#narindad

Narinder has raised his kits from infancy.

They had learned to climb on his vestments, had learned to walk and speak and fight from his patient tutelage. He had soothed childish arguments and calmed fears, praised their achievements and encouraged their efforts. He knew the young tomcats better than anyone, aside from each other. Centuries trapped together in the Gateway had taught him much about them.

So when Aym, an already prickly young cat, had seemed to sour further on an apparently random basis… Narinder noticed.

Every so often Aym would straighten further, grasp his bo-staff (a hard-won compromise to the Lamb’s no-weaponry rule), and refuse most attempts at conversation. Those that he did respond to were met with curt answers or an exasperated growl, or a sharp glare. The only exception was Narinder himself- and the Lamb, to a lesser degree.

But Narinder raised this kit. Where others saw a moody cat, he saw a warrior striving to impress in the only way he knew how.

‘Posture, Aym. Disciples do not slouch.’

‘Your grip is too loose, you will lose your blade.’

‘Do not natter, young ones. Know your mind before you speak. Try again.’

‘That’s better.’

‘Adequate.’

‘Well done.’

He had been hard to please as a God, and as a parental figure. It was something he sometimes regretted, particularly when he reflected on how different the childhoods of the young birthed in the cult were compared to the two that had grown in his shadow. But he recognized Aym unconsciously sliding into the old habits that would have encouraged praise from his mentor at one time. In the Gateway, Narinder knew who it would have been for. But here? In the world of the living? Within the peaceful walls of the Lamb’s cult? That was harder to figure out.

It took time, and several late night conversations with his spouse. It wasn’t Narinder, Aym’s behaviour occurred too often whilst the former god was elsewhere. He had warmed up to the Lamb, but that that much. Baal was Aym’s closest confidant, and the one with whom Aym was frequently the most relaxed.

The answer came in the form of a soft grey she-cat. She was the only common denominator, present or mentioned during each supposed mood swing. This was not as revealing as Narinder had initially hoped. The cat, a healer named Maya, had very little sway in the cult. Even in the healing bay, she was very junior. There was no operational or bureaucratic gain to impressing her. It was irritatingly confusing.

Until the Lamb had snorted at him, pecked his cheek, and said Aym was more like his father than they had thought. After considering his own behaviour in the earliest days of their courtship (the topside version), Narinder reframed the situation.

Aym had only ever had an authority figure to impress in the past. He had no frame of reference for impressing a suitor, but he was trying what he knew however unconscious it may be. The former god had to repress the urge to cover his face in his hands (out of embarrassment or amusement, even he wasn’t sure).

The next time Aym stiffened, or became ‘battle-ready’ as the Lamb muttered fondly, Narinder watched his kit.

They were seated in the shade of a tree. He was going through reports from the building committee, and Aym was standing guard as faithfully as he had for hundreds of years. Both Narinder and the Lamb had tried to introduce the boys to different roles over the years, but Aym insisted this was his preferred task.

And then, Maya walked by; arms laden with camellias as she moved in the direction of the healing bay.

Narinder’s third eye watched Aym as the boy’s ears and eyes tracked the other cat closely, as still and rigid as a stone. He sighed internally.

“Maya.” His call was sudden, and she startled before turning to him with a bow.

“High Priest! My apologies, I did not see you there. Good morning!” Her voice was not unfamiliar to him, clear and sweet without being falsely so.

“Worry not.” He answered her quietly, allowing her to turn to his left.

“Good morning, Aym!” She smiled brightly, the tip of her tail flicking. Interesting.

Beside him, Aym seemed to startle. Blinking rapidly, he nodded sharply once but said nothing. The she-cat’s smile drooped slightly, as did her tail. Narinder stifled the urge to shake his head and instead called her attention back to himself.

“Were there no runners available to deliver those to the healing bay?” He asked, if only to save himself from a painfully awkward silence.

“O-oh, no- I mean, yes! I just volunteered, my Lord. I, um, I like the scent.” She tripped over her words with a sheepish smile.

“I see. We should not hold you further, then.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” She checked, but he shook his head.

“No, thank you. The offer is appreciated.” Narinder assured her, and her grin brightened at the praise. She bowed once more, and began to hurry away. A single, dark red camellia came loose from the bundle and fell unnoticed to the ground.

“M- Healer! Hold a moment!” Aym’s voice rang out this time, perhaps a little louder than necessary. Narinder’s eyebrow rose at the unexpected call, and he watched the other black cat scoop the flower up out of the grass before bounding down the hill. Maya had startled once again, tail still a little puffy as she turned, but she smiled all the same.

“Yes?”

Aym’s ears fluttered, as though they couldn’t decide whether to pin or lean forward, but he offered her the flower with no hesitation.

“You, uh, you dropped this.” He said quietly, and she blushed through the thin fur around her nose.

“O-oh, thank you!”

Narinder couldn’t see Aym’s face, but the pleased swish of his long black tail gave the patriarch an idea of what the other was thinking.

A moment or two of pleased, slightly awkward silence settled as she took the forgotten bloom, eyes presumably on Aym’s. Eventually the tomcat took half a step backwards and bowed at the waist. (Narinder definitely didn’t bother to stifle the proud spark at the sight. It was one he recognized from his own efforts to charm the Lamb, before their marriage and after they had reconciled.)

“Have a nice day, Healer.” Aym said softly as he rose.

Maya, for her part, looked just as flustered at the show of respect as Narinder was sure Aym was- though as stoic as he was, he was often betrayed by his tail… which was now curled stiffly into a curl. Her eyes followed Aym as he returned, before sliding to Narinder. It was nearly enough to make him chuckle, the way her eyes widened when they made eye contact. She hurried away once more.

The One Who Waits waited until Aym had settled next to him once more before speaking. Without raising his eyes from the plumbing report he was pretending to read, he murmured

“You should ask her for a walk.”

The reaction was immediate, as his words settled in. Aym’s tail puffed, and out of the corner of his eye he saw his disciple turn to him incredulously.

“M-master, it isn’t- I don’t-“

“Do not take me for a fool, Aym. I am well aware of attraction when it is before me so blatantly.” To say nothing of the Lamb’s part in translating the situation.

“I would never allow such a- a distraction from my duty to you, Master.”

This time Narinder let himself sigh aloud.

“I fully believe you to be capable of both, young one.”

It was quiet for several moments, until Narinder believed the conversation to be over.

“Do you think she is also… ‘attracted’?” The soft question came.

“A she-cat’s tail does not twitch that much if she isn’t interested in what she is looking at.” The older cat intoned, ignoring the pleased rumble of quiet purring from his kit.