[ 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. ]
[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. ]
[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. ]
[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? ]
[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.]
[ As the Cat returns to where he was, he leans against the railing before the lighthouse, his arms on the very top while his spine creates a tempting little line that almost looks like the sort of line a body might create while trying to tempt in another... but surely Charles won't read anything into that, given that this is his own body he's looking at, and the slim line of his chest and hips is really only attractive to the one currently manipulating said body to look that way. Right? ]
A favourite, yeah. Like a default setting. I can use a little magic to look a different way—
[ He raises one gloved hand, and Charles' form dematerialises to reform as one similar to his previous form, but rounder and softer; feminine curves unmistakeable under the soft fabric of the Cat's shirt, a little more length to the hair, a fuller lip. When the Cat King speaks again, her voice is higher, but still with that telltale lilt that makes it clear this is the same Cat as before... if the constant stare of those golden eyes didn't give that much away already. ]
If I feel like it. Or if whoever I'm talking to prefers one option over the other.
[ It's earnest, but the tone in her voice sounds like she's setting a challenge, or perhaps asking a question. ]
[It's an odd thing. Charles can objectively look at himself (or well, the Cat masquerading as him) and know he was attractive. It didn't strike him as a new revelation, but as something he'd been aware of before. Had it been something he made use of? Charisma got a person far when the smiles and banter came from a handsome face after all. And that seemed right too, which made him a little nervous as he didn't know yet why he was familiar with that sort of tactic. Surely if he was friends with people who were so interested in doing good that they'd formed a detective agency, he wasn't doing it to be a prat.
But what if he'd pulled the wool over their eyes too?
Luckily though, the Cat didn't seem to be lingering in the shape overlong, returning to the shape they seemed to prefer-
Or something close enough to it. Female rather than male, but still obviously the Cat. Charles' brows lifted as he took in the differences, curiosity and interest blended once again.]
Prefers... [Charles blinked, gaze back on those big golden eyes again, considering the idea now that it was presented.]
I... well, you're a real stunner like this, but I think you knew that already, [Said easily with a smile and a tilt of his head.] But... I meant it when I called you fit before too, yeah?
[Where did that leave him? He wasn't sure. He also wasn't sure why something about saying it, at least the second part of the admission, made him feel exposed in some way.]
[ That kind of seals it, and so the Cat lets the form drop, reverting to his initial form. But not before giving Charles a satisfied smirk at the easy, oh so easy, compliment. ]
Mmhmmm... [ He hums, less a considering noise and more the sound of someone who's just had their question answered. He knew Charles had had a little fling with their resident psychic — according to the reports from his cats, at least — and he knew Charles didn't reciprocate Edwin's feelings in any meaningful way despite throwing a host of jealous looks around when anyone else got too close, but had been flirting back pretty successfully earlier when the Cat had been laying it on thick... ]
Bisexuality isn't a crime, you know. I don't know how much you've forgotten, but no-one's about to push you in a locker for thinking I'm hot both ways any more. Things have changed a lot since you were alive. It's not perfect, but it's easier.
[ He wonders if something happened in Charles' life to make him lean towards girls, or if he was doing it out of habit. The idea that he might possibly not be attracted to Edwin doesn't compute in the Cat's mind, so that's out. Even though the Cat wants to ask so badly about it, but doing so would mean bringing up Edwin, and reminding himself that he wants to, that it would more than likely fix this, that Charles would have something familiar and comforting to guide him through this instead of the Cat's heavy-handed paws. ]
C'mon, let's keep going. [ He says, starting to walk onwards down the steps to the beach. And then, because his curiosity is making his tongue feel light and sharp in his mouth, and he needs to sate it before he says something ridiculous, he asks: ]
Do you remember anything about your human life, or has the curse taken everything? [ He could get away with feigning concern and magical speculation on the parameters of how this curse has affected Charles with a question like that. But not with what he asks next: ] Do you remember how many girls you've kissed? How many boys?
[Oh if only the Cat knew. If only he knew how Charles' absolutely burned for Edwin in every way. It was such a part of him, such a vital element that it didn't even strike him as strange. As natural as the sun in the sky. And like the sun, that fire was the reason he existed, at this point.
