#vullcanica

Robert had known that Angel's presence would not be a permanent fixture in town early on. It had been easy enough to ignore, at least, as they continued to spend the majority of their time together. Maybe it had not been the best idea to ignore that ever-looming possibility of the other man leaving. He planned on simply dealing with the thought and emotions connected to it at a later date.

(Spoiler alert: He definitely did not deal with it at a later date).

"Why can't you just tell me?" His protest bears casual indignance, though huffs and eye-rolls know futility; once Nicodemo starts with his absurd whims there's no stopping him. "You're so annoying."

He wants to add that he doesn't care, then push the plushie back to him, turn around and leave. The whole petty display for the sake of not playing this stupid game and thus having his way by force of sheer obstinacy. Yet something tugs at his heart hard enough to stop him: despite Nicodemo's frequent shenanigans, he does seem enthusiastic and sincere about this. Antonín will play along this time, seeing how it may actually mean something to his friend.

Not Dawn then. Not quite, but somehow close? A long-suffering sigh. He resumes his silent observation while trying to figure out what the hell this riddle means, pouting at the damn cat, which in turn pouts at him with its stitched mouth...

Oh...? OH!!!

His eyes widen to match those round pale-blue buttons, indeed. He rapidly refocuses on the black cat and Nicodemo, their respective similarities, and how he'd once compared him to a pitch-dark stray.

"You..." seizing the black cat, too, to hold one in each hand; side by side. "Me." The striking revelation is completed by clasping their little paws together.

Antonín beams at them for a moment — a soft pink blush warming his face — to then lean in and kiss Nicodemo's cheek. A kiss that serves as a token of spontaneous gratitude given how he's irrevocably and unilaterally decided the cats' ultimate fate:

Comparing muses heights / the website im actually using

what do you imagine my muse has nightmares about?

just gonna take a second to scream ooc real quick because holy shit you read my headcanons??? i am going to kiss you on the mouth (or gently pat you on the head if you're not into that.)

anyways, you're right. lee frequently has nightmares about rattlesnakes, not just because of alma, but because of pierre mcconville's rattlesnake daemon as well.

for the first few weeks after killing his father, lee would have auditory hallucinations of a rattlesnake's rattle, especially at night or when he was alone (which went away after awhile but started up again after his confrontation with mcconville in the north.) hester would always reassure him it wasn't real, and that if it were, she'd be able to hear it, too, but nothing could quell his fears.

it began to escalate one night when lee awoke, but couldn't move. he could hear voices and sounds that had business being in the room he was renting -- his mother asking him, horrified, what he's done, his father telling calling him a murderer -- but the one that scared lee the most was the rattle of alma's tail. he opened his eyes, and could feel her crawling on him, up his leg, his torso, and finally peeking out of the blanket he'd been under. the whole time, he couldn't see hester and couldn't call for her, and he couldn't move. it was like he was totally alone with the snake, which shouldn't have been possible.

he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for her to strike, but when he did, he suddenly became aware of a comforting weight on his chest, and hester's soft face pressing into his, trying to wake him up. the sounds stopped, and alma was gone.

His first, automatic reaction is to raise his left forearm, parallel to his collarbone, to offer a modicum of purchase and stability to the intrepid cat.

"You seem happy today," and now he's teasing while, nevertheless, nuzzling him back in an oddly feline fashion of his own. "I am sorry for leaving you alone for long..."

The whole day. Provided, he'd carefully picked this area for being free from large predators and safe enough to leave him — plenty of trees with thick branches to nap, even in a patch of sun. A large cave nearby offering shadow and extra safety. A shallow river for water, and plenty of spare meat for the day. Even a few birds and smaller animals, inhabiting the forest clearing, to chase and hunt for entertainment.

"Today was too dangerous, but tomorrow I will take you with me." Gentle promise, petting the inky back of his dearest companion, albeit with a note of lingering teasing. "—If you promise to behave this time, Octavian."

He won't. Antonín knows it well. He never does.

Either way, any misbehavings will be dealt with tomorrow. For now, he intends to do the opposite: enabling some chaos and indulgence.

"I brought you some of that herb cats seem to adore."

And he reaches for a small pouch in his pocket. Indeed, a handful of catnip...