hellandbackpack | Open Post

[The problem is, too much here is familiar for any one thing to stand out yet. Too much background static as he's led along, interested gaze skipping curiously over shopfronts, over the faces of people they wandered past, even if he knew they wouldn't see them. It was admittedly a little frustrating that nothing was jogging anything stronger than 'yeah I've been here' but he tried to reassure himself that it was surely just because he'd only just gotten here. That maybe once he'd gotten used to it again that the more familiar things would stand out more. Or something. He wasn't sure how amnesia worked.]

You're the one who brought it up first, [Pointed out entirely reasonably, utterly unrepentant in the face of that playful sort of telling off.] Shoulda known a nosy git like me'd jump on it.

Hm. Y'know what. Fair point. Well done, puppy.

[ And there goes that praise — so rightfully earned, so easily won from a Cat so eager to give it. But he doesn't let it linger too much too soon. He's learned his lesson with Edwin, that too fast a speed for someone who doesn't know how fast they're comfortable going can often have the opposite effect. Better to ease Charles into it, give him enough of a taste that he can chase it if he wants to, or that he at least welcomes it's return when he gets it again. ]

That's another point I like about you, though. You're fair. And you're nosy. People say that like it's a bad thing, but I think curiosity never hurt anyone, despite what everyone tries to say otherwise. Take it from a Cat.

[ Do not take it from this Cat, Charles, he's been burned by his own curiosity more times than is forgivable for a creature who keeps doing the same thing he should have learned by now to avoid. ]

And it's a good quality for a detective to have. Which, speaking of. [ He nods up at the antiquities shop to their left, since Charles clearly isn't having any kind of natural reaction to it on his own. ] What do you think? Ring any bells?

[The praise, accompanied by teasing nickname or no? Had Charles' smile brightening all the same. He won't be admitting to the Cat that earning it did make it better, but it did. But then it's entirely possible that his companion could tell.

Whatever the case, the other was continuing on, and while he was amused at the commentary on his incessant curiosity, something tense in him eased at the idea that he was fair. It seemed... important. He wanted ~~needed~~ to be good, to be fair and brave, didn't he? What drove that he didn't know, but surely it was only sensible. It wasn't like people typically wanted to be utter tossers.

Regardless, he was pulled from that consideration as the Cat pointed out the shop directly, and obligingly Charles took a look at it.]

I... yeah, but I think everything's kinda ringing bells right now is the problem. Too much familiar but nothing's really shaking out anything specific yet. S'all [A see-saw wave of a hand] kinda foggy?

[Thick fog over dark water. He wasn't sure why that idea just had something in him curling unpleasantly, but he shoved it aside ~~drowned it~~ to worry about later. It was so simple to keep the unease at the imagery his mind was supplying to conceptualize his amnesia hidden behind the easy sort of smile. Far too simple.]

Foggy... [ The Cat murmurs, considering, tilting his head to join Charles in his surveillance of the little junk shop. It's looking so much less full of life now, years down the line, than it had when the Cat had first arrived here. In some ways, the Cat wishes there were things he could forget as easily as Charles has now. He doesn't, wouldn't, wish for total amnesia, but some kind of blurring at the edges of painful memories would be nice, at the very least. Instead, the Cat has a cruelly perfect sort of memory for the amount of years he's been alive. Perhaps that's why his loneliness eats away at him like a sore; it's so easy for him to recall everything that's been lost.

And, speaking of lost... ]

Well, then, you clearly need some sort of lighthouse.

[ Edwin would, of course, be the ideal option here, but since the Cat is doing as he told himself he would when Edwin left Port Townsend and resolutely not thinking about Edwin, he opts for the next best thing. Or, at least, the next best thing available to him; himself.

He tries to think of what Edwin would do in this situation. ]

I'll guide you through it. You came here to look for something to solve a case. The owner is a guy who used to be a Walrus. Kind of depressing, hence the name. He didn't have what you needed, but he gave you a consolation prize. Do you remember what that was?

[It was easier to shove away the unpleasantness as the Cat's attention turned towards the shop too. The musing about a lighthouse made... some sense- some sort of guiding light in the fog, building off the fog imagery Charles had brought up.

