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Fantasy A Shifting World

The idea of food was always a grat way to start the day! Grinning wide, Kit was more than eager to head back into the house and away from the already heating up day. She had to wonder if all the days would end up as warm as the day prior had been. Out in the sun and growing sweaty was not very much fun, even if it meant they were making food in the garden.

Fully prepared to turn and walk into living room where she'd sat for the past few meals, Kit wondered if she could find another of the movies to watch. Hopefully there were more like the boy and his peach, because she had truly enjoyed it. One foot had crossed into the living room when Missulvan's voice grabbed her attention and turned her back around. Tilting her head in confusion, it took a long moment for her to understand just what was happening.

"Wash hands?" The question came out before she recalled just what that meant. Walking over to the kitchen sink, she mimicked the action she'd learned since coming to Missulvan's home, using a fair amount of soap and finding a towel only after she'd scrubbed them plenty clean. "What is help do?"
 
"You can help me find what we need to make some french toast," she said, setting a pan on the stovetop. "I thought you might as well learn where everything is in here so you can find something to eat whenever you're hungry. Might even learn to cook someday, if you want to. Here." Mag opened the fridge. "We need the carton of eggs. Be certain not to break any."

She led Kit through the short list of ingredients and their placements, mindful to go at a slower pace than she had yesterday in the garden. She was usually a bit fussy over the cabinets and refrigerator's organization, but if Kit happened to misplace anything, Mag had the shape of most things memorized and braille labels stuck to whatever she didn't. Anything else could be cleaned up. With Kit, Mag's main worry was injury, so she kept the heat of the stove lower than she normally would have once they began preparing the food.

Mag cracked the eggs herself to keep out any shell bits, but passed the other ingredients to Kit add in as she guided her through it. "Only this much vanilla--any more than a teaspoon, it'll taste odd. You can shake the cinnamon a few times. Honey, just...do a little zigzag, that should be enough." She made the motion with her finger, putting things away once Kit was finished with them, though she touched a drop of honey to Kit's finger and guided it to the younger woman's mouth before putting it away.

"Isn't that good? Mr. Romano here in town makes it. I'd love to have my own bee farm someday. Wouldn't that be something."
 
There was almost no time between when Kit's hands were dried and when she was led to the process of helping. As always, she was beyond attentive to what was being asked of her, careful to follow each step she was given to the t. For anything she didn't know by name, Missulvan was dutifully showing her the way. No doubt if she wasn't as patient or saintly of a woman there were times when frustration would have hit.

Eggs, vanilla, cinnamon. Each ingredient was carefully cataloged in her ever-expanding mind. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to remember each step on her own the first try, but she wasn't about to give up at just a possibility. The least she could do after everything Missulvan did for her was to pay attention.

With utmost careful Kit was focusing entirely on stirring the mixture to ensure none of it spilled. The sudden sticky, gooey sensation on her finger caught her off guard and she thought it was a mistake at first. That was until it was in her mouth - then she was eagerly sucking her digit clean! "Is...very sweet," she said with a clearly interested tone. Eager cobalt eyes moved to the bottle that had given her such a treat. "Honey from bees? We get bees." Kit was on board with this idea!
 
"Yeah. Yeah," Mag said, nodding, realizing Kit was not only following along but supportive of the idea. "It would take a bit of work, but I think we could do it. Mr. Romero said he'd teach me, and I've done some reading already. We could definitely have our own bees." She quieted suddenly, tampering the enthusiastic stream that was aimed just as much at Kit as it was a conversation with herself. Right now, she didn't want to distract Kit from the task at hand, but it was nice to feel excited about something. It was even nicer to have someone to be excited with.

She turned back to the bowl of egg mixture, taking a slice of bread between her fingers. "One side, then the other. Make sure the bread is completely covered, but not too much. It shouldn't be dripping." She quickly transferred it to the pan, allowing it to toast on both sides before returning it to the plate. "See? Dip, flip, done. You try."

Mag didn't leave Kit completely to her own devices, staying close enough to supervise but giving her enough distance so as not to get in the way. She didn't expect the younger girl to learn how to cook anything just yet (nor did she completely trust anyone alone in her kitchen), but Kit could at least familiarize herself with basic tasks and items and get a feel of independence. Though she still required plenty of guidance--the last thing Kit needed was any additional injuries.

