Mew?
——
…Hi there. *picks the kitten up*
*headbutts Tony, purring like an engine*
*chuckles and scratches her ears while
(totally not)cuddling her to his chest*
*is scritched for a few minutes and then rattles her ears hard, hanging on to his shirt*
Mew?
——
…Hi there. *picks the kitten up*
*headbutts Tony, purring like an engine*
stop that cat. before it ends up all over the floor. that’s probably your evil plan anyway.
[the asklimit is incredibly hateful]
Summer shrugged uncomfortably, but met his eyes nonetheless. “I’m a mutant. An empath. I’m not staying here. I’ve a life, in New York, in the city. But I thought you should know.”
“An empath.. you’re the first one I’ve met.” He eyes at Summer with a curious smile. “I’m not forcing you to stay dear, you don’t have to be afraid.” He rests his hands on his lap, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. “How’s your life like in the city? How do you manage to hide your abilities, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Hiding the mutant ability is easy. It’s amazing how many people simply assume I’m reading body language, facial expressions, tones of voice. Phrasing. I don’t,” she hesitates, “manipulate. Unless I have to. Absolutely have to. Just knowing is enough, most days.”
She laughs, a little bitterly. “Most days, just knowing is all I can take. It just comes in and in and in, and for a long time there was no out. That’s the part that’s harder to hide.” Summer works her fingers a little, the curious gesture of someone used to working with their hands. “If I don’t find an out, I convulse.” Looking down, she goes on, “Until I discovered this.” And abruptly both hands are covered in flames.
I really hate it when you’re trying to roleplay with this person and she barely replies to the things you leave, but instead she will reply to the other people. It crushes me quite so. I feel so ignored and I can’t do anything to suppress these feelings I’ve been having. I shouldn’t feel so gloomy about it, but sometimes I can’t help it. I’m tired of being ignored.
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.