Royesland [Full]

[TrashRabbit]

Tuesday continued eating as Pol angled reverse psychology on him as well as casting him as less deserving than a cat. Tuesday was very competent he was not a tyrant, having disposed of Jarl bears for being one some hundred years ago, he liked to keep the old kings misteps in his mind- a feet most fae did not bother with. He nodded, kermit like, as Pol continued on. Then grimaced through is adoration of the creature, harbinger of all his ill luck, as an upstanding citizen. How easily tricked. What a pitiful creature this Pol was to be taken in by the likes of a such a beast as fucking BathTub. If he had learned one thing about humans in his time as king it was that most of them thought they were making perfect sense at all times (they never did, what there ability lie, and honestly they were exhausting.) and he missed his favorite adviser, Truffle, the one who knew humans best in that moment. He hoped they were fairing well at home in the forest. Or that they would come for him soon-
He wasn't used to being able to fret over things while something exciting was also happening, being human was incredibly stressful like that. Pol was now petting the beast and he felt his food try to rise at the back of his throat.
He tried to imagine how Truffle would deal with silver tongue lording and usually- what came out of Truffles mouth was very strange and usually worked. But today his mind provided for him a perfect summation.
It would cost he's ego nothing to humor him.
Humoring anyone was usually not in his nature, save for when he thought it might be funny. But he was annoyed. He wanted to be away from BathTub , he held no power here and was loathe to misbehave or break human customs in front of Molly.
"You should have asked for the plate nicely from the start, I assume some one taught you to say please. Even I know please." He said, and pushed the now empty plate across the table. He had timed it perfectly to finish the last bit just as Pol finished speaking. He then sat silently. Hoping he would go. "And Since I am less worthy than a sinful creature such as that," He said pointing at Bathtub accusingly, "And since I am so low in your opinion for the crime of having acquired thumbs it would be beneath you to continue arguing with me any further. You may leave."

 

[Nimbus]

Apollonius Enguerrand Rossaluna

As he watched the plate move across the table, Apollo's gaze warmed with relief. Stray beams of sunlight glinted off Quill's porcelain, whole and beautiful and headed back to the shop, where it would stay.

He considered Tuesday's simple request. There would have been no harm in asking forthright. Yet, he didn't. And he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"Please?" He parroted, as if it were a new bit of vocabulary in another language.

That's sound logic, he thought, but...why does it seem like begging?

Apollo unfolded his hands and cradled the plate. He got what he came for. That's what mattered most. Pol wasn't letting anything of Quill's out of his sight ever again. And even that was a compromise, because he couldn't see Quill now, even if he knew where they were.

A compromise would do here too, wouldn't it?

"I cannot redact what I have already said. But I thank you, Tuesday, for parting with what you held dear. And hopefully also not too much of your pride."

Something in the phrasing of the madman's last words put Apollo off his ease. "The crime of acquiring thumbs," as though Tuesday just grew them overnight. Or maybe,
as in those one-coin booklet of fictional Fantasms popular among the common literate, Tuesday stole his thumbs off a cadaver and sewed them onto his hands with needle and thread. What a disturbing image!

He glanced at Molly (and by extension, Bathtub), his face a map of bemusement and concern. He wanted to ask if this fellow wasn't too far gone into his own delusion. But that might be rude, even outside of Tuesdays hearing.

"In the next life, then, may you take whichever shape suits you, Moon Thief."

He might be leaving feeling a lot better about the whole situation, and with less enmity for Tuesday the plate thief than expected, but Apollo would leave on his own terms.

He ordered two hand pies for the road, requesting a sling for them so he could have a free hand. With the last of his earnings, he paid for his breakfast and lightened the hefty tab from his initial stay at the bar. The innkeep suggested he eat the pies while hot - made a joke about him already having a plate. Good-naturedly, Apollo declined. He had to return back to the shop, after all.

On his way back through the rear entrance of the Prawn, he stopped to chat with Miss Sill and Bathtub.

"Ah, Molly, if you ever need some lemon oil for you guitar, do stop by the tea shop. I found a dozen or so little bottles in the storage closet this morning. We don't have so much furniture to polish that we need that many."