"Careful. It's hot, remember," Mag added after that thought, taking a half step closer to the stove.
 
The idea of always having more of that sugary suckle of heaven available was almost too much for Kit to handle. It was such a wonder to her all the different flavors and even textures Missulvan had in her kitchen. Setting aside the slippery, unwanted tomatoes she had been given twice now, it seemed like this room was full of the most delicious and delectable of treats. She wanted to explore further, but also wouldn't dare do anything that would offend her hostess or betray her trust. No, she would wait for these meals and learn what she could along the way.

There were a lot of rules when it came to cooking, or so she was categorizing the steps that were given to her by Missulvan. Her first attempt to put the slice of bread into the batter was a disaster. She didn't think it was too long, but as soon as she went to pick it back out, the bread fell apart into pieces. Cobalt eyes doubled in size, fear automatically taking over her emotions. "S-sorry," she breathed, nearly coiling away before she was coaxed back over to try again. Even as she wasted food, something that she had been told was precious, still Missulvan found grace, passion and forgiveness. Kit hoped that everyone was kind as she was.

They moved on from her mishap and she carefully learned to watch in the pan for signs to know when to flip. It seemed that this was a relatively straightfoward meal, and Kit was still amazed. Was Missulvan able to tell it was done without looking? This seemed a lot like the magic they saw on the Peach movie! Ever in awe of what that strong woman could do without looking, Kit took extra caution when instructed to be careful, mindful of the heat rolling off the pan. Soon they had a fair sized stack of french toast accumulated, the comforting scent of vanilla filling the kitchen. "Is good now?"
 
Mag nearly jumped at Kit's voice in her ear, not realizing she herself had been hovering to check Kit's progress. She mumbled a noise of belated surprise, then said more clearly, "Yes, it's ready." Motioning Kit to bring the plate of toast to the table, she placed a couple plates and a bottle of syrup on the wooden surface, leaving the majority of the food for Kit but pooling a generous amount of syrup next to her own serving. She began to tear the bread with her hands, then stopped. Normally, she would have pulled it into pieces and swiped it through the syrup, but she was still trying to impress upon Kit the use of silverware, and she couldn't have Kit do one thing as she did another. "Oh, hold on," she muttered, grabbing two forks and sliding one across for Kit. She used hers to cut off sections of the toast, figuring Kit would model the same.

"It turned out pretty good," she mused a moment later as she finished her plate. "You did well. Not bad at all for your first try." She rinsed her dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, then, realizing she hadn't offered Kit anything to drink, poured her a glass of juice and set it down. Mag mentally flipped through what else needed to be done as the younger woman finished her food. Monday--she'd gotten an early start today, so there wasn't too much else for now, aside from preparing for the students she had tutoring with tomorrow. It was a weekday, which meant that the mail would be here. She scrunched her mouth to one side in thought. That meant a trip to the Baileys, who helped her sort the mail she received in print. It would be a quick errand if she caught Mr. Bailey before he left for the diner, since he was less talkative than his wife and often quicker with practical matters. It wouldn't hurt to bring Kit with her, but if Mrs. Bailey was the one home, it would turn into an even longer trip--one that she figured Kit probably didn't need right now. The girl would be fine on her own for just a bit, wouldn't she?

"Kit, I have a quick errand to run at the Baileys'. It should only take a little while--maybe half an hour at the very most. Will you be okay here in the meantime?" Mag tapped the back of her chair as she passed by. "Well, come to the bathroom and brush your teeth once you're done. I'll let you know when I'm heading out."
 
It was well enough that Missulvan caught herself, Kit already beginning to mimic the action of tearing the french toast to shred. She stopped abruptly as she was handed a fork, cobalt eyes watching curiously as to just how it would be used. Soon she was copying the sawing motion, although in her mind it seemed like this added unnecessary time when her hands had been working perfectly fine and honestly felt faster. Still, she was nothing if not obedient, and so she would do as she was told.

Enjoying the sweet and sticky taste of syrup just as much as she had the honey, Kit's head jerked up at wors from Missulvan. Her hard work had turned out well? That sent a wave of warmth through her that she couldn't explain, still missing the concept of pride. Instead she sat up straight and focused intently on continuing to earn such nice words from MIssulvan.