But then he'd known so few examples of love in his life, was it any surprise that he hadn't realized the potential in that intensity, until Edwin's shaky confession had held up a mirror and let him see the shape of things for the first time?
And where did that leave him now, with all that fire but uncertain where to direct it?
Unaware of the Cat's inner turmoil, especially with his comments about sexuality to chew on, Charles was more than willing to follow the prompting, falling into step alongside his companion as their steps turned them towards the beach. Considering the question that followed, a sensible enough one with what happened, even if the addition had him chuckling faintly.]
I... don't remember, nah. S'all just fog and water. Sometimes you'll bring something up or I'll see something and it'll seem right. Or a bit of memory shakes out. [A vague gesture with a hand, as if he knew that wasn't especially helpful, but it was what he had. But he gives himself a centering shake and a wry smile.]
A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Your Majesty, [As if he was a gentleman, the very idea, his teasing smirk seemed to say.] But the idea of kissin' either... feels familiar, yeah.
Mmm. Boring. What's the point in doing anything naughty if you don't brag about it afterwards? [ Heaving a dramatic sigh. ] Well, it's a good thing you remember you're dead, at least. That would have been an awkward conversation, and I couldn't have done much to open your eyes to anything of your life before. I met you post beating heart, I'm sorry to say.
[ The apology sounds tongue in cheek, but it feels oddly genuine when he says it. While the Cat can often joke and tease, he very rarely actually lies; he withholds information, sure, he dodges the truth as gracefully as one might expect a feline body would.. but lying doesn't come easily to him. It sits strangely in his mouth, makes his magic feel wild, makes his awareness feel shaken. Even if the truth will actively do him harm, hurt him, make things worse... If Charles asked what was missing, what the no doubt empty feeling in him is because of, why it feels comfortable but wrong to walk beside the Cat, the Cat would tell him. He knows he would. And he hates that.
And now, as he tells Charles that he's sorry he didn't meet him when he was alive, he's not lying about that either. He wonders if he was the type of boy who was nice to cats, despite clearly preferring dogs.
But, he does know something, doesn't he? He knows Charles chose to stay here, in the world that he was taken from, to instead stay by Edwin's side and to promise to stay there even if it took the press of claws and teeth to keep him so. There must have been something in life that made Charles feel like he needed a second chance, if he gave up on an afterlife for this. Perhaps it's better he doesn't remember. ]
I think you and your little detective team came down here once or twice.
[ He says, as he starts to pick his way along the stony beach, toward the shoreline that loops back around to the docklands, to the cannery. ]
Looking for some giant fish, or something. Nothing to do with me, though I might've helped if you'd asked. Cats are good at fishing.
Cause it's exciting, obviously. [Said with a cheeky little grin, entirely unapologetic.
The apology, joking as the tone was, sounded genuine enough. A casual air painted over actual emotion was a thing Charles was finding familiar in some way, beyond simply knowing people who operated like that. With his own knee-jerk response to things being to smile, to be chipper and make jokes himself despite the situation he'd found himself in, he could only imagine how often he did that himself.]
Aces, means you can't bust out any embarrassing little kid pictures yeah?
[And the prompting was helpful. He had a sense of familiarity in looking around the stretch of beach, but the confirmation did encourage him to be a bit more mindful in his examination of their surroundings. Pausing when he spotted a little bit of seaglass, stooping to pluck it up before continuing to follow, turning it thoughtfully between fingers.]
Remember there was some seaglass that was important. Not sure why, but it seems that way.
[A tilt of his head, considering.]
Cats are good at fishin' yeah, but isn't it a thing that you're not fans of water?
[ The Cat doesn't stop for Charles' perusal of the beach, but his ears do perk up at the mention of sea glass. He'd seen that little interaction for himself, rather than through the eyes of his cats; where Niko had given Edwin some sea glass for courage, just after Edwin had been staring at Charles without realising it, when the realisation dawned on him. That had been the day he'd transformed into Charles to tease him, hadn't it?