The offer of guidance made it make all the more sense, Charles blinking slightly as the Cat spoke on, giving him a little bit of information, prompting him to see if maybe it would shake something new free. And it again felt familiar, the ghost humming a thoughtful sound, brows furrowing. Free hand coming up as if he could maybe pluck the answer out of the air, like once again he had to touch the idea before it was real.] I... I could hold it. Not big. Sounded like the ocean though. Y'know how like you hold up one of those spinny shells to your ear? But it wasn't-

[A start as the pieces shifted, slid together, his entire countenance perking as a brilliant smile was cast the Cat's way.] A jar! With a little lighthouse in it!

[ God, is this what helping feels like? Is this why the two of them do it? Does the delight and relief of assisting in someone finding what they're looking for always feel like this?.. Well, no, is the answer. The Cat played a pretty integral part in 'helping' Edwin realise exactly who he was attracted to with that little transformation stunt, after all, and that didn't feel good at all. The opposite, actually. But he's not thinking about Edwin, now, is he?

He smiles back, trying not to look at Charles' mouth and failing. Something about how easily the expression fits on his face and how good it feels to see it directed at him when he's only really ever seen Charles scowling at him has an addictive quality to it, one he would normally warn himself off of, but... It's been a while since the boys left, and without a witch to pester him, it's been surprisingly lonely around here. More so than usual. He can have this, just for now, can't he? He's already forcing himself to not think of Edwin, what's one more ghost to add to the mix? ]

That's it. A little Port Townsend souvenir that sounds like the sea when you shake it. [ Fuck, it's hard not to call him a good boy. ] Good boy. [ Welp, never mind. It's out of his mouth before he can stop it, said in that low-pitched voice he uses when it's not clear if he's flirting, teasing, or being genuine. Or all three. It's anyone's guess which is his intention now. ]

So you can remember things yourself, given a little prompting. Maybe we should play some word association, see what's stuck in there, underneath all the fog. [ He gestures with his head for them to carry on walking, down toward the beachfront, where the houses get a little more sparse and the sea air a little more brisk. ]

[Good boy.

Not really a surprising bit of praise, given the whole teasing dog allusions the Cat had been making about him earlier. But it still had scarlet creeping up his collar, eyes widening ever so slightly. Ghost didn't need to blush, but without the memory of years of experience in his current form, Charles had forgotten that emotion could still be reflected like that.

He glanced down the street, unable to stop the way his grin endured, something quietly pleased warming it now.]

Relief to know there's till things knockin' around to be remembered, [He'd had a brief moment while coming back to awareness where nothing had been there. Just the fog. And it had been... unpleasant, to say the least. Made him uneasy. So the little hints that there was something to be recovered? Absolutely reassuring as he was more than happy to follow the Cat's lead to continue their walk.] Word association... that's the one where you swap words, yeah? What they make you think of or whatever?

Aw... [ He coos, turning his head to send Charles a faux-empathetic pout... and then he sees the flush to his cheeks, and if he hadn't already made the decision to throw inhibitions off the dock and into the surf, that would have been enough to convince him to do it now. He's so used to ghosts falling back on an unaffected state, controlling themselves to the point where their power remains mysterious — half the reason the Cat finds them so fascinating, can't quite stop staring at them, even when they're not two devastatingly attractive ghost detectives storming into his Kingdom — but Charles is beautifully unaware of his own strength like this, and it's making him want to ease his claws under his fraying edges to see what else he can't control. ]

Don't say it like that. We'll get you there, eventually. It's not a memory wipe. If it was, you'd have no familiarity at all, just emptiness. The fact you know you've been here, the fact you recognise me, the little lighthouse trinket? All good signs. You'll remember everything sooner or later.

[ A little gentle reassurance, a little hush puppy you can trust me, a little quiet soothing to make sure this dog continues following where he leads, keeps hanging on his every word. Yet again, he can't help but think that it makes sense why Edwin likes this position; it feels good to be looked on like this.

But yes, you usually swap one word at a time for whatever the first word made you think of, but I don't like to play by the rules. Where's the fun in doing what everyone else does? He takes them toward the small slope leading toward the gift shop, and the viewing platform for the lighthouse, but turns to smile almost invitingly at Charles before they come level with it. ]

Want to? We can think of a safe word if you want to tap out and stop playing.