The talk of her being gone was an odd way to end their meal. Kit was duitfully taking her plate to the sink, just as she had learned was the normal habit that one must do after eating. She turned to Missulvan once her hands were washed, trying to decide just how she would answer. "Okay here," she decided could convey her thoughts. There were plenty of things to do in the home. Half of an hour was a measurement beyond her, but it seemed to be short. Obediently, she headed to the bathroom for teeth brushing. Her body seemed to have a lot of maintenance to it, at least now that she was staying here.

"Baileys talk a lot?" Small talk seemed to be something she could adjust to. Her vocabulary was growing by the day, the television especially addeing to it since she could but a visual aid to what was being said. "Will bring soup?" Taking soup seemed to be an important part of visiting someone, after all.
 
Mag snorted a quiet laugh despite herself. It wasn't polite, but they weren't in polite company anyway. "Mrs. Bailey does, yes. Thomas can be chatty himself, though nearly not as much. And, no, no soup this time. But maybe later." The thought of eating out was a welcome one--dinner at the diner seemed like a good idea, and Kit would probably be able to handle another quiet, comfortable place. She was already learning so much, adapting quickly to her new surroundings. Mag spared a smile at their conversation--it might not have seemed like much, but Kit's growing abilities and vocabulary were impressive after such a short time. These were her thoughts as she tugged on a pair of boots, pulling a coat over her shoulders and the house dress she had on. "Back in a minute," she reminded, swinging open the screen door.

A chill settled over her as she did, making its way into the house with a wet, earthy scent just barely detectable. "Smells like rain," she mused aloud, the door shutting behind her and muffling the soft mutterings that followed, then a yelp of surprise (along with a few whispered curses) and a thud as she opened the door again. A belled cat squeezed by her legs and darted into the house, giving an unbothered meow as it went for the younger woman. "Darn thing, winding around my ankles--Kit, mind Hecate, will you? Keep her out of the sun catchers or she'll knock them down." The door shut behind her a final time, and she made her way down the path to the Baileys' house.

The cool weather had turned to drizzle, then rain, then the beginning of a storm by the time Mag made it back to the house. It had only been a short while, but the weather was often fickle this time of year, quickly changing from sun to storm in little time. She kicked off her boots outside the door, pulling it open half in desperation to get out of the cold, half in eagerness to make sure Kit was all right. "I'm home!" she called out, only briefly feeling the strangeness of being able to say such a thing. She set her coat to dry on a hook and the waterlogged mail on the hallway table. "Kit, is everything okay? And do you mind bringing me a towel from the bathroom please?"
 
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The cat was a welcomed presence, especially since Kit knew it could be awhile before Missulvan returned. She took the duty of protecting the sun catchers from the mischievious feline, shooing her away twice before the animal seemed to get the message that no tom foolery would be tolerated. Instead the two found a quiet agreement to curl up on the couch, the only difficulty being that Hecate seemed to want to lay on blankets Kit was trying to move. Eventually the young woman gave up and just let the cat have her way, flipping carefully through a book while on her stomach instead.

Time seemed to drag on while they were alone, the house feeling a little too quiet for her liking. Kit tried to turn the television on, but didn't seem to push the right buttons on the colorful plastic Missulvan had used before. She had just stood up and was halfway to the screen to see if she could find something else to make it work when a sharp noise sounded at the front door, waking Hecate abruptly who jumped in fright and scurried off the couch and under the table.

While not covered in fur, Kit could also feel fear surging through her. Missulvan wouldn't knock, so who could possibly be there? A tentative step toward the door ended when another knock sounded. Panicked, she followed the only example she had in that moment of the unknown, slinking into the kitchen and under the table beside Hecate.

But what if it was Them? What if it was someone who wanted to hurt her? Kit's chest rose and fell quickly in mounting anxiety, cobalt eyes widened in fear. Finding no other logical response, she let her body meld from it's fleshy build down to a four-legged creature. Fingers folded themselves into padded paws, her spine elongated and sprouting a fur-coated tail as her body did thes ame. It was a painful process, but Kit made no sound as she shrunk to the floor, a product of punishments during experiments. Her nose transformed into a snout as her ears rearranged themslves to two soft triangles atop her head, capable of hearing the floorboards on the porch creaking with each step the intruder made. Hecate didn't seemed overly bothered by the morping taking place, only taking a second to give Kit's rear a sniff before the two sat side-by-side, staring wide eyed at the door.