He doesn't like to think about it. It was a massive faux pas, but it was also potentially the first push to the snowball effect of Edwin's feelings for Charles coming to a head (even though he almost definitely had feelings for him before that) and thinking about it makes the Cat feel... weird. Not angry, not upset, but weird.
He chooses instead to latch on to the latter part of Charles' comment, since it's always so much easier to indulge in talking about himself. ]
I'm not a fan, sure, but I live on the docklands of a coastal town — I'd be in a sorry fucking state if I couldn't handle a bit of water, don't you think?
[ He asks, meandering closer to the water's edge so he can kick a few pebbles into the rolling tide, as if to prove his resilience to the stuff. ]
It's mostly domesticated house cats who fear water. Once you've been a stray for long enough, you stop being so worried about things you don't understand.
[The sea glass goes into his pocket for the moment, along with the other little bits he'd found there almost without thinking. Clearly a habit of some sort if he pondered it, but for the moment his attention was more on the Cat than the little habit as he lengthened his stride enough to catch up with him.
Not that it was hard- he hadn't been running away, he just hadn't stopped.]
I mean... could be like... exposure therapy? That's a thing.
[Charles hummed thoughtfully at the second part though. That... sounded right. He wasn't sure how he knew, but it did, so he just nodded his understanding.]
Makes sense though. Stray cat's got loads more to worry about than a bit of water, yeah? World's a scary place, 'specially when you're little.
[ Oh, but that makes him smile. Helplessly charmed by the idea of Charles showing any kind of empathy such as that to stray cats, the Cat King feels his opinion of Charles sliding from a place that's already pretty positive, toward an even more affectionate one. God, he's so easy; all it takes, really, is a handsome face, enough mystery to keep him keen, and a reluctance to be mean to animals. It's no wonder he falls so hard, so fast and so often. ]
Little, huh?
[ He asks, then snaps his fingers and reappears a moment later as a sleek black cat, tail high in the air, golden eyes like a sunset framed against the blue of the water behind him as he splashes his paws in the white surf. ]
There's nothing little about a cat, puppy. You should watch your mouth.
Oi, I didn't mean anything by it! [He didn't sound upset by the chiding, especially not with the trick of that transformation to distract him. He didn't hesitate to shift to an easy crouch to be more on the Cat's current level.]
Little's just about size. Nothin' bad about being cat-sized. Makes it loads easier to sneak around, and get into all sorts of places people don't want you gettin' into, I'm sure.
[And unable to help but to grin and give a teasing response to the last bit-]
[ Little, to the Cat, doesn't even come close to any word that could be used to describe a cat's size. Little is for mice, and rodents, and things that scurry about unseen because people would rather pretend they don't exist. Cats aren't like that; if it wasn't for the strange subset of humans that find them untrustworthy for whatever reason, cats would be almost universally well liked.
But Charles has a point. Being this size does make it sufficiently easier to get himself into trouble, and is even a pretty stellar way to get himself back out of it again, too. And perhaps it's that thought that inspires him to narrow his golden eyes as he turns around with soggy little paws to study the ghost crouched nearby, on his level in what the Cat assumes Charles thought would be a placating way... but which the Cat only sees as an opportunity.
He lunges forward, pouncing at the form of the ghost until he's hooked claws into his coat and is anchoring himself up onto his shoulders, sitting proudly as though he were made to sit there. ]
I spend enough time already watching your pretty little mouth, I don't need any more encouragement.
[ And it's true. Of all Charles' most attractive features, that stupidly charming smile is is most enticing, and the one the Cat can summon with perfect clarity in his mind despite the limited number of times he's seen it directed his way. ]
Now, come on — the cannery is just down the beach once you hit the docks. You can get us both there, as penance for your insolence to a King.
[A matter of perspective, perhaps. To a cat, they were just the right size and everything else was smaller or larger. To Charles, human that he was, his own size in the world was his reference.
