liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

“Oh, for — honey, please sit down. You already have one cat, you can’t possibly be worried about getting fur on your clothes, and Helios wants to sit in your lap.”

Helios laid his little dark ears flat and butted Loki’s hand, rising up a little on his back feet. His plumed tail waved gently. Summer turned her feline captive loose, who promptly bolted off a few feet and furiously washed a paw.

“Now, cats are not strictly carnivores. They need similar kinds of nutrients from their foods as we do. You might have noticed Macrowafter — you have to explain that — eating grasses or flowers when he’s outside. Partly that’s to help digestion. Partly,” she made a disgusted face, “they do that to make themselves throw up. Hairballs. Brushing him will help with that. It’s not fun to step on barefoot in the middle of the night. That one,” she pointed at the seal-point importuning Loki, “likes to scarf his food, then bring it right back up. Because he ate too fast, the stinker.”

“You can just call him ‘Cat’,” Loki said, his voice a mutter.
He sat gingerly, his discomfort clear.  ”This cat eats and then evacuates—has he eaten recently?”  He eyed the cat with clear distrust, but he couldn’t resist a tiny curl of one corner of his mouth as the animal butted his hand. 

Summer noted the tiny smile, and damned herself for the answering curl of her own lips. Screw it, she thought, I barely even know this guy and I’ve already bonded. How stupid can I be.

Aloud she responded, “Helios isn’t going to throw up all over your pretty clothes, he’s just going to give you some fur.” The big ragdoll promptly leaped into Loki’s lap, turning around a few times and hitting the dark man in the face with his giant fluffy tail. “He’s a ragdoll cat, which is a breed, although he’s not purebred. They’re called ragdolls because they tend to go limp when held and are generally very relaxed and laid back kitties. Helios is so goodnatured he’s never even hissed at anyone. Go on, scratch his ears. Let him know you’re welcoming.”

Helios kneaded his paws up and down a few times, then walked off Loki’s lap just long enough to sprawl out full length nearby, using Loki’s knee for a headrest and opening his blue eyes wide. He began to purr.

Loki hesitantly laid his hand on the cat’s body, hesitantly stroking down the soft fur—smiling ever so slightly at the vibrating hum of the purr.

“Such a trusting creature.” 

“Cats are. They may seem standoffish, but once one has claimed you, it’s up to you not to break that trust. They aren’t,” she hesitated, searching for the right word, “intelligent. Not the way we are. They can’t understand, if we hurt them.”

Helios increased the volume of his purr, narrowing his eyes to slits. “But they understand our emotions,” she continued softly. “Helios is saying, don’t hurt, I’m here, I care. Maybe that’s why Macrowafter came to you.”