He considered adding that, if it was on the bard's billet, he might be able to make it to an evening performance. But Quill's reappearance would decide whether or not Pol would revisit the Silver Prawn again. Perhaps another day.

"Lord Bath," he addressed the ginger tomcat, sneaking a scritch behind each smooth-furred ear, "do stop by whenever next you feel hungry. Perhaps if so inclined, you might stay for a little conversation."

He clutched the plate to his chest and adjusted his pie sling. For Tuesday, he reserved a silent but courteous bow. Apollo found it illogical to hold animosity against anyone who wasn't in the way of his ambitions. At least not for too long, anyway.

"I should be getting back to the shop. After all, Tea doesn't steep itself. Til next we meet, my good citizens!"

Today didn't start out exactly as planned for the merchant-wizard. But the sun was still shining and the shop, at least, was in the black. That and the success of his errand held comfort enough for Pol.

 

[theunearthlyfool]

Molly watched them debate each other, feeling an unease that even petting the cat didn't help much to settle. She resolved to find a local- someone who'd lived here for years that could perhaps explain why their king was wandering the Port without shoes or a shirt- and as soon as possible.

But for now, of course, she was trapped there on the piano bench; not only would it be impolite to leave without excusing herself, to do so she would have to disturb the cat, and that was a crime in every city, town, and hamlet in Royesland. Molly scritched his chin and then scooted forward a bit to make it easier for Apollonius to pet him too.

So he wasn't Lockette's cat exclusively, but a mascot of the whole village. With so many homes available to spend his days in, Molly was honored the cat kept finding her. There'd been a similar cat in the closest thing she had to a hometown, a large white vagabond who went by Moon in most neighborhoods. She smiled to herself- she hadn't thought about Moon in a very long time.

Tuesday pushed the plate back across the table at the nobleman, and Molly guiltily looked away as she unconsciously tapped her fingers in a nonsense rhythm on the cat's paws where they perched on her knees. She knew Tuesday didn't like cats, and had a special vendetta against this one in particular. It felt like a small betrayal to allow- Tubbs? Lord Bath?- to snuggle up to her with Tuesday right there. But also, she thought plaintively, cat.

Any quarrel Apollonius had entered the shop with faded from his features with the return of the plate, and Molly wondered why it was so darn important to him. A family heirloom, maybe? As she considered asking, the wizard met her eye with an inquiring expression. He too seemed to decide, then, against asking whatever question was on his mind. But those next words- "In the next life, then, may you take whichever shape suits you, Moon Thief,"- put her even more on edge.

He was away to the front counter before she could say anything more- why was the plate so crucial, had he found his friend, and would he be willing to teach her a thing or two about magic, perhaps? By the time he returned with his purchases, the moment had passed. Her shyness returned, she hurriedly tried to recall the addresses for different noble titles, and finally managed a generically suitable "thank you, kind sir."

There was an awkward pause after Apollonius swept from the shop as dramatically as he'd entered. Molly glanced up at her companion. She'd gotten distracted by her internal monologue while they'd talked, so although it seemed as if Tuesday had come out the victor, he honestly looked like he was going to explode. She ventured a careful, "are you okay, love?"

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Bathtub​

If anyone had been watching Cathal's face they would have seen a terrible, smug feline smirk spread across it. The worst thing one could ever do to a fae was have the audacity to thank them, and he enjoyed the sight of Tuesday looking fit to burst. He watched Pol leave the inn and decided he was just the right sort of bumbling.

Besides, he had called him a lord, and invited him over, which had only further enraged Tuesday, on top of his getting to receive affection from Molly.

And that perfectly innocent comment about Tuesday having whatever shape he liked! It was so much. It was too much. Cathal smirked at Tuesday, and didn't think he'd ever had such a good day since he'd become cat shaped.

"Mrow?" he said, a follow up to Molly's question, though his was filled with schadenfreude.