Whatever he'd been expecting, while he started for the sudden movement, he didn't recoil or try to block the Cat as he launches his way, scrabbling up onto his shoulders with that quick grace that only a feline ever seemed to pull off. Blinking a moment as he processed the feel of the little furry weight against his shoulders, shifting his posture ever so slightly to make sure they were a stable perch for his companion, he let out a short laugh, bringing up a curled knuckle just low enough to be an offer of a chin rub if the Cat wanted it.]
As Your Majesty commands, [Teasing to be sure, but not a disrespectful sort.] I'd bow but-
[He'd been about to joke about the move dislodging the Cat, but something about the idea of bowing just had him making a light face as he pushed to his feet to carry them along at an easy sort of amble.]
[ The Cat accepts the raised hand, rubbing his whiskers once against the sharp angle of Charles' knuckle before gently nipping at it with his smaller teeth - not enough to hurt, but enough to be a playful warning. Be careful what beasts you try to pet, and all. He wonders if Charles has ever paid the price for this kind of blind trust that animals will accept a soft hand if it's offered with patience... Or if his annoyingly charming face served him well even in that regard. ]
No, you're not. Kind of the rebellious type, but you probably figured that out from the way you're dressed, right? No respectable teenager has patches on their coat.
[ Probably a wild generalisation, but the Cat doesn't need to know Charles inside and out to know that he was the type to buck the trend. It's probably why he works so well with Edwin, after all; one of them rigid and the other fluid, making for a perfect team. Ugh, it's so gross how made for each other they are. But he's not thinking about that, is he? It makes him feel weird. Even though, technically, he's doing all he can to keep Charles safe while he waits for more information about what's happened to the ghost boys. ]
Besides, I don't think there'd be any appeal in seeing you bow. [ He focuses back in on the boy under his paws, curling his tail in to play cheekily at the slope of his cheek, tickling under his nose, as he lowers his voice to murmur through a purr into his ear: ] I'd prefer to see you on your knees.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
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?]no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
A favourite, yeah. Like a default setting. I can use a little magic to look a different way—
[ He raises one gloved hand, and Charles' form dematerialises to reform as one similar to his previous form, but rounder and softer; feminine curves unmistakeable under the soft fabric of the Cat's shirt, a little more length to the hair, a fuller lip. When the Cat King speaks again, her voice is higher, but still with that telltale lilt that makes it clear this is the same Cat as before... if the constant stare of those golden eyes didn't give that much away already. ]
If I feel like it. Or if whoever I'm talking to prefers one option over the other.
[ It's earnest, but the tone in her voice sounds like she's setting a challenge, or perhaps asking a question. ]
no subject
But what if he'd pulled the wool over their eyes too?
Luckily though, the Cat didn't seem to be lingering in the shape overlong, returning to the shape they seemed to prefer-
Or something close enough to it. Female rather than male, but still obviously the Cat. Charles' brows lifted as he took in the differences, curiosity and interest blended once again.]
Prefers... [Charles blinked, gaze back on those big golden eyes again, considering the idea now that it was presented.]
I... well, you're a real stunner like this, but I think you knew that already, [Said easily with a smile and a tilt of his head.] But... I meant it when I called you fit before too, yeah?
[Where did that leave him? He wasn't sure. He also wasn't sure why something about saying it, at least the second part of the admission, made him feel exposed in some way.]
no subject
Mmhmmm... [ He hums, less a considering noise and more the sound of someone who's just had their question answered. He knew Charles had had a little fling with their resident psychic — according to the reports from his cats, at least — and he knew Charles didn't reciprocate Edwin's feelings in any meaningful way despite throwing a host of jealous looks around when anyone else got too close, but had been flirting back pretty successfully earlier when the Cat had been laying it on thick... ]
Bisexuality isn't a crime, you know. I don't know how much you've forgotten, but no-one's about to push you in a locker for thinking I'm hot both ways any more. Things have changed a lot since you were alive. It's not perfect, but it's easier.