[And in some ways, Charles didn't always keep those little signals under control. It made people more comfortable talking to him if they saw little signs of 'life' if they were alive themselves, and the newly dead were similarly comforted even if in both cases neither usually picked up on what was soothing them so. And it made him feel a bit more like himself sometimes, to allow himself to feel a facsimile of a blush, or the soft huff of a surprised breath, the shift of pupils in response to light. Little touches. Little human touches. Only to be shoved aside when it was time for business, for the business end of a cricket bat.

This was just more of that. More of a peek under the typical control he kept, one he was entirely unaware of unlike the usual.

And it just meant that the Cat would likely see a faint bit of a shift, some ease in the set of Charles' shoulders at the reassurance offered. Like the hound the monarch was mentally comparing him with, Charles is predictable in staying with the person who'd helped when he was lost, offered out a hand and kind words. And if left alone, he'd pace and whine and stare out the window, convinced that the world had ended, that he must have done something wrong for his person to be gone.]

A safeword? Mate, what kind of rules do you play with here in the States? [He laughs all the same, a little uncertain but still game.] Just stop if I say stop, yeah? No need to get fancy with it.

[ He sulks a bit, because he can't help it, and equally can't help playing it up as part of the effect. ]

Alright, spoil my fun. But remind me to give you the talk later about why 'stop' is a shitty word to use if you actually want someone to stop.

[ He doesn't elaborate, not yet at least, because the last thing he needs is to get carried away thinking about the effectiveness of a useful safe word in any situation with Charles. It's the last thing Charles needs at this moment, too, he supposes. There are much more pressing things at hand. ]

Hmmm. Alright.

[ He nods at the looming lighthouse with its light out in the clear morning, but still standing bright against the colourless sky. He remembers watching Charles and his little psychic girlfriend talking as they leaned on the railing, Charles' expression tight and eyebrows set, looking curiously stubborn. The Cat had been more focused on Edwin at that time, of course, but he couldn't help but wonder what had got the little ghost so twisted up. ]

Lighthouse.

[It's fine. Charles is definitely not going to think about the uses he has vague knowledge of for a safeword, especially not when faced with the Cat. The strangely handsome, flirty, charming Cat. He was fairly inexperienced but you spend long enough alive and well... you do hear things. Edges of his ears pink, collar flush, he was quite glad when the Cat's attention turned away from that subject however lightly it had been brushed on.

The mention of the Lighthouse had him turning his gaze towards it, brow furrowing.]

Fine. [Not what he'd expected to slip past his lips given they'd only just talked about the enchanted souvenir jar mere minutes earlier. Brow furrowing as he considered the answer, uncertain what it meant, or why it had an uncomfortable sort of squirm accompanying it. It made him feel the opposite of fine, as a matter of fact.]

[ In a similar way, the Cat is choosing not to think too deeply on the fact that Charles seems to have a lot more understanding of what 'a boy can do with another boy' than Edwin had, and while it's not really all that surprising given that Charles is from roughly seventy years in Edwin's future, it still leads to a lot of interesting questions regarding the depth of his knowledge, and by extension, his interests. Charles being bisexual, at the very least, isn't a shock... but this readiness to flirt back is, and the Cat can't help but wonder if it's the amnesia greasing the tyres, or if it's something else.

Either way, he's not going to ask, because he has a funny feeling that if he does, this fun might end. And that isn't something he's wiling to accept right now. So, he tucks those deliberations neatly into the back of his mind, to ponder later, perhaps when the shine of this situation has dulled and he's become bored and wants a little roughness to his interactions instead of that admiring little smile. If such a time ever comes.

Charles' response has the Cat raising his eyebrows a little. Fine? What kind of answer is that?? He thinks back to when he'd seen Charles up there again, and wonders if Charles' memory is recalling it too, however abstractly it can recall anything in its current state. Was Crystal asking him if he was alright, and had he responded the way he's doing now - saying he's fine but looking anything but?

Well, best to play the game and find out, though he might come to regret this. ]

Lies.

[Given the era he'd grown in, the counterculture he was clearly involved in from his aesthetic choices, it was likely not a surprising idea that he'd maybe done a little messing around, with girls and guys, at least in a light, casual sort of way. That he was so ready to flirt with the Cat without the memories of said background culture and peer pressure to encourage it spoke to something that was more intrinsic than just a teen following the fads.