 

[TrashRabbit]

Tuesday had gone red to the ears as soon as Pol had thanked him. It looked like Pol may have as spit in his face.
The Audacity.
The nerve.
He had been nice.
And this was how he was treated. like his kindness was transactional?
He would not forget this, not for a long time.
The words "In the next life, then, may you take whichever shape suits you, Moon Thief." Sent him. Filled him with existential dread. If Truffle did not come to collect him soon, or if this spell did not wear off on his own, then surely it was possible he could die a mortal man. He put his eating knife down with a trembling hand and turned to meet the gaze on the very smug cat in Molly's lap.
The Damned Cat. On top of it all. The harbinger of all his grief. Watching him. Mocking him.
"I'm. Fine." He told this Molly Sills while looking set to explode.

 

[CelticSol]

Lockette stops shaking Houdini, who is content to endlessly peck at Lockette's bare skin, as Riley chides her, feeling her face burn as Riley forces her to recall the fact that she threw - overhand threw - a man into a fountain. Lockette lets Houdini wiggle out of her arms to stomp around on the floor, squawking to display her immense displeasure to have been manhandled. Lockette falls to the couch in defeat, sighing deeply to have been so thoroughly bamboozled by a fucking ground hawk.

"I know she can't help what she is, but - Goddess, would've appreciated it if she let me know she wasn't a fucking chicken. That would've been helpful and not nearly as embarrassing as having someone tell me that my blind ass mistook a fucking hawk as a chicken."

Riley laughs at her. Admittedly, feeling like the butt of a joke was often enough to make Lockette feel defensive and lash out. But there's something about the edge of Riley's laughter, and the absurdity of her own situation, that makes her laugh, too. Riley stands, offering to cook breakfast, and it's embarrassing how long it takes for Lockette to even respond. She finds her voice only as Riley places the pan across the fire, "That would be very kind of you," Then, quieter, "Thank you."

 

[TrashRabbit]

