2020-12-13 - Mackerel Tabby Sharks

It's a pleasant morning for the season -- at least it's not raining hard -- and Ravn Abildgaard thought he was sitting cross-legged on his bed in Kicklebury, sorting through notes and paper clippings and local records. The last couple of days have taught him quite a bit about the history of Gray Harbor, and the mysteries at the root of the strange things that happen here -- and being the academic that he is, he was quite content to settle with a pot of coffee, a pack of chocolate chip cookies, and way too much information to read through and file away in appropriate patterns.

This is why he looks a little surprised when he finds himself standing in the middle of a suburban street in nothing but bare toes, jeans, and a black tank top, holding a fountain pen in one hand and a scrap of paper that says Bentley -- check death certificate? in the other, and half a cookie held in his mouth. "Mph?"

Dahlia was feeling a little restless and so had taken to cleaning. She was in the process of sweeping the kitchen when, in a blink, she was instead sweeping asphalt. "What?" She asked to no one, confused. Looking up and around she groaned. Stupid. Fucking. Gray Harbor. Hopefully there weren't going to be any sewer monsters this time...Her attention finally settles on an equally puzzled looking Ravn. "Ravn?" They may not have had too many interactions but a bartender never forgets a name!

Well, if things get bad, they got a broom and a pen! She does another look around to see if anyone else is with them.

This is not how Aidan intended to go investigate the Jankowskis'. For one thing he'd intended to do it on purpose, in an entirely non-Dream sort of way, or at least as non-Dream as anything related to the un-cat could be. On the other hand, he'd at least half-intended to drag Ravn along, and the Dane's here, so... that's handy?

Either he was out somewhere or was about to be, because he's in white jeans, well-worn black Docs, a charcoal-grey sweater with a pattern of ginger and white foxes running across it and the collar, cuffs, and tails of a somewhat '70sish tan/dark-red/white/periwinkle plaid shirt peeking from beneath, and most definite in evidence, a remarkably fluffy lavender faux-fur coat on top. It looks cozy. And fluffy. Did I mention fluffy? In any case, it probably beats showing up in his boxers.

He studies the house with a narrow-eyed look, cocking his head slightly as he takes in various aspects: the dog, the evidence of scary sharp things, the name on the box. "Heyyy, puppy," he calls softly toward the first of that trio, before looking over to Ravn with forehead still wrinkled. "I'm pretty sure that's the right name? Only was this the address?" he asks, as though he expects the guy to just know what the hell he's talking about. "Ooh, hey, cookie." It's less a 'can I have that' and more a 'congratulations, that is a good choice!', by the tone. The other voice has him glancing over to give its owner a grin. "Hey, Dahlia. 'sup?" he greets, before adding, "...though I think what's up is kittens? Kinda kittens. Maybe." Another glance at the house. He cannot x-ray vision through to maybe-kittens, alas.

August was having a nice, lazy morning, which means he was just thinking about showering, having made breakfast and taken care of the animals with Eleanor and seen her off to the coffee shop. Well, at least he hadn't gotten into the shower. He's not exactly grateful, but he's well aware it could be worse.

So he appears in a pair of UW sweat bottoms. And, that's it: barefoot, shirtless. Scars and tattoos abound. He pauses, blinking, confused for several seconds until the situation sinks in. He groans, runs his hands down his face. "You have got to be kidding me."

He isn't, however, alone, and so turns when he hears voices, relaxing at the sight of familiar faces. He tries not to be too grumpy as he makes his way across the lawn (mindful of surprise gifts from the dog) towards the others. Is he going to steal slippers or shoes from someone who lives in the house? Quite possibly.

It was a cozy day indoors at 6 Oak Street. Today was a big day for Morganna. Today she has discovered PEARS! As Kailey scoops another spoonful the baby bounces in her high chair with excitement, humming and licking pear sauce from her little lips. Kailey looks up with a smile at her daughter's eagerness. "They're my favorite too," She says as she extends the spoon.

Only to suddenly be sitting on air and promptly falling onto her ass on the sidewalk. There's a startled flail and the contents of the pears jar go flying in their soupy sweet splattery way. And somehow manages to not get herself with the pears. She even remembers to roll onto her back and strike the ground with the spoon hand so as not to hurt herself. Then she is rolling over onto hands and knees. Her weapon is a mostly empty jar of baby pears and a baby spoon, which she bra dishes only for a second at Aidan. Recognition kicks in and the young woman frowns. "Fuck!" She says as she stands. At least Bean is home, but her suddenly vanishing at really inconvenient times is getting harder to explain. "So...hi guys?" She says with weariness as she waves with her spoon hands.

She is wearing lounging clothes, house slippers, and a purple and red, tie-dyed terry robe. At least her phone is in the pocket. And something else. She reaches into the pocket and pulls out a vape pen, taking a hit, then sighing and holding it out to Aidan.

Ignacio was walking? Was he walking? Dreams are so hard to tell when they are not super super dreamy. That line, exceptionally blurred, is sometimes Ignacio's bane. If they're dreams the nonsense is slightly easier to deal with, but if you think it's really happening it's scary. So how should one feel if it's nonsense and entirely real? Like it's a fucking election year apparently; anxious.

Iggy is walking down the street, with a patient limp that will likely never go away but this is a huge step up from having when his limbs were turned into a pretzel. He waves to Dahlia and Aidan and Kailey. There's a pause though and he frowns looking down at himself in jeans and a jacket, and back to Roen curious before taking his winter coat off and handing it to him. "Jefe, you didn't tell me it was super casual Friday. Here, man. Don't free your huevos off." Curiously he turns to Ravn and looks vaguely confused, "One of us need to save up for a car, man. I was just going to the cafe to find you...uhhh...what... happened here?" It's the dog that gets him really. A sympathetic look followed by a light angled tilt of his head, "Heeeey perrito. You alright there, buddy?"

Ravn moves the cookie from between his lips to one hand; this does help somewhat when it comes to the ability to communicate coherently. "The heck?", he murmurs, looking around the group and realising that these are all familiar faces. He winces at the realisation that he's barefoot outdoors in December -- and then winces even harder as he catches sight of August who's got a lot more skin showing than just feet. This is not the time of year for swimsuit edition photography.

He catches what Aidan is saying and blinks, and turns to look at the name plate as well. Jankowski, it reads, in nice friendly letters (and it, at least, does not look like it's been chewed upon). "It has to be," the Dane agrees and looks around at the other confused people standing around in the street (or in Kailey's case, getting back to standing, rather than floundering). "I'm pretty sure that's the name you told me -- the family that adopted the last batch of mackerel kittens. Bloody hell, I kind of hoped we were done with them."

It was an easy assumption to make, was it not? August Røn adopted three -- and as far as Ravn is aware, they never showed any indication of not being kittens (and now, teenage cats). He does remember that his own cat shied away from them in terror, but to the best of his knowledge, that's the only time the Røn mackerels ever showed any indication of not being, well, cats. He knows from Aidan that Dahlia Evergreen's batch of kittens have required more effort to socialise; but there is no rumour going around town about more chewed-up bodies found in dumpsters, and Dahlia herself looks more annoyed than terrorised. Maybe for once, everything just worked out, and everybody got on with their respective lives like the people they are and the cats they're pretending to be?

Of course not. It never works out that way. Ravn makes a small face and steps out of the icy puddle the Dream saw fit to place his naked, left foot in. Super casual Friday, indeed. Way too casual.

The attention of at least some of the motley little gang of dream abductees shifts towards the Malamute cross cowering in the dog house. Anyone with a bit of experience handling canines can easily tell that this is one very frightened and depressed dog. He's the kind of big cuddly that accidentally destroys furniture and slobbers all over strangers; a big, friendly dog of the kind that you expect to think 'guarding the house' means 'drool on everybody that enter, then frisk them for treats'.

Not so much now.

Perrito -- whose actual name is Rover, but Perrito will do -- is not hard to read for someone with the empathic ability of Ignacio de Santos. He radiates fear; the kind of fear that he has grown accustomed to.

Don't go in the house, this fear says. Stay out here. They don't like it out there. The house is theirs. The Man and the Woman and the Girl are theirs. They don't want the dog house. The dog house is his. He's safe as long as he stays there.

'They' are cats. Lean, teenaged mackerel tabbies who, in the mind of Perrito slash Rover, have teeth like great white sharks and claws like bowie knives.

Everything is fine as long as they are happy. Keep them happy. Don't upset the cats.

To the other people standing around in various states of undress and confusion this is a quick exchange. Ignacio glances at the dog; it looks back at him, and makes a mournful kind of whine before retreating further into the dog house.

With cinetimatic perfection, the wind blows a few fallen leaves past the abandoned girl's bike lying on the lawn in front of the Jankowski residence. Some dreams require you to figure out what to do, how to solve the puzzle. Other dreams railroad you with the subtlety of a marching band and a troupe of high school cheer leaders waving pom poms and chanting 'Over here, over here'.

Aside some overzealous shredding of things they should not be able to, Dahlia hasn't had many issues at all with her set of mackerel tabbys. She's been trying to keep them entertained and comfy so they didn't get any crazy ideas. It wasn't always successful but they haven't caused any real havoc. At least not around town. She gives an upnod to Aiden and takes a survey of the rest. She recognizes most all of them, which is a comfort. What were the chances she could just turn around and start walking back home?

Slim probably. Dahlia inwardly groaned.

She watches as Ignacio approaches the big dog. "Get anything?" She asks Ignacio as the dog seems to retreat further into the house.

When the wind rustles those few leaves towards the bike, Dahlia started walking towards it. At least she was wearing socks and long sleeves- though the material was thing. "We're going to have to go into this house, aren't we?" She sounds a little resigned, leaning down just to peek at the bike - see if there's anything out of the ordinary about it. Like, maybe, super sharp kitty teeth marks or something.