Outside, a young man with a white button-up shirt and black tie, hands holding the straps of his backpack waited patiently. His efforts to educate the small town on his own personal religion weren't going overly well, most people not home at that time of day or brushing him off. Stories of the witch of a woman had him striving for a chance to offer salvation, but after a few minutes of waiting it seemed a fruitless endeavor. He slipped a piece of paper in the mailbox and headed on to the next soul who needed to hear what he had to say, whistling as he walked.

Unable to know if the stranger was gone or simply waiting to lure her out, Kit remained under the table in an unwaivering fear. The sound of Missulvan's return took a moment to digest and once she did, the small cat ventured out from under the table just behind Hecate. Frightened with her fur sticking in each direction, Kit padded over to Missulvan's leg, rubbing up against it with a mewl of discontent.
 
Kit didn't respond, which wasn't immediately concerning, but as Mag called her name again and heard nothing, a prickle of worry started in her chest. She wouldn't have gone out, and the house was small enough that any movement or voices were easily heard from any room. So then where would she be? They couldn't have found her yet--or taken--

Hecate rubbed against her leg, but Mag found it wasn't her own cat that she scooped up. This one was leaner and had a small notch in its ear when she ran her hand over its head. Mag let out a deep sigh. "You--oh, you know what, I won't even start with you. I don't even know how to have this conversation." Kit seemed more or less fine, and when she felt there was no apparent danger, she made her way to the bathroom.

There really was no sensible way to navigate...whatever this was. In the back of her head, she knew what Kit was capable of, but the relative normalcy of the past few days made it easy to put out of mind. She really wasn't sure why Kit was currently in the shape of a house pet, so in the meantime, she resorted to her natural defense: muttered fussing, half talking to herself in the habit that was peculiar to her. "I don't know if you're like this on purpose, but you're hurt, remember? I'm not sure how all this works, but twisting about and reshaping your bones like that can't be doing you any good." She had set Kit on the sink as she peeled off her wet clothes, pulled on the bathrobe, undid her hair and shook out the water in an almost doglike fashion. She took Kit once again in one arm and an old towel in the other, dragging it with her foot along the ground to dry the wet trail they'd left.

Leaving the towel by the front door, Mag went back to the living room, picking up the pile of blankets and carting them off to the dryer. After a few minutes, they were staticky and warm, and she reshaped them back into a nest on the couch and tucked Kit into one, patting it around her securely. She wasn't in the habit of relaxing during the day--often the opposite, in fact--but the activity of the weekend was catching up to her in an all-over ache that was hard to ignore, and the rain lulled her into a sleepy mood. It wouldn't hurt to rest until the storm subsided, her tutoring students were out of school, and Kit turned back into a human--this last one being the most pressing. With a sigh, she sank into the sofa herself, one leg dangling over the back of the couch, the other brushing the floor.

"I hope you're planning on explaining yourself once you turn back. You really had me worried for a second there." The foot on the ground grazed something hard, and she picked it up and ran a hand along its edge. "What did you find here?" she murmured to the girl.
 
Being scooped up and carried about like, well a cat, wasn't something that Kit seemed opposed to. She even let out a few low rumbling purrs from Missulvan's hand on the way to the bathroom. Perched on the sink she offered mews in response to the questions she couldn't currently answer. Did it hurt her to transform? Well, a little but not enough to deter her. She'd built up tolerance over forced mutation after mutation. A few water droplets hit her and Kit shook her own fur in response. Water was simply not as enjoyable as a cat!

The toasty nest was a greatly appreciated offer, given the nipping chill of the air about them. Kit wiggled herself deep down into the blanket coiled about her, peeking up at Missulvan with interested cobalt eyes. Explaining herself? Kit was human, now Kit is cat, simple as that. It was just the way things were and there was nothing to be worried about; it wasn't as if she'd left the house.

Popping her head up far enough to see the book she'd been leafing through, Kit grew excited, letting out a couple of short meows. She wiggled her way out of the blanket, padding the short distance over to where she sat and immediately squeezing herself between Missulvan's chest and the book. Her meowing continued, patting the page a few times in hopes for yet another story.
 
