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]

He nods!

[scrap_collector]

"I think so, yes," says Xie Lian. "And I think everyone thinks they will live a long time, because no one knows when they will die. If someone knows they are fated to die falling off a cliff in five years, they would not likely be willing to give up two or three of those five. But if one assumes one dies of old age..."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Right. Most people aren't counting on some gruesome, fucked up death. Even though any old bullshit could come along and kill you anytime."

[onthewillowsthere]

There was a time he would have happily given up two or three of his own years to hasten his death, but now the idea is almost unthinkable -- there are too many things now that he wants to see and do and taste.

Speaking of taste-- A cabbage white flutters by, and all thoughts vanish from Galahad's head as he takes off after it.

[scrap_collector]

Xie Lian watches him go, openly charmed. "How innocent and joyful it is to be a cat. You may have a wide market for this service," he remarks to Janet. "I imagine many souls would trade a lot for such a vacation."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"You might be right," Janet says, perking up at the idea. "Between the magic cat transformation service and the magical tattoos, I'm going to rule this place after all."

[scrap_collector]

Xie Lian's gaze sharpens, very slightly. "Magical tattoos?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Yep. I gave him--" Janet jerks a thumb at Galahad. "--one, but you can't see it right now. It's shrunken and covered in fur, I guess."

[scrap_collector]

"Perhaps you might tell me what you think about this." Xie Lian's already not wearing his boots, so it's a simple matter to tug the skirt of his robe and the cuff off his trouser beneath up to show Janet his slim ankle with the geometric black Heavenly Shackle encircling it.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Immediately shifting into a more businesslike affect, Janet crouches to take a look, squinting at his ankle. "What is it? Can I touch?"

[scrap_collector]

"You may," says Xie Lian, surprised and touched that she asked, rather than simply doing so. "It's called a Heavenly Shackle. There is one encircling my throat as well."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Heavenly Shackle?" Janet asks suspiciously. "Your throat? Who put it on you?" She brushes her fingers over the Shackle, scowling at it and trying to feel any malignant magic associated with it.

[scrap_collector]

"The Emperor of Heaven, Ju Wu," explains Xie Lian. "With my permission, at the time. It binds my spiritual energy away from me—I cannot access my golden core."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"The hell?" Janet mutters. She looks up at Xie Lian. "With your permission? What, you didn't want your power?"

[scrap_collector]

Xie Lian's expression betrays nothing in particular. "I could not be trusted with it."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"The Emperor of Heaven," Janet repeats, a little darkly. That has such a shitty ring to it. "Is the Emperor of Heaven a god?"

[scrap_collector]

"Of course," says Xie Lian, surprised. "How could he rule the gods without being one himself?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

"You never know what gods are going to pull," Janet says easily. "I came here from a place called Fillory. These assholes named Ember and Umber made it, but they had a law that nobody from Fillory could rule it."

[scrap_collector]

Xie Lian immediately frowns. "What a terrible and nonsensical law. How can a ruler truly be expected to care for a people if they are not of that people?" He remembers, suddenly, that Janet herself is a queen, and amends hastily, "No offense meant, your Majesty. I'm sure the skill can be learned, but..."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Oh, no, it's complete bullshit." Janet shoots a half-grin up at Xie Lian from the vicinity of his ankle. "I benefited from it, but don't ask me to make it make sense. I beat the shit out of one of them. Not just because of that. Lots of reasons."

[scrap_collector]

Xie Lian's eyebrows go very high up. "You beat the shit out of a god? You grow more impressive every minute, Queen Janet."

[sorrowandsorrow]

Janet's grin widens and turns toothier. "Aw, stop it some more." She redirects her attention to Xie Lian's tattoo, but it's hard for her to tell anything specific about it. She frowns, touching a more certain hand to its shape. "If a god did this, I don't know if I can do much about it. Do you want it off now?"

[scrap_collector]

"I am much more capable without it," says Xie Lian, with neither false modesty nor self-aggrandizement. "I believe if it were removed, I would have a better chance of influencing this place to release me. Or at least to—allow me to communicate with my world." Bring someone else here, perhaps.

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Gotcha." Janet gets it. She's spent a ton of time trying maybe-fruitlessly to get in touch with Fillory. "I definitely can't take it off right now off the cuff. I can try, if you're really serious about it, but if I get it wrong, it might be really wrong. You understand?"

[scrap_collector]

"All things come with risk," Xie Lian says placidly. "I would appreciate the attempt."