Ignacio watches the dog with a sympathetic expression worn openly. His attention turns to Dahlia and answers her "Yeah, you know anything about Fascist Italy?" There's a faint rueful smile to her and then back to the group, "You know that phrase the lunatics took over the asylum? The uh... The cats are not welcoming the dog anywhere near that house. Poor guy." He hears what she's saying and wobbles his head, "Well there's no harm for anyone going up to the door and asking if they're okay or even if they need to even relocate someone to a better fitting home. It sucks but..." He looks back to the dog and wiggles his fingers in a wave trying to extend some sense of peace and calm for the poor guy letting the glimmer weave around the space pushing out. Eeeeveryone can breathe a little easier. Maybe. "Relationships are...complicated like that." Not that this is presented as new news, but acknowledging it.

Aidan nods, studying the dog sympathetically and then the house itself. Hm. "Yeah, the name I was pretty sure on, it's just--" He glances at the address again. It should be in actual Gray Harbor, after all, and this definitely feels like a Dream (especially considering this is not where he was a moment ago), so is it right? Does it matter if it's right? This is very confusing. But there's an August and an Ignacio and a Kailey, all of whom get a cheerful upnod and the latter of which gets a particularly bright grin as well, though his offer of a hand up does gets a moment of hesitation as silverware gets brandished at him. That resolves once he sees the recognition kick in, and the hand finishes its movement her way. "Hey, K. You good?" Some people might take the hit off the vape as an answer to that. Aidan does not appear to, though he does accept it when it's held out, with a bright "Thanks!", and take a hit of his own without any sign of what some might possibly consider due contemplation.

It's automatically offered toward Ravn, closest on the other side, and members of that Some might have the same opinion of the sudden additional offer, as he eyes the Dane's arms exposed by the tank top, "You want my coat?" but at least he does have a sweater under it. And Iggy's got August covered (literally). Except for the feet. Aidan glances between August's and Ravn's, adding, "...one of you need my boots? I mean. I got socks." Whether either of them wear anything like the same size is an open question, but hey, at least he'd got good-sized feet and all three guys involved are of similar height? Let's just ignore the presence of icy puddles.

Dahlia's (probably rhetorical) question is a small distraction, though, and he looks up from the feet again. "Oh. So, uh, you know how you two," he gestures between her and August, "ended up with three kittens each? There's a third set. And they live here. The nurse at the vet said they're the scariest ones, but the lady who brought 'em didn't seem to... know, I guess? She wasn't like us. But, uh, one of those kittens bit through the vet's counter. So, yeah," he glances to Ignacio, "kinda... welfare check. And maybe we might hafta see about..." He trails off, glancing to the house again, brow furrowing. "It feels kinda... I dunno, fear and that sense like bad shit's gonna happen? But I'm getting enough of it off the dog it's kinda hard to be sure how much's anyone inside. Poor dude." He may well be inclined to help Ignacio with that dog-calming, the way he glances toward the doghouse. "...definitely there's people and cats in there though. But, like." A look around all the others, starting at Ravn and ending up at August. "You think maybe we oughta say they're our lost kittens, try to, uh," a glance to Iggy, stealing his verb, "relocate them?"

August greets the suggestion of super casual Friday with a grunt. Take a good long look, everyone; despite the stories, shirtless August isn't the most common thing you'll see in Gray Harbor. (And Easton has lately returned to reclaim the title of 'Guy Most Likely To Take Off His Clothes In Response To Any Situation'.) He sports more than his fair share of scars and tattoos, some fresher than others, a few of which those assembled have witnessed him obtaining. There and gone in a moment as he accepts the jacket...which is a little small on him, but it beats being shirtless. "Thanks," he says, zipping it up as best he can.

He half-lifts a shoulder at Aidan's offer. "I'll be fine. Figure I can steal the owner's slippers if it comes down to it." He looks askance at Ravn in a silent suggestion he take Aidan up on the offer, gives Kailey an up-nod when he spots her.

His attention shifts to the dog, and he nods at Ignacio's read of the situation alongside Aidan's suggestion. "Yeah, when I took ours in for a checkup the vet told us about those ones. Ours haven't really...done anything, though sometimes I wonder if they're not telekinetic. They're always getting to things out of their reach, somehow." He shakes his head, dismissing the idea.

Back to Aidan with a nod. "Sounds good. Even if I'm a little...underdressed." He'll make up an excuse. Anyways it's a Dream, people walk around naked in those all the time, so maybe it'll just seem normal.

Kailey accepts the hand up from Aidan gratefully and dusts the scant grass and detris from the back of her robe. Till she sees Ravn and then that tie-dye robe is being pulled off and held out to the Dane. It is just as quickly pulled backed so Kailey can pull her phone out. Only then is the robe offered again. For her part, she is wearing a sweater underneath so the chill won't bother her for a little while. The color? It's purple. Is anyone really surprised? Some might get fancy and call it prune.

"Wait...wait...is this about the Dream cat and us being kittens and the like?" Kailey asks with sudden wide-eyed interest. She glances at the house and then the others and bites her lower lip briefly. "Do you think their mom would help? I could ask her to come help," She offers with a sudden cheerfulness. "You know how she said she didn't really exist? Well, she was wrong. Obviously. Nothing can't have kittens right?" She crosses her arms as she speaks to keep her fingers warm. "Has anyone tried just mentally asking the kittens if they can come outside? Or to be nicer and less...destructive? If they're special we should be able to tell by that, right?" She looks at August. Probably because he is, in her opinion, the 'Weird Stuff' guru.

If Ravn's students back in Copenhagen could only see him now, barefoot in Aidan's lavender, super fluffy coat -- a colour that honestly does not go very well with copper blond. There are young people in Denmark who'd pay good money for this picture, folks. There's also cousins and uncles in Denmark who'd pay even better money for you deleting it off your cell phone and your memory forever, because good heavens, man, dignity and appearances, dignity and appearances.

"The last three kittens are in there, and we're out here in various states of undress in December. So, this is going to be one those subtle Dreams, is it?" The Dane glances at Kailey and arches an eyebrow. "Their mum?"

Then he too looks to August; whether the older man likes it or not, Gray Harbor does seem to have tacked a kind of community Veil guru badge on his chest. "I'm on board with the idea of going inside. Mostly because we're still two pairs of footwear short and it's bloody cold, and because the hints really aren't very subtle."

A girl's little bicycle lies on the lawn; it has a basket in front, the sort of which you're supposed to keep your school books or your lunch pack or your pet kitten in, if you're an eight-year-old girl. It is pink and neatly decorated with sunflower stencils. The basket looks like four or five very sharp knives slashed it simultaneously -- from the inside, is Dahlia's feeling as she takes a closer look. Kitty maybe did not quite approve of the idea of going for a ride. That is, assuming that kitty has claws the size that an African lion would be proud to put on display.

Perrito slash Rover at least seems to breathe a little easier now, hiding away in his safe place. A sensation of relief emanates from the Malamute cross; the cavalry is here. Whatever is going on inside the house is no longer the Dog's Problem -- it is now officially Somebody Else's Problem, and the dog in question is more than a little relieved.

It's such a beautiful little house; the embodiment of the working class American dream. White picket fence, beautiful lawn, porch upon which to sit when the weather allows and watch life go by. A quiet street, for quiet lives. The kind of quiet lives in which a kind family might discover a handful of abandoned kittens and take them in, because there's just enough surplus in their quiet little lives to take care of small, unwanted things.

Sometimes, kindness is not rewarded.

"Somehow I think dealing with them inside would be the better option. If only to keep them contained." Dahlia frowned a touch, straightening. "Just by the..state of this stuff, they seem a lot wilder than the kittens I took in." Nodding as she listened to everyone's inputs. "...Hopefully they're actually alive in there." Lest anyone need reminding that these kittens were fully capable of chewing people up.

She looks to Kailey then though. "I remember what you're talking about. That Dream. I was in it. But what do you mean calling on her for help?

Ignacio looks around and frowns thoughtfully.. His hand gesturing a stay there type motion as he says "I'm pickin up what youse are puttin down, guy." Just because Itzhak's not here doesn't mean they're free of that heavy New York accent. Thoughtfully though that does bring to mind a curious question for August, "Kailey, That's... not a terrible plan." There's a pause looking at the bike and back to August, "Also I think Dahlia'son to something here. What if this is the family of the dead lady, also. You said Itzhak or someone knew of a critter foster thing on the... dream side? You think they can help?" Looking around he frowns a bit, "I mean Kailey's not possibly off mark here. I worked a thing out with Tommy and ya know he leaves our birds and rodents alone. One delegate is not a total populace, though." He checks in with Aiden and Ravn for their mood on this and back.

"Well, far's I know none of us've met these particular kittens yet, so nah, I don't figure anyone's asked 'em. But, Dahlia's batch, I know they don't think like that. Hers want to be kittens and they kinda worry about not being real but not in... not like we do? I mean, they're cats. They think like cats, except just enough not to..." Words. They're difficult. Or maybe it's the concept that's the problem. "I mean, I say hers worry about not being real but that's not quite right?"

A shake of the head. "Anyway. The others don't think the way their probably-mom did. Does?" He tilts his head, looking to Kailey. "'cause... if she's still there and you know her... yeah, maybe she could help? Maybe she can speak their language better. Maybe they'd wanna listen to her. ...maybe she could take 'em back with her, if these ones don't really wanna be kittens the way the others do. Our-world kittens. 'cause..." he eyes that slashed up bicycle basket, then the traumatized dog, "...yeah." Yep.