Although Kit didn't speak, her intention was clear, an insistent paw batting the hard cover with small thumps. She didn't seem to be scared or have any new injuries, but Mag worried how her shifting forms could worsen the cuts she already had. "All right, all right." Mag opened the book, finding Kit's head with her hand and scratching behind her ears. "I don't know which story you want, so I'll just have to tell you what I remember. What about..." She scratched some more as she thought. "Rapunzel? If you want to see the pictures, you'll have to stop me when I get to the page. It's a girl with really long hair. You'll know it when you see it."

She pulled both legs onto the couch, knees up so the book was propped up for Kit, and began thumbing through pages. There was something strangely funny about the situation she couldn't quite put her finger on, but there was a comfort there too. The small, warm weight of Kit pressed against her, the pile of blankets, and the distant noise of thunder outside followed by the occasional clanking of wind chimes made for a peaceful afternoon. Mag laid her head back on the armrest, wet hair brushing the ground, and circled one arm around Kit's small form as she began the story.

"Once, there was a young man and woman who had married and were expecting their first child. As happy as this made them, the wife soon grew very sick and craved the green rapunzel she saw growing in their neighbor's garden. But their neighbor was a witch, and the woman's husband was too afraid to ask for anything from her. So one night, he snuck into the garden and picked the rapunzel himself."
 
A new task! Kit knew she would have to pay close attention if she was to do her part for this story time. Cobalt cat eyes were focused intently and the moment she saw the picture that Missulvan described, she started mewling and struck the paper twice with her paw. That was quite a lot of hair - hard for even her to be mistaken! Pleased with her work, she settled in for the story to be told, nuzzled up contently against her kind hostess.

The warmth from a much larger body was more than welcome to the small cat. Long tail curled around her body, coming to rest between her front paws that rest on the book. She listened with much interest as the story began, giving the page small taps with a meow whenever she thought the story had progressed past what the pictures told.

A soft purr had started, causing the most subtle vibration to be felt between young woman and cat. A few times Kit's eyes closed, though the occasional twitch of her ears told tell that she was still listening. It was pleasant to listen to Missulvan's voice, especially when she created these magnificent worlds with it.
 
A low, rumbling purr was all she needed to know how Kit was doing in that moment. She seemed pleased with herself at a job well done, content in a way only a cat could be. Her gentle breathing let Mag know that even though she twitched every now and then in response to her words, she seemed as if she were close to sleep. Mag gave her a final pet to the neck, dropping her hand to the cat's soft-furred side so as not to disturb her.

"One more?" Mag asked quietly as they finished "Rapunzel." She decided not to ask Kit to find the pictures for the next one, allowing her to sleep if she wanted to, seeing as she had settled down. Closing the book carefully without jostling Kit, she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. "What about Cinderella?" She curled in closer to the cat, allowing herself to close her eyes.

"There was a young girl named Ella, but when her father died and left her with her cruel stepmother and the woman's two daughters, her stepsisters called her Cinderella, since their mother made her work and clean and allowed her only to sleep by the fireplace, where she became covered it soot."
 
Missulvan's voice and her story were almost a lullaby to Kits perked ears. She was nearly asleep as the story ended. It had a pleasant enough ending, even if Kit was highly confused about the hair growth. She had a good amount of hair when she wasn't a cat, but nothing like Rapunzel! Unfortunately, she couldn't ask questions as a cat.

Pocketing her curiosities for another time when she had the lips and mouth to voice them, Kit was nearly asleep when a new story started. She barely opened one eye to peer out as Missulvan spoke of a young girl with a tragic story. Kit thought it wasn't far from her own, though something else piqued her interest. Without warning, the room filled with soft cracking of bones and stretching of flesh. Within seconds a bare Kit had just barely slid off of Missulvan's lap. "What is soot?" She demanded.
 
Mag had settled into something like rest, comfortably nestled amongst cat, book, and blankets. Kit had slipped off her lap, which wasn't overly concerning--cats were capricious, and she wouldn't have been surprised if Kit had adopted that trait while in its form--but it was the sudden noise that made her nearly jump out of her skin. In fact, she could have believed someone had jumped out of their skin by the sound of it. There was a cracking of bone that put her own joints to shame, and there was Kit, asking questions as if she'd never been gone at all.

