feline fine, thanks for asking

"Skrimir, please don’t—!"

And again, for some number of times he couldn’t remember in the last few days, he was soaking wet. Skrimir hadn’t even given him time to change before pulling him into the pool—not that that would have made much of a difference, but it was the thought that counted, right?

"Not again…”

It didn’t take long for Ranulf to scurry off to his quarters in the castle and throw off his wet clothes in favor of some swimming trunks (a gift, incidentally, from Skrimir). At least it would be easier to dry himself off this way.

Ranulf was really getting tired of this water thing. A wet cat was not a happy cat.

"And here I thought that cats liked giving themselves baths." Soren replied, letting some flames dance between his fingers. "I suppose I can help you dry off though…"

Singing his tail was just so tempting, but perhaps it’d be just a little too cruel after their recent ‘reconciliation’… If what had happened back at the Keep could even be called that… So Soren instead sent a fierce breeze the cat’s way, enough to dry off his fur, and make it fluff up in a ridiculous manner. Bowling him over was an added bonus.

His fears were only slightly eased when Soren elected instead to blast him with wind—right into the ground. Ranulf thanked whatever gods were in charge that he had the decency to keep him away from the water this time. And also for the fact that he decided not to use fire, after all.

"Well, I’m glad you find this all very amusing," he huffed, picking himself up and brushing the dirt from his clothes. The damn mage was smiling, of course. Better than the alternative. ”Because I’m really not looking forward to taming this later.”

Ranulf trailed off, not wanting to stay on that train of conversation. He wasn't entirely sure if his own personal feelings about Naesala aligned properly with the current politics. "Yeah, he's a royal handful, all right, especially now that he's king. But I see a lot of promise in him, too. He learned a lot from the war, and yeah, it nearly killed us all, but it did some good in the end. And I—"

"…Ranulf…" Great, a beast. Soren tried not to let it show on his face. At the very least this was one that was tolerable, but the mage still stiffened considerably.

"I didn’t do it for you or your kind." He mumbled, eyes still trained on his book. "I did it because Ike asked me to, and nothing more…" Soren knew he could’ve left it at that, let his voice trail off and simply bided his time until the other left… But somehow that didn’t feel right. Not because he cared about what a beast thought of him, but because Ike had told him many times that he needed to let go of his harshness for laguz— he needed to move on… Easier said than done of course… but maybe forcing himself to give a stray cat the time of day was a good start. Soren lifted his gaze from his book to meet Ranulf’s.

"Of course," he said. "I understand, it was just your job. And I won’t question why you feel the way you do, but… thanks. And apology accepted, all the same."

He watched as the other continued to struggle with his own words. When they’d first met, there had always been something a little… off about Soren that Ranulf had never quite been able to put his finger on. He’d dismissed it as just an attitude problem and general racism, but soon it had clicked. Ranulf would be lying if he ever said he’d never actively avoided the tactician during the Mad King’s War (other than for the obvious reasons). Meeting Ike had changed him for the better, and seeing Soren trying to overcome that same barrier, given how much more he’d been through, gave him a little hope.

Of course, he'd probably never hear that story.

"You know…" Ike was right about you. You’ve changed. Slightly. But it’s progress. "Actually, never mind."

"…Ranulf…" Great, a beast. Soren tried not to let it show on his face. At the very least this was one that was tolerable, but the mage still stiffened considerably.

"It’s not my concern where a stray cat chooses to stay the night." He eventually said, glancing over his shoulder. "But Mist always did like feeding the animals for free, and surely the others would be pleased to have you." They were practically on the doorstep to the Keep anyways, turning Ranulf away now would just be cruel. Oh how he wanted to.

At least he had more self-control than his sub-commanders. Soren would’ve been in pieces at the hands—well, claws—of Lyre or Lethe by now.

"Thanks," he said instead, with genuine relief. The short walk to the keep was spent in silence.

Whatever unpleasantness remained in the pit of Ranulf’s stomach from Soren’s earlier comments was immediately eased when he was greeted warmly by the rest of the Greil Mercenaries. Mist and Titania were gracious, as always, and even the brothers seemed happy to see him. The redheaded archer was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t surprise him much at all.

It was a few hours later that Ranulf noticed Soren had been avoiding him completely—again, not a surprise, but…

With his acute sense of smell, it wasn’t hard to find the mage hiding in the far corners of the keep.