"Oh, don't thank me," She says like Lockette is being completely ridiculous, "We haven't found out if I remember how to cook yet."
She sets herself to the task hums while she puts together two large passable omelets. She's not much for small talk and Lockette being Lockette isn't either. Its not uncomfortable though and the tune she picks is upbeat and unfamiliar. The sort of thing that feels like song and more like the rhythm to old spoken epic.
"Alright, I think they're edible, but your out of parsley." She said setting the table for them.

~~~

Quill was thankful for more than one reason that Pol was out of the house when they re materialized in the upstairs living room. They dressed, in something plain, masc and royseland styled and threw their hair up in a messy ponytail. The only good part about being mist for a long period of time was that by time he found themselves people shapped again, the emotion that caused was usually also gone. And without the stress of awaken outdoors in the cold was able put a good face on before heading down the to the shoppe. Pol had left the back in five minutes sign up, which both of them were guilty of abusing for more than five minuts. However, signs often did not stop the folk of port of pearls and they found the usual gaggle of old ladies had let them selves in for Mahjong.
"Oh look at you~"
"Handsome today, are you?"
"Thank you thank you," Quill called, talking a Royesdland bow to make them titter. They set themselves to making their orders- they were regulars. They breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Pol ha remembered to put the tapioca on to boil- the stuff cost an arm and a leg this far north but the locals rather liked it as an oddity and as far as delicacies went it wasn't too expensive. no more than some of the things he kept stocked in the apothecary.
"alright darlings, one rose milk tea for Gertrude, A London fog for dear Betty and two earl greys black for Judy-"
"Oh you are a peach!" Betty crooned.
Quill winked and then reminded them all, "Now no cheating I don't want a repeat of last week."
This launched the three into a rowdy good natured argument.

 

[theunearthlyfool]

"Ah. I see." Molly turned her gaze elsewhere, feeling as if she had something to do with how upset Tuesday seemed.

She tried to play back the argument in her mind, wondering why such a simple misunderstanding had both men so riled up. Some violation of the manners of nobility, it seemed, that she couldn't hope to understand even if they tried to explain it to her.

Despite the cat- who didn't seem to have one name, just whatever the particular villager speaking to him knew him as- having apparently settled down on her for the long run, Molly brightened when an idea crossed her mind. "Oh!

"Hey, let's go do something. To cheer you up," she suggested. She could probably push the cat off her lap if she had to. Probably. "What's fun to do around here? I haven't seen much of the Port yet, I've just spent the past few days busking."

Her voice almost felt too loud after the awkward silence that had followed Apollonius' departure, but it seemed like Tuesday was having a rough time. It would be good to get his mind off his troubles. She smiled. "How about it? Show me around?"

 

[TrashRabbit]

Molly's "Oh" half startled him from his seething and the little red head quickly had his full uncanny attention. There were several things that Tuesday found very amusing to do in town but to be honest He usually enjoyed the town for its own sake, and his pleasure was usually mischief. He liked to put things in his pockets and sometimes return them. He liked to dance in the market and bless little babies and curse annoying dogs. And usually to get even with the wizard. Thinking about that chilled his temple. He had no experience with regulating emotions so invoking pleasant thoughts was a new and novel solution.
For molly Sills, he would swallow his anger whole.
"Well, if it would please your heart, I can think of something," He said, looking anywhere but the cat, "You've already seen the market, and that is my favorite. The statue of the goddess there is very nice. There is the little waterfall where the nymphs go at dusk, and the unicorns grave, though that it is a sad place- and it's too late in the season for skijoring or ice skating. Sometimes folks fly kites from the top of the fjord by the wizards tower, now that he's not here perhaps we could get away with it."
"All that to say. That I am not sure. What people. Do. With all the hours in their day."
He paused looking very thoughtful- all previous ill will seeming to be banished from him, "Molly, not to be forward but how do you feel about the color blue? Or do prefer yellow?"

 

[theunearthlyfool]

"Uh, I don't know that that's a terribly forward question..." Molly rubbed at a scar under one eye. She couldn't tell how serious he was.

"Umm... I dunno, I like them both I guess?" She thought about it. "Yeah, I don't really prefer one over the other at all." Her face went a bit pink with self-consciousness. "Why?"

 

[TrashRabbit]

"N-no. Reason," he struggled to spit out, sudenly embarased and nearly forgeting his new found ability to spin lies.

 

[theunearthlyfool]

"Oh. Uh. Okay. ...Sorry?"

After a beat Molly gave him a grin that after another beat turned into a laugh. For all his quirks, to not know what people did with their days made it seem as though Tuesday hadn't often gotten away from whatever his royal duties had been- before recently, anyway.

"Well, gosh. Flying kites sounds fun! I've never actually done it before." She thought, scratching behind the cat's ears. "But I suppose we'd have to buy one, unless there's a place that leases them.