Mag let out a startled expression, muttering under her breath until she could form an English thought. "Bit of warning next time," she said weakly, sitting up. Soot? She had no question about long hair or stealing or witches, but it's the soot she wants to know about? She shook her head wonderingly, but answered the question. "It's the black powdery stuff that comes from burning something. Like ashes." She had her own questions--she still wasn't sure why Kit had decided to turn into a cat or if she'd even done it on purpose--but found she didn't have the energy to begin that line of questioning just now. She rubbed an eye with the side of her wrist.

"Do you want to sit back down and hear the rest of it?"
 
Just why Missulvan was using words that Kit did not know and had not heard before was beyond her. The possiblity that she would startle the kind woman was not something she had considered. After all, it had already been established that she knew about Kit's abilities. Why wouldn't she expect her to use them?

Ah yes, soot was dirty. That made sense, although she wasn't sure why the sisters would use that as a way to name her. "Yes, more story," she requested, though she was unable to hold her tongue still when another question came to mind. "But if soot, why not Soot-ella?" There seemed to be a missing piece of the puzzle that Kit felt was dire information if she was to know just what was going on with this family and their dirty daughter.
 
"Cinders are like soot. You get them both from burning coal, I think." She was tempted to tell Kit that small detail didn't matter, but if she felt it was important to her understanding, Mag wouldn't shut down the question. Instead she found a blanket at the end of the couch, finding Kit and wrapping it around her. "Sit down if you're going to."

She waited until Kit was settled in to continue telling the story, trying to remember where she'd left off before the soot interrogation. "One day, Cinderella and her sisters received an invitation to a royal party called a ball. The prince was looking for a wife, and invited all the women in the land to the ball that would be held for three nights." They made it through most of the story with minimal interruptions, though when they reached the end, Mag decided to ask her own questions.

"Kit, did something happen while I was gone?"
 
The story was once more captivating Kit's susceptible mind, pulling her in just as it would a child. She watched the colored pages on the book with an intense interest as Missulvan painted the rest of it in her mind. She wondered what a ball would be like, just how pumpkins (now after peaches) turned into other things, and if she could convince Hecate to make a dress with her. Something told her the lazy feline would not agree, regardless of how she asked.

Pulling the blanket around her bare body, Kit tilted her head at the question that was posed. Had something happened? It took her a moment of thought to remember just what had hapened before the story stole her away. "Oh, today?" Her cobalt gaze shifted to the front door just barely out of sight. "There was...sound here," her brows furrowed together in thought. "Not Bailey, but someone. So Kit hid with Hecate."
 
Mag stopped, closing the book on her lap silently, chin lifted in thought. No one who knew her just dropped by without calling first, and if they did, they always announced themselves through the door. It might have seemed strange, but living alone, she took every precaution. Anyone who came to the door was always either expected, scheduled, or introduced for her own peace of mind. Sometimes--though rarely--other people stopped by, but she could usually gauge who they were before allowing them in.

All that might have been worrying too much. But she had Kit now, and any worry she'd had for her own self was now expanded to include the younger woman. Kit had said herself that whoever she'd run from would want her back, and she'd been here a few days already. Would that have been enough time to find her? Mag kept her expression calm so as not to worry the girl, but found herself moving closer to her protectively, as if the person were still there. Her hand searched for hers, and it was a moment before she found it.

"Did you see who it was--did you recognize them, I mean?" Her mind briefly marveled at Kit's few words--real sentences this time that made her inwardly beam with pride despite the anxiety she'd just felt.
 
Kit frowned, realizing this was information she should have been able to give Missulvan. Had she seen their form? She scratched her head in deep thought, trying to think back to the moments before she had hidden in a feline form. She remembered vague details, but wasn't sure how much she had been able to convey.

"No, do not know," she finally decided with a disappointed shake of her own head. "Was man." Surely Missulvan would need more details than this! "Made music at door but, uh...no words." It was as close as she could describe the sound he'd made. She had heard it before, but had no idea what people referred to it as. Anything else beyond that she was a lost cause for helping.

"Sorry. Did not see good. Worried and hid with Hecate," she admitted, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on one of her knees. She still held Missulvan's hand lossely, though, finding some comfort in it. "Will do better next."
 