He looks to August when Ignacio speaks, brows going up and expression going a touch brighter. "Do you know about a Veil shelter? 'cause I was totally wondering if maybe they had anything like that, somewhere. And," he looks back to Ignacio again, "I don't think they're any relation. Not the same last name as her or the guy and not even the same sounding, like, theirs are more boring?" Probable translation: something like Thompson or Jones. "Either way, though, I think we gotta go in and make sure they're okay. And if, um, they need help." Another flicker of the glance to the poor pup. He squares his shoulders slightly and starts toward the door, though not at a rush; there's probably time to delay him if desired. Or, say, to invite their probably-mom along for the ride.

August apparently takes Ravn's looking at him to mean something else entirely; a request for confirmation he looks acceptable, perhaps, given the way he eyes Aidan's coat (which looked normal on Aidan but on Ravn looks...anything but), plus the tie-dye robe Kailey is now handing out. "You look great," he assures Ravn. "Very, ah, presentable."

His eyes narrow when Ignacio mentions Itzhak knowing someone. "I don't know of a shelter specifically, but, ah," he clears his throat, "Itzhak knows a guy." He says this time-honored thing the way you say it when you're talking about illegal weapons, or drugs, or a poker game, or any number of things which are mundane, under the table shenanigans and not shark-mouthed cats (except in Gray Harbor, of course). "A guy who deals with exotic...Veil animals, I guess. If nothing else he can point us in the right direction. But he knows him from the Veil around the city, and we might not," he looks around them, frowns, "be there. And Isabella said something about maybe the Revisionist would like one." His eyes flit to the house. "Though, uh, maybe not one of these. But if yours, or mine, turn out to be too much to handle." Here he is, talking like 'hey maybe we can manage our weird not-kittens becoming not-cats.' Why does anyone come to him for advice? (He's still alive, is why. Obviously he's doing something right.)

And so he follows Aidan, mindful of where he walks, looking for all the world like this random group of under-35s hauled him out of bed so they'd have an adult on hand. It's a look he wears with familiarity.

Kailey smiles a little bashfully as everyone seems to nod agreement. And so she turns and heads towards some of the front yard's picturesque bushes. Crouching down she makes some 'tch'ing sounds and a series of mews. The bushes rustle and a moment later the Uncat slips out from under the roots of the rose bush. Going from small to about bobcat sized with a soft meow of greeting for Kailey as she twines about her, knocking her back onto her butt in the process.

<< It's early. I was napping. >> Uncat sounds annoyed despite the fact she is headbutting Kailey and making the young woman giggle. << Why do you smell of fruit? >> The cat's large nose sniffs the air and then her piercing yellow eyes turn to the others. Kailey extracts from under the cat and gets to her feet with a lopsided smile. One hand scritched her behind the ears and under the chin. << Oh. -Other people- again? >> She sounds more truly annoyed now and her tail twitches. Though her eyes do turn to Aidan and Dahlia and the twitching tail stills. << Mostly people anyway, >> She amends which makes Kailey snort in amusement.

"I was feeding Morganna pears," Kailey tells the cat. "We need your help with some of your kittens. If you're willing?" Another chin scritch is accompanied with the request. The cat eyes Kailey through slitted eyes. Her tail slowly weaves behind her with annoyed twitches here and there.

<< What kind of help? >> The Uncat addresses the group suspiciously.

Awareness spreads among the people milling about in the street, in a fashion not unlike a mind link or a group tell in an online game. It's a slightly odd sensation at least to some -- very much to the one Danish guy present who has no Mental powers of this own -- and the alien sensation is by no means diminished by the fact that there is a mind involved which is decidedly not human; that of Kailey's big black Uncat.

Ravn stares at the large black cat for a moment as it headbutts its mistress and then speaks. "I see the resemblance," the folklorist murmurs at length; this is his first encounter with the Veil version of his own cat. The Uncat is a hell of a lot larger than his Kitty Pryde, but apart from that, the two cats are like carbon copies of each other -- just as Aidan has pointed out in the past. Which one was the original -- Ravn's stray, or the Black Stray whose ghost (idea? spirit? essence?) Kailey has somehow tamed and befriended? Does it matter?

The strange group awareness, powered by six minds with Mental ability (and one with nada such), expands to include the Jankowski residence. Aidan's mental touch gently nudges at the edges of fear, and sure enough, there are people inside; people, whose emotions can be felt by other people who have natural affinities for doing so. Waves of fear, and the acceptance of fear emanate from the little family trapped inside. A flavour of deep, existential terror the kind you might meet in an abused spouse. The kind of terror that causes one person to yell 'Look what you made me do' and the other to learn to apologise and fix because yes, everything bad that happens is their own fault; it would not happen if they were not stupid or weak or lazy. There are people inside -- two adults and a child -- radiating that prolonged, numb, and helpless feeling of despair that comes from existing at the mercy of whimsical masters.

It's a smug kind of evil. A self-contained evil. It is not the sadistic, cruel kind of evil that goes looking for someone to hurt for its own gratification. Nor is it the angry, self-righteous evil of someone who feels slighted, someone who feels that it is time for payback. This is the kind of careless evil of something -- or somethings -- that gets what it wants because you really, really won't like what happens if it doesn't. It's not driven by sadism or ambition; it's far more base, a deep, confident level of selfishness that only a true sociopath (or three) can aspire to.

This is our place. Everything in here belongs to us. Everyone in here belongs to us. Don't make us angry. You won't like us when we're angry.

There is nothing redeeming at all about it.

The walk across the front lawn and up to the front door is not far. The wood of the little porch, too, has suspicious claw marks. The kitty door in the front door has claw marks. The planks of the porch itself has claw marks. All of them are large, too large for the paw of a normal cat. Large, in fact, as if they might have been made by something the same size as the Uncat that trails blithely after Kailey.

These are not kittens. These are not cats.

The part of the group awareness that is not human knows this, and because it knows, this knowledge spreads to the awareness of the rest.

These are Veil creatures. They did not get to learn how to be cats. But they've learned how to be in charge.

"Worry isn't the right word." Dahlia agrees with Aiden's assessment softly, lifting her eyes from the shredded basket back to the group. "They're...concerned. They want to be real because if they're not real they disappear. I think? Maybe? I've been trying to work on treating them more normal." Whether it's working or not is up in the air but at least they're not...like this. A light shudder runs through her body as that sensation of fear and evil wash over her, the group. Her attention though, shifts to the Uncat, curious at how Kailey's seemed to befriend it. And at least it seems willing to listen to them to see if it wants to help?

She swallows and speaks up towards it. "These kittens...can you feel that? They're terrorizing the people in that home because they don't understand about being cats. They didn't get an opportunity. We...want to try and help them. Give them that opportunity, somewhere safer for them." It wasn't a lie. Dahlia had no idea how this was going to be achieved but August said that Itzhak knew a guy and that was a step in the right direction, yeah?

She does a finally look to the group and then carefully starts walking up towards the porch. She has no intention of opening the door until hearing what the Uncat says, but she does attempt her reach out her Mental power to the child to assure her that help is on the way.

Ignacio looks at the gathered and they have a point. The author lifts his hand and presses his fist to his forehead picturing... black government trench coats. Except Kailey's that for whatever reason is a magenta-ish purple and matches her hair. This confuses him too but hey the illusion is people are 'appropriately dressed' except a few are still barefoot. he forgot shoes. Well who looks down anyways?

"Yeah," he answer Dahlia, "I can." HE frowns a bit and looks to Aidan and... August pointing, "Thoughts, maybe we can keep the uncats...that's what we're callin em right? Calm and see how the people are doing. I just assume everyone wants what's best and healthiest for everyone and...if we can contact Itzhak? yeah I mean a veil person might know how to handle giving them the best care was on a lot of our minds so... let's see what we can do." Per the tiny New Yorker

That said he walks with Dahlia. There's a pause and he asks the rest, "Ummm you remember a lady died in a dumpster? We still might want to be careful." The relief from Aidan pointing out that the people that were killed were not this family greatly relaxes the tension in his shoulders so he knows he's not walking in on a widower. Cool. "Aidan, I love your attention to detail. Gracias."

"I mean... we might not be in the city-Veil right now, but we know the Jankowskis live in the normal world and go to the normal vet with their not-normal not-kittens, so I'd figure, one way or another we oughta be able to get them to a dude in the city-Veil, right? So it's a thing." A hopeful thing, from Aidan's tone, even if he's a little distracted by the rest of the situation here. Concerned. It's an appropriate word for him too. The grin breaks back out nonetheless when the Uncat appears, and his brows lift as she increases in size. "Hi again," he greets her, inclining his head slightly, "I'm glad you're not gone." One could perhaps argue whether he ought to be, given the dumpster situation, but it sounds sincere.

All trace of the smile fades at the feeling from in the house, concern very definitely winning out again. Yeah, he can feel that too, and he nods agreement to Dahlia's remarks to the uncat. "The people here tried to do right by them," he adds on, "I mean, they took them in and cared about their health and tried to do the right things, but the situation here isn't working. You can feel it too, right? There's gotta be a way to find a better place for them."

Ignacio gets the little nod of agreement next, to the idea of perhaps keeping the unkittens calm; absolutely they don't want them frenzied. His gaze flicks over the huge gouges in the wood as he heads up onto the porch, absently singing not-quite-under his breath: ...slip through the streets while everyone sleeps, getting bigger and sleeker and wider and brighter...

He gives everyone a moment in case there's something important they need to add, and then -- he knocks.

The kind of confidant selfishness only a sociopath can aspire to...or a spoiled child.

That's not what makes react, though; it's the sense of their fear and being trapped in a building. The sense of needing to be careful. He has to pause and take a steadying breath, clenching one hand into a fist. This is a different thing. This house hasn't collapsed, they're not pinned down. They're just being held hostage by some brats who need a time out.