"I'd love to go see a waterfall, if it wouldn't disturb the nymphs for us to visit. We could take an offering I guess? Just in case?" Molly tried to remember her godmother's books, and what might appease a water nymph. But that information had been covered by cobwebs and buried behind music. "I'd have to check my notes," she said absentmindedly, gazing up at the ceiling as she rambled. "But yeah, that would be real nice, I think! We could get a picnic together too maybe. I like it!" Coming out of space, she beamed at him across the table. "Good idea!"

 

[CelticSol]

There is quiet as Riley cooks, Lockette finding herself relaxing almost back into sleep as she listens to Riley's hum mix with the sizzling of the pan. The rising and falling tones of the song remind her of folktales shared to the tune of a lute during the odd night off in the militias, and while the feeling is bittersweet, it's not as unwelcome as she would think it would be.

As Riley's song comes to an end and Riley tells her that her parsley is all gone again, Lockette sighs. "What do I do when I have a ground hawk with a taste for parsley? This is the second time she's eaten all my parsley in less than twenty four hours. I'm gonna go broke over feeding a hawk's parsley addiction."

Lockette rises from the chair as she hears plates being laid down at the table, keeping her hands low to keep herself from smashing her hip off the corner of the table, like she'd done a million times after getting blinded. She bumps into Riley gently, which startles Lockette in that she swore Riley was at the other side of the table. Raising her hand to keep herself and the other woman stable, Lockette murmurs low, "Sorry, not used to guests."

She sits down, feeling the table for her fork, and cuts a corner off her omelette. She takes a quick test, chewing, then swallowing, then confirms dryly, "The verdict is edible. Thank you."

 

[TrashRabbit]

"Well if she's craving greens maybe her diet's wrong, specially if you've been feeding her like a chicken?" Riley said thoughtfully. "I know dogs eat grass when their stomach hurts." She moved quickly as she spoke, realizing she'd forgotten the kettle. And she did so with light effortless foot work that took training, and put her exactly where Lockette least expected her.
Riley Squeaked was keenly aware that Lockette was four times her size. She'd nearly toppled taking the kettle full of hot water with her and Lockette hadn't budged. Riley was not small. Riley had been teased most of her childhood for being the tallest girl town. Lockette made her feel down right pint sized.
"Its- Okay, Its fine," She said too quickly. Not because it was any kind of problem, ( Though she really did need to get more mindful and quick of her new friends needs) but because she'd gone a sort of rhubarb color right up to the tip of her pointy ears. She took her seat and waited for lockettes verdict and then tested for herself. So her gut instinct was right. she could cook. She wasn't sure, if she should trust her gut considering her lack of memory, considering she'd bought every word the inkeepers son had told her hook line and sinker. but it was nice to know that maybe she could trust herself with with little things.
"I'm glad they're edible, you've done me a kindness. Not that I know what do next but I don't think I would fared well, walking out to the house alone yesterday. I appreciate it, so there's no need to thank me."

 

[TrashRabbit]

It was unlikely that if Molly Sills had attempted to tame a feral faerie king on purpose that she would have made as much progress in twenty four hours as she had by accident with Tuesday. he had declined shoes but accepted the large baggy rusty orange sweater molly offered him, it was patched and worry worn around the sleeves and on Molly it came down to her knees and covered her hands, it was warm enough now that she didn't need it below her coat so she didn't mind to share. On Tuesday however it fit about right, but he looked terrible in orange.
They picked out a suitable picnic from the wares that had been left in benediction to Molly's busking the day before. And when Molly lamented that she really didn't need it all- she had left most of it in the baskets where they had been given and Port of Pearls being Port of Pearls no one had come back for it or taken them in the night.
"Why don't you leave it out for free some where?" Tuesday suggested, "If you can write you should make a little sign?"
And so they did, arranging the baskets of potatoes, chives, stationary, and other eatable on the edge of the fountain.
and with that settled, Tuesday lead her north out of the town proper and across the rolling plain dotted with stands of birches and deep set creeks that mimicked the larger fjord. The followed one creek, walking besides it as the beaten path allowed and then through deer paths.
When they arived, the wilderness opened up into something splendid. Birches encircled pool at it's base and pink and yellow lillies lined the edge and the lilly pads bloomed out of season. The waterfall itself cascaded in a narrow stream down the side of a sheer cliff of smokey quartz- the water itself seemed to slip freely out of the earth. At the top of the spring grew a towering living oak shading the pool, its roots cascading and twinin around the pool and for convenient places to sit. Beneth the water quick colorfull fish swam, the kind that brought to mind the warm climes of Chin. very small Finches chirped and darted amung the roots and birches and they swarmed to inspect them as they entered the space.
It didn't just look it, it felt a liminal place. It bubbled and buzzed with magic.
