open post -- a little white kitten

[onthewillowsthere]

After way, way too much research and overthinking, the kind of research and overthinking that had Janet feeling uncomfortably like Quentin and Alice's ill-gotten love child, she's been ready for a while. So, yes, maybe she wanted the dramatic gesture of giving this to Galahad as a wedding gift. Can you blame her? Nothing says “I hope you're really happy in all your marital bliss with that guy who always seems like he's trying to sell me a protection plan” like the promise of turning someone into a cat.

Whatever. It's also kind of anticlimactic at this point. Janet has a bowl of white paste and a whole lot of gumption, but as far as supplies go, that's it. She eyes Galahad. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Galahad says, in his usual too-serious way. He's excited, but that only means his affect is flatter and blanker than usual. He told Mothwing that he would come to her for a lesson this afternoon, but not what shape he'd be in.

“Okay. You're going to have cat-brain, and herding cats is famously impossible, so where do you want to do this?” Maybe Janet should have made the mansion generate a cat carrier. But it seems rude to show up to a meeting with a human person with one of those, and not her preferred brand of rude.

“In the garden. I want to go to Mothwing afterwards.”

“Sure thing.” She lets Galahad lead the way. She has a bowl of weird white gunk to manage.

Once they’re in the garden, surrounded by the riotous summer flowers, Galahad stops. “Will my clothes transform with me?”

“Nope.” Janet raises her eyebrows at him. “You'll be naked when I turn you back. I won't let your tiny cat body suffocate or anything, if you're worried about that.”

“When you have transformed me, will you please put my watch around my neck?”

That is… so cute. He's so cute. Every time Janet has mentally compared Galahad to an adorable talking woodland creature feels completely justified. “Yep,” she says, instead of oh my God, you're adorable. “Any other last requests before you can't talk anymore?”

“No. Thank you.”

Okay, sure. Janet scoops some of the chalky shit onto her fingers and invades Galahad's personal space. She swipes it onto his forehead, under his shock of marshmallow-fluff hair, then onto his bare shoulders. She steps back, looks him over like he's a used Chevy Malibu and she's about to try and talk him up to a family of four, then says a single harsh syllable out loud.

It's not a pretty transformation. Galahad kind of… crunches forward, folding up like a piece of paper crumpling in someone's hands. Cats are a lot smaller than humans. Fur is sprouting, his collarbones are melting away, a tail is crackling out from the other end of him. It's really, really not cute. But it does work, and Janet feels like the world's coolest magician when there's a little white cat with blue eyes staring at her from under his sundress.

It feels like falling down a cliffside – a whirling, disorienting feeling, but not the freefall in air of being thrown from a horse. When the world around Galahad comes to a halt, he looks up, and up, and up, to see Janet’s distant, blurry face.

He takes a careful step forward on his paws, getting used to his new center of gravity. His whiskers feel as though they’re constantly brushing against things, picking up every vibration in the air, and the world’s colors have changed into shades of yellow and blue. His ears twitch and swivel towards sounds.

He takes a practice run, and finds his stiff, awkward body has become graceful, fluid, as he bounds in a circle around the garden. He can’t tell how, but he knows his tail is important, as much a part of his balance as his four paws.

Finally he comes back and sits on his hindquarters in front of Janet. He knows he’s not supposed to be able to talk, but he tries anyway, and meows, “Thank you.”

“Holy shit!” Janet stares down at him. That doesn't make any sense. She remembers being a goose. All she could do was honk. She honked for days on end. It was actually really fucking tedious. “Whoa. I'm good.” She told him she would, so she kneels in the grass and swipes his watch from the pile of his clothes. “Here, kitty.”

Galahad pads over to her on his soft, silent paws and puts out his head for the watch-collar.

Feeling a sudden sense of portentous responsibility, Janet buckles it around his neck. She's careful not to make it too tight or too loose. He's so, so cute. “Okay.” She gives him a little scritch under the chin, like Regina likes. “Do whatever you want, but I'm gonna keep an eye on you.”

“I understand. Thank you, Queen Janet,” he meows again. Then a butterfly passes in the corner of his eye, and he springs after it, unable to stop himself.

Comments

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan rests a hand on Galahad's warm little head and strokes the fur just above his nose. "I shall try," she says, solemnly. "Even though it is very difficult to write with you there." This is, notably, not a request for him to move.

In her fastidious penmanship, carefully curling her other arm so that it doesn't bump into Galahad, she writes, Pointy.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Crunchy? It looked crunchy!" as he begins kneading on her leg.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Janet looks down at the two of them with-- sorry, is that heartburn? Something weird is definitely happening to her chest. It takes her a second to identify it. Fondness. Like the feeling she used to get when Eliot would come tell her about some boy who'd broken his heart, then lay his head in her lap and declare that they were going to grow old together, because no boy was as good as her.

"Definitely crunchy," she says, "if our lead researcher here agrees."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan writes crunchy, stroking Galahad's head as she does. "You've got quite a few suggestions for someone who didn't try it," she tells him, amused, and tilts her face up toward Janet. "I found it rather... earthy in flavor."

[onthewillowsthere]

He lifts his head, butting it against her fingers. "Like a turnip?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

"More like a mushroom," Janet offers, darting a glance and a quick grin down at Susan again. It's both to see if she agrees and to enjoy the visual of tiny, adorable Galahad headbutting her hand.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan's eyes dance. "Like dirt," she says.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad does not stop! "The proper term is soil!" he meows.

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Right, Your Majesty. Duh." Janet squeezes Susan's shoulder. "It tasted like soil," she says, in a lofty tone intended to imply she knew that all along.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

The dancing in Susan's eyes is replaced by a small, bright smile as Galahad immediately corrects her deliberate error. "I'm afraid I cannot be more specific about what sort of soil," she says. "As I've not tasted our samples. Have you?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"No." He stops head-butting, eyes wide. "Perhaps I should."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"You'll eat dirt -- sorry, soil -- but not a cricket?" Janet asks, bemused.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I shan't be tasting the soil," Susan adds. Her commitment to science does have its limits!

[onthewillowsthere]

"...You're right. I don't want to."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"I don't think even regular cats eat dirt. Or soil."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"They might if they've got pica," Susan offers, stroking a hand over Galahad's warm little head. "You oughtn't," she tells him.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Pica?" He purrs and begins making himself comfortable in her lap, tucking his feet under him.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Hey, Janet knows this one. "It's when you want to eat things that aren't food."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Dirt, rocks, metal, hair," Susan lists. She's still stroking his head, slow and gentle.

[onthewillowsthere]

"I don't want to eat any of those things." He curls his tail up around his tucked in body and closes his eyes.

[sorrowandsorrow]

"See?" Janet's smiling down at them again. God, this is adorable. "You're a normal cat."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan leans against Janet's legs, tilting her head up to look at her. It's very likely that this is the most settled Janet will have seen Susan in several weeks!

"You may sit, if you like," she suggests.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Sit with us." His little cat voice is much more serene than it's been at any other point.

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Okay, okay," Janet says, almost gently. She drops down to sit cross-legged, slinking an arm around Susan.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan leans into Janet's touch, still stroking Galahad.