you are real. >> She bites her lower lip when she realizes she's no longer there. No longer cat. There is a brief regret that she didn't get to be a cat longer. But her muse is afire in her brain.

With the single mindedness of an artist, Kailey goes into the garage and pulls out her large blank canvas. It had been waiting for the right image. She begins to sketch and then paint. Only Morganna able to tear her away for long. The playpen brought out into the garage after everyone else woke and left for work. Kailey stepped back after hours of work and handling a blow dryer. She smiled at the canvas.

A starscape of indigo and blue and black is what is first seen. Then the darker patches that come through black resolve into a black mother cat. Planets in the foreground resolve into balls for nebula and comet kittens that play about her. The Piercing green-yellow eyes of the Uncat are at the center of the piece. Narrowed in the way a happy cat's might and almost able to be thought of as planets. "See? An idea can be real too," She whispers. Flerken mews at her feet plaintively. "You hungry? I think today you get tuna." The cat meows her approval.

One moment, Dahlia was helping herd the flurry of tiny animals from behind. The next, she's waking up with a start in bed. Declan's asleep beside her, stirring only a little at her movement. She tries to quickly and carefully get out of the bed to cross the short distance to the pen where the unkittens have been living. For half a second she feels a brief welling of panic. Like they might be gone the way of the Black Stray and what would happen then? But. She breathes out a sigh of relief as she watches them shredding a through a hard rubber ball as they pass it around to each other.

They're here. They're safe. She really needs to sit down and teach them what they can and can't chew through. They wanted to be real kittens right? Maybe it was time she properly started treating them like real kittens. Dahlia reached her mind out towards them briefly, just to share that feeling of warmth and affection that she had come to feel for the adorable fluff balls of terror. Then she exhaled slowly and turned to head into the kitchen.

She was up now. Might as well make some coffee.

For Itzhak, it's going to be one of those days he wakes up fighting, threatening what's no longer there to threaten him. He'll scramble upright in bed, fists clenched, lips curled away from his teeth in a sneering snarl. Ruiz can calm him when he's like that, and probably that's what will happen, the older man talking him down, comforting him. And Itzhak will be comforted. But for the rest of the day he'll be tired, on edge, snappish, and probably pick at least three stupid fights with people he cares about. People who, ironically, it's safe for him to pick fights with, because he trusts them...not that that makes such fights easier to take for anybody.

And he'll be making the rounds to everyone he knows who rescued kittens, bearing gifts of bonito flakes and feathery toys. Sometimes fixing the world isn't about the psychic power that fills Itzhak to the brim. Sometimes it's about the small kindnesses. In fact, pretty often it's about the small kindnesses.

August's tail fluffs further as the gerbils ignore him. They are doomed to live their worst lives. Well, he tried. And now, he'll try something which will maybe be more successful--helping Eleanor with her herd. He romps alongside the menagerie, pausing to swat at the lady; not to harm, but to scare her into keeping clear and not trying to man-handle anyone. <<Gotta figure out where to take them,>> he thinks to Ellie as they pelt through the front room.

He wakes up and falls off the bed in his flailing and saying Eleanor's name, lands on his left leg with a resounding *THUD*. August!Kitten was a small, fuzzy thing; August Roen is almost two hundred pounds and over six feet. His left leg, the one with an implant in the femur, does not thank him for this. He'll be limping for a few days.

And cuddling his kittens, Latte the house cat, and Xylem and Phloem the shop cats. He'll also make a donation to the shelter, quietly, anonymously, and weather one of Itzhak's attempts at picking a fight. He's used to those.