"Nymphs are most active at dawn or dusk, so I doubt we'll disturb anyone-" Tuesday began to explain but was cut short but several loud finches landing on him and demanding he explain himself. "Well It can't be helped you see," He tried to explain to the shrill birds hopping about his person. he knew better than to sass finches, but the urge was strong. Going home to the forest in his state was a foolhardy plan, he had too many rivals to risk it. But he was not so proud as to try to attempt to avoid fae kind while mortal and part of him hopped the nymphs were home today. Perhaps they would have something helpful to say. Though nymphs were not trouping fae and never paid him much mind as a king.
The finches continued to yell at him in excitment. asking him questions and repeating ill founded rumors in the way that only bird brains could.
"Well I would hope I'm not dead, as I am still walking about," He told the finches. "They'll believe any rumor they hear," he said by explanation to Molly as if he expected that Molly too could understand finches.

 

[theunearthlyfool]

Even with the few little errands they'd had to run before going- Molly changing into her good boots and collecting her bag; acquiring picnic things and tending to the last of the goods from her performance- soon she and Tuesday were hiking away from the village. That peculiar morning now felt as though it had happened months ago.

Molly had arrived in the Port four days prior on a hay wagon she'd managed to hitch a ride on. It had been a long journey, she'd been quite tired and very hungry, and despite the beauty of the plain she hadn't paid it much mind then. Maybe it was being on foot, maybe it was the light of midday, maybe it was the company she was walking with; whatever the reason, today was a day like no other here on the fjord. Her heart was so full, Molly found herself wishing she could sketch or paint, the better to preserve this scenery and the way she felt so she would remember it for the rest of her life.

It wasn't long before they branched away from the main road onto a footpath, and once among the cool shade of the trees Tuesday led her by trails he seemed to know were there instinctively. But he was a good guide, never getting too far ahead- and somewhat difficult to miss in her old sweater, so bright against the greenery. It was a bit comical on him, though probably not as much as it was on her, and she couldn't help but smile.

When she thought she could hear a different rush of water than the creek they'd been following, Molly's heart began to beat even faster with excitement. The closer they got, the more she felt a sort of humming, restless energy- in the air, on her skin, she couldn't quite tell, only that it was making her just a tiny bit light-headed. But nothing seemed to be bothering Tuesday as they came up to a clearing-

And "oh," was all she could say for the beauty they had stepped into. Molly took a small step forward, then another, and gently set down the things she'd been carrying. Tuesday may have been saying something, she tried to listen, but got distracted drinking in the sight of the waterfall, the cliffs, the trees, the flowers. Royesland was a beautiful place, she'd seen quite a bit of it in her time, but never anywhere like this.

Her reverie was broken by something small and dark zipping past her face. With a start, Molly looked over at her companion to see him surrounded by probably a dozen little birds: a few having landed on him, some jumping about the grass at his feet, most fluttering here and there and all chirping excitedly at him like they were meeting a long-lost friend.

She watched, dumbfounded, as Tuesday conversed with the birds as naturally as he'd spoken with any person in the time she'd known him. Wildly, their chatter rose and fell as if in direct response. Is this… a dream…? Molly shook her head and blinked: no, the birds were still there. Actually, there were more of them now.

He glanced over at her at last. "They'll believe any rumor they hear," he said, as if that explained the fact that he was talking to birds like a princess in a story.

She stared. "Oh. Uh. Is that so?"

 

[TrashRabbit]

Several of the finches decided to alight on molly and to inspect her cheeping and testing the redness of her hair.
He laughed and nodded, "Oh yes. song birds are the worst offenders for gossips." This exchange then set off the little flock, who took offense immediately while he laughed. One particularly bouncy bird began to berate him with a loud finchy ch-ch-ch-ch sound from his hands. He looked embarrassed and then cupped the bird completely to muffle it. "Don't listen to her Molly Sills. I am a consummate gentleman, you have my word."
The finch in his hands did not relent, and he made a dingruntled face and then n a calculated move turned and tossed the bird in a confident YEET motion. Being a bird she flew off quick as an arrow. And only the most bravest of Finches remained, staying close to Molly and landing on her shoulders and head.

 

[theunearthlyfool]

With Tuesday's attention, apparently the birds noticed her as well. In the blink of an eye, several of them flitted over. Molly squeaked involuntarily and froze. She'd never had a bird land on her before, much less more than one. And in her hair, of all places. Their nips and tugs- not painful, more tickling- freed the ribbon she'd loosely tied her hair up with and she felt it slide down her back. "I'll take your word for it," she mumbled.

