I was going to be slightly grumpy about some things that just went over my dash but it’s fucking late and I am not going to allow myself to care that much. Also I sent a lot of asks today and I bet my damn tablet ate them all, so I’m just going to tag an ass lot of people in this post and say:
I am not afraid to RP with you! I have some characters http://i-am-the-firechild.tumblr.com/roleplay so I wish you to pick one and be like, here is my headcanon how would you like to fit into it, and I will rebblog you and say, here is my headcanon and this is what I am going to do, and then we will RP and I will be happy. I am going to bull my way into this not-a-clique group if I have to hit the post limit trying.
He blinked and watched her go, then looked down at Macrowafter. “…Well, what do you think?”
He deposited Macrowafter in his bedroom and made sure the window and the door were firmly shut before rather hesitatingly making his way downstairs to 4B. There was much he had to learn about caring for cats—surely this girl could provide him with some much needed information.
Summer rather figured that would be the last she’d see of Loki; he’d come across as distant and not very interested. It was a shame; she could use a local friend. Long-distance friendships all the time were oddly lonely.
So when he turned up in her doorway, she was a little startled, looking up from the apparently boneless heap of cream-and-seal fur sprawled on the floor belly-up. The cat in question cracked one blue eye, then shot across the room as Summer scrambled to her feet. “You did come!”
“You did invite me,” Loki said, eyeing her a little doubtfully. ”did you not anticipate that I would accept?”
She shrugged uncomfortably. “I usually don’t.” This smile was hard and cutting. “Hurts less that way. You … felt pretty hesitant, so I just figured you were putting me off.”
Loki hesitated, weighing his options—it was true that he knew next to nothing about caring for a cat. He had gathered some small information off of the internet, but pride had prevented him from doing any real asking. “…I have a few minute—I suppose I might,” he said at last.
Her tone went sardonic. “Well, don’t let me keep you if you’re busy.” Starting up the stairs, she added, around the knee-length fall of hair, “If you want, though, I’m in 4B. The door will be open.” Summer ran up the stairs and vanished inside.
He blinked and watched her go, then looked down at Macrowafter. “…Well, what do you think?”
He deposited Macrowafter in his bedroom and made sure the window and the door were firmly shut before rather hesitatingly making his way downstairs to 4B. There was much he had to learn about caring for cats—surely this girl could provide him with some much needed information.
Summer rather figured that would be the last she’d see of Loki; he’d come across as distant and not very interested. It was a shame; she could use a local friend. Long-distance friendships all the time were oddly lonely.
So when he turned up in her doorway, she was a little startled, looking up from the apparently boneless heap of cream-and-seal fur sprawled on the floor belly-up. The cat in question cracked one blue eye, then shot across the room as Summer scrambled to her feet. “You did come!”
His gaze flicked over her again, and then back down to Macrowafter. “…do cats require playmates? I know little of these creatures, I’m afraid.”
Both her brows arched up. “Would you like some advice? I’ve had — well, been had by cats all my life.” Her tone was very dry. “Cats do what they want, and you please them, or suffer the consequences. On the other hand,” she gently scratched under Cat’s willing chin, “the rewards are quite nice too.”
Summer glanced back up at Loki. “Tell you what, why don’t you drop this fella off where he belongs, and come up to my place, meet my four. I can teach you all about being a slave to cats.” Her faint southern accent thickened slightly on the last words.
Loki hesitated, weighing his options—it was true that he knew next to nothing about caring for a cat. He had gathered some small information off of the internet, but pride had prevented him from doing any real asking. “…I have a few minute—I suppose I might,” he said at last.
Her tone went sardonic. “Well, don’t let me keep you if you’re busy.” Starting up the stairs, she added, around the knee-length fall of hair, “If you want, though, I’m in 4B. The door will be open.” Summer ran up the stairs and vanished inside.
“Four.” Loki’s eyebrows rose. ”Astonishing you have any time to call your own.” He shifted Macrowafter to rest in the crook of one arm, sliding his other hand into his trouser pocket. ”…it is a rather lengthy story.”
“After the first two they’re self-amusing.” Summer let herself have a little moment to admire the very fine man standing there, eyes flicking up and down his lithe frame, before she reined herself in. No use getting caught up in someone so obviously closed off. You didn’t have to be an empath to read that.
“I’m sorry, am I keeping you? If you get me started on certain things I have to be shut up, and I’m afraid cats is one of them.” Summer gave a self-deprecating shrug and a sardonic little laugh. “Just because I’ve nothing to do with my time right now, I forget the same isn’t true of others.”
His gaze flicked over her again, and then back down to Macrowafter. “…do cats require playmates? I know little of these creatures, I’m afraid.”
