THE FOOL

“No um,” It’d caught him off guard a bit, being asked to join. On one hand, more bonding, which was great and he’d like to get to know Mitch a bit more. On the other hand, his video game experience included solo player stuff in college or getting his ass handed to him as a kid by his brothers. That definitely wasn’t something ‘cool guy’ could admit to. Reese played it off by glancing at his watch and shifting his weight against the doorframe. “I’m kind of shit at them?” 

But maybe it was too late and he was too tired to keep the charade up for right now. Besides it was only them, right? Even if this wasn’t a session, it wasn’t like a little vulnerability, a little company, would kill him. He was more than just their pseudo therapist, had needs for companionship outside of ‘how does that make you feel’. 

That whole train of thought, of self care, wasn’t going to last that long so he figured he might as well make the best of it before he retreated back to his room. “More of a Zelda guy myself.” The smile he offered was shy, accompanied by the action of smoothing his fingers through his hair. “College friends used to do the whole Rockband and Guitar Hero thing outside of actual band practice but anything else and I’m not really a worthy opponent.”

the refusal kind of caught him by surprise, but he shrugged and put it back down, careful not to get cheeto dust on anything. “ in all fairness, i am incredibly bad at them as well, which is why i’d hoped for some equal competition. “ he grins over at reese, before pulling his feet up onto the seat as well and wrapping his arms around his knees.

he nodded as he listened, trying to figure out the ulterior motive (he’d already declined an offer of the more salacious nature, but that didn’t mean he’d been telling the truth before-). “ who knows, you might even beat me? “

mitch wasn’t sure if he wanted reese to play, a forced interaction that would be uncomfortable for both of them. “ or do you want to go do something else? “

She’s still looking at him, seeing him, her head tilting as he speaks. Maybe she stepped over a line there. Or rather, not over an uncrossable line but closer to a cliff edge he has vertigo just from imagining. 

So there she is, tilting her head and pursing her lips before stepping back to him and carefully working his fingers out of his hair. She leads him by the hand to her old bed, all but pushes him onto it. Just before she can wrap him up again Carpet waddles into the room and hops into his lap.

“My magic is promise,” she tells him absently as she busies herself making him more comfortable. “Promises of the future. Advice for now. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. But I don’t really make those promises, I just explain them. I’m not promising… I’m just telling you what will always be true for me.” She pauses to scratch the cat behind his ears and look at Mitch again. He may not believe her, but she doesn’t mind. She knows she means what she says. As long as she sticks to her words, he might as well hear them. “Because I say it will.”

The sky could fall, ash and destruction could rain down; only the Ancients could have any clue what was coming for them, besides the glimpse she was given. None of that would matter where this was concerned. Her tent in the post-apocalyptic wasteland would have room for him.

Tiny footprints on the wooden floor warn her of several new cats trotting into the room. A tabby and a tortoiseshell wind around her ankles while their friend heads straight to join Carpet. Soon  all of them coalesce around Mitch. That in itself is proof that he’s part of the family now.

The doorway creaks in greeting and Lailani turns to see her mother. Neither of them move. Candice eyes the furry pile on the bed wearily but doesn’t ask, because new people showing up at all hours is fairly normal at Blue Robin Ave.

“It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Mama.”

Candice dips her chin, scrutiny in her eyes. Whether or not she’s too skinny, whether there’s any evidence of hardship on her daughter’s face - she scans for those things discreetly. Lailani tries not to fidget as it happens. Then, Candice nods. “Come here.”

Lailani steps up to her mother, her hands coming up as if to hug her, only to fall back to her sides so her sleeves overtake them. Candice is the one who touches first, brushing hair out of her face and sighing. Lailani has never understood that sigh.

“Make dinner with me later, yes?” It’s not a request, and Lailani perks up just a little as she nods. Their bond is not easily understood even by them, but where there are few embraces, there is much time spent side by side, soaking in a gentle quiet. Satisfied, Candice pats her daughter’s cheek and departs. Lailani stays in the doorway, watching her walk away, and then turns back to Mitch.

Her fingers go straight to him with more purpose than ever. He’s trapped with a cat on his chest, making him perfect prey for her newfound desire to fluff his hair at all times. It reminds her of when she was little, splayed across her grandmother’s lap, half asleep listening to lullabies she can still hum now as she sits beside him. “There’s a word for you,” she murmurs, caught up in memory. “I’ll have to ask my aunt. Si… Shio… No.” Her nose scrunches. “I never remember well. But it’s what you are to me. I’ll find out what it is so I can tell you.”