She remained still through Tuesday's exchange with the especially chatty bird. He can talk to birds. He's actually talking to a bird, Molly thought dumbly, and it's talking back. Obviously there was far more to magic than the little she knew about it. Why shouldn't he be able to talk to birds? It really wasn't that much stranger than her own affliction, once she gave it a bit of thought. Actually, it was probably far more useful than accidentally starting dancing plagues.

Slowly Molly stopped hunching her shoulders and relaxed, although this little movement didn't cause more than one or two of the birds to get off of her. After losing whatever quarrel they'd apparently been having, she watched Tuesday fling the little bird across the clearing, though it flew away unharmed. She raised an eyebrow. "So you throw all animals that disagree with you, is that it?"

A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Ah! Is that why you're the king of magpies? Because you talk to birds?" Normally she wouldn't have blurted such a question out loud, but today was already weird enough. This might as well happen.

 

[TrashRabbit]

"It works for Lockette?" he said with a shrug- it wasn't the best argument but it was better than trying to explain that Cathal was a dangerous creature and that the finch had been astonishingly rude and these were both outlying scenarios and his life was just a bit out of control at the moment. This completely left his head however as he watched Molly Sills hair slip from its ribbon.
Oh
He thought to himself.
"Wel I-I-uh, um, hmm," He stammered going quiet red, "I mean I suppose the reason aught to be the other way round, but close enough."

 

[theunearthlyfool]

She scoffed good-naturedly, causing the birds to chirp in their two cents' worth. "Um, no," Molly laughed, "that's not quite how that works."

Her smile faded as Tuesday flushed suddenly. "Hey, are you all right?" She frowned. "The other way around? How do you mean?"

The birds erupted into noise. "My goodness, little ones!" she said with a wince. But her smile returned somewhat as, out the corner of her eye, she glanced at one of the birds on her shoulder. "Has anyone ever told you that you guys are really loud?"

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Cathal found it deeply concerning that no one, not one single person, in all of Royesland, stopped the king of magpies from flitting another girl into the woods. So nobody believed him that he was the king. So what?

This never would have happened if Tom was still in town, Cathal reflected gloomily, following Molly and Tuesday to the waterfall. His sense of gloom only deepened as he followed them--how often had he and Tom spent an afternoon here, curled in the roots of the oak tree, while he played guitar?

However, the birds were far more interesting as a cat then they had ever been when he was a man. His tail twitched, and he slunk low, creeping closer to where the finches flocked around Molly and Tuesday, chirping loudly enough to cover any noise he might have made.

 

[TrashRabbit]

"It's uh, really their most defining trait," He said, agreeing with her opinion of the gossipy finches. But Molly fixed him with a stern look and that had some power in it he could not deny or oppose. "and I suppose I can speak with birds because I am the king of magpies, not the other way round. I was a magpie, for quiet a long time after all-"

His explanation was interrupted by a wordless cry. A corvid like sound of alarm made in the back of his throat as he pointed a the stalking cat. The Finches exploded into motion up and away from Molly and the forested grotto went still. He was a magpie and it was his nature to point out predators and scream.

Once he realized it was Bathtub his look of alarm left him. "WilI I never be free of you?" He said dropping his finger and slumping.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

"Mrow!" Cathal said indignantly as the finches fled, because that was as close as he could get to "Go fuck yourself." He went and rubbed his head on Molly's leg instead, like that had been his plan all along, and then sat on her foot and scowled at Tuesday.

 

[theunearthlyfool]

Molly suddenly felt very nauseous. That wasn't the answer she'd been expecting. Come to think of it, she didn't know what she'd been expecting. Not that, anyway. She must have heard him wrong. He couldn't possibly mean that he literally was a bird-

The next few things happened very quickly.

Tuesday screamed, that peculiar throaty sound he'd made the day before. All the little birds vanished in a frantic fluttering of wings and small claws. In their haste more than one took a few strands of her hair with them. "Ow!" she gasped, closing her eyes against the flurry. She reached into her satchel, sightlessly digging around for her knife. Where the hell is it?!

Molly opened her eyes again as her hand finally tightened around the grip- and was greeted by a familiar meow as the big ginger cat, her shadow now apparently, rubbed up against her leg before seating himself on the toe of her boots.

"Kitty cat! What the- what are you doing all the way out here?!" It had taken effort to push him off her lap back at the tavern- she felt bad, truly, having left him sulking in the doorway as she and Tuesday had left the Port. That he would follow them never crossed her mind.

"Sheesh, did somebody stick catmint in my pockets? Buddy, you shouldn't be this far from town." Molly leaned down a bit and gave him a pat before turning her focus on Tuesday again. Her heart sunk unexpectedly and it took her a moment to find her voice. "Are you okay?" she finally asked.

 

[TrashRabbit]

"..that, is a dangerous creature, Molly sills, I am not being faceatious, I promise you," He said making a hand gesture like a hand grenade was sitting on her feet and not a cat.