Her brows pulled together as Kit described what she had missed. Trying to piece together information between the two of them was like playing charades. Someone Kit didn't know might have been a relief, though word of a man raised her guard back up a bit. Music--the doorbell had been broken for ages and she'd never gotten it fixed, and its shrill sounds couldn't be mistaken for anything melodic. Beside, most people who came regularly knew not to ring, though Judy and occasionally Tom Bailey often did it out of habit and had to be reminded not to touch it. "Okay, uh--humming? Whistling?" she muttered as if they really were playing a game, shaking her head when she caught herself. Most likely it had been nothing. She got an odd door-to-door person at times, but having Kit around made her regard everything with suspicion.

"Sorry." She gave a crooked apologetic smile, running a thumb along Kit's hand in an attempt to dispell the tension she'd just raised. "If you're sure you didn't know him, it was probably just someone visiting the neighborhoods selling things. I hope I didn't upset you." She'd have to prepare Kit a bit better for the next time--show her how to work things around the house, where the important items were stored, what made what noise. Maybe how to work the phone and dial emergency numbers--she prayed they wouldn't need them, but--

A worrying thought had begun to take shape, though she stopped before she could give it much consideration. She'd have to do all that later. She'd managed to push through the aching the past few days out of necessity, but too many days ignoring it left her feeling tired and worse, not to mention the change in weather that always aggravated it. Alex had teased her the one time she'd admitted to it and would put on an old-woman voice in an attempt to make her laugh, but somehow she thought Kit wouldn't find the bit funny after the small scare they'd had. She didn't want the girl to feel unsafe or to think she wasn't capable of keeping them secure.

"Here's an idea." Mag slowly eased herself back down, lying back into the comfort of blankets she'd created. Even in the state of things, she couldn't pass up what she saw as a learning opportunity. "Why don't you try telling me a story now? I'll help you, don't worry."
 
The continuing questions made Kit feel increasingly uneasy, though she didn't immediately react to it. Her mind was searching desperately to find answers for Missulvan that simply were not there. Humming? Whistling? She felt like she should have known what those were, and the fact that she did not made her feel a little guilty and ashamed of herself. She needed to learn more and do betterin the future.

One of the blankets off the couch was coiled about her for comfort, clearly unbothered by the fact she was bare. The day had been eventful, and to top it of the transformation had used up a fair amount of her energy. She might not have complained or whined at the pain that she was accusotmed to, but that didn't stop her from draining her stamina.

At the question, cobalt eyes widened with uncertainty, shifting on her seat in thought. The only stories she knew were the ones Missulvan had told to her over the past few days, and even those she didn't think she could manage to re-tell. "Story?" Fiery brows knitted together in deep thought, wanting so badly to impress her. There was one story she knew before she came, so perhaps there was hope. "Story of magical cat?"
 
With the excitement of before, she hadn't noticed that Kit had also seemed tired, even drained. Had she made it worse with her pushing questions? She wondered if it was due to the shifting into a cat and back, two physical changes in a short amount of time. Maybe a short rest would be a good idea after all.

Mag moved her feet aside and patted the spot in case Kit wanted to move closer, wincing at a loud crack of thunder. She could only hope the storm wasn't wrecking havoc on her flowers right now. Kit's mention of a story returned her attention to the moment, the idea of a magical cat something curiously familiar. Now that the young woman was comfortable and had some more words to express herself, would this be her tale in her own words, or some sort of story she'd heard before?

Mag raised herself slightly up. "Okay, let's hear it. How does it begin?"
 
Inching her way across the couch, Kit was happy to bring the blankets with her. The cloth was so much softer than what she was used to, not scratching up her skin or leaving her feeling itchy. It was welcoming, just as Missulvan had been to her, and even warm as the same. She mimicked what she'd seen her hostess do time and time again, she tucked the blanket in around them both, which only made the blankets even warmer.

Her full attention and effort were needed for the task at hand, holding her hands loosely in her lap. Occasionally she wrung them for a moment as her thoughts struggled. "Cat - little cat - oh, kitten!" Cobalt eyes shone with pride when she was able to correct herself. "Kitten in trees. Many, many trees." Her mind went to the story of Little Red. "Forest. Kitten in forest, with other cats. Sometimes not cats. Mama cat teach Kitten magic and turn Kitten into cat. Kittens told to hide when fire come."

She paused in her story, looking up at Missulvan to try and gage a reaction. Was she telling a good story? It didn't sound nearly as nice as the ones that she had been told, that much was certain.
 

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