She returns to her tuneless humming until a thought crosses her mind and her fingers still momentarily. “Where did you first meet your… not-you?” The idea of hers following them to Virginia chills her blood.

The thought of his, too, and perhaps that is worse because his wants to steal him and not let him come home.

Definitely worse.

he can’t protest, can’t move away as her fingers wrap into his own, tangle with his hair before letting it go, her hands always gentle where his can only bruise, scar, force forgetting. her hands in his and he can’t move away, can’t break her, break her grip, can’t take her with him when he would want to get away. 

he follows, hand like a leash and he ignores the fact that he could break the collar without a second thought. he doesn’t protest, still speechless, incapable of forming thoughts as every cell in his body tries to divide, to flee and to take root

his hands are trembling

he notices that fact vaguely, looks down at them when suddenly there’s a cat in his lap so he buries his hands in their fur and he can pretend he’s not shaking.

he listens to her words, lets the pattern of them turn to memory turn to scars to promises to sunlight sunburn sunshine

he believes her

that’s the problem. cause he believes himself as well.

then there are two more cats surrounding him and he would daresay that he starts to relax, thoughts returning to coherence, before theres someone else in the doorway and he turns to ice again.

he watches, pretends to puzzle out human interaction, gives up quickly and lets his eyes flutter shut as she stalks towards him. there’s no way that he could open them when her hand then starts to thread through his hair.

a word for him? what would be his word for her? 

“ 누나 “

he doesn’t remember saying it, cause if he did he would have to flee, a submission a surrender instead of truce and resignation. 

everything was collapsing in the same way that it always was, what felt like a castle of cards collapsing but it was a tower and it was infinitely tall and would never hit the ground. also, he could fly, because this was a vaguely lucid dream and the ground wasn’t real.

still, the sensation of plummeting was highly uncomfortable, and the atmosphere in the kitchen felt identical to it. so, as usual, he fled, heading upstairs to ... find someone? chill in his room? he didn’t have a direction, so let his feet take him.

his headphones were on and he was watching a cat video as he stopped for a moment in the middle of the corridor, engrossed, before he was suddenly no longer on his feet.

wham

that was the sound of him colliding none-too-gently with the wall. boneless, he slid to the ground, his head ringing too much to let himself shift out of the hallway.

Don’t freak out. The teleporting thing, other people’s powers in general, it’d been six years and he still just…Life was already so goddamn weird but it still took some getting used to. Reese recovered quickly from being startled by the use of Mitch’s powers by relaxing more against the doorway and relinquishing the Cheetos. Shifting, he glanced down at his watch only to give a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I think you were still here when I left and that was around eight.” 

It was a little tidbit, the reaction. Mitch had been open to the offer, whether it was out of actual necessity for food or politeness, he wasn’t sure. But he’d take any progression, even a small one, as a win. Crossing his arms over his chest he gave a small nod towards the computer. “Is it that good or are you that bored?” Back to ‘cool guy’, back to a semblance of playfulness. Mitch gave him that vibe, that he was receptive to that kind of thing. And the question sounded better than asking if he’d actually eaten anything during that time. Or maybe Mitch was more open to that? He had no clue, getting to know somebody was such a weird territory.

around eight. cool. what time was it now?

he glanced around his room before remembering that he still hadn’t bought himself a clock, and that time was an illusion anyway, so he shifted back to his seat and curled up on it, snacks in his lap.

he shrugs at the question, a handful of cheetos already in his mouth (yep, his stomach is now hungry again), wonders why reese offered, why he’s standing in the doorway and not gone away or walked in already.

“ kinda boring but kinda addictive. “ a beat of silence. “ you need something? “

sure, reese had been nice and encouraging and sort of acted like a therapist to everyone, even as he’d managed to shrug off most inquiries into his personal self, and he wasn’t interested if that was what this was but the dude was nice so-

“ do you wanna play? “ he picks up the other controller and offers it out, perhaps a human will be easier to beat than this unbeatable computer.

Poor Mitch, floundering to keep his head above water. Lailani bumps his knee with hers, hopes the gesture is grounding when it’s probably just disruptive. He looks like he’s hesitating at the cliff’s edge so she takes her fork too, spearing a dumpling and using it to hide her smile. It keeps her from speaking, too, which gives too many other voices a chance to jump in.

