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

[onthewillowsthere]

Immediately he flings his body down on it, rolling on the cat mint, crushing the leaves and flowers so that their oils spread into his fur. It's not quite the light feeling he associates with cannabis sativa; there's a more hazy urgency spreading through him now, like a slow-burning fire through a field. He purrs uncontrollably.

[wickedwit]

"My sweet sensualist." Claudius says as he watches Galahad so thoroughly enjoy himself. There's something to be said, he thinks, about the evolutionary advantage of hedonism, about how human beings are so suspicious of their animal impulses they make seeking pleasure a sin. But he's also content, as always, introducing Galahad to a new delight. No need to drag the church into it.

[onthewillowsthere]

"I wish I could take notes," he mews piteously, even as he picks himself up for a half second and then flops again. "It feels so-- it feels-- medicated--"

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs to hear that well-worn word. "I'll be thy amanuensis. I've experience in it now."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Wait! Stroke me, please!" He rolls back and forth across the cat-mint, his mouth open, inhaling the scent through his lips.

[wickedwit]

“As my lord bids me,” Claudius says, stroking Galahad from head to tail in the moment (and it's only a moment) where he's still enough touch. "I was right to compliment thy coat. 'Tis soft and smooth as satin -- a sign of quality."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Am I a very beautiful cat? Am I the most beautiful cat you've ever met?" He doesn't mind Claudius' other lovers, but the idea of not being his favorite, most beloved cat suddenly fills Galahad with a fiery jealousy.

[wickedwit]

"By far. I would like to kiss thee between thy ears -- wilt thou permit it?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"Yes! Please kiss me!"

[wickedwit]

Ever-so-gingerly Claudius lifts Galahad up by his paws, and kisses him quick between the ears. “There thou art,” he says, and releases him.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad purrs, rubbing against Claudius' legs, his tail quivering. "I'm your favorite cat," he meows happily: between that knowledge and the cat-mint he feels enveloped in bliss.

[wickedwit]

“The most beautiful, the most favored,” Claudius agrees, and gives Galahad another full-body stroke while he’s so near. “The most beloved. Even when thou art human, thou canst be my sweet cat.”

[onthewillowsthere]

"Oh!" almost a squeak, when Claudius' hand reaches the base of his tail. "Please scratch there! Please, please!"

[wickedwit]

Claudius indulgently scratches, hands light and skilled as always. "Should I be taking notes on this for thee?" he asks, a little teasing. "Where do cats best like to be pet, and why? I'm certain we could start a list together."

[onthewillowsthere]

He lifts his hindquarters into that scratch, his tail vibrating furiously, sinking all the way down on his front paws and curling them beneath him. "That's the best place. Claudius!"

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs, and continues his scratches. “The best place found already?”

[onthewillowsthere]

"It's so good. It feels-- good and happy and--" His paws uncurl and begin kneading the ground, even though it doesn't yield particularly.

[wickedwit]

"'Tis well. I want to spend every day finding new delights for thee -- the delights of a cat on cat-mint must be the newest."

[onthewillowsthere]

"I haven't ever felt like this before!" He flops back into the catmint and resumes crushing it with his body. Trying to sort out the haze of feelings is hard, but he tries to devote every scientific part of his brain to it. "I want to-- ahhh, Claudius!" as he bats slowly at a squashed leaf. "I want to kiss you. And I want to bite Luo Binghe!"

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs. “Shouldst use thy claws instead, my love. Stain not thy mouth with his blood.” There’s a viciousness in his smile, but above all it’s fond. He even draws out his notebook, as promised, and begins to make notes. “So thou art feeling both amorous and aggressive. They are so oft the two sides of a coin, dost not thou think? More oft ‘tis thee I wish to bite … but I’d also bite anyone to protect thee, even if I did it with biting words instead of teeth.”

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad rolls onto his back. "You can bite me! I like it! And you can scratch me in the good spot."

[wickedwit]

"Not like that," he teases as Galahad rolls. Still, he holds his hand in such a way that Galahad could roll and rub against it, if he so chose. "Thou hast hidden thy tail from me."

[onthewillowsthere]

He does exactly that, purring. "Sorry! My body is hard to control! It just does things."

[wickedwit]

"No need to apologize. I like it when thy instincts take thee over -- in this body, or thy human one."

[onthewillowsthere]

"It's easier in this body. Janet said I would be cat-brained, but I didn't know it would be like this. I just act!" He rolls over again, then back, and begins licking Claudius' hand with his raspy pink tongue.