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

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Queen Janet is very talented," he says, still wonderingly.

He takes in the body language of them both, and then says gently, "Have a care, both of thee, but do play."

[timebethine]

Szarka barely hears play before she's dashing up to Galahad--she skids to a stop a quarter-inch before him, black nose sniff-sniff-sniffing at his little pink nose.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad sniffs back, whiskers twitching. Then he takes off, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure she's chasing him.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot says to Szarka, as a (possibly unnecessary) reminder, "Gentle."

Then he sits back, leaning back on his hands in the grass to watch them chase.

[timebethine]

Szarka loves to Chase! She loves how fast she can go, how her paws eat up the ground and the wind blows through her hair (except when she is Wet but then she loves how it feels to be Wet)--she loves to run around in front of things and make them go where they Belong. She thinks that Galahad Belongs in front of Lancelot, and she wheels to try to urge him to turn.

Yes, Szarka is trying to herd a cat.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad bounds through the grass, and when Szarka turns he turns too, to keep out in front of her. He can smell Lancelot up ahead, but he doesn't want anyone to catch him yet, so he veers off to the side, and promptly runs up the weeping Japanese maple, clawing his way up the bark.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot merely watches with bemusement -- he will intervene if it seems necessary, but so far this all seems fine. (Although as Galahad clambers up the tree, he does foresee the potential for more barking.)

[timebethine]

Szarka tries to shoot up the tree with the same claw-tipped ease--only to find herself somehow not going Up. She pauses at the foot of the tree, paws scrabbling at the bark, tail frantically wagging. (But she is a Good Girl and she doesn't Bark!)

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad peers down at her from his perch, his tail bushed up again and his pupils huge. Slowly his fur begins to smooth down again as he remembers that Szarka is a friend and probably doesn't intend to eat him.

Finally he puts a paw down on the trunk as if he means to climb down. He doesn't climb down. He shifts to his other paw. His tail swishes.

He lets out a wail.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Oh dear. Lancelot stifles a chuckle and gets to his feet, coming over to stand beside Szarka.

"Thou'rt stuck!" He says, lightly, to Galahad. "Here-- I shall help thee down again."

[timebethine]

Szarka peers up at Lancelot, mouth open, still wagging her tail. She is Also Helping!

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad meows piteously at him, and then down at Szarka, as if she might be able to free him as well. "I can't get down!"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I can see that," Lancelot says, moving a little closer. "Here-- canst move a little closer to me? I will lift thee down."

He is hoping he doesn't have to attempt to climb closer to Galahad, as he doubts the tree will bear up under his weight.

[onthewillowsthere]

"It's too high!" He puts his feet on the trunk again. "I don't know how I climbed up. Ugh!"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thou'rt a cat. Canst jump well, or move with thy balance toward me," he reaches up, as if to reassure Galahad that he will safely take hold of him.

[timebethine]

Szarka hears jump, and she leaps and twirls to show Galahad how easy it is!

[onthewillowsthere]

"I caaan't," he wails.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Nay. Thou canst. Leap here, I have thee."

[onthewillowsthere]

"You might not catch me!"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Galahad," levelly, "I will. But-- an it would make thee bolder, I will try to come closer."

He starts to search for a foothold, saying gently to Szarka, "Szari, back. Give us some room."

[timebethine]

Szarka knows Back! Mostly! She shuffles backwards with much Wiggling of Hips and Wagging of Tail, then looks up at Lancelot expectantly in case he is about to give her a treat for it.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Closer," he meows piteously. "I don't want to fall!"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"You needn't be afraid," he says, "I'll try."

Lancelot does have a treat for Szarka, and he steps over to hand it to her, saying, "Good girl. Wait a moment."

Then he turns back to the tree and starts up, carefully; he is fairly certain the tree won't bear up well, but all he's really trying to do is get close enough to Galahad to allow him to scramble down.

[timebethine]

Szarka licks the treat from his hand, then trundles off to a tuft of moss to watch the proceedings.

[onthewillowsthere]

Indeed, the willowy, drooping boughs of the Japanese maple bend and crack under Lancelot's weight as he advances up. Galahad meows and paces in the vee of branches anxiously.