“Yes,” Carmen says at precisely the same moment that Eliza tells him, “Not quite,” so Carmen waves a hand near her head with a very youthful eye roll. “We in this room are, yes. Eliza here is my youngest daughter and Lailani is her niece. The rest are family of assorted kinds. Is Maria related to us?”

“No, her family is from Colombia,” Eliza chimes in. “But Njeri married into the family, I think. Somehow. Or was that Nikki?”

“Nikki isn’t married, dear.”

“Thank God,” they say as they pass by the kitchen door, adding in their wake, “Most of us just come and go like hungry dogs.”

Lailani took their moment of back-and-forth to push another plate closer to Mitch. “Eat,” she insists, too quiet for this loud, colorful house. “We can roam around in the woods later.” There are too many people for him to get to know, and he’s already part of her family anyway. There’s plenty of time for that in the future, between his trips elsewhere to work off the frenetic magic sparking under his skin.

Her reassuring murmurs don’t go unnoticed. Eliza finally gives up on being the host and sits beside them, smiling so her round cheeks are rounder still. She almost brushes Lailani’s hair off her face, her hand stopping just inches away before retreating. “What brings you home, dear? Your friend looks perfectly shell-shocked, which means you did not warn him at all about us, did you?” She clucks her tongue but it’s playful, like she always is. Carmen laughs in that way of hers that says how could anyone be adequately warned about us?

“I missed being home,” is all Lailani says at first, stirring her tea with her finger so she can avoid looking directly at either of them. They can only know so much, and that has never been a problem - when Feiyan found her, they understood her life would always be a little beyond them. It was a good excuse not to explain the fear she’s starting to feel all the time, at The Lair or not. The vision she’d just had… Something was very wrong with the world for The World’s absence, and none of it was getting better.

Absently her free hand drifted up to Mitch’s hair despite not having his permission in the moment, despite the look on his face that was quite clearly a plea for her protection from the whirlwind of new, despite the fact that her family was right there watching her touch without asking.

Though, at least for the last point she has some sort of defense. “And Mitch is my brother, so I wanted to show him around.” 

Carmen and Eliza share a look at that news, but they’ve always been all about taking things in stride. “We get so few brothers around here! Well good, I was thinking of doing stir fry for dinner so we’ll have the perfect amount of food to add you two in, and one of the rooms upstairs is actually empty for once so you’ll both have plenty of space for as long as you’re staying-”

They really would go on like that for ages if allowed, so as soon as Lailani sees Mitch eat more than two bites she slides her hand into his carefully and pulls him out of the kitchen, up a winding staircase, stopping twice to step over a cat and to pick up another cleverly disguising himself as carpet. “This is Carpet,” she says by way of introduction.

At last they’re in her old room and it’s quieter - not quiet, because once inside 3 Blue Robin Ave there’s no real escape from everyone - but quieter, which is the best she can offer. She does so with a sheepish shrug. “They’re a lot.” Yet she feels a little better already. It’s hard to feel magic crashing down around their ears when everyone int he house is so matter-of-fact about their strangeness. The Lair only has that quality some of the time.

He looks pale, or maybe just cold, or - more likely - completely overwhelmed, so she tugs her old comforter off the bed and wraps it around him like a downy cloak. “You should stay for dinner though, if you want. And as long as I’m here, if you want that too. I do.” She’s still not sure if saying it so openly makes him feel better or worse, but ever since the night they’d made their nest in the library window, she just knows honesty works for him. She ought to say exactly how she feels. It’s something very few others in her life have ever asked. 

“You’re family now. Everyone here comes here when they want, and leaves when they want.” It’s an echo of what she said to him on nest night. She’s looking at him now, rare clarity in her gaze. “You’ll always have a place wherever I am.”

laila grabs a dumpling, so he does as well, hesitating for a moment before taking a bite. 

it’s .. not exactly like the dumplings that he’s had before but they are amazing in a way that he doesn’t remember (kimbap rolled messily, seaweed soup on a birthday, flashes of the past in a bite despite being completely different) and he’s eaten three before he stops for a breath.

then the answers start flooding in, chiming from the doorway, around the room, and he drowns it out by eating quickly. he’s tempted to shove some of the bread into his pocket, instinct to save food for later, but knows he could find it elsewhere if he really needs to. 

still - 

he looks longingly at the piece while his mouth is full, but laila is still pushing food towards him so he relaxes. perhaps, if he’s good and they like him, he’ll get more.