He glances at Dahlia, frowns. "Maybe that's why mine are doing okay. They haven't...done anything particularly weird, so finding they knocked something over or pulled something down is easy to react to in a normal way." Even if sometimes the things in question are entire bookshelves. (It's fine, he needed to recoganize those. And who doesn't have a story of their cat knocking over something ten times its own weight?)

Yet he's wary of the Uncat, remembering the incident in the shelter, with his wife riding a guinea pig and the lot of them creating a stampede. So he keeps half his attention on her, the other half on the house as they approach. "Yeah," he murmurs in agreement with Aidan. "Well, maybe this guy Itzhak knows can help out. Apparently he keeps things way crazier than not-cats."

The Uncat turns her too-vibrant eyes on the group. Pausing to look at each in turn before walking over to Aidan to rub against his leg in all brevity, << Hello. It is hard to not exist when others believe in you, >> She tells him with a prim flirt of her impossibly black tail. She circles back to sit near Kailey, licking her paw in apparent feline lack of interest. << What do you want -me- to do about it? >> She asks. There is a hint of her voice of curiousity and, perhaps, a lingering care. << They are grown. And strong too. >> There is pride there hidden beneath it all. Her paw swipes slowly over an ear before she licks it.

Kailey sweeps her eyes across the others and then kneels down to stroke the Uncat down the back. "Could you talk to them? Tell them this...terrorizing isn't...good for a family. It won't give them what you and I have," The young woman speaks slowly as her hand strokes the short fur. The Uncat pauses in her licks and looks at Kailey before continuing to groom. << Existence -is- a good thing... >> She muses before putting her paw down and turning to look at the door. Then she approaches it and just goes straight through the cat door. Leaving Kailey gaping like a fish after her, "Hey! W-wait!"

Somewhere inside that house is a girl, aged maybe eight or ten years. She's no different from most other kids her age; she likes Frozen, and she wants winter to be over so she can go to the beach. She likes to swim and she likes animals. There are poster prints of puppies and kittens and ponies on the walls of her room. She's a pretty little thing with light brown hair and big blue eyes, the poster child for a quiet, mostly white suburbia. The girl's image drifts to into the strange awareness that the people outside seem to momentarily share, easily. Prompted by Dahlia's mental prod, no doubt, but not responding to it. It takes a second or two for the mental image to come into proper focus and when it does, there are two things about it that scream wrongness.

For one, the girl looks wrong. It's the perspective; she drifts into focus as if she is being watched from below -- as if the person looking at her is lying on the floor, their eyes at about the same height that a young cat's would be. And second, the girl is looking back, into the eyes of this cat whose eyes the group seems to be temporarily borrowing, with an expression of resigned terror, the kind of terror that one grows accustomed to, learns to exist in, comes to accept. She sits still because the cat has not indicated that she is allowed to do otherwise. Getting a fix on her location at least is easy; the child's room is upstairs, to the right.

"My cat sometimes acts a little... too clever for a cat," Ravn murmurs and looks at the Uncat, visibly disturbed at how alike the two animals are; the Uncat is bigger and has an air of power that the normal feline does not, but otherwise, she is a carbon copy of Kitty Pryde. "But she's still a cat. These things -- don't feel very much like cats. Getting them back to their own side of the Veil sounds like a plan, to be honest, but do we have a carrier that can hold them?"

The Dane was there when Aidan found the body in the dumpster. They both saw what it looked like, and how it'd been folded up a few times to fit in. They both saw the teeth marks in the metal table at the vet's clinics. These cats are going to take more than your standard pet carrier to move anywhere they don't want to go. Maybe that's why he nods at Ignacio. "I think we really want to try to keep them calm."

The sound of Aidan Kinney's hand on the door knocker echoes through this strange, collective awareness, amplified by three sharp pairs of ears on the inside. The focus of three sharp, predatory and not at all human minds inside the house shifts, outward. And then, a fourth feline presence makes itself felt inside as the Uncat formerly known as the Black Stray enters the house, displaying the casual confidence of a cat waltzing into another cat's territory. The reaction from the cats inside is almost instantaneous.

Fear ripples through the mind of Eeny. Mother is here.

Anger is Meeny's response. That is not Mother. She abandoned us. That is just the memory of Mother. It has no power over us.

Indifference radiates from Moe. We are not suckling kittens. This house is ours. These humans are ours.

Footsteps ensure from inside and the door opens, revealing a slightly pudgy man in his late thirties. Pale skinned, blue eyed like his daughter, Mr Jankowski is the sort of man you'd see anywhere -- a non-descript office worker, someone whom you would struggle to identify in a line-up of white office workers because he looks just like the next guy. Normal. Not as much as a spark of shine in him.

A bead of sweat is trickling down his brow as he looks at Aidan questioningly. "Can I help you -- sir?" He must have bought into Ignacio's illusion; no one would be that indifferent to the appearance of the group of strangers who are several garments short of a full set between them. It's possible that in his mind, Mr Jankowski is wondering why the lead agent -- police officer? FBI man? whatever he is? -- is wearing a purple trenchcoat, but who's he to argue with badge carrying authority? He radiates the same kind of old fear that his daughter upstairs is still broadcasting; that of someone who knows that the slightest misstep will have severe consequences.

Behind him, a woman appears; Mrs Jankowski too is non-descript -- you've walked past her a dozen times in the street, never noticing her. You probably never would notice her, if not for the fact that she at least has a small bit of sparkle -- and a scratch across the face, as if an angry cat had clawed at her.

Looking back at the size and depth of those claw marks on the bike basket and the fence, the cat to whom those claws belong must like her. She still has her eye.

Dahlia didn't like this view. This hijacking of cat-o-vision. These uncats weren't like the other uncats. She didn't care if they hadn't gotten the opportunity, they didn't seem like the type that wanted the opportunity. She let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding as the mama Uncat slipped through the kitty door. "I can feel it. They want to be like this." She agreed softly with Aiden. She looks to the others, nodding along with Ignacio's suggestion. "Keeping them calm is a good idea...hopefully we can manage it." She stays by Aiden as the door opens. Somethings seems...almost surprising to Dahlia, at how normal these people are. How average. All they wanted was to help some poor kittens.

Dahlia put on a smile as the man answered the door. "We're so sorry to disturb you sir, ma'am - but we're doing a door to door canvas of the street. There's a dangerous person that's escaped custody and we just need to check everywhere." Lying through her teeth but hoping they'll buy it?

Ignacio didn't know they were going the detective angle and right now he's hoping his Revisionist celebrity status isn't going to bite them in the ass. "Yeah Aidan, that's the impression I'm getting as the dog doesn't seem to be afraid of the people but... Yeah I think the spoiled child syndrome seems kinda spot on. " He pauses turning to August, one eyebrow arching at his friend and morning boss person, "Really? Yeah, Tommy joins me in the barn when I play. I made him a little heated apartment there. Sometimes sings with me while I practice." There's a pause with a wry smile, "Can't hold a note for a damn though. I'm not Tommy Dorsey though so it's fair."

Dahlia speaks and he tries to push the illusion pulling out his bifold wallet, flashing it open to impress that there's a badge there or something shiny and official looking before it's flipped closed and tucked away. No one look at that too closely!

Somehow, it hadn't occurred to Aidan that the trenchcoat appearance for dealing with the less clad of them might also give a particular other impression, and there's a blink and flicker of hesitation when that 'sir' gets appended to the greeting question. Look, it's not something he gets called very often, at least not by people who aren't trying to sell him things. It lets Dahlia get her answer in first, and he tries to quickly recalibrate from the 'missing kittens' plan to 'some kind of agenty thing?' which is... somewhat less in his wheelhouse, frankly.

Ignacio's little wallet trick strikes him as a good one, and he does the same, about half a second behind. Minor illusions for fun and profit! Or actually not for either, right now, but media tells him it's an appropriate thing for who he's supposed to be to be doing. "Good morning, sir, ma'am," he greets the pair, giving them a friendly smile. That, he's good at. He can't quite help a tiny glance at that scratch -- doesn't look immediately fresh, but clear enough what kind of damage could have been done -- as he asks, "Everything all right here? Do you mind if we take a look around?"

"We don't need a carrier," August says, tone firm. One of his hands has formed into a fist. It's entirely possible he would be forgetting himself if he had kids, and tearing open a hole in the wall to deal with the less-than-gentle-and-subtle way. This man is a man of nature, and nature is full of beauty and cruelty both. And it is astoundingly unforgiving.

He makes himself stop thinking about going Kool Aid man on the wall into the kid's room, adding, "I can open a door right here, and we shove them through." Which sounds very calming! Very. And oh, when those kittens react, his jaw works. We have to do this gently, or the kid and their parents will get hurt.

And since August is having a little trouble not shoving inside and saying, 'Come and get it you little brats' (which is what Itzhak would have already done, and he can hear Itzhak-of-the-future scolding him, saying, 'That's not like you, that's my job!') he stands behind the rest of them, expression stony, ostensibly some sort of 'authority' figure with whom one should not mess.

Kailey closes her mouth and straightens as doors are knocked upon. She looks a little flustered still and fixes her attire a bit. Even if it is illusionary. "Agents? Really?" She whispers to herself. With a wave of her hand her own illusion settles down. Complete with facial masking. Kailey now looks a lot like a young Jillian Anderson.

Uncat slides through shadows and shrinks slightly in size. Here she is a normal cat, a mother forced to abandon kittens. New reality and old collide and have a tussle with the stuff of dreams and the Veil. Finally there is a flicker of hope and joy from the Uncat. Her kittens are here? Or some cersion of them the most Veil version, like herself. << I did not want to leave you. And now I am back...let me see what fine little uncats you have become? >> As she prowls the house looking for her brood, she calls out. Not really caring if some Glimmery human hears her.