Both her brows arched up. “Would you like some advice? I’ve had — well, been had by cats all my life.” Her tone was very dry. “Cats do what they want, and you please them, or suffer the consequences. On the other hand,” she gently scratched under Cat’s willing chin, “the rewards are quite nice too.”
Summer glanced back up at Loki. “Tell you what, why don’t you drop this fella off where he belongs, and come up to my place, meet my four. I can teach you all about being a slave to cats.” Her faint southern accent thickened slightly on the last words.
“It’s a quiet neighborhood,” Loki said with a brief smile. ”and no, not particularly. Macrowafter found me, and he’s the sole lord and master of my household. Silly me—before acquiring a cat, I considered myself to be the most evolved creature on this planet.”
“Welcome to life as a cat slave. I’ve got four.” She tilted her head to one side, eyeing him. “Do I want to know why his real name is Macrowafter? Or is this like the story of why Doc is called Doc?”
“Four.” Loki’s eyebrows rose. ”Astonishing you have any time to call your own.” He shifted Macrowafter to rest in the crook of one arm, sliding his other hand into his trouser pocket. ”…it is a rather lengthy story.”
“After the first two they’re self-amusing.” Summer let herself have a little moment to admire the very fine man standing there, eyes flicking up and down his lithe frame, before she reined herself in. No use getting caught up in someone so obviously closed off. You didn’t have to be an empath to read that.
“I’m sorry, am I keeping you? If you get me started on certain things I have to be shut up, and I’m afraid cats is one of them.” Summer gave a self-deprecating shrug and a sardonic little laugh. “Just because I’ve nothing to do with my time right now, I forget the same isn’t true of others.”
He glanced up at her—and then back down at the cat, a brief, polite smile crossing his face. ”…I am Loki. Thank you for keeping him out of the street.”
“Bless, of course. It’s nice to meet you, Loki.” Summer pushed a long lock of hair behind one ear and gestured around. “I was starting to wonder if anyone else actually lived in this building, for all the life around here.”
Going back down to pick up her brush, she called back, “So you’re a cat person, then? Any others besides that little mischief maker?”
“It’s a quiet neighborhood,” Loki said with a brief smile. ”and no, not particularly. Macrowafter found me, and he’s the sole lord and master of my household. Silly me—before acquiring a cat, I considered myself to be the most evolved creature on this planet.”
“Welcome to life as a cat slave. I’ve got four.” She tilted her head to one side, eyeing him. “Do I want to know why his real name is Macrowafter? Or is this like the story of why Doc is called Doc?”
Loki took the kitten, cradling him in two long hands. “He keeps slipping out—I have no idea how. Magic, I think.” He was frowning down at the kitten—who was unabashedly chewing on his cuffs—speaking rather absently. ”…his name is actually Macrowafter, but he usually comes when I call ‘cat’.”
“All cats have the magic of escape,” Summer said sagely. “Or at least, all the ones I’ve ever known, and that’s quite a lot!” She petted Cat’s nose softly. “They’re born stinkers.”
Looking up, she offered a bright smile. “I’m glad we could find you. I’m Summer.”
He glanced up at her—and then back down at the cat, a brief, polite smile crossing his face. ”…I am Loki. Thank you for keeping him out of the street.”
“Bless, of course. It’s nice to meet you, Loki.” Summer pushed a long lock of hair behind one ear and gestured around. “I was starting to wonder if anyone else actually lived in this building, for all the life around here.”
Going back down to pick up her brush, she called back, “So you’re a cat person, then? Any others besides that little mischief maker?”
“CAT!” It was a man’s voice, and he was fairly bellowing as he clattered down the last flight of stairs. ”So help me, you’re better be—” he emerged from the building and stopped abruptly at the sight of Summer and the little black kitten. He was a tall man, built along graceful, long lines rather than powerful ones. His black hair was swept back from his patrician face, and he wore slacks, button down shirt and a vest. “…pardon me, but it appears as though you have located Cat.”
Summer’s mouth twitched suspiciously. She glanced down at the feline lounging in the curve of one arm, then back up. “You let your human name you Cat?” Shaking her head, she walked up to the man and offered the cat. “He’s a friendly fellow, your Cat.” Her eyes danced with laughter. “Maybe a little too friendly, hey?”
Loki took the kitten, cradling him in two long hands. “He keeps slipping out—I have no idea how. Magic, I think.” He was frowning down at the kitten—who was unabashedly chewing on his cuffs—speaking rather absently. ”…his name is actually Macrowafter, but he usually comes when I call ‘cat’.”
“All cats have the magic of escape,” Summer said sagely. “Or at least, all the ones I’ve ever known, and that’s quite a lot!” She petted Cat’s nose softly. “They’re born stinkers.”
Looking up, she offered a bright smile. “I’m glad we could find you. I’m Summer.”