then there’s an undercurrent in the room, some tension he can see in her shoulders that feels wrong but normal, but he shrugs it off for spearing another dumpling. he completely forgets about it when her hand brushes through his hair, and he feels the contact ground him, and the panic that still churned in his stomach at the newness and the family and the fear, it eases slightly.

he finally looks up from the plates, over to her, ignores the way that everyone is looking at him as he’s ...

claimed is the wrong word, but is the best one for him, a collar with a tag unusual but warm and safe and that’s what her hand in his hair feels like, like claiming and homes and the word brother echoes in his head and his stomach starts to protest the food he’s just inhaled and any blush has dropped away to paleness.

he just about sets his fork down, doesn’t drop it, tries to say something but the conflict is choking and one hand reaches up to rub at his neck but the room is full of noise again, arguments not quite over him but like its background noise and needed and he can’t speak can’t breathe

her hand slips into his and he thinks that he’s been half-tangible, half way into disappearing since she’d said it and his hand tightens in hers as they step out of the kitchen and he feels numb and too full at the same time.

he nods in half-awareness at Carpet, stands where she leaves him in her room, lets the blanket get draped across his shoulders but doesn’t take a move to accept or reject it.

continued acceptance and claiming and wanting and hoping and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be giving to her for all of this, this unequal trade of affection and stability and support.

there’s an unconscious moment where his knees almost buckle and he would offer himself if he didn’t know that that wasn’t what she wanted. where she could tear open his skin and grip his heart and scar him endlessly if it meant she would continue to offer these gilded promises.

he flickers out of existence, appears half a foot closer to the door, the comforter dropping to the ground where he stood. “ i- “

he can’t leave.

one hand snakes up to grip the hair at the base of his skull, tugs hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

“ don’t make promises you can’t keep “

She’s learned to be less surprised with the way he appears in the library, the things he says, and this time she doesn’t shriek and drop something. She looks up from the journal she has been paging through, shuts it and walks closer to examine his plate.

“ Been watching a lot of Animal Planet lately? ” The smile is followed by a perplexed look as she actually sees what’s on the plate. “ Are those … marshmallows? ” Shouldn’t be surprising, though. Mitch has never been too conventional, but approaching him gives her more than a closer look at his interesting fare choices.

“ Want some tea to go with it? ” Perhaps an even weirder combination, but she could feel the residual nervousness rolling off him, something she was pretty sure was not attributed to her. And yet she wouldn’t push, not now, at most would only ask of her own volition later on when he had settled. But for now … “ How are the lessons with Daniel going? ”

“ yea, there was a documentary on felines, and it makes sense, because why would humans be the only things with allergies? honestly, why do allergies even exist? “

he rambles on as she moves closer, taking a crunchy soft bite in the face of her incredulity. “ of course. i watched a show and one character made these so i tried it and its actually really good. do you want some? “

he offers her the other side of the sandwich, feeling his mood shift to better things, the familiar tone of teasing and energy burning away the hesitation. 

“ only if the tea is actually chocolate milk. “ his tongue sticks out at her, before lounging back in his chair to look up at her. “ going well, we’re still doing stuff i find interesting, and we’ve moved on from the tudors. but i don’t want to talk about learning --- “ he drags the last word out into a plantive whine, before sitting back up and jumping to sit up on the table.

he’d been trying to make a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich in the kitchen for dinner, watching as the mallows melted from the heat of the toast. he had been humming while he worked, before nadine walked in. there was a beat, anxiety flaring in his chest before he grabbed the plate, gave her a half-hearted smile and shifted.

he landed lightly on his feet in the library, his heart still beating too fast, but he let out a long breath and started to look around for liese. 

A dizzying wave of self-loathing arcs from Mitch into Lailani’s fingers. It feels real to her, though she’s sure arguing won’t help. He’s always quite certain of himself despite his constant refrain about nothing being real, everything an illusion. She lives her life in multiple realities at once - she’s quite certain the boy she clings to now is real.

The one across the room, not so much, though he speaks as if he is. “Maybe is sometimes all that can be expected of you,” he says softly to Mitch. “I knew that from the start. Just like I know Ghost would never have given me even a maybe to hang on. Eli would have laughed me off. But Mitch is a little different from those that came before. Aren’t you? The names that come after will belong to someone on his own, even if you turn me down. You’re always on your own, Mitch. At least with me, with what I’m offering, you don’t have to worry about people like her clinging for their own purposes.”

She understands very little until his eyes slide to her with an unmistakable darkness in their depths. It’s difficult to counter, though, the easy suspicion being cast on her. Mitch is so quick to believe everyone will leave him even if they are literally holding him close and begging him to stay. 