Mr Jankowski's face falls and his thoughts are written on his face, plain for all to see; this is a man who has more than enough problems as is. He does not need to worry that there's a murderer hiding in his garden shed on top of everything else that's currently gone wrong in his life. Life is a mess already, and now there are trenchcoated agents waving their wallets like psychic calling cards, and the dream is clearly filling in the blanks in his mind in the best of Doctor Who narrative style. Ignacio started it, but reality certainly took it and ran with it. Even if apparently, that agent there is wearing purple. This is not a time to judge.

"A dangerous person?" The tired man repeats Dahlia's words back at her. "I haven't seen anything, officer, but anything I can do to help..?"

Behind him, Mrs Jankowski frantically shakes her head. Glancing past her, it is not so difficult to guess why; the furniture of the hallway has far too many claw marks. A potted plant used to sit on a decorative little chest but it's been knocked down and the dirt is all over the carpet. One does not need to actually step into this building to tell who's in charge here: It's no one with just two legs.

Her husband ignores his wife's vague protests and steps aside at Aidan's request. He does not look thrilled about it, but at least to some people, authority is authority -- and few things have more authority than five trenchcated agents with badges and serious looks. "Sorry about the mess," he murmurs apologetically. "Kids, you know? And cats."

The hallway is a mess, and so is the dining room and open kitchen that lies beyond. This is a lovely little house -- nothing fancy, but with all possible potential to provide a loving, snug home for a small family of three. It's a good little home -- or it was, anyhow, before three bored terrorists grew up here, sharpening their claws on every available surface, digging up every potted plant, shedding everywhere, leaving paw prints everywhere, leaving presents -- of half-eaten birds and worse -- in random places. The little troupe of not actually FBI agents filter inside, Dahlia and Aidan up front and Ravn in the back, looking around themselves with various expressions of surprise and concern.

If any dog lovers' society ever wants to film a docudrama titled This Is Why You Should Get a Puppy Instead, this is the time and place to get those cameras rolling.

The first cat is there, in the open floor plan kitchen -- Eeny. A young, female mackerel tabby sitting on a counter, looking for all intents and purposes just like any other young cat. She is not a carbon copy of any of August's adopted furballs, or of Dahlia's; much as they may be copies of an idea of each other, each little tabby has its own distinctive pattern and temper. Eeny's tail is puffed up slightly, and she looks nervous. A little defensive, even. She washes her paw and looks away in a gesture of non-hostility.

I'm a good cat, mother. I catch birds. I brought a starling back for the Girl. It's in her bed. She hasn't found it yet. I like the Girl. Most of the time I don't have to do anything to her to make her be good.

In that strange, shared consciousness that the dream has inflicted, her answer is clearly audible to the 'agents' as well. From the expression on Mr Jankowski's face he hears nothing. It's harder to tell with his wife; she has that slight sparkle, as weak or weaker even than Ravn's, and her expression is that of a worried, shut-down person who knows that no only is the manure capable of hitting the windmill at high air speed velocity -- it did so three months ago, and the fall-out has continued ever since. Mrs Jankowski is not about making life with cats work anymore -- she's about surviving it.

"We'll be quick." Dahlia assured them though. "Thank you so much for your time." Then she filtered in after Aidan, eyes immediately darting here and there. She studies Eeny for just a beat as the little one is spotted. Perhaps the least dangerous? Dahlia doesn't try to confirm or deny this though. Not yet. Instead, a knowing glance is given towards Aidan. Hopefully Uncat would be able to rally them.

<<I want to try and get the girl down here. Keep the family together.>> She sent to the group - and hoped that none of the cats or Mrs. Jankowski heard it. But especially the cats. She starts to move further within the home to check for the others. One cat accounted for. Two more to go.

Ignacio is pretty certain he just committed a felony and his girlfriend's dad might have feelings on this. WHELP! It's for the greater good. The Mr. Rogers of Gray Harbor is not perfect. Looking to August and Dahlia on that plan he considers the group and murmurs, "I'm gonna try to get the mood down with AIdan. THose kids are... a handfull. Kailey if you and Mamacita can keep the cats distracted? Dahlia, yeah, get the family together and protect em. Ravn Roen? Can we try to escoret the kitties to Happy Fun Playtime Place(tm)?"

The collective suggestions from all are a good un. Looking to Aidan with a fistbump. "C'mon, Care Bear Stare, man. You up for it? I dunno going for total reform is gonna work here but I think we can pacify em or try so they know they're not in danger, and ya know, having feelings of abandonment? That's pretty huge. Prolly scary as hell for them to have so many feelings in an itty bitty body." But a hostage situation is also not the solution for that.

Hands rub together and he presses his palms together, tried to find Aidan's mind first, grounds himself, and then... well gets his coordinated Zen on. All things in balance. Time to bring things back to a place of calm and trust so the 'into the feline fray' team is hopefully not flayed in the process of the do-gooding. DOggo, you too. You're included. Poor thing really needs a break here.

Make her be good. It's unsettling, hearing that from the kitten. Hearing it from what sounds like the 'good' kitten of the three, at that. Aidan does his best to balance looking authoritative and friendly as they head in, though it's probably good he's got the coat-and-badge appearance to help with the former. "Thank you," he seconds Dahlia, "We'll try to stay out of your way."

Though the idea of not needing a carrier got a brief sideways look from Aidan, August's clarification seems to strike him as maybe a reasonable way to do it, assuming no better one presents itself. And with the rest of Ignacio's plan suggestions, well, the fistbump is returned (very professionally, to be sure). Check, check, and check; all these parts sound good and he can't think what isn't covered. "Calm and cared-for and compassionate," he murmurs back, part agreement and part suggestion, and he takes a breath, closing his eyes briefly as he lets his mind focus on Iggy's in return, building a stronger connection before they send the feelings out into feline (and canine) territory. Love is all you need, right?

August watches Mrs. Jankowski's reaction to her husband's acquiesence. His eyes scan what they can see of the house, then meet hers. "It's okay, ma'am. We're here to help." He holds her gaze, trying to make clear what kind of help is on offer: the special kind. The Glimmer kind. Please ignore how he's in UW sweats and a snug leather jacket and barefoot. None of that is applicable right now.

Calm, cared-for, compassionate. August focuses on those three things. But when Eeny insists she's 'good', he cuts a sidelong look at the Uncat, mouth flattened. 'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree' is what this expression telegraphs, loud and clear. He's glad Kailey befriended this one, though; they may need her. That filters into the link, along with his firm agreement to Dahlia's suggestion. They need to get the family together, in case things go sideways.

He's glad, then to have Aidan and Ignacio along; two people with enough mind power to dial everything back. Maybe him too. He glances at Ignacio, inviting him to do so if needed. August is well aware a little kid being in danger is doing things to him, and he's not sure why.

<<Just say when, and we'll get a door open.>> We. Yes, Ravn, you're helping! August has conscripted you.

Kailey is good at pretending to be the inconspicuous one. Even if her hair is most certainly not FBI code. But she slips in with a little nod, letting the others do the talking. She is just the agent doing a search. And that search involves heading for the little girl's room.

"I'll go fetch your daughter," Kailey says to the mother in passing. Then she is heading deeper into the house. She's been in many from her years in foster care, so layouts don't vary a lot. There is a hurry in her step and a keen awareness of the minds around her. Leading her to the daughter.

Meanwhile...Uncat has found Eeny and leaps onto the counter in a manner that indicates gravity may not be mandatory for her. A purr rumbles in her black throat as she approaches Eeny with the certainty of a mother greeting their child. << I was going to come back, >> She tells her kitten as she gives the "good" tabby the barest greeting sniff. No, she has other plans. Those plans involve grooming and reclaiming her kittens.

<< I am sorry it took so long. That you were all alone. >> There is true regret and pain in those words shared among the kittens. A mother's loss. It is part of what spawned her in the dream, after all. And the kittens as a result. << Come to me, >> She tells Meeny and Miney.

Where are the other two cats? One is upstairs with the Girl -- and Dahlia edges past the kitchen towards the living room, tracking the last one; a chubby male tabby lying flat on his side in the sofa. That one has to be Moe -- the laid back and indifferent one. He's sunning himself in the light of a window and not bothering to even open his eyes as the woman approaches.

This is our place, is Moe's calm response to the questions rippling through this odd, shared awareness. They're just humans. Let them do their yammering thing for a while, they like to do that. It doesn't mean anything. The arrival of Dahlia in his immediate surroundings doesn't seem to bother him much. Why would it? He's just a cat in a sunny spot, doing the very cat thing of sunning his cream coloured tummy.

Calm, cared for, and compassionate. Emotions ripple through the mental link between animals and people. This is not a suggestion. It's not a request. It's not even the combined power of Ignacio and Aidan, neither of whom are fledgeling mentalists in the first place. There is something else in play here, something with the power to rewrite reality itself.

Mr Rogers famously said, The only thing evil can't stand is forgiveness.

Ignacio de Santos is Gray Harbor's Mr Rogers. The Revisionist said so.

What ripples through the minds of the people present now is not merely the suggestion that all things can be forgiven, that all creatures are worthy of love, that there is a place for everyone. Reality got rewritten a while back; many of the consequences of these edits have turned out to affect people's lives strongly. Nothing the Revisionist altered was ever just a suggestion.

The two men probably didn't intend to tap into that kind of power. But they did, and the sensation is overwhelming -- tranquility spreads, like a sedative forced down the throat of reality, underscored by the wail of a dog who really wants to come help rescue his people but is so terrified of consequences that he just retreats further into his dog house instead. Perro slash Rover is not a brave animal in the first place, and tangling with the kittens from hell was bad enough -- now he's sensing the potential of this whole time-space continuum fraying at the edges, and it's far, far too deep for one miserable Malamute cross to handle. Love is all you need, but sometimes, love is like a steam roller.