The Cat's raised brows just have the teen rolling his eyes in response because he knows, it's a weird answer he knows he's feeling some kind of way about it for reasons he doesn't understand. Whatever the word was tugging on didn't want to tumble into his awareness. His expression smooths back though easily enough as he waits for the next word.]

Protection. [A bit more ready for the uncertainty, it didn't show as much in his expression this time, but it was still there in the question in brown eyes, the faint quirk of his head.]

[ The Cat's expression isn't exactly surprised to hear that one - after all, he'd heard the argument after the Night Nurse, and he'd watched the boys reconcile under that dimly lit awning. He knows full well that Charles relies a little too heavily on masking his more volatile moods... but he'd thought it was anger, for the most part. How on Earth had he and Edwin got so close without Charles being open enough to share the things that made him feel vulnerable?

In the Cat's limited experience, when people want to get to know you, they want to hear how you view yourself first. That's where he's always fallen down, because the guise of a flirty King is easier to rely on, but harder to give any depth to, on account of the fact that it's only real when he's living it, and beyond that? There isn't much to him that he'd want to share. Not for the second time this evening, a little shudder passes through him as he thinks of what this kind of amnesia might feel like. What kind of terrible thing might he tap into if he forgot to mask it?

He brings them to a stop by the railing leading down to the steps of the lighthouse, leaning with his back facing the building, so he can study Charles properly.

There are two ways he could go here. One might make things worse for Charles, and one might make things worse for him. He tries to deliberate on how selfish he's feeling, how magnanimous he could be tempted to be, but the choice is already making it's way out of his mouth without his decision one way or another. ]

Friends.

[Charles wasn't entirely surprised that the association was bringing up weird feelings even if it wasn't yet giving him any concrete memories. He was dead after all. One didn't tend to die without some sort of unpleasantness to things. He could only guess that the Cat had noticed that discomfiture in him as they wandered towards the steps, had offered that word as a way to maybe bring things back to a more even keel-]

Complicated. [He couldn't help but feel stricken at the idea. Complicated? Why? What about friends was complicated? What about friends had a faint chill zipping through him? Dismissed easily- ghosts didn't feel after all, it was just his head messing with him.

Was... was it him that made things complicated? The Cat's explanations so far made it seem like they were doing good, important things. That he was helping, that he was good. I'll be good please, I'll be good I promise- But what if he wasn't? What if he was somehow fucking it up?]

[ And there, right there, the Cat sees that little flicker of uncertainty that gets him like a harsh pull to the leash. He'd seen it in Edwin, manifesting as a gasp of surprise as a door was opened before him, but here and now with Charles, it's more like a trapdoor being revealed under a sure foot, a rug being pulled, a security blanket lost.

He didn't see what the Night Nurse did, but he heard enough of the resulting explanations and tearful confessions to have a vague idea. This cements some of it, and only makes him more curious for the rest.

But, much as he had when Charles had first confessed to the fog shrouding his thoughts, the Cat gives him an out. He reaches out, to this little ghost who can't feel anything but the touch of another supernatural being, and takes his hand with surprisingly delicate fingers for one so heavy-handed with everything else. His palms are warm, soft, and though Charles is a little chilly (more so than a typical ghost) the Cat doesn't show any negative impression on his face as he pulls a little, pulling Charles closer, like a lighthouse guiding the ship home. ]

Ghosts.

[ Because well, they are complicated, both of them. In a frustratingly addictive kind of way. ]

[It helps. It helps that he's not alone with that uncertainty, that he's not alone with the sudden anxious swirl of thoughts rocketing around his head. Was... was this the sort of person he was? He thought he was more confident. Braver.

Fine. Lies. Protection.

That didn't sound like... who was he lying to? What about? What was he protecting?

But the Cat's presence helps to stymie the spin, especially when that hand reaches out and Charles takes it readily, fingers curling tight against it as if in defiance of the light tremor of them. Allows himself to be drawn closer, leaving damp footprints in the grey stone underfoot that he doesn't really clock.]

Together. [It's a relief to have an association that doesn't feel so fraught, something that feels less like a sharp drop into the dark and more like the warm glow of a lantern in the chill.]