So that’s not the part she has to discredit, then. “What if I make him stay with me?” she asks, swallowing the tremor threatening to undermine her tentative show of courage. He turns his gaze on her.

“That’s not your choice to make.”

“I told my visitor no, because I don’t want to hurt people like she has,” she said, a steelier edge to her voice than ever before in her life. “She hasn’t taken it well. You’ll do the same, won’t you? You don’t care if you hurt Mitch.”

“You mean like you inevitably will?”

She for only a moment. The truth is better than nothing. “I might, but I don’t want to.” Mitch’s hand is still wrapped tightly in her slender fingers. “I never intend to. Who have you hurt? Does anyone matter to you?”

He tilts his head, exposing the too-sharp line of his jaw. “They were just going to hurt me. Mitch won’t, though, will you?” He holds out a bird-boned hand, affecting a gentle, knowing smile. Lailani pulls Mitch back an inch, angling herself in front of him, wondering only after if that was appropriate. If Mitch would hate her for standing in his way.

The thought evaporates when the other’s expression darkens, if only momentarily.

somehow, the answer given is what he was seeking and yet it hurt, sting of the knowledge that he has betrayed, has disappointing someone once again. maybe is all that can be expected and yet that is all anyone can expect from everyone else, the meaning of truth and promises held more sacred when the only sight of land is driftwood.

it’s all that can be expected and yet he has already made one promise here, to take laila home if she asks for it, which means he’s got to be around, which means he’s got to do it. a promise that still binds, unlike the half fettered one his duplicate made, fulfilled in letter and not in intent and cryptic half-hidden language is just as bad as lying.

indignation, reminder of connection, then fear? vulnerability flash through him at the mention of his names, his past selves, demons and hauntings and deaths. 

“ you know, “ he answers, languid and sarcastic, “ mitch is the one who hasn’t been alone, not yet. odd, crazy man, insert last name here, mitchin nom, insanity and insult, has people who hang on. “

he lets that stew in the air for a second, before scoffing, defenses firming, unable to let hope colour his voice. “ the others, the ones in the future, they’ll have their own lives, i know how this ends, but that applies to your offer as well “

people cling only if they are fulfilling their own purpose.

he doesn’t mind.

then they’re arguing, still over who gets him and he’d be offended if he didn’t know that possession was the only way to keep love, but that idea scares him more. his eyes flicker between them, that itch to escape still present but he can’t tear himself away.

“ you’re forgetting, i hurt everyone. “ it’s why they leave goes unsaid, eye contact sharp as if his reflection forgot. 

then his hand extends, inviting, but laila is pulling him behind her like a defender, hackles rising like a lioness, mother bear protecting. she’s going to be so hurt when she’s forced to leave him behind.

some peace and quiet was truly all he asked for. it’s been all too loud in the lair as of late, with all of them returning to - questionable matters at best. it’s hard to forget the message seared into his closet, smoke still clinging to the singed wood when he found it. 

god, he’s starting to see why everyone hated him if he was half as difficult as his - counterpart. 

peace and quiet are elusive at best, even outside of the lair, apparently - loud voices of help ring through the street, and it’s unsurprising that the few stragglers left at this hour are hardly jumping to the rescue. 

he’ll speedwalk. maybe.

perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised, really, at the familiar figure pressed up to the wall with a stranger leering over him with the glint of a gun - 

it’s instinct - the grab of collars, harsh tugs and fist meet nose, heel meet wrist, gun clattering into the corner of the alleyway - routine of younger days, less perhaps a few less small fires. 

“are you fucking serious.” kian’s half snarling at the boy, eyeing his frame for a quick second to deduce that he was shaken at most, heat still coursing through veins. “could you perhaps not get us killed in the middle of several ongoing crises that are already pending in line? and if you must, could it be for something worth more than a couple bucks?” 

steady breaths. he tries to even out the flames that are begging to be set alight - perhaps onto an unfortunate stranger left lying in the dirt - and focuses on mitch instead, teeth grinding. 

“what are you doing out here anyways? if you needed money, you should’ve just told me.” 

he didn’t dare move as the pressure on his arm was lifted, as it reaches towards his pocket, breath halting in his throat as his ear still rings from the gunshot. 

then the pressure is lifted and he sags against the wall, falling to his knees, one hand on the brickwork to keep him upright. he watches, mouth slightly agape at the efficient way that kian appears, deals with his assailant who is, all of a sudden, unconscious on the ground.

a half laugh slips from parted lips and he flips off the stranger, before pushing himself up to crouch, arms wrapped around his shins. 