Mother! You abandoned us! comes the angry mental sneer from upstairs.

The last of the feline trio occupies the room of the Girl, the Jankowski daughter. The Girl is a frail thing, sitting on her bed (presumably on top of the half-eaten starling she has yet to discover), eyes down, unmoving. And there, on the floor in front of the bed Meeny lies, curled up in the classic cat loaf position, paws tucked in under himself -- a lean male tabby, watching the girl and from the way his mind feels, playing a game not unlike cat and mouse, except it's cat and girl, and the girl will be sorry if she moves first.

The girl knows this game, and she's sure as hell not moving. Not even when an FBI agent in a trench coat barges into her room. If there is a single individual in this house who is managing to shut out everything -- even the mental full frontal love assault -- it's this little girl to whom nothing exists but getting through the next hour unscathed.

I don't want to be happy, Meeny wails at the Veil-fuelled onslaught of compassion and forgiveness. I want to play my game!

But flop over on his side he does, curling up like a cat in a sunny spot, eyes closing in contentment.

On the kitchen table down below, so does Eeny. She curls up at the paws of her mother, resembling nothing so much as a lost kitten who's finally found her way home. No one told me how to be a cat, she pipes up even as her eyes close. I just want to be happy.

August and Ravn, self proclaimed door opener and conscripted door helper, find themselves looking at the Jankowskis as the mentalists more or less accidentally tap into a dam of power that no one expected; it feels a bit like a bursting flood gate or levy and the eyes of Mr Jankowski glaze over completely. Immobilised, paralysed by the sheer well being of the kind of acceptance that is the Mr Rogers / de Santos philosophy, he spaces out completely, staring blank-eyed at the two men as if he has no idea who they are, why they are there, and incidentally, neither are his problem to deal with.

Mrs Jankowski looks from her husband to the strangers with the expression of someone whose mind is trying to override the input of her eyes. She sees two guys who are wearing less than two sets of clothes between them. Her mind tells her she's looking at two FBI agents, trenchcoats and badges and authority. Her heart tells her that everything is fine, everyone is loved, everyone here belongs. She wavers as two realities battle for dominance in her mind, and just stands there, unable to decide which one is true.

Neither adult in the household is likely to intervene much, or for that matter, run off. Silver linings.

Ravn doesn't say anything -- probably because he's the one person present who can't do things like talking in the minds of others -- but he glances towards the kitchen and quirks an eyebrow at August in a gesture that pretty clearly reads, this one first?

Kailey is going for the girl, the Uncat is trying to reclaim her kittens, the boys are managing this massively intense wave of calm and contentment. All good things in Dahlia's eyes as she studies Moe, laying on the couch. She vaguely wondered if there was any catnip in the house, or near by. A quick flicker of her eyes around the vicinity before looking back to the cat. Though it would seem as if the calmness might working too.

Dahlia waited another beat or two before reaching down and carefully trying to scoop the uncat up in a perfectly plausabile and comfy carrying position, staying in that sunlight and warmth. A little ruffle of fur by the ears and neck, some of the good spots she's learned as a new cat owner. Probably also some murmurs about being a good kitten, a cute kitten.

She was fully expecting some retaliation, even with this intense calm wave running through everyone, but it was worth a shot.

Ignacio isn't immune to this Zen wave here. he's focusing on that and that alone while Dahlia and others handle the careful art of kitten removal. His eyes slowly drift to August. Are they watery? Like a Pixar film but he's keeping it together. AIdan's a fucking powerhouse of a calm influence. Goood to know for later. Useful for rehab, but that's just a bit selfish on his part. That's a for later discussion. Kailey and August? God speed. He looks to Ravn, calm, but very concerned and still... well he's worried about that puppy outside. He leans, hands to the back of the chair, and relying on people's love for the greater good to win out here while he and Aidan keep up their part. Is it physically draining? You bet your ass it is, but not a weight he's going to complain about.

Maybe if he starts teaching people to (spray)paint, Aidan can become Gray Harbor's Bob Ross? He certainly didn't expect the level of power they've tapped into, but he's... well, calm about it, at the moment. More than the usual amount pulled up to draw from, fed back from what they seem to have created. Those with their own mental affinities might sense a hint of something like longing buried in there, not so much broadcast as stowing away. It sort of fits the rest, though.

Poor perrito out there, but things will be better, right? Right. The uncat is back for her unkittens, and even resentful Meeny recognizes her as mother. They can make things right. They can put the family -- both families -- back together. She can lead them into the Veil with her to their proper home... right? He gives mother and tabby daughter a small, hopeful smile, and shares it with the resident humans and then the visiting ones as well. A glance to Ignacio, at the end, and a slow breath, keeping up the broadcast. They can do this. He has faith in their impromptu assemblage of Dream-trouble-shooters.

August wavers a bit when that wave of compassion hits him, eyes watering. Oh, he's still mad about a little girl being tormented, that'll need to be pried from his cold, dead fingers. But not actually doing anything about that anger, well, he's easy to talk into that; he went to therapy for that for over half a decade.

He takes a half-step towards Ignacio, grips his shoulder. Good work that gesture says. He includes Aidan in this praise with a glance, now considers the Jankowskis. "It's alright ma'am. We'll take care of this." He might not look particularly reassuring in this moment, in Ignacio's zipped up, tight leather jacket and UW sweats older than their daughter. But maybe the tsunami of calm helps, and maybe Mrs. Jankowski's spark, however small, lets her understand that this isn't some random person who rolled out of bed. (Well...it is. He's just also a random person who can help.)

Moving into the kitchen, he approaches the Uncat and her kitten. "Ma'ma. Mind if I ah..." He raises his eyebrows. 'Open a door and set your kid down on the other side' sounds a lot more callous than he intends it to be, but here they are.

The Uncat bends her head to begin grooming Eeny between her small ears. Ever so much calmer than moments before herself. Here and now is simply the maternal feline reunited and recognizing her kittens. << My little ones, her Majesty calls to us on the other side. There I will teach you to be cats of the Veil and Dreams. Proper ones, >> As August approaches her too-bright yellow eyes shift and her grooming pauses for a second as she meets his gaze. << Soon enough Plantshaper, >> She tells him in all the haughtiness you would expect from this creature of dream and nightmare, tames by love and wishes. Only in Gray Harbor. << Meeny, Moe, there is a time and a place for a terror. This is not it. And these are not the ones deserving. >>

Kailey comes into the room to see that scene and pauses. She offers the little girl a gentle smile. The kind any mother who encounters another's child might make. "Hi there, honey. My name is Kailey, I've come to take this little one to a better home. Is that okay?" She moves towards the Uncat's now flopped over Kitten. Slow and hesitantly she reaches to let him sniff her hand, her mind telling the small one, << I will take you down the stairs to your mother, if you let me? >> And if he ascents, well her robe is super soft and almost-mom-fur like.

The objections of Moe the teenage uncat seem to revolve less around nefarious plans of dominating suburbia one parcel at a time and more about not wanting to leave his sunny spot. The cat swats at Dahlia's hand -- and he must like her, because the claws stay in. Given the claw marks on the sofa he's occupying, this is probably a very good thing; claws that size do not fit into paws that small without more than a slight helping of supernatural agency. Spatial laws are decidedly on strike where the uncats' claws and teeth are concerned -- and the bartender is keenly aware of this, considering that her own batch of (considerably better behaved) little uncats share these abilities. When Dahlia's uncats forget for a moment that they're supposed to be cats they're perfectly capable of biting through steel or cutting through stone with their claws. And yet, when one looks at their adorbs little fuzzyfeetses, they look like any other cat's paw, with lighter fur between the little pink toe beans.

Moe chirrups and stretches one leg in front of himself, displaying one, single razor sharp claw. A warning? If so, a pretty lazy one. Whatever the mentalists are doing back there, it is working. The sensation is not unlike having one's mind wrapped in pink cotton candy, but it is working.

Heaven only knows what Mr Jankowski sees as August and Ravn sidle past him as the last people in; the Matrix seems to have him firmly in its grip. Mrs Jankowski very likely sees what's actually there: Two guys wearing decidedly less than two sets of clothes between them, and demonstrating some rather unusual fashion choices. At this point, though, she takes one look around -- the slashed bike basket outside the door that's still open, the claw marks on the furniture, the teeth marks, the murdered potted plant, the silence from her daughter's room upstairs -- and then looks back at the two men. Mutely, she too steps aside, though the expression on her face is that of a woman spotting a light at the end of the tunnel and fervently praying that it isn't an oncoming train.

And there she is on the kitchen table, the Black Stray. Tamed now -- for a value of tame where tame means I may not eat your face right now -- by Kailey, somehow, she is nonetheless a formidable companion. Not much to look at -- just a small and skinny black cat. The power that ripples from her, though, is familiar -- too much presence to fit into such a small frame. The sensation persists, that she is a far larger entity somehow packed into a much humbler form.

Does she read minds? Possibly. Does she understand human speech? This is an established fact.

Eeny swirls her head to look at August with feline curiosity. The female kitten seems to be just as affected by the torrential onslaught of kindness as her brothers. She cants her head a little and looks at August with a sort of resigned expression.

Will there be birds?

A cat is, after all, a cat. Eeny wants to chase things and play. She doesn't much care where she gets to do it, or maybe she just doesn't understand the implications of what she's agreeing to.

Upstairs, Meeny seems to reach much the same conclusion. Arguing is just way too much effort when clearly, the universe and everything it loves him so much. He flops over on his side much like his brother downstairs and shoots Kailey a look that clearly reads, carry me. It's not an order -- but it's also not a request. If anything, it's a statement -- if this cat is moving, somebody else needs to do the heavy lifting. On the plus side, Meeny does not appear to intend to have any intention of resisting being picked up and carried downstairs to the rest of the family. He just doesn't feel like walking at the moment.

