#sissel 01

There’s nothing cuter than a cat curled up asleep in a guitar case... that is, unless you need to use the case. Klavier had been playing a small venue, and hadn’t even noticed the cat until after he’d finished his set.

“Hey there, Katze.” He hates to wake him, but he really does need to put his guitar away. He doesn’t see a collar or any sort of ID, but the bandana makes him think the cat can’t be a stray.

Kay’s not supposed to be here. She’s really, really not supposed to be here! Apparently people don’t like it when you ‘steal’ from their ‘stores’. She pulls herself further into her hiding spot behind a dumpster in an alley, staying as quiet as she can.

A rustling from nearby is almost enough to make her bolt. Is this it? Did they find her? Even though it’s night, she can see just fine, enough to make out the source of the noise.

“Oh, it’s a cat!” She lets out a sigh of relief, trying to slow her racing heartbeat. That was a close one! She reaches out to the cat; it sure is cute! It’s wearing a little bandana and everything.

“Hey, nice bandana! Look at that, we match.”

Carmen holds out her coat to the little cat as if to compare the color. Someone out there has a sense of style; red looks good on everyone! She pauses in her nighttime patrol, taking a minute to extend her hand toward the cat.

——- She remembers this one. 

It was not a warm day. There’d been sun, gracing L.A with light befitting of summer, but she’d worn a coat -- one of the few moments of her and mom leaving the space centre, together, for a frivolous occasion, that she remembers with clarity. She is small again and the world is loud, but her hand is warm, held in a calloused palm.

This is where she whines of the coat being heavy on her back, and it is. This is where she chooses not to, swallowing her discomfort down. ( The urge remains. ). 

I miss you, She says, this time upon impulse. No doubt misunderstanding, Metis frowns; explains it’s just been busy, promises to spend more time. Both little and present Athena know it’s an empty promise, and neither speak of it.

As per script, she leans down, unbuttoning Athena’s coat. As per script, a hand ( nail-bitten, she realizes now, of stress and habit ) brushes against her cheek in a rare form of physical affection. Her lips part to ask a question -- the memory ends. 

And Athena is no longer small, despite feeling no different. In the absence of everything that held her happiness in the memory, a tiny feline shadow appears in her sight.

 “Would you like something to eat, you sweet little thing? I might have a few snacks on me...” She absentmindedly began to search through her pockets, frowning at the lack of delicious treats hidden within them.  “....Well, I wouldn’t mind buying something from the store for you either.”