“ my saviour “ he smirks, sarcasm and appreciate rolled together. he reaches up to touch the side of his face, he thinks he might be bleeding from his right ear, and that side of his face is scratched up to hell. nothing dana can’t fix in a while.

he tilts his head back and lets out a sigh, tries to release the adrenaline coursing through his system. it’s strange, how unfamiliar life and death has become in a place where that’s what they think they are fighting for, two months (he thinks) and his survival skills have plummeted. 

“ you have to have realised by now that i am never serious, and i am only half tryng to not get myself killed, and none of you were in any danger. “ he can feel his breathing settle, so his pushes off the wall up to his feet, taking a moment to let his balance settle again. 

He looked like Mitch and he acted like Mitch, down to his posture with his hands in his pockets and that sliver of self-deprecation whenever he spoke. From his position down the corridor, he continued to speak, telling her of his own bizarre interaction without any pressure for her to agree or believe or whatever.  When he finally took a step closer, her gaze dropped to the crunch of ice below his shoes and her shoulders tensed. As if on cue, more needles of ice grew, though not necessarily in his direction. They expanded now outside her control, acting on the strong and uncontrolled emotional impulse. Azra whimpered slightly.

“Just… don’t touch me,” she answered without looking at him. “D-don’t fall, I’ll try to… um…” To focus herself, she unwound her arms from around her torso and raised them as she channeled the unknown magic again, this time to melt off some of the ice in order to make Mitch’s approach a bit less precarious. To her credit, she did so without any more wild explosions of magic and energy, though she did manage to raise the temperature in the hallway to a stifling, uncomfortable place. A few of the larger ice spikes lingered, but the rest had liquefied and gathered in pools on the uneven, partially-sand-covered floor. The bottom third of all the walls had warped in her spellcasting, leaving them akin in appearance to something out of a Dalí. 

“So you saw everything… heard everything?” she asked as he neared. Subconsciously she leaned slightly away from him, as though still afraid this was a lie and she’d be forced to run again at a moment’s notice. “And… and you saw… you saw yourself too?”

his hair was standing on end, though that may have been due to the unearthly chill, or due to the sound of fresh ice cracking and growing, scattered through the hall. not aimed at him, though, so he refused to let himself tense, to let himself worry.

he took the space into account, waited for the air to grow hot, then unbearable hot, where he could feel the sweat prick at his temples, but he didn’t move until she relaxed.

it was now a unique form of interior decoration, but infinitely more attractive than the elegant sameness that was felt through the rest of the building, and he told her as much as he walked towards her, before moving to have his back to the same wall as her, within reaching distance but still distant.

“ i did, though honestly i didn’t process that much. too much attempting to solve a mystery that has no answer. “ he noted the way that she leant away, so he moved back just a touch, trying to remember that this rejection wasn’t a normal circumstance.

“ and i did. very interesting fellow, wants me to leave you all and seek the power for myself as well. very good in bed. “ he smirked as he finished the statement, winking at her before looking down at his hands in his lap.

i nearly said yes refused to slip from his lips and he wondered why something like shame was bubbling in his stomach, why his words refused to articulate the inevitability of him leaving and how this was merely an option and he had no intention of seeking power.

he didn’t want to be the one who betrayed the others

“Nameless, I haunt for god and love / in extinct places, curve myself inside desire’s eye and drink.”

Now Balfour looked at him, his face as bored as a cat’s face could possibly be. If this was another attempt to pet him, it was doomed before he’d ever laid down. “I’d argue with you over your actions if I thought it’d make a difference.”

His tail swept back and forth, but this time it thumped into Mitch where he curled on the floor, marking him far too close. “I have more important things to do.” But did he really? The sunbeam looked so enticing… Mitch certainly seemed to agree. How much would it hurt to roll over and doze off?

No. Not with Mitch there, certainly. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care,” he said, jaws opening in a yawn halfway through. “It’s none of my business how you waste your day.”

“ you’ve only been here for, how long? or is the indifference and inability to follow orders something my past selves had as well? “ if there was anyone to ask about reincarnation, why not the mass hallucinated cat? not that ... he’d told ballyo in as many words that that was what he was.

the sunlight was so warm and he’d been doing a lot of jumping around lately, the longer distances putting a larger strain on him than normal, and he felt himself unwind slightly, unable to open his eyes to address allfor.