[ There's a subtle little shift in the surrounding air, the crackle of something altering the energy; it's like the smell after rain, like ozone, something so imperceptible that it can easily be missed, but so specifically unique that the Cat can't possibly ignore it. He doesn't need to look down to know Charles is manifesting a haunting. He's seen it a lot, had to deal with it for a few months after first moving in to the cannery, but he's never seen it from a ghost this young, or this seemingly stable. Perhaps there's more under Charles' layers than an afraid teenager, after all.

He smiles a bit at Charles' next word, continuing the pull until the ghost is half a step from his body. He slides a warm thumb down his cold palm, eyes transfixed on his face.

He realises, with a bolt of shock and an aftertaste like dread, that he wants to tell Charles about Edwin. It comes from nowhere inside of him and makes him want to turn his nose away, lash out with his claws to stop such a ridiculous feeling surfacing again... but he still wants it. Even though he knows it will cut all this short, that it's a categorically unselfish idea. He wants it. But why?

He inhales, his smile going a little tight for a second, and then exhales and lets his face relax. ]

Port Townsend.

[It's gone as quickly as it was noticed. Banished easily by the Cat's touch, by the warmth traced down a chilled palm before Charles even has a chance to realize that anything had happened, before he had a chance to slide further into that uneasy state. The crackle of ozone dissipating on the breeze, the only chill what came from the ocean, from the natural cool of the hand in the Cat's.

He noticed the shift in the other's smile. That slight tension, though it was wiped away quickly, too quickly for Charles to place what might have caused it. But he had seen it which meant something, meant he was keenly aware of the others around him, that even if he might not understand the causes, he was the sort to try and pay attention to the moods of those around him. That could just be because he was a friendly sort. But he had a creeping suspicion that was only part of the reason.

He huffed a soft sound of thin amusement, brows lifting.]

Cat King. [Given his current state, it probably wasn't surprising that was the first association. Now he was curious to see what his companion would do with it, actually.]

[ The Cat raises his eyebrows, a smile curling his mouth as he gestures to himself with his other hand, a pantomime of modest surprise at hearing his own name. The truth of the matter is that it makes perfect sense Charles would connect them both since he is, quite literally, the only thing he knows in this town (and even then, the amount with which he knows him is pretty weak)... but still, the Cat's heart does a ridiculous little jump that he immediately berates himself for. He'd be stupid to read anything into it, he'd be an idiot to think that it means anything beyond simple cause and effect, like Charles won't go back to wanting as little to do with him as possible once he recalls all his memories and realises that the Cat kept the most important piece of his puzzle from him for much longer than he needed to.

He considers his answer for Charles, wondering what delectable adjective he can use to associate with himself-- when a different word strikes him, and so vividly that it almost falls out of his mouth. Lonely. And shaped so perfectly not in the voice of his own mind, but that of Edwin's, the way he'd said it during their last meeting in Port Townsend, before he'd kissed his cheek. Before he left.

He physically bites his own tongue. Then, hastily, turns it into a lascivious lick over his lip, lingering on that little scar on his top lip, as if doing so idly in thought. ]

Attractive.

[ That's better. That's safe. ]

[Oh Cat. If you only knew how easily Charles attached to others. Maybe not to the same level as with Edwin, but this was not a ghost who kept aloof. While learning the truth would strain things, the time they'd spent getting to know each other would be what made or broke the potential for anything different once the situation was fixed. And if anyone could understand being lonely, clinging to the warmth of another in their orbit in defiance of the cold, well...

The surprise and the playful air earned much the same from Charles, his own eyebrows waggling lightly as he gestured towards the Cat, with an air of yes you, you silly thing. He notices that the other's not quick on the reply, but the shift from what he was wondering if was uncertainty to that more overt sort of flirty charm distracted him, another dusting of darker color highlighting cheekbones as he chuckles in response.]

Proper fit.

[Sorry Cat, were you expecting him to make this easier on you somehow?]

[ It's annoying how easily Charles makes him laugh, and not just the nasty laughter of a tease made at someone's expense, but amused laughter borne of finding someone genuine and earnest, of finding them entirely charming... It feels like a slippery slope, but it also feels good to be under the attention, so the Cat struggles to make himself want anything other than this to simply continue.