[ He wonders if something happened in Charles' life to make him lean towards girls, or if he was doing it out of habit. The idea that he might possibly not be attracted to Edwin doesn't compute in the Cat's mind, so that's out. Even though the Cat wants to ask so badly about it, but doing so would mean bringing up Edwin, and reminding himself that he wants to, that it would more than likely fix this, that Charles would have something familiar and comforting to guide him through this instead of the Cat's heavy-handed paws. ]
C'mon, let's keep going. [ He says, starting to walk onwards down the steps to the beach. And then, because his curiosity is making his tongue feel light and sharp in his mouth, and he needs to sate it before he says something ridiculous, he asks: ]
Do you remember anything about your human life, or has the curse taken everything? [ He could get away with feigning concern and magical speculation on the parameters of how this curse has affected Charles with a question like that. But not with what he asks next: ] Do you remember how many girls you've kissed? How many boys?
no subject
But then he'd known so few examples of love in his life, was it any surprise that he hadn't realized the potential in that intensity, until Edwin's shaky confession had held up a mirror and let him see the shape of things for the first time?
And where did that leave him now, with all that fire but uncertain where to direct it?
Unaware of the Cat's inner turmoil, especially with his comments about sexuality to chew on, Charles was more than willing to follow the prompting, falling into step alongside his companion as their steps turned them towards the beach. Considering the question that followed, a sensible enough one with what happened, even if the addition had him chuckling faintly.]
I... don't remember, nah. S'all just fog and water. Sometimes you'll bring something up or I'll see something and it'll seem right. Or a bit of memory shakes out. [A vague gesture with a hand, as if he knew that wasn't especially helpful, but it was what he had. But he gives himself a centering shake and a wry smile.]
A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Your Majesty, [As if he was a gentleman, the very idea, his teasing smirk seemed to say.] But the idea of kissin' either... feels familiar, yeah.
no subject
[ The apology sounds tongue in cheek, but it feels oddly genuine when he says it. While the Cat can often joke and tease, he very rarely actually lies; he withholds information, sure, he dodges the truth as gracefully as one might expect a feline body would.. but lying doesn't come easily to him. It sits strangely in his mouth, makes his magic feel wild, makes his awareness feel shaken. Even if the truth will actively do him harm, hurt him, make things worse... If Charles asked what was missing, what the no doubt empty feeling in him is because of, why it feels comfortable but wrong to walk beside the Cat, the Cat would tell him. He knows he would. And he hates that.
And now, as he tells Charles that he's sorry he didn't meet him when he was alive, he's not lying about that either. He wonders if he was the type of boy who was nice to cats, despite clearly preferring dogs.
But, he does know something, doesn't he? He knows Charles chose to stay here, in the world that he was taken from, to instead stay by Edwin's side and to promise to stay there even if it took the press of claws and teeth to keep him so. There must have been something in life that made Charles feel like he needed a second chance, if he gave up on an afterlife for this. Perhaps it's better he doesn't remember. ]
I think you and your little detective team came down here once or twice.
[ He says, as he starts to pick his way along the stony beach, toward the shoreline that loops back around to the docklands, to the cannery. ]
Looking for some giant fish, or something. Nothing to do with me, though I might've helped if you'd asked. Cats are good at fishing.
no subject
The apology, joking as the tone was, sounded genuine enough. A casual air painted over actual emotion was a thing Charles was finding familiar in some way, beyond simply knowing people who operated like that. With his own knee-jerk response to things being to smile, to be chipper and make jokes himself despite the situation he'd found himself in, he could only imagine how often he did that himself.]
Aces, means you can't bust out any embarrassing little kid pictures yeah?
[And the prompting was helpful. He had a sense of familiarity in looking around the stretch of beach, but the confirmation did encourage him to be a bit more mindful in his examination of their surroundings. Pausing when he spotted a little bit of seaglass, stooping to pluck it up before continuing to follow, turning it thoughtfully between fingers.]
Remember there was some seaglass that was important. Not sure why, but it seems that way.
[A tilt of his head, considering.]
Cats are good at fishin' yeah, but isn't it a thing that you're not fans of water?
no subject
He doesn't like to think about it. It was a massive faux pas, but it was also potentially the first push to the snowball effect of Edwin's feelings for Charles coming to a head (even though he almost definitely had feelings for him before that) and thinking about it makes the Cat feel... weird. Not angry, not upset, but weird.