The Girl on the bed sits statue still. One might almost think her catatonic but for that small awareness in the shared consciousness of the house. She is not moving. If she moves, she will be punished. She will sit still until Meeny gets bored and leaves her room. That's how the Game is played: If the Girl moves, the Girl is punished. Cats sometimes are jerks.

Cats wrapped in the mental equivalent of pink cotton candy are not jerks, though -- at worst they're uncooperative like Moe or indifferent like Meeny. Between them, Ignacio and Aidan are sustaining an atmosphere of forgiveness that the cats do not entirely manage to parse -- why would they need forgiveness? They're cats. They play with things, they claw things they don't like and they establish who's boss by swatting and biting each other. But they're also something else -- something more, or indeed, less than cats.

They're an idea of cats -- like Dahlia's lot, but where Dahlia's three bundles of joy actively try to learn being proper cats so that they can be real, these three just coast along, unguided and without having any kind of morality or understanding of consequences imposed on them. Now they are finding themselves cradled in a kind of focused kindness they have not learned to recognise; abandoned by their mother and raised by humans who definitely wanted to care for them -- but who do not have the ability or the knowledge to understand or cope with little walking manifestations of Veil power.

Ideas of cats are no match for this kind of power. As long as the Spaniard and the magician can keep it up, odds are that none of the uncats will put up any serious resistance. Doing so, after all, requires them to stop basking in the milk of human kindness.

Dahlia hisses out lightly as Moe swats at her, looking down at the claws and mildly annoyed that she's going to have to get that bandaged up later. BUT she isn't looking at hospitalization for it at least? The intense calm wave generated is also keeping her from freaking out too much. Moe seemed to like the sun, the warmth, Dahlia could work with that. "You know, the place she wants to bring you - there's all kinds of warm spots." Probably. Dahlia hasn't ever actually been in the Veil proper that she can recall, but surely they've got some version of a sun that provides warmth somewhere. "Better than a small spot on the couch. You'd have your pick." Her voice is kept low as she attempts a second time of scooping him up. "Besides- I'm pretty warm too you know." Comparatively. It seemed like things were going smoothly - and that was good. It would all be over soon.

Ignacio has faith here in the fab 4 to manage 'parenting' cats. Dahlia's had to deal with worst at Firefly... he remembers when the cheerleaders exploded the place, and Kailey's got a toddler. They got this. Ravn and Roen? Well they got height and the ability to put up with endless stupid questions so cats are fine right?? Sure. Suuuure. FOr now there's a war in himself that he's working on; to reach out and understand insolent rage, identify those feelings that stay smoldering like a furnace in himself and work to douse it and let the waters of that emotionally fill the house. 'Forgive your mother. Forgive these people for trying to help. Alone is scary. There's harmony to be had. You are not unloved, but sometimes actions hurt people. Sometimes that's okay to forgive. Look at the playground the pajama-pants-man has! what a better game there!' It's that feeling of looking forward to something better and stepping away from the anger he's working on.

A neat thing about the joint effort isn't just the greater power but a sort of depth to the emotion created -- not so much a deeper intensity, exactly, as different threads. Aidan's version is harmonious, similar, but subtly different where it comes to the Other Side, the looking-forward from his angle working in a hint of grass-is-always-greener intrigue, and bringing in a stronger strand of curiosity. They know this place. They know these people (and the dog). It's predictable, isn't it? But what might be out there waiting with mother? What could she show them? What fascinating world might wait down the road of forgiveness and family?

Aidan leans against the edge of the table that hosts the chair Ignacio's using for support; for the taller and less physically-wounded man, it's less literal support and more an anchoring, a settling into this spot in this world. He keeps an eye and ear and bit of mind on watching the others collect the cats and arrange the travel, but the focus is on the feelings, and those can sometimes wash a person away. If every option has an equal and opposite reaction, gotta expect at least a little splash-back from the Care Bear Stare, right?

August allows himself to relax as the kittens succumb to the kumbaya zen of Ingacio and Aidan. They can do this. They can make this happen--peacefully. Without harm. Well, without more harm.

He sends a gentle tendril out to the little girl. It's going to be okay. You're safe.

He can't spend much time on that, though, since he needs to keep Eeny convinced of the value of their offer. She asks about birds, and he thinks of the mirror raptors.

"Birds," he says, nodding. "Other cats, too. All kinds of things." Like talking possums, and giant centipedes, and who the fuck knew what else. Oh yes, these little shark-mouth kittens would be right at home in the Veil. And if they could get in touch with Itzhak's contact, they could even have a proper up-bringing. Whatever that might amount to for a shark-mouthed Veil kitten.

"But," he continues, "you'll need to come with us. It's not here. I think you'll like it more--there's more to do. More to see." More than can handle you.

Kailey scoops up Meeny and turns her reassuring smile on The Girl. "It's okay. We found their mother, they're going to where they should be. And then maybe you can get a real kitten. Dream kittens are a bit much for anyone," She speaks slowly and soothingly as she craddled Meeny in one arm. Her fingers seeking out soft ears and scratching gently with her purple-painted nails. "There's a good kit. Your mother was so upset when she lost you, you know," She is speaking to the mini Uncat now as she stands. Glancing at the girl before turning and walking back downstairs. All the while scritching the little fuzzy thing in her arms like any other kitten, though sticking to petting his head is wise and so is done.

Uncat is finished with her minor grooming on Eeny and turns those yellow eyes from August to Dahlia and Moe. A rumbling purr begins to fill the area as she calls to him with that feline chuffing mother cats tend towards. Are they names? Words? Whatever it is repeated along with a happy purr-filled meow. << I will take them and see them taught and if they wish new homes, that too. Your help will be welcome. But The Queen must see them first. And asses their Spark. >> As Kailey walks in to the Uncat declaring such things she looks confused.

"Uhhh...does this mean I need to leave out kitten chow too?" Kailey asks Uncat. Who gives her one of those unamused cat stares. That immposible black tail lashes once.

<< Only if it's salmon. >> Replies Uncat haughtily and a picture of a chunk of salmon appears. Making Kailey wrinkle her nose.

"I knew giving you fresh salmon would bite me in the ass," She mutters as she deposits Meeny on the counter beside Uncat. Which is enough to distract her as she bends to begin grooming his brow as well.

Dahlia finally manages to scoop up and pacify the grumpy, but inherently lazy Moe. The young tabby hangs on her arm, contentedly purring because why the hell not -- clearly, arguing with this woman means having to fight back against the overpowering flood of acceptance and forgiveness, and come on already, Moe's just a cat. There's got to be a limit as to how much effort a cat can be expected to invest here, and more so when the cat was just having a nice nap in the sun. Besides, she's soft and warm and being carried around beats having to walk. Moe is on board with the idea of having a personal cat carrier in the literal sense, at least for now.

The floodwaters of kindness ripple and bubble, as if deep down in the dark waters of this reality, there are things with too many teeth and claws and god-awful tempers -- but at the moment, they only roll over in their kindness-induced sleep, muttering a bit, scratching whatever passes for a backside on a Veil entity, and go back to convincing themselves that getting up to squash these mortals is too much effort, too. It's a fragile hold on reality that Ignacio and Aidan are exercising -- one slip, one distraction, and very likely, the whole pink and fuzzywarm ocean of love might turn into a frothing storm of something else. Anything else, because truly, who can understand the Veil and the creatures that dwell inside it?

A faint, smug sensation trails across the shared consciousness of cats and people alike; as if something is too comfortable at the moment to really do anything but has to get one last word in at least. An awareness, on some deep and fundamental level, that something down in that murky depth saw a cat in distress and decided to give its very emotions the power to become real. That the Black Stray was a thought, an idea, a state of mind of a feline mother who fled a car, abandoning her litter to be handed over to the Little Flowers of Perpetual Annoyance pet shelter, and taking up residence on a sail boat with some European drifter. That the man who got rid of the cats a nagging wife disliked so intensely considered the idea of dumping those kittens -- on the beach or in the woods -- so that he wouldn't have to pay the fee for getting rid of them.

That they were all real and all not real, and that their first connection to reality -- the more static one -- shaped them. The idea of the kittens abandoned in the woods -- assumed to be cats and hence, becoming cats. The idea of kittens abandoned on the beach, approached with caution but also kindness -- becoming almost-cats, friendly but still potentially dangerous. And this lot, the idea of kittens dumped in a shelter -- overhearing humans talking about how expensive they are to keep, how more of them should be put down to save money, learning that humans are only worth what you make them do for you. Humans use cats, and cats use humans.

Life is unfair. But what is more unfair -- a cat and her kittens getting tossed out of their comfortable and safe home because somebody's wife is concerned about her bath towels? Or some Veil entity with a dark sense of humour empowering a feline thought to become real, to want revenge for all the times humans have treated animals less than great?

It's probably for the better that Ignacio managed to convince the Black Stray that not all humans are unkind to stray cats; that she was love bombed to the point of oblivion at the shelter, by humans turned into kittens; that her power was harnessed and re-shaped by Kailey, turning her into the Uncat that she is now. People might have gotten hurt otherwise -- as evidenced by the late Mrs Thompson, she of the towels upon which Kitty Pryde gave birth, she who was chewed to death by tiny teeth and broken enough to fit into a dumpster.

It's probably very much for the better that Aidan and Ignacio are managing to hold on, as slippery as the Veil is.

Eeny and Meeny find themselves collected and convinced by Kailey and August; promises of talking possums and giant centipedes, warm Veil sun, and all the salmon a cat can stuff into its face seems to win over the terrible trio at last. The fact that the Uncat is there, acting every bit as haughty and regal as she ever did -- and indeed, her real life counterpart, Ravn's Kitty Pryde still does -- helps matters along. The sense of relief that washes through the living room from Mrs Jankowski is almost tangible -- and so is the tear-filled sigh of relief from upstairs where finally, the Jankowski girl dares to breathe out, to shift her position and stretch her cramping legs, to be reassured by the kindness of a thought that it's going to be okay, that she is safe.

