liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

liesmith-loki:

He replied again in a high pitched little voice, squirming onto his back in her lap and batting at her fingers as she examined the collar.

There was the sound of a voice in the apartment building behind her, sounding somewhere high up in the stairwell—too far away as of yet to be intelligible. 

“Ohh, it’s tummy scritches you want. This better not be a trap!” she warned the black cat, insinuating her fingers under his waving paws. “If you were Kronos it would be a trap, yes it would. But you are a sweet kitty, aren’t you? Yes, who’s a sweet kitty?” She stroked his fuzzy belly, laughing.

“Need to find your humans, little man. I can’t take you in, I have too many already!” Still petting, she frowned slightly. “I guess I’ll just have to knock on all the doors until someone claims you. Bother.” Summer beeped his nose with a fingertip. “Silly kitty, wandering away from your humans.”

But the sunlight was warm and she didn’t move yet.

The kitten gave a miniature growl and seized a finger between his paws, gnawing on it with little white teeth.

The voice from the building grew a little in volume, the owner clearly hurrying down the stairs.  ”Cat—CAT!  Where have you gotten to, you little devil, you—”

“Ah, ah, noms! Nooo, noms!” Summer giggled. “Fierce kitty! I think I hear someone calling you, fierce kitty. Is that your human? Come on.”

She freed one hand from the fearsome kitten, keeping the other tucked around him as she got to her feet. Ignoring the brush and the swirl of loose red hair around her knees, she turned and started up the steps. “Hello? I think I found your cat,” she called ahead.

((I have some pix of Summer here for reference.))

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

“Hello, kitty,” Summer said, leaning over and tapping her hands together. “Are you a people kitty? Do you have humans? Come here.” She held out one extended finger, stretching toward the little black thing.

The little cat came to her eagerly with a high pitched little comment, tail up jauntily.  He was wearing a little green collar, though there were no tags which might indicate name or home.

She swooped him up, scritching behind his ears. “Someone’s friendly,” she cooed. “Your humans must be very good to you.” Petting down his back, she turned the collar round a few times. “Do you have a microchip, little man? Your collar doesn’t have any tags.”

He replied again in a high pitched little voice, squirming onto his back in her lap and batting at her fingers as she examined the collar.

There was the sound of a voice in the apartment building behind her, sounding somewhere high up in the stairwell—too far away as of yet to be intelligible. 

“Ohh, it’s tummy scritches you want. This better not be a trap!” she warned the black cat, insinuating her fingers under his waving paws. “If you were Kronos it would be a trap, yes it would. But you are a sweet kitty, aren’t you? Yes, who’s a sweet kitty?” She stroked his fuzzy belly, laughing.

“Need to find your humans, little man. I can’t take you in, I have too many already!” Still petting, she frowned slightly. “I guess I’ll just have to knock on all the doors until someone claims you. Bother.” Summer beeped his nose with a fingertip. “Silly kitty, wandering away from your humans.”

But the sunlight was warm and she didn’t move yet.

liesmith-loki:

i-am-the-firechild:

liesmith-loki:

Summer Rainault sat on the steps of her apartment building, watching the world go by and wondering what in the world had possessed her to move to New York City. An abandoned brush lay by the stream of hair spread over her knees, the ends stirring lightly in the wind.

The small black cat seemed to materialise out of no-where.  He was hardly bigger than a kitten, with one white rear paw and a white tip on his bushy tail.  He sprang up the bottom step, and then clambered up on the next—heading straight for the girl seated there.

“Hello, kitty,” Summer said, leaning over and tapping her hands together. “Are you a people kitty? Do you have humans? Come here.” She held out one extended finger, stretching toward the little black thing.

The little cat came to her eagerly with a high pitched little comment, tail up jauntily.  He was wearing a little green collar, though there were no tags which might indicate name or home.

She swooped him up, scritching behind his ears. “Someone’s friendly,” she cooed. “Your humans must be very good to you.” Petting down his back, she turned the collar round a few times. “Do you have a microchip, little man? Your collar doesn’t have any tags.”