He chooses instead to latch on to the latter part of Charles' comment, since it's always so much easier to indulge in talking about himself. ]
I'm not a fan, sure, but I live on the docklands of a coastal town — I'd be in a sorry fucking state if I couldn't handle a bit of water, don't you think?
[ He asks, meandering closer to the water's edge so he can kick a few pebbles into the rolling tide, as if to prove his resilience to the stuff. ]
It's mostly domesticated house cats who fear water. Once you've been a stray for long enough, you stop being so worried about things you don't understand.
no subject
Not that it was hard- he hadn't been running away, he just hadn't stopped.]
I mean... could be like... exposure therapy? That's a thing.
[Charles hummed thoughtfully at the second part though. That... sounded right. He wasn't sure how he knew, but it did, so he just nodded his understanding.]
Makes sense though. Stray cat's got loads more to worry about than a bit of water, yeah? World's a scary place, 'specially when you're little.
no subject
Little, huh?
[ He asks, then snaps his fingers and reappears a moment later as a sleek black cat, tail high in the air, golden eyes like a sunset framed against the blue of the water behind him as he splashes his paws in the white surf. ]
There's nothing little about a cat, puppy. You should watch your mouth.
no subject
Little's just about size. Nothin' bad about being cat-sized. Makes it loads easier to sneak around, and get into all sorts of places people don't want you gettin' into, I'm sure.
[And unable to help but to grin and give a teasing response to the last bit-]
I mean I could, but you could watch it for me.
no subject
But Charles has a point. Being this size does make it sufficiently easier to get himself into trouble, and is even a pretty stellar way to get himself back out of it again, too. And perhaps it's that thought that inspires him to narrow his golden eyes as he turns around with soggy little paws to study the ghost crouched nearby, on his level in what the Cat assumes Charles thought would be a placating way... but which the Cat only sees as an opportunity.
He lunges forward, pouncing at the form of the ghost until he's hooked claws into his coat and is anchoring himself up onto his shoulders, sitting proudly as though he were made to sit there. ]
I spend enough time already watching your pretty little mouth, I don't need any more encouragement.
[ And it's true. Of all Charles' most attractive features, that stupidly charming smile is is most enticing, and the one the Cat can summon with perfect clarity in his mind despite the limited number of times he's seen it directed his way. ]
Now, come on — the cannery is just down the beach once you hit the docks. You can get us both there, as penance for your insolence to a King.
no subject
Whatever he'd been expecting, while he started for the sudden movement, he didn't recoil or try to block the Cat as he launches his way, scrabbling up onto his shoulders with that quick grace that only a feline ever seemed to pull off. Blinking a moment as he processed the feel of the little furry weight against his shoulders, shifting his posture ever so slightly to make sure they were a stable perch for his companion, he let out a short laugh, bringing up a curled knuckle just low enough to be an offer of a chin rub if the Cat wanted it.]
As Your Majesty commands, [Teasing to be sure, but not a disrespectful sort.] I'd bow but-
[He'd been about to joke about the move dislodging the Cat, but something about the idea of bowing just had him making a light face as he pushed to his feet to carry them along at an easy sort of amble.]
Maybe not. Don't think I'm much the bowing sort.
no subject
No, you're not. Kind of the rebellious type, but you probably figured that out from the way you're dressed, right? No respectable teenager has patches on their coat.
[ Probably a wild generalisation, but the Cat doesn't need to know Charles inside and out to know that he was the type to buck the trend. It's probably why he works so well with Edwin, after all; one of them rigid and the other fluid, making for a perfect team. Ugh, it's so gross how made for each other they are. But he's not thinking about that, is he? It makes him feel weird. Even though, technically, he's doing all he can to keep Charles safe while he waits for more information about what's happened to the ghost boys. ]
Besides, I don't think there'd be any appeal in seeing you bow. [ He focuses back in on the boy under his paws, curling his tail in to play cheekily at the slope of his cheek, tickling under his nose, as he lowers his voice to murmur through a purr into his ear: ] I'd prefer to see you on your knees.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
time to tl;dr everywhere!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)