"Please take them away," Mrs Jankowski murmurs to Ravn -- presumably because he's the supposed FBI agent standing closest to her.

"We will," the folklorist promises, hoping to heaven that he can cash that promise in. Itzhak Rosencrantz knows a man on the other side? Good. The Black Stray talks about queens and other worlds, and taking care of her kittens. Just as good. From the look on his face and the emotions drifting from him into their little neural network, the Dane doesn't give a damn where these ktitens go -- as long as it's away from the people they're hurting. He glances to his colleagues of the Feline Investigative Bureau and asks, "Do we toss them in carriers, or do we do that thing -- open a door right here? Can we?"

"Yeah, there we go. See? I'm way better than laying in the sun." Dahlia says as she collects Moe up and snuggles him against her. Then she makes her way back to the group. Looking between them all and then gave a little shrug of her shoulders. "I...don't know." She decided finally. That's not my area of expertise?" Opening a door to other worlds. She barely knew how to control what little power she possessed. Let alone make a portal to the 'other side'.

Ignacio really hates seeing anyone get hurt. It's not the reaction that's bothering him as greatly as feeling why the fear is necessary,and connect deep with that feeling of isolation, fear, and try to understand and assuage the source. To anyone else he and Aidan probably look like they're standing round. LOOK, glimmer use isn't fancy in their line of work. The glimmer around seems to be quite subdued, still calm water with lily pads and a couple of emotional frogs. Whole bit! The problem is that part of Iggy's awareness is still anchored to the soul of the machine and the Endless Winter so when the Veil bucks back sometimes it is a real challenge not to be pulled into the undertow of the tide of emotions himself.

While they are 'surveying the room' he's glad for Aidan there to help him push this 'wave' down. Hands lean and rest on the edge of the counter to hold himself upright as they hold the mood of the house (and his lunch) still. Ravn is playing people cop. Cool this is a great job. So far those helping the kid haven't cried out in pain and dying (preferable!). The answer is delayed getting back to Dahlia, "Oh, um, me either? Jefe, you or Kailey maybe?" Looking back to Aidan there's a quizzical look. He doesn't remember Aidan having that skill, but likewise Aidan probably doesn't know Iggy can play the trumpet either. that's just fair. "Dahlia, how's the lil girl?"

It takes more energy than one might think, trying to keep the local emotional world under control. Definitely more than it looks like; if Aidan and Iggy had cups of coffee, yeah, it'd kind of look as though they were just playing supervisor here while the others work. Which makes it look a little weird, the way he blinks when addressed as if being drawn out of some engrossing train of thought. He actually looks more technically thoughtful afterward, considering the question.

"I think... probably? I've never opened one but I've seen it done and I think I get it enough to maybe help, at least, if we need it? It's kinda... this is a weird place to start from? But I think it should work," he decides, possibly having forgotten he's sort-of-FBI-or-something right now. "It seems like it'd be the better way to try first though, 'cause we're kinda short on carriers right now. And also it's just kinda..." He trails off, glancing at the Jankowskis, and abandons that line of thought for the moment. "Let's try it here and if it's trouble we'll try out there."

"We could wind up deeper," August says, tone absent. He strokes Eeny the same way he would Latte or Xylem or Phloem; gentle chin rubs, close against his chest. "I'm not...used to shallow Dreams like this. Just the deep ones." Dreams where they're so far out, there's not much to gain by jumping off your life raft--you're just as likely to be eaten by a shark as smashed on a reef. A scary thing to contemplate, but the enforced Zen is making it easier.

But Aidan's right; it's worth a try. Better to start with that, then provoke something more hostile. So he nods, glances at the Uncat and arches an eyebrow. "If you can keep an eye on them, Itzhak can talk to his friend." He includes Kailey in that suggestion with a glance, eyes Dahlia and her 'prize'. His eyes go distant, sweeping among the group to land back on Kailey. "Kailey. You're stronger than Aidan and I. Have you tried opening a door before?"

And the whole time he keeps stroking Eeny like he's not talking about hauling her off to naughty kitten jail.

Kailey is actually enjoying scritching Moe behind the ears as she leans against the counter Uncat and Eeny and Meeny are on. But she sets the sibling with its litter mates and takes a step back. Looking at the family with a faint smile as Uncat turns to give the last kitten a good licking. << This is good. This is what should be. Speak with your friend if you like, but these will decide their fate after they understand what we have become, >> She states primly. Then she turns her yellow eyes upon Kailey, who brought her into full manifestation when she thought she would fade. There is still anger in her, but none of these people deserve it. And that is the difference between then and now. Doesn't mean there might not be other bodies if anyone tries abusing animals in town.

<< Birds are what I will show you how to hunt. And mice. And rabbits. Things you can sink your claws and teeth into, >> Images flash through everyone's mind of hunting. Leaping. Catching. Copper taste of warm blood. But it is mostly aimed at the kittens. Kailey stares for a moment at her Unfamiliar and then turns to August and his question. There is a blink and then she bites her lower lip before answering, "Eh...opened one myself? No. Seen a few people do it, yes. I got the basics down. Now is as good a time as ever to give it a try." Nervousness makes her smile tremble slightly.

Uncat reaches out a paw and lightly pats Kailey's shoulder. No words need to be passed as she turns towards the dream cats. When she does the black feline settles her paws up on the young woman's shoulders and headbutts her. Hard enough for her to go, "Ow, hey, what was that?"

<< Luck of course. That is part of the black cat's gift after all, >> The Uncat settles back down and sits primly, tail wrapped around her flank but not her front paws. Golden eyes watch her kittens and tell them, << Be ready to leave. It is time to go back to the place of our birth. >> Their mother is excited at least. She gets to be the mother she was supposed to be. Kailey rubs at the bridge of her nose as she watches and then turns to look at the others.

"Door opening time?" And she turns to look at the air in front of her. Or more, her eyes unfocus and she wanders a little bit till she comes to an actual door. Is it to the pantry? The basement? Was it even there before? It doesn't really matter because Kailey reaches out and traces the door's opening. Where she traces light flickers and follows. When she grasps the knob and turns it the door opens onto misty gray light and fog on the other side. The misty tendrils slowly spill forth in shades of lavender and blue gray. Not normal fog, why would the Veil have normal fog? Kailey takes a step back, surprised, and suddenly covered in sweat and breathing heavy. "Wow...okay...that takes it out of ya..." And she takes the few steps back to lean against a wall and catch her breath. Her eyes going to Uncat and her brood.

To where in the vast multiverse of overlapping realities does Kailey's door lead? To somewhere that has misty gray light and fog, obviously. Beyond that? Only heaven knows -- and possibly the Black Stray, now styled the Uncat, the Unfamiliar. The destination must be satisfactory -- or maybe she possesses the ability to travel on her own inside the Veil, and needs not so much the lift to somewhere else as the symbolic gesture itself.

A door was opened. She is now permitted to take these kittens and lead them somewhere else. Ravn the folklorist could probably give a lecture on the importance of symbolic gestures in sympathetic magic, should anyone feel like asking him some day.

Will the Jankowskis recover? Eventually. The Veil looks after itself. Mr Jankowski and his little girl will remember how once, Mr Jankowski brought home a kitten. Or were there two? Three? It may be a little unclear, but they were tabbies. Or grey? Maybe it was a grey kitten. The details will be a little unclear, but they'll both remember that it wasn't such a great idea after all. Little Jennifer Jankowski wasn't old enough to take responsibility for a living animal. They ended up giving the kitten -- kittens? -- whatever -- away. To older kids, who could take proper care of them. It was better that way.

Maybe next year, Jennifer will get a puppy. And maybe that puppy will be a real puppy -- not the idea of a puppy given form by a probably not all that benevolent entity from another world.

Mrs Jankowski will never tell her husband or her daughter the truth. That there were three kittens, and they were monsters. That they terrorised Jennifer, that they forced the entire family to live in terror of their displeasure. She will flinch at the unexpected sight of a grey cat for the rest of her life. She will firmly declare that she is a dog person. She will say that she is allergic to cats -- anything to avoid having another cat in the house again.

She's not going to ask questions about the six people in strange clothing who turned up on her doorstep and pretended to be FBI agents. Maybe she recognised some of them -- the owner of Bole & Branch, or the lady from Sweet Retreat, or the writer whom everyone says is Gray Harbor's answer to Mr Rogers, or maybe the street magician who sometimes plies his trade on Main Street? The bartender from Firefly -- probably not, and certainly not the former barback from the Two if By Sea.

If she did, she keeps quiet. All she wants is a normal life.

Is it enough? To let the kittens and their mother disappear into the fog like this? Or do they need to be placed, put into a shelter -- naughty kitten jail -- on the other side?

Can the idea of cats become cats?

Maybe. Maybe if they have sufficient reason to want to be cats.

It's something to wonder about when blinking and then finding one-self where one was, an hour previous. A dream? Undoubtedly -- if there was ever any doubt that the experience was as real as any of Gray Harbor's little narrative experiences go, that doubt is removed for at least some when they take a look at themselves. Ravn, for instance, wakes up in his bed in his trailer, still wearing Aidan's purple coat -- an item of clothing that he'd probably rather eat than wear in the waking world.

Not that it's not a fine coat. It's just, well, purple.

Somehow, one cat mother and her three kittens has become one cat mother, six kittens, and an otherworldly familiar. And let's not forget the grey and white tom that roams Ignacio's garden -- he certainly considers this whole mess to have ended well. Free lunch every day, he would tell you if he could speak, free lunch every day is a happy ending.