He can't exactly say what is on his mind in response to Charles comment, because the only thing taking up enough space in his thoughts is, in fact, Charles himself - and the Cat feels like somehow the ghost might not have the best reaction to it given that he knows so little about himself that thinking on his darker moments almost caused a haunting.

But he doesn't want to leave his thoughts unshared, wants to reiterate the reciprocal reaction here before they inevitably must get back to the actual point of their game... So, he exhales and then bursts into a small plume of violet flame, and left behind is a perfect mirrored replica of Charles himself, standing there looking incredibly smug with half lidded eyes and the easy slouch to his frame the Cat had only ever seen Charles revert to around Edwin. ]

Transformation.

[ He throws his arms open in a ta-daaa kind of motion, watching closely with golden eyes to see how this particular trick will perform. ]

[Charles immediately felt even better at winning that laugh from the Cat, positively beaming. Concerns from before? Definitely all the quieter, because how could he be a bad person if making someone else happy pleased him this much?

He wasn't sure what the Cat was planning when he hesitated, like he was preparing something. That soft exhale before the fire did earn a start from the ghost. But then it was the same as when he'd conjured the little smoke cat, wasn't it?

Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. No reflection meant no real sense of his own looks yet, but the clothing matched, that and the sense of familiarity enough to have realization dawning in wide eyes as he took in the sight of the Cat like this, only taking a step back to better take it all in.]

Wicked! [Interest in something new definitely bolstered his clear, eager delight in this fancy new trick that was being shown off. Whatever he might think about himself, Charles was much more keen on praising what he figured was a friend's cool magic.]

Issat like real or illusion? [What was that about a game? Charles was immediately distracted, one hand lightly reaching out as if he might give a light tweak to hair before he seemed to catch up with himself, dropping it back again.] Can you turn into whoever you want? Or like make up an appearance?

[ The Cat's mouth curls like it always does, but using Charles' lips to do it, the end result is something more foxlike than any of the animal analogies either of them typically inhabit. He looks pleased, though, at the core of it, to have someone react positively to his skills for a change (though, he can hardly blame Edwin's shock the last time he'd made the terrible choice of taking on this form, and opened his intended's eyes to the truth sitting right under his clever nose)...

He watches Charles' hand come up and drop, as if instinctually listening to some chiding voice telling him not to be rude. Well, that won't do, will it? The Cat starts to move in this taller body, movements still graceful and sultry, in a small circle around the original. He tilts his head so that the earring catches the light, he purses his lips to tighten the cheeks, he trails a leather gloved hand up Charles' lapel and then over his shoulder, continuing around over his back as he goes. ]

I can be whoever you want me to be.

[ Is his usual response, and it falls out of him almost automatically. It only dawns that it wasn't what Charles asked once it's in the air between them, and he's glad of his position behind the ghost so that it disguises the slight widening of his eyes before he retracts: ]

I can look like anything, anyone. As long as it has human a human or animal shape. Technically it's a glamour, but I feel everything like it's my own body, so it has to be something that's at least capable of being alive, even if the inspiration isn't. [ He smiles at his ghost boy as he comes back around to face him. ] I can't transform into a motorbike or a chest of gold, or anything like that. But I can be the amalgamation of all your favourite parts of different people in one body.

[ The Cat wonders what that would look like for Charles, if he could remember. But then, if he could remember, there's no way he'd ask for it, is there? ]

Tempting, right?

[It's... strange to see the Cat's grin on his face. Despite not really knowing his own appearance well at the moment, Charles gets the distinct impression that he doesn't tend to smile like that. Nor does he feel he has the feline grace that the other is moving with when he starts circling in that strange, playful manner. But then, he wasn't the Cat King, so it made sense. Eyes wide as he watched the shift of expression, wondering if it was something the Cat was doing on purpose. It had to be. And if that didn't just have a bit more color creeping into his face as he was keenly aware of that trailing touch once the Cat vanished from his sightline.]

That's... that's pretty wild, mate. So... that means the human shape you were in before's like... your favorite then? [Tilting his head to study the Cat with a curious smile.] Given you're a Cat King and all I'm guessing human's not the default for that.

[Not that he was judging. The Cat could look like what he pleased, and really? The shape he'd shown up in? Definitely attractive. Charles hadn't been lying when he'd called him fit.]

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